Sakusa comforts you when you think you’re annoying
Genre: comfort, domestic, established relationship
Contents: social anxiety, self deprecating, snack mention (Sakusa is a snack. jk but seriously but also food mentioned in the second paragraph)
Wc: 1312
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
You and Sakusa return home from a social engagement, which you felt like didn’t go well for you. You still feel raw and inflamed even, sore from the rejection that you imagined receiving from them. Who’s to say it wasn’t real? You don't know. You can’t tell. You assume rejection has already happened or is imminently happening from everyone. Why wouldn't you?
You look at the floor dully and ignore Sakusa’s proffered leftovers box with some sweets and snacks from the event.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You’re not okay, of course. But it’s not that easy to say that. And you’re still learning how to accept help. You’re still learning how someone asking if you need help isn’t them saying that you are weak. You’re still learning that “hey are you okay?” is not an accusation.
But because you are still learning all of this, it’s not that easy for you to answer directly or honestly. So instead, you ask, unhelpfully, “What do you mean?”
“I just was wondering if everything was okay,” he repeats, because what else is he supposed to do? You asked a stupid question. Of course! As always.
You swallow air in your dry throat as you stare up at him.
“If everything is okay, that’s great. And I love you, and I'm here to talk if you want to talk about anything.”
Of course you want to talk about stuff. You wonder where you should start. You stare at his hand (you want to hold it.)
You look up at him and you nod.
“You do want to talk?” he checks.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.” He turns to completely face you. He is always turning to completely face you. He is always there for you and you are so grateful. Your heart cries (happily.)
“Do you want to sit?” he asks.
You nod again. You go to sit on the couch and he goes into the kitchen. He brings you both glasses of water and sits down beside you, his hair rustling, and his arm thrown around you.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
You nod.
“Good,” he says. “What’s up?”
You wish for a moment, that you both could change into comfy at home clothes before this conversation. He looks delectable in his going out wear, of course, but you want to snuggle into one of his soft sleep shirts.
You take a deep breath. Actually, that would be a great way to procrastinate on this conversation, right?
Well. Maybe later.
“Does everyone hate me?”
He blinks. Even though he probably should have known you would be like this, he is still surprised. He still forgets that you can't see yourself the way he sees you—he would never ever imagine that you would even wonder this kind of stuff about yourself. “No, why would you say that?”
“I just feel so stupid and dumb.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, and I don’t want to invalidate your emotions, but you’re not.”
You huff. “Right. My feelings aren’t facts, but they are valid.”
“Right,” he says.
You look at him, displeased.
“It’s both,” he adds.
“That’s so confusing.”
He nods. “It doesn’t make sense. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
You look at him, hoping the hurt isn’t watering in your eyes too much. But you are really transparent, and he knows you, so you’re sure he can see everything. You can’t even figure out a not annoying way to broach the topic. You wish you could leave it at that, but there’s still more to go. “Am I annoying and awful?”
See? The most annoying way possible.
“No,” he says immediately.
You stare at him.
He arches his eyebrow at you speculatively, judgingly, but he also puts his hand on top of yours comfortingly.
Your heart pangs.
“Why do you want me to say yes?” he asks, seriously.
“Do you think I was annoying today?” you ask, voice tinny.
“No.”
“To everyone else, though?”
He squeezes your hand. “They didn't say anything to me. I don’t think they think that about you.”
You sigh. You were invited to the gathering. They wouldn't invite you if they didn’t like you. You hope you will continue to be invited. You wonder when you will feel like you aren’t on the precipice of being abandoned. Maybe never! That’s not a comforting thought, though.
“Do you think I’m annoying?”
“No. I love you. That's why I'm here.”
“But there are some things I do that are annoying?”
He looks displeased that you are trying to lead him to an answer, but he goes along with it anyway. “I guess. But I don't really think about it in that way. Do you think I'm annoying?”
This is a completely logical and reasonable flip to occur in the conversation, but you are still caught off guard. You are truly 😐🧍. “I mean. I don’t know.”
