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ghoul!oikawa tooru x f!ghoul!reader

tokyo ghoul au

warning: heavy mental health mention, profanity, minor sexual themes

-/-

"When you're ten, it's just imaginary friends and make-believe on a playground."

You know by now that Oikawa Tooru is a dangerous person. He's deceptively bright and lures you in, snapping you up the instant you see his true inky black.

"When you're twenty, it's all fun and sexy. They call you dangerous and a genius, it's wonderful."

He paces, shoes making delicate clicking sounds as they hit the tiles.

"But then, you're thirty, and bam!" He makes a finger gun and points it under his chin, "They throw some pills at you and say you have mental problems." Oikawa snorts, "As if that's going to help."

You stare at him from your place from the kitchen table, "What are you getting at?"

He smiles at you and laughs, "I'm not sure myself. Let's just call it an introspection on perspective."

-/-

You turned thirty-one last month, which means you've spent almost two thirds of your life with Oikawa, and a third having some sort of on-and-off sex with him. The fact is so mind-numbing you sat in your kitchen in the weak winter light staring at your hands for an hour, trying to work out exactly how the fuck your life had come to this.

You think that you should at least be a bit scarred, dealing with someone like him for so long.

Which isn't to say you don't come back hurt. Because you do. All the time. And every time, Oikawa is there to greet you, that same sweet, suspicious smile he always flashes. When you do, side soaked with blood from wounds that even your body can't heal, Oikawa just giggles and plasters you with bandages and insults.

"You know (name)-chan, a long time ago I probably would've made these worse than they already are," he says playfully, tongue sticking out of his mouth in a mock attempt at concentration, "You've really turned me soft, haven't you?"

You roll your eyes at him and speak through clenched teeth, "I really have nothing to do with it. It's your own fault."

"Don't you though?" Oikawa pouts, "Can you honestly see me doing this for anyone else?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Ah, (name)-chan! So cold!" Oikawa flounces away from you, hands stained with your blood.

You end up looking like a bad teepeeing attempt, but don't say anything as you pull at the edge of a bandage that's already starting to come loose.

"Can I call Kenma to actually tie these properly now?"

You take the displeased noise Oikawa makes as a signal to make the call.

-/-

You used to think relationships were all about communication, about getting to know the other person little by little, but you've come to realize that your relationship has very little of either thing. The two of you have shockingly little in common. You like different television shows, foods, and even colors. Oikawa is always ready to argue with you, but just thinking about him makes you tired.

Though, ironically, you seem like a married couple that's rented a flat together for the first time but aren't aware that they're married. The kitchen sink is never empty, always full of dirty dishes and broken glass. You wake up constantly to the sound of porcelain smashing and Oikawa's cheerful, "Whoopsie daisy!" and it's the mad dash to the cleaning supplies that reminds you, in a quieter way, of the much more intense fights that you'd waged against each other just over fifteen years ago.

"(name)-chan?"

"What do you want."

"Oh don't be like that!"

"What do you want, Oikawa."

"(name)-chan! I'm scared!"

"Why."

"That wasn't even a question! Do you not care about me!?"

"Not really."

"Uwah! (name)-chan is so mean!"

"Oikawa what the hell did you wake me up for?" you growl, grumpy from lack of sleep.

"Well, there are cockroaches in the bathtub."

"Okay? So? We have bugspray, you know that."

"Yes, but it's like they're holding a tea party, and while that's cute and all, they're really gross."

"So?"

"So?" Oikawa echoes.

"I'm already sleeping with a piece of trash aren't I?" you point out before going straight back to sleep.

You wake up twenty minutes later with Oikawa depositing one on your face ("Look you can sleep with them too!") and as you chase him around he house, you realize that perhaps this is your own form of communication. You pull out the bug spray and Oikawa peeks over your shoulder as you kill the roaches in the tub. This is your life now, like it or not. The two of you fit together like a knife to its sheath, sharp and dangerous but breathtakingly smooth.

And the sex, of course, is amazing. You'd had no idea that Oikawa was so capable, but he proved you wrong time and time again.

You're not one to be prideful, but something stirs in you when you see him in the brief moments of calm that Oikawa increasingly sees fit to scatter all over the apartment. You like seeing him asleep, when the cheeky facade of confidence is wiped away and only the vulnerability, the raw feelings remain. You like seeing him dead tired or, on very, very rare occasions, drunk on the fermented blood you two keep in the back of the fridge for special celebrations. You enjoy the early morning hours, the hours that are his most susceptible, when he stumbles around the kitchen, shivering under his large shirt and prodding at the fridge with small, noncommittal grunts until finally (because heaven knows that Oikawa Tooru has the patience of a toddler) he comes into the bedroom and scrabbles at your shoulders ("(name)-chan, the fridge isn't opening!" "That's because you didn't pull on the fucking handle, you idiot." "Oh." "Jesus Christ, Oikawa, it's five in the morning." "I know (name)-chan, you're beating a dead horse here!").

Much to your surprise, Oikawa isn't really one to understand anatomy. At all. Sure, he runs around and fucks well enough, you suppose, but he really is harmless, despite all appearances. So much for the Binge Eating ghoul that the CCG feared for so long. All Oikawa really did was wave his kagune around, make a few scary faces, and got away. He works as an information broker in the city for ghouls now, and sometimes, behind his legion of cell phones and his own darkness, he often forgets to take care of himself. Whenever he gets an interesting job, he often forgets to sleep or eat, forcing you to do the hunting for him and force feed him until your arms are sore.

Sometimes, you think Oikawa must look through a window like a child peering at a camera lens, a reflection of the world that's so warped he has no choice but to lose himself. And honestly, you're starting to think that you're losing yourself too from being around him for so long.

