Forty Winks | K. Shirabu

┗ 𝘛𝘞𝘌𝘓𝘍𝘛𝘏 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘒

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𝘛𝘞𝘌𝘓𝘍𝘛𝘏 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘒:
— you won't listen to me.

━━━━━━━━

If time was intangible, she wondered how he made it stop.

Yui swore it was an evanescent moment; one that lasts for a mere blink of an eye before she could even command another breath of air to fill her lungs. Obstructing her process to live, her feet were glued to the ground in hopes of trying to compose herself from the genuine state of shock. Her eyes stared back, searching for anything that could prove that he was looking at something distant from her soul.

It was exhilarating.

How a stranger can make you vulnerable with his gaze alone.

He took her thoughts away, played with her mind, dictated her heart to skylark, and crushed it to pieces without a second thought - she felt so exposed of her endeavors. And to think that it was a simple moment of mutuality, she must be going insane.

It occurred during the time-out called by a team; at this moment, she couldn't even begin to fathom which side asked for one. She couldn't remember what she ate for breakfast nor what she was even doing in this gymnasium during that short period of time - when he caught her eyes for a good second or two before his companion smacked him, literally, out of his supposed trance.

As much as she wished that it was a coincidence, out of all the people that occupied the stands, the seats, and the benches, he saw her - and his eyes held purpose for something she couldn't tell.

The look was blank and fleeting, a speck of dust caught in a wind or a droplet of water at the edge of a leaf; it was concise and short - but it undoubtedly belonged to where it wanted it to be.

She can guarantee with all of her life that she had not once encountered Kageyama Tobio with eye contact, yet he managed to make her feel the opposite with such a simple unspoken form of language.

He kept on surprising her every time and it was too mind-wrecking to even decipher.

In that immediate instance, she found herself seating on one of the vacant seats behind her, lips pursed in a manner that she found difficult to open. She clenched her phone subconsciously within her palm, nails tracing lines on the sky blue case fluently.

The match came to a conclusion.

"Sorry, I didn't know what I was even doing."

She seriously didn't. It became a habit to call him when she was in distress or in any particular scenario that caused emotional stimulation. She wouldn't deny to herself that his voice became the solace she used to seek whenever she felt so fragile - a piece of porcelain that'll break and shatter if she made contact with another being. She'll never admit that though.

When she realized that she pressed the button, it was already too late; for he picked it up at an instant.

"The hell, Yui." It was only his mere voice, but if it was possible to hear a scowl through phone calls, then she can definitely see it so vividly in the vexation embracing his words. "You don't even have a reason to call?"

"I'm surprised that you answered." She replied breathlessly through the device after the circumstance from minutes ago.

"That doesn't answer my question. I'm hanging up."

"Wait—" When she didn't hear the call end, she continued, "Is the team still there?"

"Yes. We're being told to head back to the bus just now. Why?"