Regret about high school life, Bokuto comforts
Genre: comfort, high school to college, friendship,
Contents: mentioned but not described past history of self harm, regret, anxiety, rumination, fear of abandonment, social anxiety, limiting beliefs, facets of american high school to college experience which may not apply to all people (living somewhere then going somewhere far away for college/leaving communities and social circles), prom, dances, homecoming), feeling “fucked up” and feeling like a bad role model to children, self deprecating, feeling like “garbage”, feeling undeserving of unconditional love (aka missing the point/misunderstanding the concept of unconditional love), crying, self critical, feeling incapable of love,
a/n: Bokuto hangs out in reader’s room/in bed with reader. This is fanfiction so just pretend that your controlling parents think Bokuto is perfect and completely love respect and trust him (more than they love respect and trust you even) so they really let him do whatever he wants and have no qualms about him at all. Or pretend your parents aren’t there at all. Whatever works in the fiction for the reader.
Also the word faith mentioned nonreligiously
Wc: 5432 (i’m not joking)
~*~*~*~
The clock ticks as you wait for the school day to end. Since the days are numbered, there is reason to savor each and every one—collecting every moment, stuffing them into a vial, concocting and distilling the essence of this specific time in your life that you will never be able to return to.
You could also savor the feeling of waiting for the school day to end. Although that specific feeling is not going to be as rare, since a similar feeling could arise in university or work, but somehow, that is really depressing to think about.
You need to find something to be nostalgic for, something to miss. There can’t be any possible way that you are fine or neutral as you are now. There must be something to fix, something you can be doing better.
After school, you are looking forward to something very exciting: hanging out with Bokuto.
No one would have ever expected that situation to come out of left field.
There are a lot of things you won’t miss about high school. You were really stressed about grades, socializing, outcomes, and reaching the finish line. And there are some things that you were sure you wouldn't care about because they were the backdrop of your daily life. Repetition can emulate a sense of safety, but you were sure that couldn't apply to school. You never thought you would have positive associations with the tile under your feet, the painted cement brick walls, “your” table in the cafeteria, the mess in your locker, the writing on your desk by previous students. You never thought you would be attached to those memories.
“Memories” has such a strong connotation, whether it's fond or unsavory. You never thought you could feel nostalgic about seemingly neutral observations about high school. You didn’t have to “remember” those truths because you saw them every day. You didn’t have room in your brain to remember the weird smell in the back hallway, the unkempt grass near the creek at the base of the hill behind the school, the flickering light in the bathroom by the gym, and the ever changing flowers on display in the front window of the library. You were too busy cramming for exams and trying to please people. You didn't have time to remember all those things.
The daily things you’ve grown so accustomed to might be the things you miss most, when you are having a hard time in a new place. No matter how many bad experiences you had in this building, you couldn't erase the good times—and you don’t want to forget them. At least you went there every day. Consistency feels “safe”, even if what actually happened every single day sucked.
Your favorite thing about high school was hanging out with your friends, but many of your relationships took a turn towards the end of the year. So all the previously sweet memories have a lot of pain attached to them now. Maybe you would be able to remember the good times without feeling this pain later on. But for now, the bitterness and confusion of feeling abandoned is too much to bear.
One of the few good things about school left is Bokuto.
You plan to wait for Bokuto outside the school, but he’s already at your locker. How did he get there so fast? You have to stop questioning these things because you are not into shenanigans like that. You’ll never know.
You walk out the building together and head over to Bokuto’s house.
It’s just another day with a light blue sky and sparse fluffy clouds. As if it was any other day. As if once this day is over, it can never come back.
“I can’t believe we only have a few weeks,” Bokuto says.
“You say this every day,” you say.
“It’s true every day.”
“It is.”
“What’s the point of the last few weeks of school anyway,” Bokuto says. “We aren’t even doing anything. We already know what we are going to do.”
“It’s so stupid,” you agree.
But if we didn’t have to go to the last few weeks, then the last few weeks of school would be even earlier. There’s no escaping the end. It’s going to happen now or later. Or sooner, apparently.
Bokuto tells you about some random stuff about his day and you wonder how people are having interesting things happen to them every day. You try to come up with some stuff that happened to you today and he listens like it’s interesting but you’re sure he's just being polite since he's your friend now. No stranger would want to listen to what you had to say.
