Disperse - Kageyama x Reader (Fluff + Angst)

Chapter 9: Month

You clench your teeth, gripping onto the palm of your hands.

You said you would do something. You said you would fix it. But you didn't. You can't.

"DAMN IT, WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE ME?"

The frame in your bedroom clashes against the ground as glass shards precariously shatter. You breathes grow heavier, an indignant self-derision unjustified. The crimson pain in your fists stings alongside the failures.

"Look, another mistake- haha..."

Your legs collapse, and the tears mat your shirt, rebelling against your will. You hug yourself tightly - a tenuous attempt to externalize a dying assurance - because no one else can, and no one else will.

You keep making mistakes. You keep trying and failing. Look at around you. Look behind you. Look at you. Mistakes. These are all mistakes. And you told me, you - you yourself - don't. fucking. know.

"I'll find a way. Somehow. Just give me more time."

Bullshit. It's pointless. You can't do it on your own, (Y/N). Just give up.

"What- what do you mean?"

Give up, already. Don't you think it's past time? You already skipped school for five days. Shouldn't you just give up on him for once?

"I don't understand what you are saying."

It's simple. Just concede. You'll feel better this way. Kageyama will feel better. Isn't that what you want?

"Shut up. You're wrong. It isn't what Kageyama would have wanted. I can do it. I just need more time... a month, and I can do it."

You lift your head to meet the gaze of an abstraction, your thoughts.

"I will do it my own way."

But two weeks are easily wasted studying for the retake on the exams.

(A/N: Notice how I used the word "wasted." What do you think I am implying?)

"How did you get even worse than Hinata?"

"I-I don't know."

Your hands tremble as the tainted red directly protrudes a "7," a failure.

"That's not even in the double-digits, dumbass."

You lips meekly curl upwards as you give him a closed eyed smile, eyebrows furrowing slightly upwards.

"Yeah."

It is only a matter of time until the pretense breaks.

Footsteps approach as you apprehensively tap with the sole of your foot again and again. Sure the countless hours and sleepless nights spent studying for the retake of midterms would pay off, right?

Double digits. Double digits, at the very least. Sixty, at least 60. Crap, I probably got all the logarithm questions wrong. I don't even remember what base-change formula is. Shit shit shit What if I got a 25? No no no no no no no no I had to at least do better, but what if-

"(L/N)."

You hold your breath. The results are here.

"You did surprisingly better this time... surprisingly."

"Wait what?"

The teacher places the forbidden score onto your desk.

"Holy shi-"

"-iiiiiiiiiiiirt..."

You can finally breathe again, and you sink into your chair, tilting your head backwards as a conformation of relief.

An 82. For once, fewer marks taint your papers, scoring an B- on the retake of the midterm exams. For once, just once, it is all coming together beautifully.

Time Skip

The tip of your mechanical pencil composes a vague outline of Kageyama meticulously setting the volleyball, however still lacking.

"The proportions and anatomy are alright, even the perspective is half decent! But still... it's missing something. Shit- it's already 12:30 A.M." you curse, hastily uploading the picture onto your tablet. "Digital outline and small corrections probably take 1 hour. Line art is probably gonna be 3 hours for this one. Coloring... maybe another 3-4. If I stay up for tonight and work after class, I can finish by the end of today. The sooner the better."

Because tomorrow is the day.

A/N: I suck at writing false hope- I mean...