And yet. For all the beauty he sees in the world, the paranoia is overwhelming. He invents his own monsters when there are none, colors the world in sickening neon, danger-red and ham-fisted.

"You know, (name)-chan, you'd be paranoid too," he says to you matter-of-factly one day, "if you knew half the things I did about everyone and everything."

"Okay, Oikawa."

He side-eyes you with a smile, "Never change, (name)-chan, never change.

In retrospect, that, perhaps, was a warning sign in and of itself.

-/-

It's bizarre (or maybe it's not, you really have no idea anymore), but Oikawa really enjoys cuddling. There's the fucking like dogs in heat, but Oikawa's never been afraid to initiate contact. Whenever you sit at your small couch, watching whatever's on television before you leave for work, he plants his head on your legs so naturally you wonder whether he likes laying on you or actually thinks of you as a pillow.

"Oikawa, get your head off me," you say, not really paying attention to him.

"But why? Your thighs are so nice, they're really cushy!" he exclaims happy, rapidly texting someone on one of the multitude of phones he owns.

"...cushy?"

"Oops, shouldn't have called girlfriend fat."

Sometimes, it's when the two of you are in bed and a row of ice cubes, or maybe those are his toes, nudges your ankles. Other times it's an extra hand in the pocket of your pants or the utterly unnecessary habit of his of draping himself over you, serving as the world's coldest, squirmiest blanket.

"At least eat a bit more, your elbows could actually cut me open."

"I like my elbows," Oikawa retorts, digging one of them into your shoulder like he's actually trying to slice into you, "and besides, I don't want to be fat." He looks at himself in the bedroom mirror, preening shamelessly, "I look much better thin. All the girls I talk to think so. Well, besides you, but you hardly count, with all that muscle you have."

You roll your eyes at him and say, "No one cares, Oikawa."

"I care, and that's all that matters," he says, flashing you his signature peace sign, "Don't get fat, (name)-chan."

You snicker, "Why? Because you'll leave me?"

Oikawa sighs and shakes his head, "No, no, I can leave you whenever I want to for whomever I want."

"You still haven't answered the question," you say, growing irritated at Oikawa's vain conceit.

"If (name)-chan deals with my skinny elbows, I have to do something about her abs."

"Wait, what?"

"Seriously, it's like sleeping on a bag of rocks, and you won't even let me touch your breasts other than when we have sex," Oikawa pouts, "Honestly, it's probably your fault that I have headaches all the time!"

You groan, "I don't let you touch my breasts when we're sleeping because I need to breathe too. Also, the reason why you have headaches is because of your horrible sleeping schedule, if you even have one."

Oikawa smirks and steps closer to you, putting his arms around your waist. You feel his breath brushing against the lobe of your ear as he whispers, "And whose fault do you think that is?"

-/-

The fact of the matter is that Oikawa is not all right.

Certainly, he speaks constantly, his mouth a faucet of pure shit that doesn't have a valve to shut it off, but the first time you catch him talking to someone who is not present and who is also not Oikawa himself, fear is already wrapped around your heart, punch-ready and painful.

"Go away, I don't wanna talk to you."

You glance up, who is he talking to?

Oikawa is in the living room, out of your line of vision from the kitchen. Five minutes ago, he was babbling to himself over some children's cartoon playing on the television. You were struggling, as always, to tune him out and finally get these goddamn taxes done, but the one strained, serious phrase pulled you out of your focus.

You pause, waiting.

"No I--" A silence then stretches, going on for so long that you nearly go back to not understanding your tax forms before he speaks again.

"What? Why would I do that? She's got nothing to do with any of this." A beat passes, "Go run away and bother someone else, you're not making any sense."

You narrow your eyes and stand, chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Yeah, okay, maybe, but that's none of your business."

You pad in the living room and are terrified by what you see. Oikawa was sitting on the couch, back to you, looking to the space on his left, speaking, responding, to the air next to him, as if there was someone actually there. You've seen it in movies and books before, but seeing it in real life, and so intimately, so close, is bone-chilling. The hair on your neck raises, goosebumps coming up.

"Oikawa," you begin, unsure of what you'd say next.

When Oikawa turns to look at you, it's the split second of perplexity you see on his face that convinces you that this isn't one of the tricks that he loves to play.

"Ah! (name)-chan, what is it?" Oikawa asks innocently, tipping his head to the side.

"Who... Who were you talking to?" You ask, praying your voice isn't as shaky as your thoughts are.

Oikawa's brows furrow, "Myself?" He looks at you, annoyed, "Don't tell me you aren't used to it by now."

You give him a hard look and drop the subject, returning to the kitchen, but before you leave, you don't miss the glance he flicks around the space on his left, like he's avoiding someone's eyes.

-/-

Kenma and Kuroo have been married for a while now. How they were able to even find a priest for that, you had no idea, but you had a fascination with how their relationship had progressed. Kenma was no damsel in distress, instead was a mad scientist that was too quiet for insanity yet too insane for quiet, a sort of madcap Juliet to Kuroo's gallant, albeit twisted, Romeo.

Their love is a sweetheart's love, the kind of fluffy domesticity that made you want to plug your nose and retch like you did with human food.

Still, though, you found yourself at their apartment, all sleek and high-rise, quantities more expensive than your den. You remind yourself that the recent spike in Doves in the area haven't hurt Kenma's pockets. His office is so busy these days you don't really even consider him an underground doctor anymore.

"At least I don't have to cut out any more intestines," Kenma says, a rare smile gracing his lips.

You hope he's joking, but knowing Kenma, he probably isn't.

