(A/N) Hey guys. this is a triggering chapters, and a lot of the following will be too. I will be marking chapters like so if i remember to, but from here on out be careful either way. Gomen, thank you for reading. Enjoy this brief comedic relief?

Akaashi

"Akaashi-kun, honestly!" Kuroo laughed, gesturing energetically with his chopsticks. "Why won't you try it, you picky little shit!" They had gone out to a small shop, a mid point between all their houses where they often met. Kuroo popped the mackerel slice into his mouth, snatching up another. "Even Bokuto is eating it." He exclaimed, and they both looked at Kou, who gnawed at it with his bare hands. They both grimaced and shook their heads.

Keiji returned his attention to his meal and eyed the grilled fish nervously. He hadn't ever tried mackerel, in fact, he avoided it completely. He preferred salmon and tuna, and hardly ever strayed from those specific variations. He fiddled his fingers in his lap, his expression stoic and bored as he flickered his eyes up.

Bokuto froze mid bite, and Tetsuro leaned forward, his eyes widened in anticipation as if Akaashi was ready to tell him a secret. The few seconds dragged on, as his expression shifted from plain to sarcastic and resistant as his eyebrows raised a bit. It was Akaashi's turn this time to lean forward.

"Not. A. Chance." He said, blatantly defying Kuroo's request. He slumped back in his seat, head tilted and shoulders slumped with the same, sassy expression.

After that next moment, Akaashi realized he may have made a small mistake. He had just poked a bear. Kuroo firmly held his mackerel in his chopstick, even during the next few seconds as he and Bokuto scrambled around the side of the table. At their sudden movements, a determined Keiji shoved back his chair and it caught in the tile. His eyes were wide, the whites of his eyes on plain sight as he free fell backwards. He threw his hands behind his head and rolled to the side, hitting the ground with a loud grunt and whoosh of air leaving his lungs.

He scrambled forward, his knees slid on the ground due to his jeans and inhibited any serious speed. He found his feet, his hand stretched for the door handle, and his finger tips met the cold, rewarding feeling of the door handle. Yet, his escape had been hindered, and his favorite t shirt stretched undoubtably, as he big hands snatch ahold of his shirt and pull him back.

"You will eat this fucking mackerel, Akaashi-kun." Kuroo cried, one hand gripping Akaashi's shirt and the other holding his chop sticks near his face. Keiji had lost his feet, and his ass hit the ground hard. Kuroo straddled him, and gripped his cheeks roughly making akaashi open his mouth. Keiji swung, his arms flailing, attempting to make contact with Kuroo's face, but Bokuto came from behind and pinned his arms. Akaashi was done for.

"Kuroo, let me go!" He yelled, the words garbled and muffled, as the mackerel neared his lips.

"So help me god, child, you will fucking eat it if it's the last thing i do!" Kuroo cried out.

"Kuroo Testuro! Bokuto Koutarou! Akaashi Keiji!" A maternal voice bellowed, anger dropping off her words. "What in the hell is going on?"

"She just used our full names..." Bokuto whispered, his face pale as his face turned.

"Forget her, she's the nice one... At least i don't have to deal with Little Shiro at practice..." Kuroo snapped back in a hushed voice. Shirofuku Ami was the mother of Yukie, the manager at Fukurodani with the ferocious appetite. They were ill tempered individuals, to say the least.

"Boys!" She yelled, coming around the corner, wiping her hands in her apron. "I swear you are lucky that there aren't any customers-" She stopped, and her expression twisted, disbelief bracing her features. "What exactly is going on?"

"Akaashi wouldn't eat your mackerel." Bokuto said, his voice resembling a child tattle tailing.

"E- Ehhh?!" Akaashi became panicked, and Kuroo snickered softly. "Traitor.." He spluttered.

"Drop the mackerel, Kuroo." She said, and Tetsu obeyed immediately. Akaashi, however, caught the short end of the stick at that moment. It dropped into his mouth as he inhaled, and he choked out, gagging. "Now get off of him." Bokuto and Kuroo released Akaashi, who sat up, chewing slowly and swallowing.

"Akaashi-kun, next time, don't let them do that to you. You did have a fork." She said thoughtfully, her voice cheerful and light in an incredibly eerie way.

Akaashi looked thoughtful, and Bokuto and Kuroo's head darted into Akaashi's direction with anxiety written on their foreheads.
________________________________

His mind skipped about, focusing and then dissipating into static and overlapping noises, turning into fragments of conversations and little blurbs in his life. He stirred, lifting his face out of his pillow, readjusting before rolling onto his back. These things that kept reiterating themselves and crawling from the depths and darkest crevasses of his memories wasn't him dreaming. His eye lids weren't a sleepy kind of heavy. Haze cloaked his mind even in his miniature comatose. He pried his eyes open, blinking at the ceiling in slow motion. His head throbbed, but painlessly like he could feel his veins pumping blood and the electricity pulsing in his neurons. His movements were slow, his limbs lethargic and late to respond to the simplest commands. It was familiar, as if he woke up drunk and high at six am after a long night of partying and a thirty minute power nap.

He pushed up into a sitting position, looking around again. Now, when he glanced around he could see the room clearly. His sheets were white with a maroon quilt over top, and he no longer was attached to a morphine drip, or that's what he assumed it was. The bed itself seemed to be large enough to fit four grown men laying vertically and flat on their backs comfortably across it. The curtains surrounding him were thin sheets of translucent material, and when light hit it a certain way a small flash of colors scurried over then vanished. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling a moist, but rough splotch where his injury was healing. He cringed slightly at a sting, and removed his hand, kicking his feet over the edge after shoving back the fabric. He leaned forward to look around. The walls were brick with a low, off-white ceiling.