You need to figure this out soon. You’ll never make new friends at this rate.
But for now you can enjoy Bokuto’s time, attention, and company, and not overthink* what you’re saying.
*You’ll overthink it, but at least you’re saying something! That’s progress!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The end of senior year of high school is approaching, and regret presses heavy against your chest, filling your lungs with tar, mistakes from your childhood fossilizing into “your story”. You go down there with the intent of excavating them (learning from them? Rectifying them?), but instead, you just roll around in them, frozen beside them. They will never leave. You can never let them go. It’s part of your story, and who you are, and you can't ever change it.
That is awful.
The end of an era trickles into existence moment by moment, painfully slow, and too fast at the same time. You don’t want to be an adult. Yet at the same time, you want freedom and you want to try something new. You don’t know what kinds of freedoms to expect. There are a lot of other aspects that aren’t so “free” about adult life. Supposed “freedom” can be a burden in this society which sucks.
There are a lot of experiences and opportunities from childhood you aren’t ready to let go of yet. It’s scary to not have a safety net.
The insidious thought of wishing you could have a redo coils around you, thorned stems wrapping and tightening and pressing at the bruises, drawing blood. You can’t have a redo. That’s not how life works. “Time” marches forward. You know this fact, so you wish it was simple to let go of this wish. What would you have wanted to do differently?
You wished you had talked to more people. You wished you had more friends. You wished you had more “high school experiences” like dating and parties and friend groups and doing fun activities together.
But you didn’t, so maybe you couldn't have. Even if you got a redo, other things would have had to be different too, if you were to be able to achieve the outcomes you wanted.
You wished you could have believed in yourself more or had more practice. You wish you didn't put so much pressure on yourself to make every interaction into something positive, into something that could evolve into a friendship. You wish you didn't put so much pressure on yourself to control the outcome. The outcome is not up to you. You can try to influence it, but you can’t guarantee it.
If you had put more effort into getting closer to the people you wanted to, maybe it would have worked. It didn’t work in some cases. But maybe you weren’t going about it the right way. Was there any way to be included into a friend group? Or would they have thought you were annoying for trying, and rejected you soundly? You don’t really know.
But there are some people who you think getting closer to them might have actually worked if you tried sooner.
But of course who’s to say what all the factors were that made it happen in this way. Maybe this was the way it was “supposed” to happen. It just sucks to have a friend you are excited to have only for a few more months.
All the factors that coalesced into Bokuto being a friend that you want to get close to were a mystery. You really don’t know how in that moment, you suddenly felt brave to approach someone—someone like Bokuto, no less. Life doesn’t hand you friends easily. You have to take them. You have to make them yourself.
So you know it wasn’t an accident.
It might have been luck but it’s no accident.
You miss all the time that you could have been friends with Bokuto earlier, but weren’t. You’ve missed out on things, and there’s nothing you can do about that now. You can only try to experience joy in the present moment.
You don’t want to feel the full pain of missing out. You wish you could just get over it. It’s already over. Why are you still clinging to this? Adults don’t get to go to awkward middle school dances or prom or homecoming games (as a student.) So what? Why does this have to matter to you still? You wish it didn't matter.
There’s going to be some things you can never access ever again, once you leave this building. It is scary to not have your needs met. It is scary to not know where your needs are going to be met in the future.
It’s your final year of high school, and things are going to be different.
You would be more excited for things to be new and different if you could guarantee it would be better. You don’t want to be naive. You don’t want to assume that you’re going to be a new person just because you’re in a different geographical location or a different arbitrary distinction in your life. There’s not that much difference between seventeen and eighteen and eighteen and nineteen. You don’t want to be the exact same person when you’re thirty. You want to work on your issues and become a different person. But you don’t see how you can magically become a different person without actually trying.
It’s scary.
You think you can fake being a different person but it’s hard. It’s really hard faking not being scared and acting as if you don’t hate yourself or undermine yourself. You don't even know what a person like that would act like, you don't even know what to emulate.
Actually. You have a lot of examples around you, actually. But if it were that easy ….