The three of you talk for a while, just catching up with one another. You really have missed your friends, and constantly hanging around Oikawa isn't good for your mental health.

"So," Kuroo begins, "I'm sure you're here not just to talk to us."

You shrug. "Is Oikawa crazy?"

Kenma raises a pensive brow at you, "Have you just figured this--"

"No, not Oikawa-crazy. I mean, is he crazy-crazy?"

Kenma sighs, "(name), he's a sociopath, paranoid, megalomaniac, and possibly borderline schizophrenic." As Kenma speaks, he ticks off his fingers, like he's recalling a shopping list, not the symptoms of another living being. "Honestly, I'd say he's basically every kind of crazy there is."

You kind of knew as much. "Is it okay to leave him like that?"

Kenma shakes his head, "He's never asked me for medication, and I don't feel the need to bring it up with him."

Kuroo looks at you, concern marring his handsome face, "Did something happen?"

You shake your head. "No. I've just been thinking, recently.

-/-

Things go back to normal, just for a while. Well, as normal as Oikawa can get, anyways. When he comes home, if at all, the two of you have sex under the cover of night, and by morning, he's gone, like the mist that covers Tokyo Bay, risen with the sun. You know that you're probably in the middle of all of this, what with Oikawa being hunted down by the Doves and all the murders being committed, ghouls and humans alike. You're careful to steer very clear of Oikawa; just because you're sleeping with the guy doesn't mean you want to know anything about his shady dealings. In exchange, your apartment, as if marked by lamb's blood, remains safely above the fray.

Things continue on for a month like that until the day he thinks you aren't real either.

You're fine with him ignoring you for three hours, but when he turns on you and hisses, "Go away, I know you're not real," you draw the line.

You feel your pupils turning red, sclera staining pitch black in fury and clamp an immovable hand on his wrist and force him to Kenma's home. Oddly enough, he stops resisting you as soon as you walk out the door. He probably wants to seem like he still had control over the situation, assuming you to be invisible and seemingly moving out of his own volition.

Kenma answers the door, bewildered, "(name) what--" and Oikawa makes a face akin to trepidation into your shoulder.

Oikawa is all razors and barbs as his sits, jittery and anxious, on the edge of Kenma's couch. This, unfortunately, translates into an uncooperative Oikawa that flashes Cheshire Cat smiles and cackles manically and forces Kenma to push you out of the door.

You wait at home for him for hours, and Oikawa slinks back into your home after the shadows do the opposite and you're still sitting there, arms and legs crossed as if trying to make yourself as small as possible as schizophrenic, schizophrenic, schizophrenic repeats in your head like an incantation.

-/-

The next morning is one of the rare days where your schedules coincide. Oikawa waltzes into the bathroom with a big smile, cheerily attempting a boob-grab as he does every time the two of you have a morning like this. You let him this time, to make up for last night, instead of swatting his hand away like you always do.

Oikawa plucks two large orange pills out of a plastic bottle and chokes them down with water from your mug. "Ugh, god, did Kenma really have to give me such big ones? I can't swallow something this big."

You give him a look and he cries, offended, "Don't give me that look!" He turns and tosses the bottle back into the cabinet, slamming the door a tad too hard for you to believe that he's all sunshine and rainbows again after the events of the previous day.

"Shower with me?" he asks with a sly smile.

"Nah," you say nonchalantly, "I have work early today. Irihata-san asked me to come in and help Hanamaki with cleanup. Apparently Kunimi didn't do a very good job last night with corpse collection."

Oikawa gives you a sullen look, "Eeehh, I can't believe that you prefer him to me..."

"Who wouldn't? Besides, my job actually matters, you know," you say to him.

"More than me?"

"Definitely more than you."

Oikawa trails a hand down his bare stomach, "Mm, miss out on the fine piece of work once, regret it a lifetime."

You give him an amused look, "You want to talk about things to regret for a lifetime, we can talk about you, sure."

"Oh my, (name)-chan, I don't know how I deal with your charm so early in the morning. Oh wait, I don't." Oikawa walks away and kicks the shower door closed, before caterwauling a pop song at the top of his lungs, as if he wants to drown out the sound of the water by sheer force of will.

You roll your eyes and walk away, smiling as you do so. Okay, so maybe you don't like him, but you have to admit, you'd miss him if he were gone. Life without him is lonely, as much as it pained you to accept.

At dinner, when you slide him a piece of fatty meat from a victim that you'd saved just for him, but he shakes his head, "No thanks, (name)-chan, but thanks for the thought."

You frown at him, "I thought you liked the fat from the stomach."

Oikawa giggles again, "Ah, (name)-chan makes me sound like such a glutton." He sighs in defeat as he waves hands in the air, "It's the, you know."

"Meds?"

"One of the side effects, yes." And Oikawa goes back to his papers, pushing his glasses up (even if he didn't need them) like the nerd he was. "But, as the doctor says, for science!"

It was a universally known fact that Oikawa Tooru, who was already infuriatingly good looking, looked infinitely more fuckable in glasses. And it was bothering you. Badly.

As you rose to put your dish in the sink you pinch his waist, which had gotten rounder and softer. "And this?" you murmur.

You swear Oikawa purrs as he answers you, "Why don't you find out?"

You gaze at him suspiciously, but don't say anything.

You're not really sure where the idea comes from, but it occurs to you one day out of nowhere on precisely the eighth day. While Oikawa's gone 'for business' you open the cabinet and dump a pill into your palm and stare at it. It sits in your hand, looking innocuously fat and orange. You don't even know what it is, but it isn't what it's supposed to be.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to figure out," Kenma says to you as he opens the door, "I thought you were smarter than this, (name)."

