Scar tissue that I wish you saw

Sarcastic mister know it all

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause

With the birds I'll share

With the birds I'll share

This lonely view

With the birds I'll share

This lonely view

-Red Hot Chili Peppers

I've never been a huge fan of cats, or animals in general. Actually, that's a lie. Animals, cats especially, have never been a huge fan of me.

When I was younger my grandmother had an old grumpy cat that I would follow around the house, unsure on my pajama padded feet, until he would find some place high out of my reach to curl up in and nap. That was usually the end of it, with my mom calling out a quick "Tobi, baby, leave Setsu alone" and me tottering off in the other direction to find something else to occupy my short attention span.

But one day Mom wasn't there, and with Grandma in the other room watching something much too boring for my tiny mind, Setsu's tail hanging down from the window sill seemed so much more reachable than ever before.

Three good shoves with my chubby hands and the kitchen chair was exactly where I needed it and within seconds I was eye level with smooth gray fur. I reached out to pet Setsu right as I lost my balance atop the kitchen chair, stubby fingers closing around a patch of fur as I fell backwards, pulling a screaming spitting cat down with me.

Setsu never came near me again and I'm almost certain he warned every other cat in the world to avoid me also. Years later and I still have scratch scars on my hand and a strong belief that cats are so fluffy because they're full of hatred and anger.

And then there's Kenma. He has every characteristic of a house cat; that calculated clever look in his eyes, his independent temperament, even his ability to fall asleep practically anywhere, but as far as my track record with cats goes I think he might actually like me.

Other than the sugar incident I've only spoken to him once. Hinata had asked me over to watch a movie and I ended up sat between him and Kenma on the sofa while Natsu took the recliner. For such tiny people the Hinata siblings sure knew how to take up a significant amount of space, Natsu somehow spread sideways across her chair and her brother lying upside down with both arms out to the side. How he read the subtitles from that position I have no idea.

Kenma started out sitting stiffly, his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on his hands, but about halfway through the movie I could see his head starting to nod as he dozed and somehow, much to my surprise, his head ended up in my lap as he curled up and slept soundly as if it was the most natural thing.

No one noticed until the credits started to roll, Hinata standing up to stretch and smiling down at his friend, making a "shh" motion to tell me not to wake him. I was stuck there for two hours, long enough to watch another of Hinata's cheesy action movies, Kenma's warm breathe softly purring against my leg until I thought that maybe this whole scene was something I could really get used to.

I had gone home that night with an odd domestic feeling in my chest. I've always had a domestic sort of relationship with Suga but this felt different somehow. It felt like I was actually a part of a whole instead of just being cared for by another person. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

I felt like I had two families and I hoped that maybe I'd be able to join them together someday. Maybe the amount of love I feel around the people I care about most could pull me out of the dark hole I'd stuffed myself into years ago.

***

To add to the laundry list of things Suga's parents have done to upset him, they scheduled their dinner on pizza night.

"You don't have to go!" He practically cries, pacing his room nervously as I sit on the edge of his immaculately made bed. He always gets stressed out when he thinks I'm upset and the last thing he needs right now is added stress.

"Suga,"

"You and Daichi can do pizza night without me!" He's not facing me but I can hear the strain in his voice and picture the look on his face. He's regressing back into that scared boy I knew for one night so many years ago and I'm not sure if my heart can handle that a second time.

"Suga,"

"Its fine. I'll be fine. I can do it myself," he whispers, wringing his hands together in front of him. Is he trying to reassure me or are his words meant for his own ears?

"SUGA!"

He turns, finally startled out of his breakdown, brown eyes wide with tears balanced precariously on his lashes, ready to fall at a moment's notice. "Calm down. It's going to be fine," I tell him.

"But you love pizza night," he starts to mumble again, pulling his sweater sleeves over his hands and dabbing at his eyes. It tears my heart out.