He can barely contain his smirk and it does make you mad a little bit, that he always seems to have the upper hand. You still love him. But it’s unfair.
“So you do think I'm annoying?” he asks.
“There are some things we do differently,” you say, pretending that you can be coy and outmaneuver him. You can’t.
“Right. And everyone does things differently. Like literally every person.”
“Right.”
“So all humans are annoying to everyone.”
“Maybe sometimes.”
“Is that okay?” he asks.
You really don’t know what you did to deserve this. A very calm and logical breakdown of why it doesn’t matter that you are annoying. Or whether you are or not is just a completely irrelevant question because you are surrounded by people who love you, so who cares?
You hate this. Why can’t everyone just hate you because that makes sense in your head? Instead they love you and forgive you and hang around even though you did nothing to deserve it. It’s not adding up.
Other people’s actions are not adding up. It would make you feel better if things made sense in your heart, and head. If you could trust what you were seeing with your eyes with what your internal beliefs are.
But maybe your internal beliefs have to change to match reality. Because you can’t keep living like this, doing this bad math. It’s not fun. It’s annoying.
“Yeah, I guess it’s okay.”
“Is it okay to not like someone 100% of the time?”
That’s where it’s getting you. It is scary. Which percent is going to be the percent where you get abandoned? You can’t be sure. You look at him. You know the “right” answer but you don’t believe it.
“100% seems like perfection,” he says. “Which is…” he looks at you meaningfully.
“Unrealistic?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
You sigh. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says back.
You stare at him.
He pokes you in the belly.
“What?” you say. “How dare you?” you ask but he’s already poking you in the shoulder.
“Okay,” you say. “You’ve made your point.”
“I’m always right,” he says.
“You’re not even right about that, and we’re going to leave it there,” you say, jumping to your feet.
Or you would, except he completely intercepted you, and brought you back down to the couch, onto his lap. He pressed kisses to your cheek and neck, and you squirm halfheartedly, but you’re not actually trying to get away.
“I don’t think you’re annoying,” he repeated.
“Thank you.”
“I think you’re great, and I love you, and I love spending time with you.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
You sigh. Maybe it’s not the end of the world to be annoying. People really don’t like annoying people, though. But different people think different things are annoying. Anyone can be annoying to anyone. That’s compatibility.
You’re fine. Everything is fine. After a great little anxiety burst, everything ended up fine, as per normal. What else is new?
Reader feels lots of regrets, and Bokuto helps comfort them
Genre comfort, established relationship, domestic, gn reader
Wc 2164
Contents: hard on self, difficulty eating when stressed, food positivity/neutrality (intuitive eating/nonjudgemental eating), and of course comfort
a/n back at it again i 2023 lmfao bet you thought you’d seen the last of me etc etc lmfao haven’t uploaded in so long that i forgot my format whoops also i made a discord server hopefully the link works otherwise that would be embarrassing thanks
requested by @heart-an0n hope you like it and that it’s somewhat relevant to what you had in mind/wanted!
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The future is uncertain, and the past is a mistake, and the present is shit, so where are you supposed to be?
You can’t seem to shut down everything at once. If it’s not turmoil in your brain, then it’s in your tummy or chest. No wonder you hate being in the present moment, if the only time you’re ever in it is when you’re in pain.
You have no one to blame but yourself. As usual.
Your shame spiral swirls around you, thoughts smeared all over your brain, viscous and gluttonous. There’s nothing you can do when the overstimulation comes from within yourself.
Right?
That's how you feel, at least.
You wait.
That’s all you can do.
You wait.
You won’t be comforted. Not on your own. No comfort tv, no coloring books, no pets, no music.
You want someone to do it for you. Is that so wrong?
You shame yourself for being too dependent and lazy while you wait for Bokuto to come home, which is taking a bit longer than expected, since he stopped on the grocery store on the way home.