Thirty minutes later, the two of you are sitting in his pristine lab, everything white, clean, and wholly disgusting to you. Kenma is telling you about the 'sugar pill' which apparently consisted of insulin powder and dopamine, not that you knew what either of those things were. You can feel a vein pop at your temple and Kenma gives you a lofty look, "Did you actually think it would be that easy to cure him?"

And that's the paradoxical gist of it, isn't it? Oikawa is never easy, this was no exception.

But of course, Oikawa doesn't come home that night. Or the next night. And by then, you know that he knows. You know that he's just trying to avoid seeing you now, hiding out in some shithole office in Shinjuku or a hotel where he can pretend that he controls all of Tokyo's bright lights.

Well that's too fucking bad for him because you've got the nose of a greyhound and the intuition of a wolf. It takes you less than a day to sniff out the scent of the body that used to arch so wonderfully under your own.

When you find him, he's in the middle of a meeting, but you really couldn't care less as you kick the door down, hinges and all. The other men around him spring up in alarm but Oikawa just sighs at you, "(name)-chan, please, I really don't want you interrupt me when I--"

And somehow, the fight that comes isn't at all unexpected, rather, it's reliving something from back when you were both twenty and none of this had happened yet.

At some point his kagune is showing and you snarl at him, "Is one of them telling you to do that?"

This proves to be the wrong thing to say; Oikawa lunges at you, shards of Ukaku barely grazing your clothing.

You can almost feel the venom dripping from his voice as he tells you, "When I look at you, it's with my own fucking eyes, when I fuck you, it's my choice. The day I kill you, it'll be me. It'll be me. Never fucking say that it was someone else."

"How would you even know?"

Oikawa growls and launches the shards so hard they impale the brick wall near you instead of your soft flesh, "You think you know me so well, don't you? Well? Are you gloating now? I bet you're so victorious right now. The great Binge Eater is now nothing but a psychotic, murderous maniac. Well? Well? Are you happy now? Have you seen enough now?"

You rush forward and grab a fistful off his jacket, "I won't let you run away."

Oikawa hesitates, for only a split second, but that's enough for you to pull him to you and wrap your arms around him.

"Let me go."

"No."

Oikawa's eyes narrow dangerously and he rears up, knocking you back. He slams a foot into your ribs and spits out, "Leave me alone. We'll both be happier that way."

-/-

"So," Kenma says from the kitchen, "what are you going to do?"

"Ugh, I don't know," you groan, sinking further into their couch.

Kuroo chuckles in amusement as he says, "I honestly don't know what you can do, Oikawa could be anywhere at this point, knowing him."

You grumble and accidentally tear the leather on the armrest of the couch. Kuroo makes a small pained noise from across from you.

"Why the hell does he have to run off every single time?"

Kenma walks in, eyeing the couch before setting the tray of coffee down, "Don't you know? It's always the same reason."

-/-

Whatever the reason, that's the last you see of Oikawa for the next two months. He's burrowed down somewhere, not that you care anymore. Kuroo's theory is that he's probably gone to Ikebukuro, since business is good there. For all you know, he could be in Nagasaki or the fucking moon, anywhere that's far away from your home in Tokyo.

It's frustrating, yes, but you keep trudging onwards. It's summer and unbearably hot, and you find yourself killing out of spite more often. Irihata scolds you for it, but you know he's also grateful for the extra supply of food, since corpses that aren't already rotting are harder to come by nowadays. While you're grateful for the quiet that's now fallen over the apartment, you have to admit that it's eerily quiet. Looks like you really do miss the idiot.

When Oikawa does come back, though, he gives you no warning whatsoever. It was late one Friday night, you'd come back from a hunt with Matsukawa and he was just sitting there, tossing the plastic bottle of the sugar pills back and forth between his hands (which, you noticed, were thinner, veins spiderwebbing across them so exquisitely you thought they would snap at a moment's notice).

He looks up at you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a little while, drinking in the other's presence. He, of course, doesn't offer any explanation why he left or why he's back. His mind, like always, a black box that you don't dare to unwrap. You can see that the absence hasn't been kind to him, though. He's skinnier than ever and it scares you terribly. His cheekbones jut out of his face almost unnaturally and you can see the dying gasps of blue-black bruises on his right cheek, blending almost seamlessly with the dark bags under his eyes, a telltale sign of lack of sleep. You wonder to yourself whether his headaches are bothering him, because you know he still has them.

Oikawa shatters the silence first, giving you the ghost of the smile he used to flash at you so brilliantly, "I'm back, (name)-chan.

-/-

As the two of you find your rhythm again, you find yourself falling back into Oikawa's childish way of thinking.

The thing with living with someone like Oikawa is that you become like the villagers who put up with the boy who cried wolf. You slowly immunized yourself to him. Oikawa is a maelstrom of half-fulfilled fantasies and half-fantasized realities, and on good days you couldn't tell which was which.

At two weeks back, as he sulks listlessly in your bedroom, and you're not really sure whether he's trying to punish you for some unknown reason or just wanted to be dramatic for someone willing to listen.

You find yourself hovering at the doorway more than once, before catching yourself and leaving. You grab some meat from the fridge and make your way to the bedroom again, still hovering.

"Go away, (name)-chan," Oikawa says, tone flat and emotionless. "I'm trying to sleep here."

You take a step back and frown.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?"

Oikawa doesn't answer you, so you leave.

When you come back thirty minutes later, though, he's still wide awake.

-/-

"Oi. Oikawa, get up."

"What is it, (name)-chan?"

"All of your phones have been ringing off the hook for the past hour and it's annoying as hell."

"It's work. I won't answer them."

"That's great and all, Oikawa, but no one's going to wait for you."