Well.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Bokuto isn’t hanging out with you after school today because he is hanging out with his volleyball friends. So you have more than enough time to ruminate and be sad.
What you’re not expecting is Bokuto texting you later after dinnertime, asking to hang out.
Well. You’re not entirely opposed. You suppose you can change tracks pretty quickly. Bokuto has that skill after all—making everything seem like it’s going to be okay. At least for a little while.
But you’re not actually up for anything other than lying down, and doing and perceiving as little as possible, so.
Hopefully he can adjust to that.
You text him that and he asks you if you’d rather be alone/sleep early. You tell him that he knows you’re not going to sleep.
So he comes over.
He bursts through your door like a cyclone and presents himself with a flourish and a cracked grin on his face.
You smile tiredly at him.
He closes the door and gets into bed with you.
You’ve always appreciated his audacity. There’s so many social rules that you are afraid of breaking, afraid of being seen as weird or rude. But Bokuto just asks for what he wants. He didn’t wait for “a long enough time” to pass in your friendship before he asked if you were comfortable inviting him over to your house, or if you would prefer to hang out somewhere else. Same for hanging out in your room, and in your bed. He wants you to be comfortable and convenienced, and he doesn’t want to impose on you.
He also asks what you want, too. Being his friend forces you to have to acknowledge that you want things to, and you don’t have to go along with things for someone else's benefit.
“How was your day?” he asks.
You hum vaguely in response.
“That bad?” Bokuto asks.
“Yeah.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
You sigh. “I wish you could,” you say. And it’s a little too real to be a lighthearted joke. You never know when your dark self deprecating humor is going to be too much for you. You always assume you can handle it. You’re doing it to yourself. You know what you’re going to say. How could you accidentally hurt yourself?
But if you go door to door, asking for the devil, eventually you will find him.
And when you try to find your limit, when you try to see how far you can go and what you can get away with, eventually you will hurt your own feelings.
Just because you’re always hurting your own feelings and ignoring your reactions, doesn't mean your reaction isn’t going to one day spill over.
It’s a losing battle. You’re clowning yourself.
“I might be able to!” he says, still joking.
You don’t reply and he nudges you.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“The same old,” you say vaguely.
“Which one?” he asks (genuinely, and not at all sarcastically, which is crazy to you.)
You look at him, unimpressed, (but actually impressed) that he can lovingly and gently say something that would from anyone else be a roast (even if it is a gentle roast). He genuinely wants to be there for you through multiple of the same problems you have over and over.
You really cannot comprehend this.
“Just, like, sad. About social stuff.”
“Like what? Like me going to hang out with the team today?” Bokuto asks.
You don’t like that he is blaming yourself. Is he trying to give you an easy way out? You aren’t going to scapegoat him. You can’t.
“Kind of related to that, but about more stuff, too.”
“Like what?”
You tell him all the stories about how you’ll always be unhappy no matter what, and you're going to get the same results over and over, and you can’t change and what’s the point of trying.
You don’t get very far in your story before he interrupts you to ask, “can I hug you? Or hold your hand?”
Even though this is a normal occurrence with Bokuto since he is such a tactile person, you are still surprised every time. You are not used to asking for physical touch, so you often don't notice when having physical touch would be a gentle, soothing, and positive addition to an experience.
“I—sure. Okay.”
He hugs you and then holds your hand in between your bodies. “Okay. Keep telling your story.”
This endless unconditional support is irksome. You can’t fathom the depths of his patience. When is it going to end? You thought you were going to hit the limit long ago.
You take a break from your story to breathe. You almost don't even know what you’re saying. It’s such an old and well worn story and he’s heard bits and pieces of all of it but maybe not all of it at once and so messily.
You blink at him. He stares at you through the silence.
When you don’t continue, he asks you, “can I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want me to respond now or later? Or listen and not respond?”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want.”
“Noo!” he protests gently. “What do you want? What would be helpful to you?”
You sigh. “What do you think I need?”
“That is not answering the question,” he says. “And it’s an irrelevant question.”
“Wlel, you’re my friend who loves me and wants the best for me, right?” you ask.
“Yes,” he says, immediately and with certainty.
“So, with those credentials, what do you want for me?”