See? He’s doing something for you again. You can’t do anything! Leech leech leech!, you chant at yourself, just in case being mean to yourself was going to fix all your problems.
It hasn’t in the past, but what if it works this time? Don’t know until you try.
The front door clicks open and you hear rustling as Bokuto shuffles around, entering your shared abode.
“I’m home!” he announces.
“Welcome home,” you say. You’re not sure he heard you. But you know he trusts that you said it, and so even if he can’t hear it, you have to say it.
He kisses the top of your head on the way to taking the groceries to the kitchen. You want to get up and follow him but you don’t have the energy. You thought seeing him would magically blast you with the superpower to get up but alas. Some things not even Bokuto can fix.
You can’t unthink the thought. You wish you could. You wish you didn’t like scaring yourself with worst case scenarios.
He starts dinner and comes in to check on you.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
You shake your head.
Bokuto never judgmentally sighs at you because he’s too nice. But if he was one to do that, the long pause in the air would have been the time to do it.
“Do you want a snack before dinner?”
How can you eat at a time like this?
“Chips?” he asks.
It’s so funny because you’re an adult! You can do whatever you want! You can have ice cream for dinner! Or chips as an appetizer! You can ruin your appetite however much you want!
But there’s still a nagging thought in your head before you do it like some judgmental parents are going to get you in trouble if you do.
But you can’t ruin an appetite you don't have.
Bokuto goes back into the kitchen and rummages around.
He returns with a bag of chips and eats one in front of you, then waves the bag over to you.
You sigh at yourself. You take a chip.
You see Bokuto move like he’s almost going to do a fist pump but then he stops himself. He’s not going to throw chips all over the floor. Again.
“Do you want to hang out with me while I cook?” he asks.
You really can’t say no. It is all you want. You wrap the blanket around yourself and follow him.
He smiles at you in amusement.
“What?” you ask. “Don’t say I look like a penguin,” you say, at the same time he says,” you look like a penguin.”
You level him with a look. He knows you don’t mean anything by it, so he blinks innocently.
Bokuto really is content to have you watch him cook. He doesn’t ask you to help at all. But if you didn’t think you’d get in the way with your blanket, you would.
But.
You need the blanket more than you need to feel useful.
You’re already at rock bottom, so who cares?
“How was your day?” you ask, cutting Bokuto off succinctly.
He knows how you are. He lets you distract them both with his day first. He tells you about his workout, media appearances, meetings, whatever funny stuff happened with his teammates, travel agents, room assignments, reality shows.
He chops and steams and stirs.
He washes his hands and holds your face carefully.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“It’s the same old stuff,” you mumble.
He squishes your face.
“It’s okay, I can listen again,” he says. “I love listening to you talk, and also supporting you.”
“Okay,” you said, but it sounds like “waaauuuuu” because he is still squishing your face.
You and he set the table and sit down to eat.
You serve yourself the portion size you think you can stomach while you hate yourself and feel awful, and Bokuto doesn’t say anything, because maybe you’ll feel better later, and you’ll be ready to have a snack at this point. It’s more important that you eat whatever you’re comfortable with now, than eat nothing at all, and he would never shame you for your eating habits. You’re allowed to make your own choices.
You start your story with “you know ______” and you’re always amazed at what he does remember (the most intricate tiny details) and what he doesn’t remember (stuff that you think is really obvious, but it’s not because he doesn’t listen, or anything. Honestly it’s just funny at this point.)
And you explain the situation and what the trigger was as to why you are thinking about past regrets now.
And you know he wants to stop you because you are going into a spiral and it doesn’t really help to spiral. You don't think you’re really learning new information at this point.
But you just want him to know all the facts and details and how wrong and bad you are so he can make an accurate assessment of the situation.
He looks at you and listens attentively throughout your story.
You sigh. “Okay. I’m done,” you say.
He opens his mouth and you burst out, “oh also,” and finish up some last details.
He listens.
“I’m done for real this time,” you say.