"Fine, you leave me behind too."

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

"And I didn't mean it in any way."

"Look, the same guy's been trying to reach you for a long ass time, he's called thirteen times already. Seriously, get your ass out of bed and answer it."

"If the phones are bothering you so much just bring them to me."

"Fine."

And so you do, your arms full of cell phones, expensive and cheap alike, and dump them beside Oikawa's position on the bed in a candy-colored downpour.

"You do realize that you'd feel better if you actually went out and ate something for once?"

"No, I wouldn't," Oikawa replies drily, "and my phones, please."

"I already brought them, you shitbag."

"I see, thanks."

But of course he doesn't see. His eyes are still closed.

-/-

You meet up with Kuroo in a nearby cafe, the need for normal human (well, in this case ghoul) contact overwhelming and urgent.

"How's it going with the boyfriend?" Kuroo asks once the two of you are situated.

You slump in your chair and shrug, unable to form words, not even bothering to deny that Oikawa's not your boyfriend.

"Holy shit, you must be really worked up if you aren't even talking, (name)," Kuroo says.

You exhale slowly as you speak, "I feel like I should be doing something for him. Whenever I see him I just... He's so pitiful right now, you know?"

Kuroo's eyes, contrary to their normal teasing glint, are soft with worry, "You can always come to me and Kenma for help, you know."

You sit up straight and say grouchily, "The whole problem is the stuff that Kenma's giving him."

"Is he still talking to them?" Kuroo asks, spurring you on.

"He doesn't talk at all."

Kuroo pats your hand gently, "Just hang in there, you'll work something out, I know it."

"Thanks. I just-- it's so frustrating. The only thing I can do for him is to keep going. It's such an annoying situation to be put into."

"Are you going to leave him?" Kuroo asks as he eyes you curiously.

You sit in thought for a moment and answer, "No. I don't think it's come to that yet. I can't do that to him yet."

-/-

Still though, things are looking up for once. Oikawa goes out one time in the next week, a small but significant improvement from the previous. He even ate with you at dinner, stealing small slivers of fat from your preferred choice of muscle.

You have never been more relieved in your life, and you let Oikawa steal food from your plate.

The days go slower now, but they're still better. Oikawa sleeps more than ever, but he's speaking again, his smiles are coming back and you can't help but feel relief every time he gifts you with the sight. You try to be there when you can, handing him a tissue whenever he bites his lips so hard they start to bleed, stroking his back when he curls up into a ball, giving him something warm to lean into.

More and more, though, you question why you're doing these things for him. Is this for Oikawa's sake or your own selfish satisfaction? Or perhaps is this love?

Do you love him? Him, Oikawa, who you've fought with since you were in high school? Him who you've hated from the bottom of your being since you first saw him? You feel like you've somehow been coerced into the bad end of a rip-off. Yet, for some reason, you can't imagine an alternative to this situation. If you preferred 500 yen convenience store instant coffee over 10,000 yen specially made coffee, did that say something about the coffee or you?

On the days where you can find time to talk to him, you ask Kuroo these questions.

Kuroo answers all the questions the same way. He smiles at you and says, "We're all growing up, (name), if it's meant to be, it'll work out. If it's not, then, well, life's too short to be wasting your time on trivial things like that, yeah?"

-/-

On Christmas morning, Oikawa greets you with the excitement of a puppy, "(name)-chan! Look! It's snowing!"

"Yeah, I can see that, but do not ask me to go run out onto the streets with you or something like that. Because I won't."

Oikawa rolls his eyes, "I know that already, (name)-chan. I just wanted to give you a present!"

You raise yourself into a sitting position on the bed and Oikawa presses a small package into your hands.

You open it and raise your eyebrows, "What is this?"

Oikawa laughs happily, "I know you were always worried about me taking the pills, so I wanted to show you that I did!"

You look at him, then back at the empty bottle in your hands, your heart feels heavy in your chest. "Oikawa, do I look like an idiot to you?"

"Eh?"

"I bought the fucking prescription from Kenma. You weren't supposed to have finished this bottle until mid-January if you'd actually been eating these."

You feel Oikawa stiffen next to you. You stay quiet, wondering why this was making you so goddamn sad.

"(name)-chan...?" Oikawa says quietly.

"What?" you ask, wincing as your tone comes out harsher than you'd intended.

"I... I'm sorry," Oikawa says finally, his voice unreadable.

Your eyes snap up just as he gets up, grabs his jacket, and walks out.

-/-

When you come to, your vision is swimming. Your eyes flick back and forth, trying to push your way through the damp, heavy air of your surroundings. Something is clamped over your mouth. Is that clay? No- it's a gag, you decide. Fear slowly snakes its way through your veins, squeezing all the air out of your lungs. Where were you? Was Oikawa safe? Did he know where you were?

A silhouette is sitting next to you, and it puts its arms around you, lovingly.

"Hey, (name)-chan."

"Oihggh... whgg..."

There's drool leaking from the corner of your mouth, and you don't know which way to tilt your head to stop it. It's Oikawa, you know it's him, despite the light making him look like an overexposed photo, blotchy and pale, stroking your cheek gently with a velvet-smooth thumb.

"Hey," he croons gently, "Sorry about all this."

"Thhgk... whiiekkgh..."

Oikawa smiles gently down at you, "It's just a sedative to keep you down for a little while." He continues stroking your cheek, but you can feel every tremor in his fingertips. "This is just going to take a minute, okay?" His whispers are so tender, so conspiratorial, that you want to cry. "There are some dangerous things out there. I'm leaving you here for just a little while, so be good and stay here, all right?" Oikawa gives you another one of his blinding smiles, "Let's just say I need to... shut some annoying people up." He gives you one last look as he stands up, "I know I disappointed you by not eating the pills. I know you care a lot about me. I'm sorry for disappointing you, (name)-chan."

