Fly High {A Kagehina Fanfiction}

Chapter 18

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-Two Years Later-

Two years have passed.

Two long dragged out years, each day tearing at my heart and mind.

I still miss Hinata. Each day without him continues to be a struggle; his death leaving a gaping hole in my heart that I know will never be able to be completely filled again. It still hurts to think about him, it still hurts to try and move on and find happiness without him, but I keep going. I still haven't forgotten about his promise. I visit his family time to time, and sometimes, I go into Hinata's bedroom as it comforts me in a strange, sad way. I still go to his grave every two weeks, cleaning it up and whispering the latest news.

I graduated Karasuno highschool along with Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yaichi. Then, I headed off to a University for volleyball, moving away from my father. Miwa got herself a job as an astronaut as she was studying astronomy and science in the U.S, and she also got our father some help. He was placed into a treatment center, and now, he goes to therapy every week along with a new job of being a teacher of business at Nekoma Highschool. Miwa insisted I get therapy too after everything that happened. After a long argument and protesting, I finally gave in, and two years later, I am still receiving weekly therapeutic meetings. I no longer had many hours of my days filled with part-time jobs (though I still had one at the cafe afterschool) as over the last two years our family slowly got back on track.

Even still, I can't bring myself to forgive my father, even if he did get a job and is recovering from alchol addiction. I miss him a lot, but the memories of the months of abuse and neglectfulness burns my mind. Every time I think about talking to him, a part of me boils in anger at the thought, and I push the thought of him away. I haven't said anything to him in two whole years. Miwa calls me sometimes and says Dad misses me and wants to talk to me. With him at his job and me at university, I sometimes lie to myself and others that we're too busy to talk. But I know deep down, I'm avoiding him.

Today is June 21st.

That's the first thing that pops into my mind as my eyeslids slowly flicker open this morning.

"Happy birthday, Shoyo," I whisper, wishing he were here besides me. Only silence answers me in my apartment, and an empty chuckle escapes my mouth. I sit up in my bed and take a look around my apartment bedroom. My desk is stacked with books and homework, and on the walls, volleyball posters are hung up along Karasuno team photos. One photo is the failed picture Hinata took of the two of us in his bedroom. The other one is in my wallet, so I have it with me all the time.

My phone suddenly rings, and I whirl towards my drawer, startled. It's an unknown number, and I pick it up, already ready to yell at the stupid person for calling the wrong person. But before I can get a word in, a familiar man's voice is already speaking.

"Oh, Tobio? Thank God you picked up. I couldn't call you on my phone because I knew you wouldn't pick up, but my therapist let me call you on his phone. Please don't hang up."

I pause, the words sinking into my brain. Then it hit me.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Tobio-"

Blood suddenly boils in my veins, and I clench my fist. "I'm hanging up. Don't call me again."

"Wait, Tobio!" my father begs on the phone, and my finger hovers over the end button. "Please... we haven't talked in so long. You're on break now, aren't you?"

My finger slowly drops to my side, slightly quivering. "Yeah."

"Can we... can we talk? Just for a few minutes?" There's a long pause. "Please?"

I hesitate for a long moment, the silence drawling on. Finally, I speak.

"Okay. I'll be over at noon."

*

Part of me considers not going back home to see him at all, but I end up going at noon just as promised. Stepping up the front porch of the house feels strangely nostalgic. I hesitate for a few minutes at the door, second guessing my decision to come here. But finally I let myself knock.

The door opens in an instinct as if he's been waiting right at the door for me. My father looks much healthier than he did two years ago; it seems these two years of recovering have been very beneficial for him. He's actually shaven, and a cleaner smell surrounds him. The bags around his eyes aren't as dark, and his clothes aren't stained and filled with the thick aroma of alchol. His eyes go wide at the sight of me, and for a split second, he moves towards me. He seems to decide against it, and he steps back.

"Tobio," he says. "I'm glad you came."

"What is it?" I ask, my voice sounding much colder and sharper than intended.

My father turns from the doorway towards the living room. He sits at the couch, and I sit on a singular chair across him. A look of hurt seems to flash across his face, but I ignore it. It's not like he cared about my feelings when he was an alcoholic.

"It's been a while," he finally says after a moment of silence. My father is staring at the ground. He seems nothing like himself when he was sick which I guess is a good thing.

"Yeah."

"You've grown."

I shrug.

"How's- um- school?"

"Good."

We sit in silence again, and finally my father lets out an exasperated sigh. "Listen, Tobio. I know you don't really want to talk to me after what happened, but I wanted to talk to you to tell you that I'm sorry." He shakes his head, scowling at the ground. "I'm sorry that I left you all alone after your mother's death. I'm sorry of what I did to you when I was... when I was sick. I know it was the wrong thing to do, and if I could, I would take it all back. I am your father, and I should always be there for you. It probably doesn't mean to you, but I really want to let you know." He sighs again. "Okay, I'm done. You can leave now if you want. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry, and I miss you. You probably don't believe me, but it's the truth."

I stare at him, shocked, my fists twitching in my lap. Suddenly the part that misses my father pushes past all the anger I have for him and takes over my whole body. I get up from my chair, and a shadow passes over my father's face for a split second until I sit down next to him on the couch. He looks at me, eyebrows raised. I stiffly pat my father on the back.

"I miss you too, Dad."

*

Music blasts in my ears through my headphones as I jog down the streets that afternoon. I did the same thing last year on Hinata's birthday- walking and jogging to all the spots where we shared the most memories, letting them run through my mind. The only place I haven't gone is the park with the swings. I haven't gone since Hinata's funerals; the place brings too much pain to mind. Still, today, I find myself heading towards the park.

The song 'The Night We Met' is staring to play as I enter the park. As usual, children scamper all around, squealing and giggling and shrieking with joy. A few children run past me, kicking up woodchips. Sunlight is shining brightly, reflecting off the metal poles and causing shadows to dance on the floor. It seems to be casting down particularly on the swings which I head towards. I turn the volume up of the music, shutting down the whole world, and I sit down on the swings.

Warm sun hits my face, comforting me in a strange way. I gently close my eyes and rock back and forth slowly on the swing. Except this time, the feeling of being on the swing feels different than the day on Hinata's funeral. It doesn't feel like I'm escaping reality and pretending Hinata's still here. I don't have to. He's still here with me. He's always with me.

I know he'll never be gone from my heart. I'll find happiness again, but he will never be gone from my mind. We'll never really truly be separated.

So I sit on the swing, and I fly high in the air just like Hinata flew high on the court.

We'll always be together in a way... Hinata Shoyo and I.

The end.