“If you have more to share, that’s okay, too, and I want to listen,” he says. “But I’m going to respond now, if that’s what you want?”
You nod.
He sighs.
“The most important thing is that you learn,” he says.
Shame bubbles in you. Of course he’s going to think you’re wrong and bad. You also think that. You weren’t telling him so that he would absolve you of guilt.
But it still feels bad to have your worst fears confirmed (that you already believe about yourself.)
“And you already have,” he says. “Numerous times.”
You know this. You know that this is the only thing someone can say to you. You wished it helped.
“What would help?” he asks.
You sigh. You’ve never thought about it in that way. You don’t know.
“I wish it never happened,” you say.
“Other than that,” he says.
You look at your plate. You look at a scuff on the wallpaper. You look at the line where Bokuto’s eyebrow hairs shift from pointing up to pointing to the side. “I just wish I wasn’t wrong.”
“It’s okay to be wrong,” he says. “It’s actually super okay and normal. People are wrong all the time. And some people don't even care! Some people are horribly wrong and just keep being that way, forever.”
You know this. If everyone cared ten percent as much as you care about being wrong then maybe the world would be less…like this.
“Even if you’re the villain in someone else’s story, you don’t have to be the villain in your own story. And just because that other person doesn’t forgive you, doesn’t mean you can’t move on. And even if you’re the villain in your own story, you can make different decisions next time. You learned. You grew. You want to do better. That’s all that matters.”
You feel tears peeking out. He swiftly moves to your side and hands you a tissue.
You rest your head in his chest and a sob bursts forth. You always cry the most (the best?) with Bokuto. He’s the only person you feel safe enough to be like this with.
Except now you're crying so you can’t intellectually remember all that because your ears are filled with the sound of your own crying. Your brain is filled only with that audio, and the sensation of cold tears on your hot cheeks, and the heaviness of your nose running, and the solidness of Bokuto as he lets you press yourself against him. He will not let you go until you are ready.
He pats your head and back and hands you more tissues.
You look at him, watery and poised for another outburst.
“I don’t want to be a bad person,” you sob. “I’m sorry I’m a bad person.”
He says your name softly and presses soft kisses to your head. He hugs you.
You breath through all the fluids and your chest feels emptier. Your head feels clearer. You’re afraid to feel shame again. You’re afraid to let this go in case you make another mistake again.
You don't want to make another mistake again.
It’s always hanging over your head, all the mistakes.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” you say.
“Do you want to talk some more?” he asks. “Do you want some water?”
You nod.
“Water?” he asks.
You nod again.
He goes and grabs your water bottle (how he knows where it is when you didn’t even know will remain a mystery) and opens it for you. You take a small sip. The coldness in your throat and tummy feels like a wall between you crying and you now.
“I love you so much, no matter what,” he says.
“I love you, too.”
“Seriously,” he says. “I know you know, but I am telling you.”
You nod.
“Even if you do stuff that makes you think you’re a bad person,” he says.
You shake your head.
“Don’t shake your head at me,” he says.
You’re working on the part of you that thinks you don’t deserve him, that he’s too good for you, that you’re not good enough for him. You’re working on that part. But it makes its presence known, during your lowest moments.
But Bokuto loves all parts of you. Even the parts of you that are painful for him. He loves all of you and knows that you are a person with a whole past and habits and attitudes and beliefs. And he knows that you love him and are trying your best every day, just like how he loves you and is trying his best every day.
“I love you no matter what you dom” he says. “Being a good person and a bad person doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not real. We’re all just people. I love you so much because you’re you.”
You’re learning to accept that, but even if there’s a part of you that doesn’t believe it, Bokuto loves that part of you, too. And you love all of him, so if logic decides to ever work one day, you’ll be set.
“You’re beautiful and amazing, but that’s not all there is to you. It's okay that you’re not perfect. That’s not why I love you. That’s not why I started loving you, and that’s not why I love you now. I think you’re perfect for me, but that’s because I know that we’re both choosing this life together every day. I’m so grateful and think you’re perfect and amazing because you’re my partner. We’re in this together.”