"Nnn..."

By the time you can speak, Oikawa is long gone and you're fearing what he's going to do. Your kagune tear easily through your bonds, and as you smash through the metal door keeping you trapped inside, your feet are already flying on the pavement.

You have no idea where the hell Oikawa could've gone, but that's fine. You just had to find him.

"(name)!"

You start, almost slipping on the icy street.

"Hey! S-so, where are you headed?"

Ah, so Yamamoto hasn't changed, same stupid hair, same voice, if anything even more broad shouldered.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have time to talk, Yamamoto."

Yamamoto's expression falls a bit, "O-oh, okay! Yeah, sure, sorry about that."

You smile at him, "It's okay, but can you tell me where--"

"Where Oikawa-san went?" Yamamoto asks, looking at you knowingly.

"Ah, yeah, that would be great."

Yamamoto points in the same direction you've been running, "He actually passed by here just a little bit ago."

"What!? Where was he headed!?"

"Tokyo, I think."

Your eyes widen, "Thanks so much Yamamoto!" You call back to him as you run. He just waves at you and mouths 'good luck!' back to you.

There's only a five percent chance that he'd be there, but you go to your apartment first and as you whip the door open, the stench of blood assaults you and you know that he's here.

-/-

When Kenma finally steps out of the operating room, he looks absolutely wiped.

"Did he mention anything about suicide before?" Kenma asks you tiredly.

"No, never," you answer quietly.

You've never seen the blonde-haired ghoul look so defeated before as he spares you a glance, "He drank sulfuric acid. Concentrated sulfuric acid. Do you understand how dangerous that is?"

The look of confusion you give him is enough of an answer.

He looks at the door to the operating room, "It's one of the strongest legal acids. How the hell did he even get his hands on that?"

You shrug in defeat, "I don't even know him at this point. Can I see him?"

Kenma nods, but looks unsure, "Sure, but I don't think you're going to like what you see."

You grunt, "I've never liked anything when it comes to Oikawa."

But Kenma is right, you're disgusted when you see him. There are bandages dancing up and down his torso from where the acid ate away at his flesh, a morbid painting caused by forces no one could see. You're not disgusted by his scars, but you are disgusted at yourself, the fact that you lived every day without even knowing about these monsters that Oikawa was dealing with. The fact that you bared your neck to a man hundreds of times who was a dreamer, a child, a schizophrenic, a man with the potential to drink acid like a swig of liquor. How could you have withstood it for so long?

And suddenly, the feelings wash away, because you remember that this is Oikawa, this is a man that you simultaneously hate and love with all your heart. Just a man with worries, feelings, and had his cell phone too close to make the call to have something so dangerous delivered to him too soon.

-/-

You stay by Oikawa for two days and one night. Kenma says that he should wake up soon, and that's the reason you stay, you tell yourself.

The first time Oikawa opens his eyes, you're frightened by the lack of focus in his eyes. You've never seen his eyes so hazy and blank. To your relief and horror, he promptly goes back to sleep.

When he comes to, half an hour later, he stays with you this time.

"You must be wondering why I did it. It's written all over (name)-chan's face," he murmurs, staring up at the ceiling.

"Was it them?"

"Them?"

"The... voices."

Oikawa laughs dryly and slurs, "They'll be so disappointed to hear that. Just voices."

His eyelids and your chest are both heavy, but for different reasons.

"So it wasn't them?"

When Oikawa doesn't say anything, you say soothingly, "I know you think I'm pretty dumb, but I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"So ask," Oikawa says heavily.

You take his hand, "Who are they?"

Oikawa turns his head away but lets you keep stroking his knuckles with your thumb.

"Not anyone that you would know."

"Okay... What do they look like?"

"There are too many," Oikawa snaps, "There's Tobio-chan, Hinata, Iwa-chan, Kiyoko-san, Yachi-chan, Kindaichi-kun, Kyouken-chan, Aone, Sugawara. Am I boring you or should I keep going on?"

You're taken aback, "A-all the time?"

"Not always, but sometimes it feels like I'm holding my own little party," he answers bitterly.

"Hmm, then are there any of them here now?"

"Kyouken has been trying to talk over you the whole time." Oikawa flips the space somewhere vaguely right of where you're sitting off, "He can go die, though, he doesn't like you or me."

"That's for your better judgement."

This earns you a smile, if faint.

"Oikawa, you should've--"

"What? Told you? So you could shove more pills down my throat and land me in a hospital? No thanks, I got enough of that in high school."

"You landed yourself in a hospital," you tell him.

He doesn't deem it necessary to respond.

"Plus, I was never able to catch you in high school anyway."

"Well congrats," Oikawa says, his tone acrid. He turns away and presents his back to you, a white petal plucked from a rose that had long since rotted away, "I'm trapped."

-/-

You stay with him, though, and fall asleep next to him. You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of crying.

It's Oikawa, with one arm thrown over his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, fat and fast.

"Hey, Oikawa?"

Oikawa makes a nearly inaudible whimper and shakes his head.

"Tooru, hey," you whisper gently, creeping towards his bed.

"Sorry I woke (name)-chan up," he chokes.

Your muscles are tight and ache from the air conditioning and sitting too long, but you can hardly feel that. Your heart twists this way and that as you listen to Oikawa's choked sobs.

"Are you okay?"

"J-just a minute. It'll pass."

You kneel at his bedside and touch his hand, "Can I?"

