his muse // kagehina (read desc)

night hours and soda cans.

°。°。(*'￫ܫ￩｀*)。°。°

Hello, my old heart
How have you been?
Are you still there inside my chest?
I've been so worried, you've been so still
Barely beating at all

- Oh Hellos, Hello My Old Heart

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Social anxiety is a nightmarish devil. Nothing more, nothing less.

People perceive it as plain shyness. True, they could confuse being shy and social anxiety, however, the polarity between the two is that anxiety creates a pit of self-consciousness, a constant fear of being watched, of being judged, while to be shy is being nervous and timid. With social anxiety, dizziness and nausea come much more easily than for the average being. I would be afraid of being talked to, afraid that I would mess up, afraid that people would find me bland or dense.

I was thirteen when I was diagnosed with mild social anxiety. My parents had instantly sent me to therapy because of it, claiming that their only son should not be able to suffer from any illness, mentally or physically. I had thought that it would work, and the dreaded feelings swirling in my stomach would disappear.

Looking back on it now, I fathom that it was ridiculous to have sent me to therapy. If anything, the therapist had only made my anxiety worse. One of her favorite sayings was: "If you're too afraid to talk to people, they won't be willing to talk to you. Face your fears and think positive."

Needless to say, nothing my therapist had taught me could ever prepare me for this moment.

I stand frozen in the doorway, Hinata securing the portrait between his arms, an impressive feat for someone who was also holding a violin and its bow. He wears an impressively sorrowful face as if to apologize for his inability to see. Was it pity?

"I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier; I thought it was quite obvious."

"It's fine. I- It's my fault. I didn't really register that you were.. well, blind," my voice shakes with every syllable that tumbles out of my mouth. If Hinata were able to see, right now, at this moment, how pathetic would he think I am?

"I painted this on a whim, so I understand if you don't know what you want to do with it. If you want to keep it, it's fine. If you- If you want to trash it, it's alright."

Hinata stops short. "Throw it away?"

"Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I don't know what I would do with it either if I were you."

"I couldn't," his voice is sincere, calm, measured. "I can't see, but I would never regard it as rubbish. I bet it's beautiful. You're Kageyama Tobio, after all.

"I really meant what I said earlier today at the shop. I'd love to be friends. If you don't mind, that is. I think you know the reason why I told you to call me instead of text now."

"No. No, I don't mind. I mean, I'd like to be friends as well."

He smiles, a radiant, beautiful smile. As if all the power in the house was sucked out and extinguished into the small contortion of muscles of his face.

"I'm glad you do," he beams. "Would you like to stay and talk for a while?"

"I- I don't think I should. It's quite late. I shouldn't have intruded on you at this hour."

"Oh, that's fine! Feel free to stop by whenever. I believe having someone watch me practice might ease my stage fright," he laughs.

"Yeah. I'd like to. I'll- I'll be taking my leave now."