Chapter Text
“Um.. Hello. My name is… Kozume Kenma… and I’m a cult survivor.“
Kenma let the words fall free from his mouth and suddenly felt a hundred times lighter. Saying that simple phrase, those two little words, made him the incessant buzzing in his brain finally dull down and soften. It was silly, really, how scared he was of sharing his experience and put into words the treatment he had to endure all of those years. Shouyou was right, even though the prospect of group therapy was still terrifying to Kenma, talking really did help.
There actually weren’t many people, which was… unexpected. The idea Kenma had of group therapy was of a giant circle of people weeping and intently watching the person speaking, which is why he was taken aback when he realized that they were only about six people and that they were all taking seat at a rectangular wooden table on the second floor of the community library.
A few eyes widened at his declaration, surprised that such a reserved man had so much to tell, especially since this was his fourth session and his first time talking. Initially, Kenma was too nervous to share. Kenma wasn’t a social person…
He usually just let
him
talk for
him
.
He cleared his throat, which was already closing up with indescribable emotion even through the warmth that had made its way inside Kenma’s head after saying his first phrase.
“Yeah… Cult. It’s a scary word, right? That’s… that’s why I don’t like saying it.“ He looked down.
Shouyou was the one to propose a trauma recovery support group to him, almost a year ago. It had taken a long time for Kenma to actually show up, but the idea had rooted itself into his brain, pestering him like a weed until he finally caved and took a look at the corkboard on the main floor of the library to check the hours that they were held. Everyone had welcomed him gently, but not stressfully like when teachers presented a new student in front of the class. He had entered the room and saw that most people were already there, freezing up on the spot because of so many eyes on him. Takeda, the counselor, and one of the people in charge of the group, had smiled at him and said hello, some of the others following his lead. A guy with dark curls and blueish-green eyes slowly pulled the chair next to him and motionned to Kenma that he could sit there. Nobody asked any questions, nobody forced him to talk. Nobody bothered him.
Kenma let out a shaky chuckle;
“I… I didn’t even really think of it as a cult until my friend helped me reflect upon it, only about a year ago.“ Kenma looked back up and nervously tugged at a strand of his bleached hair. It really was getting long, wasn’t it? But he used to like it long . “I was used to it. You never realize…. what was happening… until you look back a bit later, right?“
Maybe Kenma wasn’t meant for this, actually. Maybe he should just turn back around and leave and go back to—
“Did you… grow up with it?“ Someone asked, surprising him and pulling him out of his mind.
Kenma’s eyes shot to the figure. Sitting directly diagonal to him was an average young man. He had short black hair and kind dark brown eyes, framed by deep purple circles; signs of fatigue. On his neck, two silver dog tags swung when he sat up. The white coffee cup in front of him had a sticker on it with the name of the order: Daichi.
“...“ Kenma thought of what to say, “Yeah. I did.“
“It’s hard to let go of something traumatic when it’s all you know.“ Another voice mumbled.
“Sakusa-san, speak louder so he can hear you.“ A blonde woman, the only one here, said to the man.
“I think he heard me, Alisa-san.“ The curly-haired man with the face framed by dark moles said.
“It… It really is.“ Kenma bit back a small smile at their exchange.
“Well, Kozume-kun, thank you for sharing today. We know it’s hard, and you did a great job. We hope that it helped somewhat.“ Takeda smiled at the head of the table.
“Kenma… Call me Kenma.“ He muttered.
“Okay, Kenma-kun.“ Takeda winked at him.
Takeda wasn’t at all the way that Kenma would’ve imagined a therapist to be. He didn’t pressure anyone into talking and ask all sorts of dumb questions about feelings. In fact, he only ever really stepped up when the conversation needed steering. He made everyone feel at home.
Sometimes, Takeda was joined by another man; a tall, blonde high school volleyball coach. Kenma wondered why he was there, but apparently Coach Ukai was Takeda’s husband and also basically the group’s second counselor at this point.
“How about we talk a bit about our healing process? Maybe new hobbies that you developed, challenges you gave yourself?“ Takeda proposed. Today, he was alone.
“Hey.“ Kenma was snapped out of his daze by a whisper coming from his right. Akaashi, the guy he sat next to every day since the first, was looking at him.
“Hey.“ He parroted, unsure what to say.
“Just wanted to say, I think that you’re really brave. I saw how nervous you looked, and for a first time sharer, you did really well.“ Akaashi chuckled sadly: “My first time, I cried like a baby. My words were literally unintelligible.“
Kenma snickered. “Thanks. I’m sure you weren’t that bad, Akaashi-san.“
“Oh, he was.“ A man who looked so much like Akaashi that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought they were brothers, piped up from in front of Kenma.
“Iwaizumi-san!“ Akaashi reprimanded, but it was contradictory since he had a huge grin on his face.
Kenma chuckled silently at the scene and was suddenly overcome with an immense emptiness. It still happened sometimes, thinking some
one
thing was missing even though it wasn’t.
“Well, I’ve started the hobby of gardening.“ A very tall man with a deep voice next to Daichi said, in relation to the topic Takeda had started. “I really enjoy growing flowers and succulents, even though Satori used to say, whenever watched movies or shows about gardening, that it was useless to wait such a long time for something to grow if it isn’t even edible.“
“Ushijima-san still talks about ‘Satori’ sometimes, even if he is technically supposed to be healing from him. We’ve all been trying to help him forget about him, but I guess the way he copes is by accepting what was done to him and building from that point.“ Akaashi whispered into Kenma’s ear for context.
