[Book 1]
Your friend demands that you be the script writer for the supposed love story between her and Oikawa Tooru.
Or in which you're forced to shove two people together, painstakingly describing their romance arc, as you slowly fall for the volle...
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The sound of your mother choking over the phone made you panic immensely. "Mum! Drink some water!" you gabbled anxiously, unable to help the ridiculous British accent you had while you spoke English.
"Alright, alright!" she spluttered, and you heard her take a sip of something, which made you relax. "Bloody hell," she muttered, "so run me down on the situation again?"
"Umm… so this dude I like is dating Rin and I pretty much convinced them both to get together."
"That's dumb," your mother voiced your thoughts.
"I know," you mumbled, "saying it out loud makes me feel even worse."
"The most I can offer is that you wait for them to break up. If this lad Oik--whatever the fuck his name is actually is how you describe him, I think he'll get sick of Rin. The guy needs space for his basketball and that needy bitch won't let him have it. I can feel it in my gut."
Your laughter echoed throughout the house, causing your dad to offer you a confused glance from where he sat at the living room table. "Yeah, yeah," you snorted. "I guess."
(Your mother certainly was one of a kind.)
"I'm always right," your mother said airily. "You know it, your joke of a father knows it, and most importantly, I know it."
A smile so wide it hurt stretched across your face. "Of course you are," you agreed.
"Now, I need to talk to you about something, (Y/n)," her voice became strangely serious, and you stood to attention.
"Uh… yeah?" you stammered.
"I'm going to be straight up with you," she continued, though her tone didn't waver in the slightest. "I haven't got long left."
A lump formed in your throat. "T-The doctors said you had another three years, a couple of months ago, didn't they?" you stuttered.
"Well, chemotherapy hasn't been going exactly as it should have been," your mother sighed. "So… I have a request for you."
Your shoulders tensed. "Go on…"
"I probably only have less than a year. So, when you finish school, I want you to come over to Scotland and be with me. But don't stay here for university, ok? Get a part time job, and come live with me for a while. Then when I kick the bucket, I want you to pick a good university in London. Ok?"
You didn't bother to stop the tears that were leaking down your face. "I understand," you whispered.
"You're going to go to a great university," your mother's smile could be heard in the way she spoke. "You're going to get a great degree, and then you'll write heaps upon heaps of wonderful books. Then you'll treat your father to a nice retirement place in some country he's always wanted to go to."