You're gentle, exceedingly so. You're so afraid that if you're not, he'll break, and if you've learned anything from these past few months, it's that Oikawa will break if you're not careful.

Oikawa grabs your hand and twines your fingers together so tightly you can feel his nails, bitten down to the beds, digging into your skin, and brings your interlocked hands to his lips.

You wonder how many nights were spent like this. At some random hotel, alone, chasing after his own idea of strength, like the gym-goers you see constantly in their brightly lit, fancy exercise rooms on their treadmills. Just another mile, just another night and I'll be beautiful, I'll be good. It's such an abominable image that you want to wash your hands with Oikawa's tears.

"Are you hurt?"

"N-no, it'll p-pass, like I said."

"I can call Ken--"

"No." Oikawa's voice is sharp as he refuses you. "It's-it's already a bit crowded in here."

You look around, even though you know it's illogical, "I can kill them for you."

Oikawa laughs, all humor lost, "It's fine, (name)-chan. It's not so bad. I just wish--" Oikawa breaks off, his voice cracking, "I just wish that they'd g-go away sometimes, you know?"

"Tooru?"

"Yes, (name)-chan?"

"I'm real, you know that right?"

"I know."

Oikawa sounds confident, but Oikawa can sound however he wants whenever he wants, even in this time of brokenness.

You untwine your fingers and kiss his wrist. You can feel his pulse fluttering against his skin, like a butterfly beating its wings against a window, frantic and weak.

"I'm real," you murmur into his wrist, as if to inject the words into his bloodstream, "You're real. Kuroo, Kenma, we're all real."

"I know."

-/-

As Kenma gives the go ahead for Oikawa to go home with you, you learn about Oikawa's friends. You learn how Oikawa uses them while working, divvying up information and faces in volume to each of them like a cake at a birthday party.

You learn about which ones are the ones that whisper into his ear when in meetings. You learn that the times when he impulsively clung tighter to you when you had sex, one of them was peering through the doorway. You learn that the reason why he always uses you as a pillow is because someone else has already the taken the spot next to you.

You learn which of them like you and which don't. Most of all, though, you learn which one of them screamed into Oikawa's ear until he reached his breaking point. You learn which one handed him the bottle of acid- you learn which one to hate the most.

Oikawa tells you again and again, "I know they're not real, I'm not an idiot like you. But most of the time it's easier just to pretend they are real than to ignore what they have to say."

And that, essentially, was the crux of the problem. The more you listened to him talk, the more you believed that it was healthier for Oikawa to keep them around and not get rid of them. You were beginning to think that it would be better for him to just keep pretending that they were real. So you research. You force paper after paper about schizophrenia down your throat, trying to find a way to digest the information and help Oikawa. But it didn't help. All the papers described normal people, they didn't describe Oikawa. They didn't have anything to help the tortured child of a man, they couldn't capture the sheer force of boy that he was on good days and the tsunami he was on bad days.

When his bandages came off, you were surprised to see scars.

Kenma wasn't sure either why Oikawa had scars, but Oikawa himself wasn't bothered.

He chortles as he twirls around, shirtless. "Look, (name)-chan, tattoos!"

They are revolting, you hate them. They're just glaring signs of your failure to protect the one you love most. "We don't have any laser removal for those, you know."

"But 'this isn't a phase, mom!'"

You give him a smile so false you feel your cheek muscles aching in protest.

"Don't keep them, then, for me," you say, voice barely above a whisper as you run your hand over the largest ridges on his chest.

"Mm, I don't really like the way they look anyways," he says, cradling your hand in both of his.

-/-

Surprisingly, it's Oikawa who takes initiative this time.

"What's it called again? Noxa-something? Noxiane?"

"I've never heard of it."

"It's not even PMDA approved yet," Oikawa says, grinning at you, "Kenma is such a wonderful soul. I might die, by the way."

"It was your choice, though, not his."

You lace your arms around his ribcage, "Are you actually going to die?"

Oikawa sniggers and pecks your cheek, "Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?"

"If you do I will rip Kenma apart with my own hands."

Oikawa smiles even wider and kisses you briefly on the lips, "You know, that possessiveness really isn't like you. I like you when you're much more laid-back."

You shrug helplessly, "It's not my fault that everyone tries to take what's mine."

Oikawa doesn't say anything, just unwraps your arms from around him and kisses your palms.

-/-

Sometimes, when Oikawa is working, you can see wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, like feather thin cracks on ice. And just for a moment, you allow yourself a second to really look at him, the man you've spent fifteen years with, no matter how you felt about him.

At night, when the both of you are tired and sluggish, you see his notes, messy and written in hurried katakana instead of his usually neat kanji. Just looking at the energetically written characters makes your head spin, and the thought comforts you some. Understanding every part of Oikawa would be synonymous to understanding too much.

You're still awfully nervous about letting Oikawa take the medicine in the morning and watching him waltz right out the door an hour later, but you suppose it's for the best. He hasn't gotten into any trouble yet.

Things are still rough sometimes, but it's manageable because Oikawa doesn't hide it anymore. When he needs you, he flops down next to you and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pressing his face into your neck. The two of your sit there until he feels good enough to leave, and he does, but never without kissing your palms first.

You find yourself watching more television these days. Oikawa's head often lolling in your lap, you revel in these moments of peace. However, it never lasts, because Oikawa is never comfortable doing just one thing for long, and soon, he's back running around and wreaking havoc, and you're back to yelling at him to shut up and deafening yourself with earbuds.

The sex you two have now is slower, more tender, as if you're trying to make up for something that was lost in the long, dark tunnel that Oikawa had trapped the both of you in. The two of you are still trying to escape the tunnel, but you stop now, sometimes, to smell the roses on the side of the road. Or maybe, just maybe, you're running out of energy, wearing each other down like every other disastrous element on the planet.

