Chapter 8: Look

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Mistakes. There are too many mistakes etched in a red permanence.

Look at them. Look at them. LOOK AT THEM. Look how you are in the fucking way. Do you think you can change them? Do you really think you can fix it? Huh? You think you can erase them? You think they can all disappear, huh? You really think you can change? The same fucking mistake. Look at yourself. I guess Kageyama's right. You are a fucking dumbass.

They tip your chin up, a shallow movement eliciting bleak apprehension. You avert your gaze to the dimly lit ground of the bedroom floor.

Look at me.

Grimly, they frown upon your disobedience and clasp the collar of your shirt, clawing their nails into your pale skin.

Look at me, bitch. LOOK AT WHAT YOU FUCKING DID TO ME.

"No."

...

A sharp blow breaches the side of your face as they grit their teeth and reluctantly release their hold. Finally, they exhale deeply, their eyes gradually extinguishing into a duller slate.

You think avoiding your problems is going to help? Look at me. Look at your grades. Look at your art. Look at Kageyama. Look at yourself. Do you really think ignorance can solve all your problems?

"I'll fix it tomorrow."

That's what you told yourself two weeks ago. The house is a mess. You are a mess.

"I know that. You don't need to tell me stuff I already know. You act like repetition of my problems will solve everything. You think you're right? You think you know everything? Then shut the damn hell up because you don't. You don't me. You don't have the fucking right to yell at me."

But I do. I do know you. Do you know why I care so much, (Y/N)?

" ... "

Because I am (Y/N). I. Am. You.

But in front of you is merely a mirrored reflection, silently dispersing.

Time Skip - Before School, Courtyard:

"I can tell him. I can do it. Just try."

The flourishing hope, fostering a newly-found confidence within you, extinguishes.

"Do what, talk to him?" a voice ridicules from behind you. "Like you could ever.

"I'm glad that Kageyama finally knows to stay away from desperate whores."

The girl takes you by the back of your shirt, bashing your head against the school wall. She is the girl who cheers obnoxiously loud at every Karasuno volleyball game for Kageyama. She is the girl who always throws menacing glares whenever you were with him. Over time, you learned to ignore them, but ignorance can only get you so far.

"You're wrong. He's my friend. He cares about me," you mutter softly.

"Oh yeah? Then look at him now," she thrusts her finger at the far end of the school courtyard: Kageyama, a bypasser. "He doesn't give a fucking shit."

She's right, you know. Honestly if I were him, I would have done the same thing. You're such a freak, (Y/N).

You do not reply, clenching the folds of your uniform.

Shouldn't you be, at the very least, trying? Aren't you going to fix it? Didn't you say you would?

Your shoulders tense, evoking an irritation that chafes the self-contempt.

Well? Aren't you going to do something?

"I don't know."

A/N: The last line is literally representative of my prejudice on this book. I'm losing motivation to write...

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