“I mean. I don’t want you to be sad,” he says. “But I know that being sad is a part of life, so you can’t ever not be sad ever again. But I wish I could support you and make this sadness easier to get through.”
“Yeah.”
“And also I wish you could see yourself like how I see you. And also be gentler to yourself.”
“Hm.” That’s neve happening, but you don’t want to disappoint him or make him sad. And you don’t want him to think that his efforts are worthwhile (even though they might be.) You don't want him to leave because he realized his efforts are going to be fruitless.
“Thank you for listening,” you say.
“I am always here for you,” he says.
Even that assertion hurts. It’s not true. It’s wishful thinking. Nothing in life is certain.
“But I do have responses,” he says. “I don’t want you to think I condone what you are saying. But only if you feel like hearing them.”
You nod.
“It’s okay?” he asks.
“Yes, you can tell me,” you say.
“I wish you could see that the rumination is hurting you,” he says.
“So what?” you want to say. But that’s really aggressive. You try to tone it down. “I’m already hurt no matter whether I ruminate or not. I can’t change the past.”
Okay, maybe that’s not super toned down, but you are hurt and frustrated. And unable to overcome. So.
He pats your head, in a slow smoothing motion from top to above your neck. “Can you forgive that it happened?”
You don’t reply. A lot is going on in your brain and you don’t think you can let any of it out. All your instincts are defensive, and one branch of thought says that Bokuto doesn't know what he’s talking about and he doesn't know what you went through and he went through as far as you can tell the exact opposite of what you went through so of course he would have a forgiving l attitude because nothing bad happened to him like how it did to you. That’s unfair because everyone has been through something or another and you don’t want to invalidate him ever but definitely not while he’s helping you. You don't want to bite the hand that feeds you or whatever.
So you forgo that line of reasoning. Second, how can you forgive and forget this? If this is your destiny, you don’t ever want to forget it. You don’t want the sting of disappointment to hurt more than the isolation ever would.
You don’t know which hurts the most.
“It’s okay if you can’t forgive it right now,” he says. “But I hope you can in the future. I hope you believe it’s possible. I don’t want you to hurt yourself more.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Ironically possible?”
You crinkle your nose in distaste. Self care ironically. You don’t know how you feel about that.
“You deserve kindness and gentleness and happiness.”
You can’t say “the world hasn’t ever given that to me.” Well, you could say that. But how can you say that right to the face of someone who is trying their absolute hardest to show you gentleness and kindness.
You wonder if you could ironically deserve kindness and gentleness and happiness.
Hm. Still no.
He sighs.
You wonder if he’s ready to leave.
“You’re doing a good job,” he says.
“No,” you say.
“Yes!”
“When have I ever done a good job?”
“Right now! And plenty of times before.”
“No.”
“You don’t have to paint everything with one brush stroke. Not everything in your life was horribly awful all the time. And especially the future doesn’t have to reflect the past.”
It’s very convenient of you to forget the good things that happened to you and all the fun you had in the past. Very convenient to push a very specific narrative that you will be unhappy and alone for the rest of your life.
Who does that benefit? Why do you feel like you benefit from this mindset?
Maybe you can’t unpack everything at once in this moment. But now that you know there’s a question to be asked, it’s going to live in the back of your brain forever, pestering you.
You don’t have the blissful ignorance you had before.
“I have something else to say,” Bokuto says.
Normally, this trait of Bokuto’s—brain bouncing off the walls, going in a million different directions, always having something to say, always taking the conversation to new places—is cute and you love it. (Normally) you love his attention and if the easiest way to get his attention is to listen to him speak, you are happy to do it. If you weren’t in the spotlight, this owuld be fine.
But he keeps trying to help you and give you unconditional love! Even though you are garbage and providing no value right now! It’s not computing.
“Can I say it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I also wanted to say, what happened to you in the past doesn’t have to repeat. Especially what happened to you because of things that weren't your fault.”
You barely hold back your snort. “Aren’t we supposed to believe patterns?” You don't bring up that his worst subject is math because that would be petty and also isn’t pattern recognition something third graders are supposed to excel at? He can’t be that bad at math.
