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Why.

Why,

Of all the times.

Bokuto hunched over as his stomach made another horrific, bellowing cry, loud enough for all the world to hear. Sweat trickled down his brow both from the strain and from sheer terror. He prayed everyone would be too busy with the game to even think of the the spare bathroom at the back of the school, but he couldn't bare the thought of his team mates taking the spotlight from him in his absence.

Ugh, here he was supposed to impress you, the love of his life, whom he personally invited to this game in order to prove his worth to, and what happens? The fried chicken he ate earlier that day came back to bite him in the ass...almost literally.

With his colon releasing another grotesque growl, he wailed as loud as he could in total despair. How could the fates possibly be any crueler to him?

“Bokuto?” Came a faint voice from outside.

His heart dropped in his chest.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He perceived a soft rapping against the door.

“Bokuto? Are you okay, sweetie?”

Damn it. It was you.

Of all the cruel jokes...

Clearing his throat, in attempts to regain his bearings, he called,

“Errr, uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been in there for fifteen minutes, and it sounds like you’ve been crying.”

He bit his lip.

Even behind a locked door, he couldn't hide from you...

Gripping his hair, he muttered back in deepest humiliation,

“My stomach is being an asshole...”

Completely unfazed, you answered back,

“Do you need any medicine? I have some for gas, constipation, diarrhea-”

“That one.”

“You got it.”

He couldn’t help but feel relief swell in his chest.

“Oh, by the way..."

“Yeah?”

“Can we keep this a secret?”

A moment of silence past, and he saw the small orange bottle slide under the door.

“What? I dunno what you’re talking about.”

And a little smile perched on his lips.

Description
Why.

Why,

Of all the times.

Bokuto hunched over as his stomach made another horrific, bellowing cry, loud enough for all the world to hear. Sweat trickled down his brow both from the strain and from sheer terror. He prayed everyone would be too busy with the game to even think of the the spare bathroom at the back of the school, but he couldn't bare the thought of his team mates taking the spotlight from him in his absence.

Ugh, here he was supposed to impress you, the love of his life, whom he personally invited to this game in order to prove his worth to, and what happens? The fried chicken he ate earlier that day came back to bite him in the ass...almost literally.

With his colon releasing another grotesque growl, he wailed as loud as he could in total despair. How could the fates possibly be any crueler to him?

“Bokuto?” Came a faint voice from outside.

His heart dropped in his chest.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He perceived a soft rapping against the door.

“Bokuto? Are you okay, sweetie?”

Damn it. It was you.

Of all the cruel jokes...

Clearing his throat, in attempts to regain his bearings, he called,

“Errr, uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been in there for fifteen minutes, and it sounds like you’ve been crying.”

He bit his lip.

Even behind a locked door, he couldn't hide from you...

Gripping his hair, he muttered back in deepest humiliation,

“My stomach is being an asshole...”

Completely unfazed, you answered back,

“Do you need any medicine? I have some for gas, constipation, diarrhea-”

“That one.”

“You got it.”

He couldn’t help but feel relief swell in his chest.

“Oh, by the way..."

“Yeah?”

“Can we keep this a secret?”

A moment of silence past, and he saw the small orange bottle slide under the door.

“What? I dunno what you’re talking about.”

And a little smile perched on his lips.