You nod. You hug him and he hugs you back.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Okay,” you say quietly, because a part of you still feels like if you’re too loud about your happiness, it might get taken away.
“I’m glad,” he says. “I’m proud of you and love you.”
“I love you, too,” you say. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he says. “Thanks for letting me be there for you.”
He makes you drink some more water and you help him put away the leftovers (which you’re probably going to dip back into in a few hours when you’re feeling snackish—and when you do, a little part of Bokuto will relax with relief, because even though he never judges you or pressures you, he wants you to be healthy, happy, and nourished. He loves you so much and wants the best for you. And he feels so lucky because he knows you would do the same for him.)
Osamu comforts, when scared about failing to make friends in your new era of life
Genre: comfort, friends, high school to college, but principles apply for any new era of life tbh imo <3,
Contents: anxiety, social anxiety, processing grief and loss, abandonment issues, reader doesn’t have a regular workout schedule (lol), some anticapitalism,
Wc: 3385
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
First of all, everyone should stop going to college. What if we all just took a year and all decided we weren’t going? What would happen to society? (positive) It’s something to consider.
But in this world where many people are “expected” to go to college for capitalistic reasons, and that too, there are a lot of people who are excited for it, who would probably thrive there, but you can’t help the dread building in your chest when you look at Bokuto in his living room and think, that’s a college student.
Not yet.
But one that’s going to be very soon.
The summer before college is the freest you are ever going to be in your whole life ever again (capitalism) (derogatory). You don’t want to waste it.
But here you are, wasting it, being absolutely frayed with nerves, and your body coiling in on itself trying to expunge the anxiety, but there’s an infinite supply.
Maybe if you worked out, the nerves would go away, but why did you even have that thought? You’re going to go to a gym? Or running? No.
You sit (abnormally) silently on the couch while Osamu is on his phone. The latest episode just ended, and neither of you clicked play on the next episode yet.
He glances at you. “You okay?”
You look at him with what you hope is a neutral expression (which would say a lot with very little) but it was probably plaintive (which was saying a lot with too much).
“What are you thinking about?”
As if you don’t have enough to worry about in the future, without also having to worry about the present.
Not only are you worried about making friends, you are worried about keeping them, too.
“Being alone.”
You see him hold back an alarmed expression because he wants to withhold judgment until he hears the whole story. “When?” he asks. “And why?” He blinks at you. “And how?”
You look at him expectantly.
He looks at you expectantly back.
“You done?” you ask (harshly in a joking way.)
He gives you a look that would pair perfectly with pushing up glasses like an intellectual. “I’m trying to get accurate information,” he says. “Because you know you leave shit out sometimes.”
You look at him an acute look, but say nothing because the odds are not in your favor for contesting that statement. Because yes sometimes you tend to look on the negative side and not remember the good times when you’re down. Which is normal and fine. But sometimes it helps meter things out when you can remember the good times and not paint everything as bad (catastrophizing) (overgeneralization) (mental filter) (discounting the positive) (etc).
But you can’t tell him he’s right so you have to lie by omission. (He knows he’s right. About this. About this one thing. You don’t have to add fuel to the fire.)
“When I move.”
He nods. “That’s an understandable concern. It sucks in that in-between-period when you first move somewhere and in between when you actually meet some people you feel good about.”
You have an argument ready to go but you haven’t decided whether you are ready to argue with Osamu at this point. You’re going to lose, you know this. But you haven’t yet decided if you are okay with willingly entering an argument that you are going to lose.
You know he’s not going to let you win this one. It’s going to be super important that you at least entertain the idea that you are wrong/he is right. Maybe partly in an annoying way but mostly in a good friend way who cares about you.
Ugh.
You aren’t sure if you are ready for that.
“What?” he asks.
Hm. He’s not going to let you get away that easily.
“What?”
