Disperse - Kageyama x Reader (Fluff + Angst)

Chapter 2: Antipathy

Your legs hung over the ledge of the swing as you rocked back and forth. Your eyes scanned the sakura trees swaying, your mind drifting to a thoughtless tranquility.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Can you come toss for me?"

You looked over your shoulder to see a chibi Kageyama running towards you, volleyball in hand. Before you could respond, he dragged you to the nets and pushed the ball in your hands.

"You ready?"

"Yeah!" you give him a gap-toothed grin.

Ecstatic excitement coursed through your eight-year-old self as you threw the volleyball into the air, the ball sailing far above his head.

"I'm sorry! That was too high!"

"That's okay! Here, try again!"

Still, your tosses flew in all arbitrary directions and heights, refusing to land in the miniature setter's hands. Your repeated apologies gradually quieted as the inevitable sense of doubt compiled. Tears watered your eyes, the failures igniting a sharp tightness in your chest.

I'll get it the next time...

Your breathe hitched, suddenly, the pain flaring in your lungs.

"(Y/N), your tosses are too short! Try to throw it a little higher and closer to me."

For the eighth consecutive time, Kageyama passed you the ball. You let the volleyball bounce aimlessly off your chest, the pent teardrops finally leaking from your eyes. Biting your lip, you blinked the wetness away, fruitlessly wishing for it to go unnoticed.

"(Y/N)! Your lip is bleeding! What's wrong?"

He wore a concerned face as he gently patted your back.

"I'm - hic - sorry. I keep - hic - messing - hic - up."

"Don't cry! You don't look very pretty when you cry."

"B-but I keep failing..."

"That's okay! Each fail will always be a better fail than the last!"

"Can you promise me something." Tobio asked

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you won't cry."

"I promise!"

"Promise what?"

"I promise I won't cry anymore, Tobio."

"And what happens if you spill milk?"

"I won't cry!"

Really?

Kageyama gently shakes your shoulder, beckoning you to follow him.

"(Y/N), get up. It's lunch."

"Oh..."

The two of you sit in the rooftop alone.

A nauseous frustration undoubtedly sickens you, the desire to forget unattainable. It is the brutal reality of shame that resides beneath the shallow surface of your mind: an antipathy of failure which embodies dissension inalienably rooted in your nature. Its ruthless mannerisms itch for an escape, however futile, trapped behind the hopeless lies.

"Are you upset about earlier?"

"What?" you look away from his piercing eyes and stare at the laces of your untied shoes.

"Why were you crying?"

"Oh- I um... I'm having my period!"

" ... "

"It's fine! I was just feeling a little bit down before, but I'm okay now," you grin to cover up the fabrications. "Soooo do you have volleyball practice today?"

"Yeah."

He continues to hold the evident look of concern in his eyes. For a brief moment, you frown grimly, forgetting the facade that hid the bitter shame. You give him a small smile.

"Great! I'll be there."