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Hinata wants to die.
He’s not suicidal, not really, but he also wouldn’t mind being dead. Or rather, he doesn’t want to exist. It sounds so much like teenage angst when he says this but he means it- he wishes he was never born. He wishes he never had to meet people and love people and have them love him because then he wouldn’t feel so guilty for no longer wanting to be alive. It’s such a normal feeling for him, casually wanting to be dead, that he tries not to think about it anymore.
The intrusive thoughts flash through his mind, not unwelcomed but not sought after, constant thoughts of I could walk into traffic right now , I pass a bridge on my way home it would be so easy, it’s okay if I don’t wear a seat belt today, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow.
Sometimes he feels like he’s being strangled by his own hands but he can’t get himself to let go because the hands don’t really feel like his. He doesn’t feel like he exists. His hands aren’t his, the bruised throat isn’t his, the oxygen deprived lungs and leaking eyes aren’t his. He doesn’t belong and he should have never been born why the hell was he placed into an existence that he didn’t ask for?
It’s moments like those, where he can’t breathe, that he’s forced to think about it. Moments where he bikes home, crosses the bridge and swerves slightly but doesn’t fall overboard, moments where he’s greeted by his sister who loves him so much and a mother who urges him into the bath and a family who would hate him for taking their love for granted because he just does not want to exist. Those moments are the worst. Because he greets them back with a smile, tells them he loves them, goes into the bath, does his homework, eats his dinner, goes to bed, reminds himself how much he wants to die and then cries.
It’s turned into such a routine that Hinata’s night doesn’t feel complete unless the cold iron dread seeps into his lungs. He can’t sleep unless he cries so hard that he passes out.
He wakes up at 4 every morning so he has enough time to place a cold rag on his eyes so he can see again, so he won’t have to ride to school with swollen eyes and risk accidentally toppling over on his bike and falling over the bridge because that would be terrible. But it’s mostly so that his friends don’t question him.
So Kageyama doesn’t look too closely at his red rimmed eyes, so Suga doesn’t read too much into Hinata’s recklessness, so Daichi doesn’t question it when Hinata throws his entire being into practice so that his mind would just shut the fuck up for a few hours.
He does a pretty good job at hiding his casual suicidal tendencies and it’s a kick to the fucking face when he’s in Tokyo for training and Kenma grips his arm and pulls him back from where he was standing too close to traffic and gives him this look that sinks Hinata’s heart to his feet.
Because Kenma knows. Someone knows and Hinata’s usual thought processes of imagining all the possible ways he can die is interrupted momentarily by a string of shit shit shit shit shit shit -
Kenma doesn’t bring it up. He does, however, begin to watch Hinata more closely and that’s even worse. Because that means Hinata can’t have his nightly cry because Kenma will definitely notice the slight puffiness in his eyes the next day and that’s breaking his routine and for some awful reason, he’s angry.
A part of him wants to scream fuck Kenma for noticing but a bigger part of him is already screaming about all the ways he could get himself out of the situation, number one being death.
For the remainder of their stay, Kenma sticks to Hinata. He does it in such a subtle way that no one notices and Hinata himself almost doesn’t notice.
He nearly doesn’t notice the way Kenma distracts him with pokemon when he’s about to reach into the flames of the campfire to retrieve a fallen marshmallow.
He nearly doesn’t notice how Kenma leads him away from the dock with insistent hands and gentle words.
Hinata nearly doesn’t notice how Kenma rests his hand on his thigh when they’re in a car and Hinata’s chest is numb with how much he wants to throw himself out of the moving vehicle.
Nearly.
But he can’t ignore it, the things Kenma has been silently doing for him, because Kenma is there when the other shoe drops. Hinata can’t control the tendencies, can’t stop it when passive becomes active, and he’s curled up in a bathroom stall and clutching himself, afraid that if he moves he’s going to lose it and really throw himself off a cliff this time. It’s real now and Hinata is scared.
He doesn’t even know how those casual thoughts of death turned into this overwhelming presence. He doesn’t know how it escalated to such a point that he can hardly breathe without wishing he wouldn’t have to take his next breath.
Kenma enters the stall and Hinata vaguely processes the click of the door locking, when suddenly there is a weight on his side, comforting.
Kenma takes Hinata’s hand, untwisting it from the fabric of his shirt, and holds it in the two of his until the tremors stop. He brings Hinata’s bruised knuckles to his lips, brushes against them with little pressure until Hinata finally lets the tears fall.
“I’m sorry.” Hinata whispers. He’s pulled into Kenma’s lap and the next thing he knows he’s openly and viciously sobbing. His tears are pooling in Kenma’s collar bones and soaking the hem of his shirt, but Kenma just rubs circles into his back like he’s trying to put the air back into Hinata’s lungs.
“I don’t know why I’m like this.” Hinata mumbles, nearly incoherent. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t- I don’t want to-” He stumbles over his tongue, trying to find the right string of words to explain just what it is that he doesn’t want when he finally settles with “I don’t want to be .”
And it’s the first time he’s admitted to himself that he’s not okay with the thoughts that have become second nature, the first time he’s said out loud the thoughts that have always been there. It’s the first time he’s been honest and he’s terrified.
Kenma just continues to stroke Hinata’s back, “I know. But you’re alive right now and that must mean something. You didn’t get a choice in being born and that sucks but-” Kenma isn’t sure what to do with his words. “But you’re here. And a part of you has been fighting to stay alive. You’re-” Not okay . Kenma doesn’t want to say okay . “You’re not broken.”
Kenma presses a kiss to the crown of Hinata’s head. “You exist.”
And that is such a profound thing for Hinata, being told that he exists when he doesn’t feel like it and when he doesn’t want to be. But he is. He’s there. He’s alive despite all that has been telling him that he shouldn’t be.
“I want… to feel better.” Hinata admits. He wants to breathe again and he wants to enjoy those breaths. He wants to wake up in the morning and actually be grateful that he has another day.
“I’ll help you.” Kenma says and does.
Things don’t get better immediately. Hinata has days where he refuses to go to the therapist that Kenma recommended him. He has days where he has to get up at 4 in the morning. He has days where Daichi and Suga, who had been alerted of Hinata’s state so they could help him get better, need to watch a bit more closely and stop him from overworking.
But he also has days where he can bike across the bridge and simply enjoy the scenery, and that’s enough.
--
Hinata bikes home, greets his sister and family with smiles and love, gets in the bath, does his homework, eats his dinner, tells Kenma about the color of the sunset and the way the wind felt in his hair as he pedaled home, reminds himself that he exists, and sleeps.