“I know you have something to say. You look like chili peppers are dancing around in your mouth.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
“I was going to say: bold of you to assume I will actually meet some people I will feel good about.”
You expected his unimpressed stare so you think you are affected by it a little bit less since you were expecting it.
A little.
“Why don’t you think you will meet some people you will feel good about?”
You shrug. “I’m bad at meeting people.”
“Since when?”
You scowl. “I’m shy!”
“You are not shy.”
“Yes I am!”
“They should make you feel comfortable to be yourself! That’s their fault.”
Hm. Interesting perspective, but that’s not going to work. The world is not going to bend over backwards to accommodate you. You have to be stronger and better.
You can’t. You don’t know how. But you have to. You have to figure it out, otherwise, why are you just here on this planet to suffer? What’s the point?
You’ve lost a lot of friends throughout your school career, and you’ve taken it pretty hard. And you’ve taken it personally. You want to cling to the ones you have left. It was so hard to make friends here, and you honestly don’t know how it even happened, the few you have left. But how can you when you’re going away? People want to make new friends in their new stages of life. You’re going to be on the backburners if you even get a spot on the stove. You might not. You might be left behind and forgotten.
And you just have to be okay with that since that’s how life goes.
That sucks. You don’t want to be okay with being sad and hurting.
You don’t want to leave things up to chance. You have no control over what’s going to happen when you get there. And you don’t want to be alone. Why would you assume that you can show up somewhere and meet the people right for you?
But this is the way (American) society has been defined. You grow up in a community for a certain number of years and then you leave to go to a different community. There’s not always geographic closeness between people who are emotionally close.
The first few months of university are tough for a lot of people. But that’s not on the forefront of your mind. What you compare yourself to is who you think arrives on campus, and runs with it. People who post big group pictures the first week on campus, their Snapchat stories filled with different events every night.
That’s not going to be you.
While there’s no certainty in life, you feel safe creating certainties within your own world view. You have a lot of rules, explanations, that make sense in your head. Who’s going to tell you they don’t make sense? It might not be fair for you to characterize things in that way. It’s not 100% accurate. You leave out certain bits and pieces to make these overarching rules “fit.” But the world isn’t fair to you either, so why do you need to be fair?
You are grateful for the friends you have had throughout your life, but you have not been able to explain the losses. You haven’t been able to let those go. You still feel pain from them. And there’s no reason to expect that the friends you have now are going to give you the same time and energy that they do now when they go to college. In fact, that’s physically impossible. They are going to add more people into their lives and the time they have for you is going to be less. And people always spend the most time on what is directly in front of them.
You are used to long distance friendships, internet friendships. It’s easier for you, with social anxiety, to talk online, where people can’t see you, where you can take time to respond. Because you are so “relaxed” behind a screen, you can actually think of stuff to say. In the moment, with people staring you down, you never have anything to say.
You aren’t going to thrive in an in person environment. And you haven’t been able to develop the social skills that would help you create a safe and fun environment for you. But, since you didn't have these experiences as a child, how are you going to recreate them as an adult in adult settings? You don't have the confidence to approach people or make friends. You aren’t confident in your ability to surround yourself with the “right” people for you. You’ve never had that experience of feeling like you could find or attract people who liked you for you.
You’ve waited for so long and you don’t know why anything will be different now.
You don’t want to be alone. And you don’t know how to create an environment where you won’t be alone. No matter how hard you try, you are always sad and alone. You can’t escape it.
You are afraid of people hurting you on purpose. You feel dispensable. You feel like someone who people won’t care about genuinely or fully.
Part of you want to have hope that all of this can change. Part of you wants to have hope that you can be a different better person when you go to college.
Even though you’re ready for change and you want to hope for something better, you’re also not ready for things to change.
You don’t want to leave your friends, even if they aren’t right for you. Even if they aren’t the ones you’d “hoped” for. You’re still grateful for them and you still had fun sometimes.
Things are going to be different. It’s scary.