I stand, striding quickly over to Suga and grabbing his face in my palms, looking down to meet his watery doe eyes. "Would you shut the fuck up for half a second," I say gently, or at least as gently as I can while telling his to shut his mouth, and it seems to work as Suga closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, nodding as I let go of his face and step back.

"I'm sorry-"

"I said shut up," I interrupt. I haven't even gotten to my speech yet and he's already apologizing. Unbelievable. I'm trying to have a best friend moment here and he's ruining it. "Listen, I want to go. I told you I'd be there with you and I meant it. You couldn't stop me even of you wanted to, and I know you don't want to because you're scared shitless right now," I pause, reaching out to wipe away an escaping tear from his cheek. "It's going to be fine. You're strong and you're not alone. We can handle this. Besides," I add, "pizza night wouldn't be pizza night without you."

Suga stands on his tiptoes to throw his arms around my neck, pressing his face against my shoulder. No words are spoken because none are needed, years of trust and friendship filling in the gaps his anxiety left torn open.

When his breath finally evens out I take a step back, buffing him gently on the shoulder and earning a shaky smile. "Thanks," he says, wiping at his face again. "I'll be out in a minute and then we can go."

I nod, turning to leave the room and closing the door softly behind me. I've never been good with words but I'm proud that I was able to calm Suga down at least a little bit. Our relationship has always felt very one sided but for once I feel like I'm the one taking care of him.

When I walk back into the living room I find Daichi on the sofa, flipping through the cable channels, looking at the TV but not seeing anything on the screen. I can tell just by looking at his face that he's worried beyond belief, his mind focused elsewhere. He starts when I drop onto the sofa next to him.

"Kageyama! How is he?" He asks almost frantically, turning to face me and abandoning the remote on the coffee table. In the short time that they've been dating I've grown pretty fond of Daichi. If not for our own ability to get along then for his complete devotion to Suga.

"He's fine. Or he will be fine," I shrug, pulling my legs up in front of me and wrapping my arms around my knees.

Daichi breathes out a deep sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Thanks. For taking care of him." He sounds so small and resigned, like he's carrying the weight from both of their shoulders.

"He hasn't told you, has he?" I ask, turning my head to look at him. "About his parents?"

"No. But that's okay. I know he's known you and Oikawa for years longer than he's known me so it wouldn't make sense for me to be upset over you guys knowing when I don't. And I'm not going to push him about it. I can see how much it hurts him so all I want to do is be there for him," he stops, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his lap. "I just wish I could go with him today."

"You're really great for him you know? He's always so busy taking care of everyone else that he forgets to take care of himself, but now he has you," I tell him, my brief eloquence apparently not yet expended.

"I love him."

I should probably be surprised. It's not every day that your best friend's boyfriend confesses his feelings while you're having a mini heart to heart in said best friend's living room. But I'm not. Anyone who has spent ten minutes around Daichi and Suga can see the way they look at each other. The way that Daichi's eyes linger on Suga's face after he turns away and the way Suga's hand trails absentmindedly down Daichi's arm or shoulder when they're sitting closely. Every part of them screams love, pure and unadulterated.

The sound of Suga's bedroom door opening sounds from the hallway and Daichi perks up, worry clearing from his face instantly as to not stress him out anymore. I reach out and tap him on the shoulder, catching his attention before Suga walks in.

"You should tell him later," I whisper, and he gives me a small smile. "Do something special. He'll really like it."

Suga walks in, his face clear of any signs that he'd been crying. Daichi jumps up and wraps him in a hug, catching him off guard but earning a thankful smile. I don't listen to their conversation very closely but I do hear Suga insisting that Daichi not worry about him.

We leave shortly after, climbing into Daichi's Mini Cooper and heading for the restaurant, and as I stare about the window I wonder how heavily Suga's selflessness weighs on him.

***

The thing about loving someone is that you always see them in a totally different way than they see themselves and vice versa. It reminds me of art. You might see a painting and think it's nothing special but someone else is going to come along and think that the sun shines out of that painting's ass.