Next to the bed was a dresser with a lamp and alarm clock that told the date and time, and against the wall were a few bing bags in various colors. There was a cracked door, and from what was visible he could tell that it was a bathroom.

He stepped around the corner of his bed, seeing the wide space before him. He could see a big, leather couch and glass coffee table before it through a book case that attached to the ceiling an wall at the center of the room. There well over a hundred books of all genres, but he side stepped it, ignoring the literature. On the other side, everything came fully into view. There was a small dining table and on the farthest wall there was a black and white collage of photographs framed by black wood.

In the corner, there was a treadmill and mini fridge. He approached the collage, eying the images as he moved. The pictures varied in sizes, and Akaashi squinting to see the images better. He took a step, craning his neck as he picked one off the wall.

His heart contracted, and his lungs seized breath as he realized just what the picture depicted. For a moment, he hallucinated a movie on the image in his hands.

"Tetsu! Stop it!" Akaashi laughed balling up a wad of snow, tossing it at Kuroo. It hit him straight in his face, and broke apart, the particles falling to the ground except for a few strays that made a home in his dark hair and atop his nose.

"Oh, you just poked a puma..." He purred mischievously as he began to create a snowball. Akaashi squealed in joy, turning to run.

The memory slowed to a stop, freezing back as the polaroid shot he held. Akaashi was looking back mid-run, his cheeks and nose red, as he smiled wide at Kuroo in the blurred background began to stand. That day at the park that they played in the snow was months ago in January.

His eyes burned and his throat closed as tears began to well up, but his horrified tears didn't have the chance to fall. There was a click, and his head turned immediately. There was a dark mahogany door, and the knob on it turned.

His heart skipped and a drop of sweat beaded on his forehead as the hair on his neck prickled. The door swung open, and a man of medium height stood before him. He wore a golden kitsune mask, and held a tray of food and a few other items.

"Keiji-kun!" He explained, surprise present in his voice. "You should still be asleep, but oh well, you're awake for our meal. I cooked it especially for you-"

"Who are you?" Akaashi asked softly, his eyes wide.

The man walked past him, practically bouncing. He set the tray on the table. "My name doesn't matter, but you can call me tiger!" He giggled, turning his head back to look over his shoulder. Akaashi's eyebrows drew together.

The man, or Tiger, had prepared grilled sanma fish, rice, and miso with tofu. There were neatly cut slices of lemon, three on his rice and one on the plate with his fish. Next to it was a notebook, pencils, and inking pens. His eyes narrowed.

"Where am I, Tiger-san?" He interrogated, his eyes carefully following each and every individual movement the Tiger made.

"Kei-ji-kun, i think you know that i'm not gonna tell ya.." He hummed, moving the plates and bowls off the tray. "You're all mine now." He tilted his head, and Akaashi winced. The painted eyes bore into his, forcing him to look away timidly. He imagined the man's eyes roaming his body, hungrily devouring his appearance. The ground creaked, and his head snapped up. The Tiger crept towards him, and he scrambled back, falling to the ground.

"You know what i'd like, Keiji-kun?" The Tiger murmured softly. Akaashi narrowed his eyes.

"What?" He spat.

"I'd like you to write a story about me. I want you to draw us, married and in love, just like you did in your manga from a while back. You know which one i'm talking about? Where the King married the peasant girl? I want my crown to have turquoise stones, i'm not fond so much of those emeralds you had chosen." He droned on, pacing back and forth next to the table.

"excuse me?" Akaashi questioned, his voice a bit humorous.

"Oh you heard me, my little princess. I want you to write me the story just how i said." He laughed, turning to admire his collage. "In fact, I just had a fabulous idea, Keiji-kin!" He cried out deliriously, spinning back to face him, throwing his hands into the air. "I want you to call me Tiger-sama, understand?" He turned, leaning and looming over Akaashi, who bore vaguely sarcastic expression.

Akaashi exploded into hysterics. Peels of laughter assaulted him, and he leaned forward over his knees smacking his hand over his mouth as he laughed.

"What's so funny?" The Tiger asked.

"Sama? Are you fucking kidding me? You're goddamn insane! Bloody marbles-"

A loud smack resounded through the room, silencing Akaashi. The sound reached his ears before the burning sensation in his cheek. He touched it, flinching back at the stinging. The Tiger grabbed him by his throat, lifting him from the ground easily.

Akaashi wheezed, his eyes bulging as his kicked his feet a bit. His toes brushed against the flooring as he struggled. His head became light and eyed showed black dots as he struggled to drag in oxygen.

"Insane?" He said calmly, his head cocked to the side as if in thought. Akaashi's fingers clawed at his arms and hands.

"Here is where I die...." His mind repeated as the corners of his vision fuzzed and his consciousness dipped in and out.

The Tiger threw him roughly to the ground, and Akaashi landed on his stomach, and before he could even move, the Tiger landed a forceful kick to his side. The air, that had only just kissed his aching lungs, shot out all in one violent gush.

He gripped him by the hair at the top of his head, lifting his head up a smidgen.

"You will regret saying that, you unappreciative little slut..." The growl came out low, hot and guttural. The Tiger released him.

He held his head up, reaching his hand out with a grimace on his face as the man stomped out like toddler, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Akaashi's head dropped, his throbbing cheek pressing against the heavenly cold ground. His fists clenched, and sobs wracked his frame and droplets pooled at where his skin met the ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wishing his could go home.

He only prayed they noticed he was gone soon.