You want things to be different and better, but you don’t think they can be.
You don’t really know how to grieve the loss of relationships. You’ve never learned how. You’ve been hurt over and over and had to “move on,” but not really process. You didn’t know how to “process” it. You didn't know how to authentically integrate that truth about your life into your conscience. “Moving on” for you meant hiding your emotions from others, and hiding from your emotions yourself.
It’s a spiral of self-blame and pain you don't know how to get out of. There’s so much you don’t know. You feel helpless in trying to create the life you want.
“I believe in you,” he says. “You’ll do a good job.”
“No I won’t.”
He whines your name, sing-songing and chastising.
He nudges you after your silence. “We made friends.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You’re so awesome.”
“I don’t think most people think that.”
“They will when you meet them!”
“I am bad at first impressions.”
“First impressions aren’t everything.”
“No one has ever said that.”
“That’s just fake capitalist business mumbojumbo. That only applies to job interviews.”
He is proud of himself for making you quirk a smile. He’s usually very attentive so he doesn’t miss your quiet and quick exhale-laugh.
“Making friends is a really mysterious process, but you will figure it out.”
“Nothing ever gets magically figured out for me,” you say. You don’t say “life isn’t that simple” because that’s a little too dark and depressing. Even though that’s how you feel. Not that Osamu ever insinuates that you shouldn't express your full and true feelings to him. But you get lost in your own thoughts and fears and worries, that you will eventually one day be too much for him and he will leave. You wish you could be toned down in real life. But well. You’re like this.
“I don’t think you need to worry about this now since you haven’t gone there and tried yet,” Osamu says. “But there’s really no pressure to make anything happen that you aren't ready for or that you don't want or that you aren't comfortable with. So I’m just going to put this out there: some people don’t find their best friends until the end of college. And some people don’t find best friends in college at all. No matter what, it’s okay.”
You conveniently don’t register the first part of his sentence in your brain. So what you receive is: he is preparing you for failure, because of course you are a failure and can’t do anything right and you aren’t normal so you aren’t going to have a normal experience like normal people will.
Logically, Osamu can’t actually read your mind. Because in real life you have to communicate your thoughts to other people if you want them to know (tragic). But you look at him curiously, in case he does somehow know exactly what you are thinking.
“Right?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” you say.
“Did I say anything unreasonable?”
“Hm.”
“If I’m right just say that I’m right,” he grins.
You blink at him slowly. “Anyway,” you say, turning around.
He squawks indignantly. “Why?” he pleads.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Yeah, I’m right?”
You stare at the wall like a movie is playing on it.
“Fine,” he says. “But anyway—you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no reason to hold yourself back from success. You’re going to do great.”
“I’m going to crash and burn. I’m not going to be able to handle it.”
His eyebrows crease in concern. He squeezes your shoulder. “You will be able to handle it.”
“I’ll never make friends without someone holding my hand, and basically doing it for me,” you say.
“What does that mean?”
“Like, you’re going to tell me everyone you know who’s going to my college, right?” you ask. “If I don’t have an outgoing friend who knows everyone, where would I start?”
“Isn’t that normal?” he asks.
“What?”
“For people to meet through mutual friends.”
“Yeah.”
“So it’s okay, right?”
You don’t answer. .
“Is it okay to accept help?”
“Why are you asking me?”
He sighs. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. It’s not more valid because you did it yourself. You don’t have to be less proud of yourself because you need help to do something.” He pauses in case you are going to respond.
You don’t.
“And it’s not even help. I’m just connecting you guys. Give yourself some credit.”
“But I would never be able to meet up with them without this. I might never have met them.” How do you explain to him that not being able to do it yourself is terrifying? That things being out of your control is terrifying?
“Maybe so. Life works in mysterious ways.”
You suppose maybe he’s not missing the point, but rather, regular people are just somehow okay with all of this, and well adjusted to life being random and chaotic. As opposed to life being controllable. Control is an illusion, and even if you think you’ve been able to control life, you honestly haven’t even anyway. And if you could control life, why wouldn't you have given yourself a better life?