“Human beings have the capacity for change. And maybe you weren’t in your ideal environment to thrive. Once you’re given everything you need to be loved and supported, you will naturally evolve into who you were always meant to be.”
You shake your hand free from Bokuto’s and press it to your chest. He stares at the detachment between you. He rests his hand in front of yours. The kicker is: he still looks interested in what you have to say.
Hoooow?
“I can’t control my environment,” you say finally. Wondering if you have won the argument yet.
“To a certain extent.” Hm. You haven’t won yet. “But you can know what you are looking for and enforce your boundaries.”
“How is that going to help.”
“It will!”
Ugh.
You know the look on his face isn’t pity exactly. It’s easy to read it that way. It’s easy to think that he had friends how he loved in high school and he’s likeable so he’s going to have a great experience in his next stage of life, and all subsequent following stages as well. He has the skills and the luck. He can carve a place for himself in the world. Or maybe it was handed to him. Maybe he doesn't have to fight to fit in, find a community, to have his needs met. Maybe he’s just meant to be happy. He got lucky. He found the key. Or the key was given to him long ago. What about you?
His expression isn’t pitying, exactly, but it looks like it.
“Do you believe me?” he asks.
“What?” you grumble.
“That you don’t have to blame yourself for what happened to you. It doesn’t have to be something that was wrong with you, or your fault.”
“A—
“And even if it was your fault, you can learn and grow from it. You can do something different next time, you get accept help, you can nurture yourself into the person you want to be.”
“I just want to be different now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, now.”
“Then why am I sad?”
Your voice cracks between you. And Bokuto makes an aborted motion. He wants to put you back together. He wants to be there for you.
And you are embarrassed and mortified that tears burst from your eyes.
He coos at you and whispers, and pats your hair, and you cry more.
He hugs you.
This is so gross and awful and you don’t want anyone to see you cry but you suppose if he hasn’t left yet then is this really going to send him over the edge (the edge of leaving)? If this (crying) is the greatest weakness that was the straw that broke the camel’s back (the straw: your flaws, the camel’s back: Bokuto’s tolerance for spending time with you) then so be it.
But little did you know/it was impossible for you to comprehend that Bokuto wants you to depend on him and he wants to be there for you. (Wild.)
“You’re being there for yourself and trying to protect yourself. You’re only doing what you know how to do.”
“It’s not working,” you croak.
“It worked until now.”
“And now what?”
“You find a new way. When you’re ready.”
“I’ll never be ready.”
“That’s okay, too.”
You squirm and he struggles against you.
“Let me go!”
“No!”
“I have to blow my nose, dummy!”
“Use my shirt!”
You gape at him. “NO!”
He lets you go and you blow your nose in the bathroom and you spend as little time as possible looking at your crying face: glassy eyes and vacant expression. And redder than usual nose and cheeks.
You arrive back in bed. Bokuto stares up at you, head on one of your pillows, covers pulled up to his torso.
He pats the space on your bed in front of him.
You sigh. You prop your pillows against the wall and sit up.
Bokuto shuffles towards you and puts his head on your lap. He looks at you meaningfully and you pat his hair.
You think that’s the end of it. You cried, you washed your face, you are fully prepared for Bokuto to fall asleep here. You aren’t looking for an excuse to text his parents—you don’t want to be perceived by adults™ at all—but you wouldn't want them worrying about their precious boy. He’s just here, being a good friend to a fuck up. They really raised a stand up citizen, an absolutely, exquisitely kind, superstar of a person.
That’s so crazy.
“What if you tried finding your own positive intent?”
Your brain turned off because you were expecting the end of the convo, so his question startled you.
“What?” you said, while giving your brain time to catch up.
“You weren’t trying to hurt yourself back then.”
You don’t think now is the right time to bring up all the times you’ve hurt yourself in the past. You stay quiet and let him do this thing. You wish you could receive it in the way that would make him happy and not upset and not ready to abandon you because you can never change and he’s tired of taking care of you like this. But you can’t. So you listen and hope that everything will be okay.
“You weren’t trying to hurt yourself with all your decisions you made in the past. You were trying your best with what you were given. And you couldn't have known anything you didn’t know back then. There’s no way to magically wish you had known back then what you might know now.”