That's how I feel about Suga. As I see him tapping nervously against the steering wheel, eyes darting to the radio clock every few seconds, I know that he looked at his reflection this afternoon and saw nothing but a frightened child while I look at him now and see nothing but strength.

The therapist my parents sent me to years ago once told me that no one would truly love me until I learned to love myself, which is bullshit. That woman was full of awful unhealthy teachings. But the one good thing I ever learned from those god awful sessions was to make a list of things I loved about myself when I was feeling really down. That pulled me out of a lot of tough nights, but right now I'm not the one who needs helping.

I've never met a person who deserves as much love as Suga or anyone who awards themselves with so little, so I start to compile a list for him in my head.

I love his smile, and the way it lights up an entire room. I love how infectious his laugh is, no matter my mood. I love his selflessness even though it causes him so much strife.

"We're here," he mutters, pulling me out of my thoughts. He puts the car in park and shuts off the engine, the absence of the humming engine leaving an empty gap of silence.

"Ready?" I ask, reaching over to give his shoulder a quick squeeze.

He lets out a long breath, steeling himself. "Yeah. Let's go."

The walk up to the restaurant is too short, the doors appearing before us almost immediately. The hostess welcomes us and we're whisked off to our reserved table, everything a blur of movement quicker than I can comprehend.

The two chairs across from us are empty and menacing like the storm clouds that hang around threatening rain but don't deliver on their promises.

"I wish they'd hurry so we can just get this over with already," Suga sighs, watching as condensation rolls slowly down the side of his water glass, too closely resembling tears.

I start to reply but the metaphorical clouds break and the threatened rain starts to fall as two unfamiliar people take their seats across from us. If I didn't know any better I never would've guessed that they were Suga's parents, his soft features nowhere to be found on either of their faces. The only indication of familial relation being the same silver color of his mother's hair and the light brown of his father's eyes, but her hair is absent of starlight and his eyes hold no warmth.

"Koushi. It's nice to see you," his mother greets, nodding her head slightly and giving me a less than friendly smile. I don't like the way her top lip curls over her teeth like a wolf.

"Mom, Dad," Suga nods, not returning the sentiment. "This is my friend, Kageyama Tobio. Kageyama these are my parents, Hayato and Miyu." He's not frozen or stuttering like I expected. Instead he holds his chin high, eyes hard and voice steady. I quickly add his strength in the face of fear to my mental list.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sugawara," his father corrects, speaking for the first time. His voice matches the cold depth of his eyes. I bite my tongue as Suga flinches and shoots me an apologetic look. I'm not angry at the comment, I expected this kind of thing, but I'm upset that Suga is the one who's hurt by it.

"Yes sir," I nod politely, doing my best to make this as smooth as possible for Suga's sake.

"So, Koushi, what have you been up to?" Mrs. Sugawara asks, tucking a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her voice drips with false sweetness, the kind that makes you sick to your stomach, her eyes wandering across the drink menu instead of focusing on her son's face.

"Working, mostly. I'm earning my teaching credentials so I student teach at an elementary school," he answers, trying to meet his mother's eyes over the top of her menu but I doubt she's even listening. I can see an inherent need to please her hiding behind his eyes, the same urge that all children have no matter their circumstances. He's like a kicked puppy trying to atone for anger it doesn't understand.

"That's nice, dear." He winces at the last word and I clench my fist under the table. What the fuck does this woman want if she's not here to actually reconnect with her son? What is her angle?

"You went to college?" Mr. Sugawara says, more of a statement than a question. I can see Suga digging his fingers into his knee but his face shows nothing.

"Yeah. I did. The social worker I stayed with worked it all out for me. She was really helpful." There's a fondness in his eyes when he mentions the social worker that acted as his guardian and I know he wants to say more about her but he holds it back, the look in his eyes disappearing at the stern look on his father's face.