“That’s nice, Ushijima-kun! What are your favorite flowers that you’ve grown?“
“Dark red carnations. It is because they remind me of Satori’s ha–“ Ushijima was cut by the door to the rented room flying open and a man holding two large white boxes standing in the middle of the doorframe.
“Heya, ev’ryone!“ The man put down the boxes on the table. “Brought some treats to excuse my tardiness. I’m hopin’ this’ll make you forgive me.“ He laughed, lifting his strong arm to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Hey, Osamu-san.“ Akaashi smiled.
“Heya, Keiji-kun.“ Osamu winked.
Osamu’s eyes fell upon Kenma, right next to Akaashi and widened. He saw that Kenma had put down his 3DS for once and was listening to the conversation and smiled gently.
“So, what did I miss?“
“Oh, nothing, much, Osamu-kun!“ Takeda chirped. “Though. Kenma-kun did share part of his story with us. Thanks for the onigiri!“
Osamu ran an onigiri restaurant a few streets away from the library, and sometimes he brought some leftovers to the meetings.
“Oh, ’m sorry I missed that, Kenma-san!“ Osamu winced, looking at him apologetically.
“It’s fine.“ Kenma replied, not really having much else to say.
“We were just talking about some hobbies we might’ve developed to cope with the events of our past, Miya-san.“
Osamu winced;
“Please, Ushijima-san, I’ve said it before, there’s no need ta say my last name. It gets confusin’, y’know?“
Ushijima looked clueless, though it might’ve just been his normal stoic face.
“Why?“ Kenma asked.
Suddenly, the room went silent.
Osamu took his seat between Ushijima and Alisa, facing Sakusa. “I used ta have a twin brother.“
Sakusa squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head slightly towards the left, almost unnoticeably to anyone but Kenma’s skilled eye.
“His name was ‘Tsumu. Well, Atsumu, but we all called him ‘Tsumu.“ Osamu laughed lightly, reminiscing. “We had the exact same face, y’know, identical twins and all o’ that. We used to get mixed up all the time, and since we had the same last name it got real confusin’.“
“We don’t anymore, though.“ Osamu looked down. “Now, we only get mixed up in pictures.“
“Why is that?“ Kenma wanted to know, but when the words left his mouth, he suddenly felt like he was prying into Osamu’s private life way too hard. He bit his lip in shame.
“Cuz he’s dead.“ Osamu blinked slowly.
Kenma’s heart stopped. His mouth drew a small ‘o’ and he sat back further into his chair, dying inside at his straightforwardness and disregard of social cues. Dammit, Kenma, weren’t you better than this?
Don’t worry, kitten, it’s not a big deal. You’re trying to socialize, that’s all that counts.
Why did his stupid inner voice have to sound so much like him!?
“Yup. ‘Tsumu’s dead. Never thought I’d outlive that damn freak, but I did. And it’s all thanks to Sunarin.“ Osamu’s face suddenly got overcome with a sour look. “I really did love him, too. I think that’s what makes it hurt so much.“ Osamu must’ve seen Kenma’s guilt-ridden face and mistaken it for something else, because his last statement was; “Yeah. My brother was murdered by my boyfriend. The man I thought that I was going to marry.“
“Are you okay, Sakusa-kun?“ Takeda asked, worried.
Sakusa’s eyes widened as he met Kenma’s. Unshed tears were glistening beneath his dark eyelashes.
“I’m just… It hurts.“
“I know. I know exactly how you feel, Omi-kun.“ Osamu said, reaching across the table to touch his shoulder.
“Don’t–“ Sakusa had trouble explaining himself, “Just… Don’t call me that goddamn nickname. Only your br–.. Only Atsumu could say it and I’d tolerate it. God, I used to hate it, but now… There are so many things I’d do just to hear him call me that stupid name one more time.“ He sobbed quietly, the tears going into his facemask.
“Sakusa-kun and my brother used ta date. We used ta all get along. Ev’rythin’ really was goin’ well, until Rin took too much of whatever he was sampling that night and coerced my brother into doin’ some with ‘im.“ Osamu let a sole tear run down his face, “We later found out it was desomorphine, which is arguably the worst drug to ever exist. Made the both of ‘em crazy, and ‘Tsumu just followed along with whatever Sunarin did. They found him on the train tracks, a mess of flesh. It was the worst thing a brother could ever witness. Rin pushed him, the police told us after watching the CCTV.“
“Atsumu…“ Sakusa’s mumble was drawn out like a whine, high pitched and vulnerable.
“Isn’t death awful? It messes us up so bad.“ Daichi said, tugging at his dog tags.
“Yeah...“ Osamu agreed.
Everyone took a minute of silence, filled with emotion.
“Thanks, everyone.“ Takeda said softly. “I really hope that today helped us all to grow and move on. I hope that I’ll see you all next Friday.“ He smiled.
One by one, the members of the trauma recovery support group started filing out of the rented room, grabbing onigiri as they went. Some stayed, talking in small groups.
You should join them.
Kenma wasn’t ready yet. He needed more time. After all, it’s okay to take your time.
He walked out of the library without looking back and went straight to Shouyou’s house.
Kenma was next to Kuro on the bus. He didn’t know where they were going, but it was okay, because he had Kuro to guide him. They were holding hands.
“Hey, Kenma?“
“Hm?“ He mumbled, looking distractedly out of the window.
“Do you trust me?“ Kuro asked as the bus rolled onto a small bump and they bumped into the people standing beside them.
Kenma looked up, frowning at him. “Of course I do, dummy. Why else would I let you drag me into Miyagi for no reason other than ‘I needed to show you something’?“
Kuro smiled sweetly, looking at the ground.
“Then, I’m happy.“
Kenma tried to bite back a smile but failed.
“Me too.“