“Maybe knowledge is a burden. Maybe it was better to not know anything and to still have hope.”
Bokuto gasps. “You can still have hope!”
“I have to learn my lesson.”
“What lesson?”
You open your mouth, your fighting instincts ready before your words are. How do you answer this question—in a satisfactory way, that will convince Bokuto you’re right. You’re right. You know you’re right. How can you be wrong?
But all that comes to mind is how you did everything wrong and you have a hunch that he’s going to count all or some of those times as “times when it was out of your control” and “not your fault” which—
You can’t fault him for his perspective, you guess. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
And, you secretly hope he’s right. But there’s no way he’s right. You have the evidence right here. (“Evidence” … but to you it’s real.)
“Like. Imagine any child in your situation. What would you tell them?”
That question wrenches a horrified reaction from you. You don’t want to be anywhere near a child, in case all your fucked-up-edness rubs off on them. You don’t want to be the reason someone is sad like you.
He stares at you patiently like he’s actually waiting for an answer.
You “know” the right answer (be gentle and loving to the child). You aren’t pleased that he’s asking questions you don't even want to answer sarcastically. You don’t believe in “toughening” kids up at home because the world is scary. The world should be kinder. Why would anyone want to hurt kids on purpose to “prepare” them for the world? Why would anyone create a life where kids aren’t safe in the world or at home? Literally nowhere?
“It’s not their fault,” you choke out finally. He’s really not going to budge on this unless you move things along. For how hyper he is, when he decides he needs to be patient for something, he’s not going to break first.
And you don’t want to answer dishonestly. “Even for pretend” you wouldn't want to hurt a child on purpose.
“Yeah,” he says gently. “It’s not your fault either.”
You sigh. You’ll have to leave it at that for now. You trust him. You don’t think he would ever lie to you on purpose. Even if you don’t have faith in the universe, you can try to have faith in Bokuto, or at least in the fact that he wouldn't deliberately lie to your face.
“I love you,” he says.
You feel gross at that admission. How can he love all these unloveable parts of you? All you’ve done for the entire duration of hanging out with him tonight was be a burden and unloveable.
“I love you, too,” you say, because even if today you feel like you’re incapable of love, you know that you appreciate Bokuto, and his company, and how he cares about you. And you want him to know you appreciate him. Just because you are sad now doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate that he cares about you.
“Yay!” Bokuto grins. He pats your back rambunctiously, definitely evoking the vibe of Athlete after a successful huddle or point.
You suppose you and Bokuto are on a team together, a team for your mental health.
“Why don’t we do something fun?” he exclaims.
“Like what?” you answer sarcastically, but the bright eyed grin you receive and the breath he takes means he really thought—
“It’s nighttime, what do you think we’re going to be able to do?”
He looks up at you with watery, sparkling eyes. “…ramen?”
You kick him. “Are you serious? It’s so late!”
“We have to have some romantic escapades to celebrate our youth! The precious time that we have!” Bokuto says. Him weaponizing a fake genuine voice to be sarcastic is sending you (to an early grave).
He’s not wrong though is the problem. His joke is real to you and that’s what makes his joke so much funnier.
“We have to celebrate our youth!”
“Okay, I get it!” you snap. He grins at you and you pat his shoulders.
“What?”
“Well? Get up!”
He lifts his head from your lap and turns to face you rightways up instead of upside down.
“Really?”’
“Did you hear anything I said for the last seventeen hours?” you ask. “I’m taking this shit seriously! Move!”
He bounces up, manic grin shining in the lowlit room. He can’t believe you’re doing this. He can’t believe you agreed.
He didn’t think he’d get this far.
You look at the gift warily from all sides. It doesn’t count that you're having fun at this because it was so late, it wasn’t spontaneous. If someone gives you something you want after you ask for it, it somehow doesn’t count because you forced them to give you what you wanted (?) Doesn’t make sense, but okay.
So anyway, you resent but not really Bokuto for “tricking” you into having fun.
You are excited for this experience, and embarrassed that you’re so excited for something that should be normal.
You wish you could peacefully enjoy a moment like a normal person, but for now you can allow both your enjoyment of it and your annoyance at your enjoyment of it to exist peacefully because life is complicated and you’re trying your best.