The two ran to Michael's mother's car, one she let him use when she didn't need it for work purposes. Plus, his mom was usually out at work, and when she got home she was pretty tired since Michael was the oldest of four.

The house was always a nice getaway for Devin, since his house was always completely empty.

Best of all was Michael's mom, Bella. Bella's husband left a while ago, leaving her to take care of five children on her own. Some call it luck, some call it skill, or just plain magic, but she was able to raise five boys without anyone else's help.

Michael had four brothers, named Clement, Xander, Ren, and Antonio. Xander and Ren were twins, both fourteen years old. Clement was the second oldest at 16 years old, and Antonio was the youngest at 12 years old.

Devin knew all of them relatively well since he regularly would spend time over Michael's house (a lot).

The car ride over to Michael's was long and silent, and Devin was hoping that Michael wouldn't bring anything about what had happened up. But, of course, life wasn't on his side right now.

Devin looked up as Michael took a left instead of a right at one of the street corners.

"Michael? Where are we going?"

"I'm just... can we talk, I guess... I mean, your father... he was gonna hit you!" Michael spoke, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He gripped the steering wheel of the car tighter.

"I guess," Devin spoke as if it were nothing.

"You guess?! Has that happened before! Has he hit you?" Michael asked, starting to panic again.

"No... well, once I guess, but it was nothing. I fucked up, it was my fault." Devin said, turning to face out the window.

He shuddered as he felt a cool wave of air rush up his back. He recalled that night. It was almost a year ago, and the night didn't end well... but that's okay.

He deserved it, well, that's what he thought at least.
Michael started freaking out silently. Why didn't he tell me? Does he really think that it's okay to hit a child for something they did wrong? That isn't discipline... unless it's a light smack... not a hard one, meant to hurt.

But the way that his father was going to hit him tonight.... That wasn't gonna be a light tap on the cheek. If anything, that would have left a mark.

Michael grew pissed. But he wasn't gonna jump to conclusions. "What'd you do?"

Devin laughed, humorlessly.

Michael looked over at him, unamused. He was trying to be serious. Really trying to be. Because what he saw from both of Devin's parents wasn't anything he had seen before. From all the years he had stayed over, whether it was for a sleepover, or just dinner, they had always seemed supportive and kind.
That wasn't what he had seen tonight.

"Well, it's a long story I guess,"

"Well, I don't have anywhere else to be, so please, elaborate." Michael spoke, his voice came out a lot firmer than he would have liked. He knew that he shouldn't be harsh with him, but he was getting a bit mad that Devin didn't want to tell him what had happened.

"Well, to be fair, I started it." Devin said, fidgeting with his hands.

"Stop avoiding the situation! What happened?!"
Michael saw that Devin had flinched out of the corner of his eye, and psychologically apologized to him.

"I... I had told them that I wanted to see a therapist," Devin whispered. His voice was small, and he had hoped that Michael hadn't heard what he said.
He wished he hadn't heard what he had said.

***

It happened one night, about a year ago. He was in a dark, dark spot, and needed to talk to someone outside of his family. Outside of his friends.

He thought that the best thing he could do with the situation was go to see a therapist, and talk to them about it.

He didn't see anything wrong with it at all. A few people he knew talked to therapists, and they seemed fine.

Why can't he talk to one and be fine?

"Devin, come down to eat! Dinner is ready!" Devin's mother said quietly, knocking on his door.

He was a bit upset that she hadn't worried once about why her son locked himself away in his room all day long.

He was upset that she didn't question any of the crying that she had to have heard through the night.

All morning she would wake him up to seeing his tear stained cheeks.

He had convinced himself over the years that she just didn't notice. That she just didn't hear.

It wasn't that she didn't care.

He slowly got up, off of his bed, unwrapping the covers from around him. He shuddered at the late July weather. Their house was pretty cold.

He had been texting with Klaus, a boy from the Karasuno Volleyballs team. The two of them had grown as closer friends through feeling the same things.

Klaus too had Ptsd, and anxiety disorder in general. Except, Klaus had someone who would take care of him when he truly needed it.

Devin had heard so many good things about Adrian... at the time he had just gotten to his second year of dating Michael, and Michael was fine, at the time. The only thing that really changed in their relationship was the short, secret kisses they slipped each other, the small 'I love you's, and the long calls Devin and Michael both had to have. And the one time they had gotten close to be taking it all the way, which wasn't even a week ago, but Devin said he wasn't ready, yet.

Adrian and Klaus, on the other hand, didn't have to be secret about their relationship.

Both of their parents had the same views, and accepted the two's relationship. Their entire volleyball team—including more players from the Nekoma training camp—we're all perfectly fine with it, although it took some longer to accept than others. And they didn't care about the people at school who didn't like their relationship, and they were both equally in love, and affectionate.

Adrian was always there for Klaus, and Devin was jealous of him for that.

Devin walked along his hard wooden floor, making sure not to make a noise on the loose floor boards.
His mother hated the high pitched squeaking of them.
He got down the stairs, and sat down with his parents. They each had a bowl of rice placed in front of him, and his dad sat there silently eating.

Devin barely touched his food this night, or any night really.

That was another thing neither of his parents seemed to notice. Each day he ended up eating less and less.

He poked his fork in the bowl, and his mother had scolded him for playing with his food. He fixed what he was doing, and bowed his head in apology.

They sat in another six minutes of silence.
His mother always preferred silence over talking.
Devin bit his lip. He wanted to speak, but he didn't know how to start a conversation.

"Mother? Father?"

That's a start... he thought, placing his chopsticks down on the table.

"Yes, Devin?" His mother responded, calmly. A bit too calmly.

"Uh... I wanted to talk to you both... and it's kind of important," he tried. He didn't wanna be too straight forwards, or too vague. He wanted to say just the right thing, but was having trouble doing so.

"Okay, but please, make sure that it's actually important and not something silly,"

"Yes... mother," he looked down at his food, foot tapping anxiously underneath the table.

"Continue," she said, a bit firm.

"Oh... well I was just wondering if you could... take me to talk to someone?" Devin whispered before lifting his head up. He looked into his mother's cold, cold eyes, completely shook at the way they didn't seem to be affected.

They just stared back into his, like cold dead globes.
"What did you say, Devin?" His father asked, speaking for the first time that night.

His father rarely spoke, and his mother liked him that way.

"I just... wanna talk to somebody... like how Aunt Ryūga did,"

His father slammed his hand down on the table, rather loudly.

"Do not bring her up in this house again,"

"Okay, I'm sorry, father. But please, can I see someone to talk to? It won't burden you guys, I can find my own way to get there... I could even pay for it with my savings... I just need someone to talk—"

"Stop. Stop it right now. I don't know what shit got into your head, but you don't need to talk to anyone. You are fine."

Devin's heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest.

"You're self diagnosing, that's what it is. You're fine."
"But—"

"I said to stop talking, you hear me! You aren't sick, you are fine. You've just got in your head like everyone else does." His father spoke, staring Devin down.

"But father, I just want to talk to someone, it's not like I'm saying I have some sort of—"

But he was struck across the face by a hard hand. The metal ring his father wore to signify marriage to his mother pierced at his skin leaving a mark.

Devin whimpered as he reached his hand to cup his cheek.

His father didn't hesitate to grab his hand and pull it away from his face. He placed it on the table, harshly wrapping his fingers around Devin's wrist, squeezing hard enough to leave faint red marks.

Devin didn't move, in fear of making his father more mad.

It wasn't the first time he'd hit Devin, or his mother, for that fact, but it was probably the hardest.

"Don't cry. Men don't cry."

well that's another chapter complete
thanks for reading <3

love,
-aa