Confusion.
“It will be fine,” he says. “It’s all an experience. You can always try new things to meet new people and you can get over social anxiety. Or you can find some way to make sure that you can work around it to have the life you want. And there’s so many people at college, so you don’t have to worry about messing up because you can always go meet new people.”
You can’t believe you have revealed so much information to him that he knows exactly which aspects of fear you have going on right now.
“And it’s not personal. It’s not always about you.”
“It feels that way.” That also doesn’t click at all. It must be about you. Even if you can perceive other reasons (other than you) why someone might have to stop being your friend, there still feels something personal about it. Why were you the dead weight that couldn't come along? Why were you incompatible with the new life change? You look at Osamu, and you hope he doesn’t see the appraising look in your eyes, scouring, analyzing, detecting for the reason in the future he will leave.
He knows you, though. So maybe he knows what you’re thinking.
He pats your head. “I’m sorry. I know once you believe in yourself more, you’ll understand what I mean. But you’ll have to trust me for now.”
That’s the whole problem, though, is you can’t trust anyone.
You don’t say that now, because you know he’s trying to help. And you are grateful for the time and attention. Your brain wildly speculates whether you only get time and attention if you are in crisis. That sounds exhausting and not healthy. But you are pretty sure that you hang out with people even when you are happy and fine. You don’t remember anything right now, but you’re also not trying very hard to prove yourself wrong.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing, continue,” you say.
“And even if some people don’t like you, there will be people who do. And it’s their loss anyway.”
“Yeah.” You can’t comprehend how it would be a loss to not have you. But it’s because you really don’t fully comprehend why your friends give you the time of day anyway. It’s something you will have to accept for now because you have friends who aren’t going to leave you. The friends who aren’t in your life anymore don’t have to set a template for how your current friends or future friends will act. And people may leave for different reasons, and it doesn’t have to be about you. And you are slowly learning and growing into a person who can take care of their own needs and emotions, who can be a better person to themselves, and a better friend to others.
He grabs your hand and puts it in both of his. “It will be okay and you will always have me.”
“People pay most attention to what’s right in front of them.”
“Are you saying we won’t be friends when we go to college?” he asks.
You shrug.
“I take offense to that, you know,” he says. “Why are you trying to dump me?”
“I’m not going to dump you. I can’t afford to do that. I need you.”
“I need you, too.”
“You don’t.”
“How can you say that? Do you know me at all?”
“You have so many other friends. You would be okay without me. I don’t have that.”
“I would not be okay without you,” he says. “I am so grateful to have you in my life.”
You look at him sadly.
“Have you been thinking that this whole time?” he asks. “That I don’t value you?”
You can’t answer that without hurting him.
“Oh,” he says softly.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“Better to clear that up now rather than later. You better not ghost me when you get to campus.”
“I won’t,” you say.
“Promise?” he demands.
“I promise,” you say.
“Good,” he says. “And even if we find people that fulfill other needs in different ways, it doesn't mean there doesn't have to be room in our lives for each other.”
You want to believe that. You didn’t realize that was what you wanted to hear. You wish you could believe it, but you don’t want to believe it.
“You’re going to do a great job,” he says. He grabs your shoulders and brings you to him in an awkward hug.
“Thank you,” you say, cheek smashed into his chest and nose squished against his arm. You wriggle out of his tangle of an embrace and hug him properly.
“You always have to have the final word, huh?” he asks.
“No, I think that’s you,” you say.
He flicks an eyebrow up and you grin at him. He takes that as a sign of a successful conversation. Nothing is going to be magically fixed, as you said, but there is hope, still. The future is not certain, and you can try your hardest, and be forgiving and gentle and loving towards yourself.
You are enough. You are enough to be loved unconditionally, and you are enough as you are. You don’t have to change anything about yourself to be loved. You’re okay, and things will be okay.