Growing older, growing up, it's different, but not so bad.

-/-

"--and I'm telling you! This girl was totally coming onto me!"

You ignore this, because if Oikawa was sitting on a fucking park bench and a leaf blew into his lap, the leaf would've been coming onto him too.

"But then I said, no way, I'm already taken, and she was like, oh really, and then I said I was dating you."

You blink.

"So that's why I said if anyone weird comes to bother you in the next few days, tell them I said hi, 'kay?"

"You're serious."

It wasn't a question, but Oikawa still treats it like one, "Of course I am! I'm always serious, (name)-chan."

He almost never is but you don't say anything.

The two of you walk side by side, not too close but a touch too close to be just friends. Passersby probably assumed you were two close friends, which is simultaneously the truth and the farthest thing from it.

You arrive at your destination, Kitanomaru's sakura trees that Kuroo and Kenma so desperately wanted the four of you to see. Oikawa looks around, and you watch his gaze trace over two mothers and their toddlers sitting under a sakura tree, eating pre-packed soba and chatting away, looking like the picture of perfection on any magazine cover; the exact opposite of you two.

"Wishing you had kids?"

"Ugh, no," Oikawa wrinkles his nose, "Kids are so gross, and I'd never want to make you go through the pain of pushing one out of you."

"Lucky for you I don't want kids either."

Oikawa sighs wistfully at that, "But what a waste, don't you think? Your body, my brain, imagine the possibilities!"

"You make them sound like some kind of science experiment."

Oikawa studies you for a moment, "You know, I think you'd make a great mom. Oh I have an idea!" He leans in and whispers in your ear, "Why don't we go steal one right now?"

You kick him lightly in the shin, "The security guard is right there, say that a little louder why dontcha?"

Oikawa smiles, "As if that would stop me."

You've missed this, you realize absently, lightly talking about just nothing.

"So? Where are the they?" Oikawa asks, breaking you out of your daze.

You check your phone and show the last message Kenma had sent you to him, "It looks like they'll be here in about five."

"Knowing them, they're probably squeezing in a last minute makeout session or something," Oikawa says, mockingly nodding his head sagely and stroking a pretend beard.

"You're so mean to them. You realize that we're probably no different?"

Oikawa slaps your shoulder lightly and whines, "You're no fun, (name)-chan." And he points to the queue sloping along the riverside, "Should we get in line for the boats?"

"It's already going to take forever anyway," you say, staring apprehensively at the line.

"You see, (name)-chan!? This is why you've made absolutely zero progress with your life," Oikawa says, wagging his finger at you with maximum condescendence, "Look, you go buy me a coffee and I'll wait in line here."

When you return, he takes the cup from your hand and drops another peck to your palm, "Look at us. We're the epitome of cliché romance aren't we? Sharing a coffee beneath the sakura blossoms while waiting in line for a boat. Honestly though, as a couple this is the height of boredom. We're surrounded by squalling kids and men who use this as a chance to get drunk at three in the afternoon. It's not romantic in the slightest."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"(name)-chan, I'm complaining for the sake of complaining! Honestly, it doesn't sound so bad. Me, you, the mad doctor, and the guy with horrid hair row out, get a little drunk, and hopefully I push you out of the boat with no consequences at some point."

"So we are a couple, then."

"Is that really all you got out of the conversation? My god I don't even know why I try. Yes, (name)-chan, we are a couple. We have been for fifteen years, you know."

"You kept track, I'm impressed."

"I remember everything about you."

You roll your eyes and yank him by the front of his shirt to press your lips to his. He tastes like cheap, 500 yen convenience store coffee, and honestly, from the events of the past month, this is exactly what you need. You can see your reflection over the green water, sakura trees framing your bodies like schoolgirls peering over the water, flowers a breath's-width away from the surface. It's as much of a cliché as you could hope to achieve in your topsy-turvy world of destruction, and for the first time in a long time, you're happy.

In the end, Oikawa had stopped taking the meds.

Oikawa shrugs, "I just couldn't deal with it, you know? It was way too quiet, and you know I hate silence."

You're more concerned than upset as you remind him, "There're the bad ones too."

"I know," Oikawa says, looking at you with soft eyes, "but you can help me with them now, right?"

You smile at him, a real, genuine smile and lock your hands together, "As long as you won't... you know--"

"Try to turn myself into a skin-covered water balloon again?" Oikawa asks lightly, something only he could pull off. "No I don't think so."

"Promise me."

"Eh!? You're so stiff, (name)-chan, don't be so serious all the time!"

"Promise, Tooru, or I won't let you go."

In the end, you'd never actually squeezed a promise out of Oikawa, but you supposed that that just meant you'd have to keep a closer eye on him. Not that you minded.

"(name)! Oikawa!"

Kenma and Kuroo push their way through the crowd towards the two of you, Kuroo waving his hand frantically and pulling a shy Kenma along with him.

Oikawa snickers behind his hand and says to Kuroo, "Oh my, Tetsurou, it's about time. You really are getting old, aren't you?"

"Ah, Oikawa, ever the charmer, aren't you?"

"Don't pretend like you care," Oikawa grouses slightly, "It'll make it harder for me to push you in later."

And he really wouldn't, or you think he wouldn't, but you've barely launched off the shore before you catch a glimpse of Oikawa's mischievous smirk and you're claimed by the water. You flail slightly as air bubbles escape to the surface, the water shockingly cold even though it's already spring.

Then, a hand plunges down into the depths, barely visible from the sparse sunlight that filters down to your eyes.

This asshole, you think, as you grasp his hand and let him pull you up.