The waitress comes to take drink orders, Mrs. Sugawara ordering a dry martini, and Suga is awarded a moment to breathe. His composer drops for a brief moment as his parents are distracted by the waitress and I reach over to nudge his shoulder.

"You okay?" I mouth, and he nods, shooting me a wavering smile that I know is fake, but I let it slide.

The conversation carries on much the same, shallow questions and skirting around the elephant in the room until the tension dissipates enough to trick Suga into a feeling of false security. I can still feel it though, not daring to let my guard down.

Three martinis into dinner and the mood starts to shift.

"So what about you?" Suga's mother slurs, pointing at me with a piece of speared tortellini on the end of her fork.

"Me?" I ask, long since abandoning my plate, the venomous honey of Mrs. Sugawara's voice ruining my appetite.

"Yeah, you. Kage-whatever. What's your story? How do you know my son?" Suga looks appalled, her sudden rudeness obviously not sitting well with him. He opens his mouth to say something but I grab his knee under the table to stop him. The last thing I want is this turning into a fight over me.

"Suga and I met in college. We were roommates and we've been friends ever since," I answer, keeping my voice as level as possible despite my blood boiling in my veins. Not once have these people asked Suga how he is or if he's happy. All they've done is fish for information on his living situation and ask about his life with his foster mother.

It's painfully clear that they don't care about their son's wellbeing, but I can tell that Suga wants to believe that they do so I play along.

"Roommates, huh? And what kind of," she grimaces, lifting her glass back to her lips and spilling a bit onto her shirtfront "relations did you have?"

"Excuse me?"

"I want to know if you're fucking my son." She leans across the table, emphasizing every word, and I can smell the vodka on her breath matching her sickening attitude.

"Mom!" Suga shouts, eyes darting between his parents but his father doesn't seem inclined to stop his wife. He's probably been wondering the same thing.

"It's alright Suga," I tell him, straightening in my chair. I didn't want to do this, I really didn't, but I can't stay quiet any longer.

"First of all, Mrs. Sugawara, don't call him my sonagain as if you have any involvement in his life. Listening to you sit here and pretend like you give two shits about your son makes me sick. He spent the last ten years getting away from you and he's better for it. Now I can see why," I pause, looking over at Suga who I expect to be angry with me but instead he gives me a look of gratitude, tears filling the corners of his eyes.

"How dare you speak to my wife that way-"

"I'm not finished," I interrupt, holding my hand up to silence Suga's father and I swear if looks could kill I'd be cold in the ground right now. "Second, who do you think you are that you can just walk back into Suga's life whenever it pleases you as ask who he's fucking as if it's any of your business?"

"It's not my business?" Her voice is so shrill I'm surprised her empty martini glass doesn't shatter. "You don't think it's my business to know what sort of ungodly things are happening in his life?"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Suga shouts, slamming his hands on the table and standing up. The entire restaurant goes silent but he doesn't even notice. He's finally snapped and I have no idea what to expect.

"Koushi sit down," Mr. Sugawara growls, his voice hushed, trying not to attract any more attention.

"No. I don't think I will," his voice is level and all traces of tears are gone from his eyes. Suga's anger is calm, like a gathering thunderstorm, and I think that's scarier than if he were to scream and yell.

"I came here to try and patch things up with you, both of you. I thought that maybe now that we're adults and I'm grown up and on my own we could come to some sort of understanding and maybe be a family again. But now I see how naive I still am. I don't know what made me think you'd actually care about me now, or why I thought you'd come to apologize for everything you put me through. I've been bruised and broken for years and I thought that fixing things with you would make it better but now I see. I don't need you. Either of you. I already have everything I need and you have no place in it."

Saying that Mr. and Mrs. Sugawara look stunned would be an understatement. They don't have a chance to reply before Suga tosses some bills on the table and turns to leave, a muffled "thanks for dinner" thrown over his shoulder.

He grabs my arm and pulls me out of the restaurant, still stunned myself. As we pull out of the parking lot I turn to Suga, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.