Broken Wings- Haikyuu! X Male OC

Reminiscence Pt. 2

SHIRO'S HOSPITAL DAYS BLURRED BY IN AN INSTANT.

 He had no sense of time. It was just beeping of heart machines and the overhead operating light and the LED glare and the smell of hospital. His crying mom, his dad leaving to delve himself in his work completely, Kuroo and Kenma and Akaashi and Bokuto all coming to visit until they moved away. Then so many visits, so many clinics, so many days stuck on his bed that he couldn't distinguish the days from one another anymore.

Aunt Lia became a woman of few words, quiet and reserved, her dead child's ghost still plaguing her.

Uncle Tio was paralyzed, physically from the neck down, mentally by his son's death. He just stared, unresponsive to the world for the rest of his hospital-bound life. The only time he would seem to be alive would be when tears would fall down his cheeks at night.

Ikuto was buried near the field they played in. Shiro was taken to the  seven-year-old's funeral in a wheelchair. 

He didn't understand what was going on.

The boy was just silent while watching the casket be lowered into the ground. He could barely remember what had happened.

The trauma was repressed so deep, that Shiro had to even ask his mother who was in the casket, causing Aunt Lia to cry along with his mother.

He didn't remember a lot of it until years later.

As Shiro started getting a bit better, a metal rod in his calf, the thug kids had taken over the court.

Shiro didn't remember that they were bullies. Didn't remember the baby bird they ruthlessly killed, didn't remember anything with Ikuto, didn't remember the fire and invasion.

 He barely remembered things that happened. There was a bandage over his eye where some glass had cut into his eyebrow, there was a horrible pain in his leg whenever he walked. He just thought he was sick. He didn't remember his calf getting crushed. 

Little Shiro's mind had shoved all that trauma into a corner far away, later to spill out when he got older, later to spill out when he started remembering and having panic attacks in middle school.

He wanted to play the game with those boys. He didn't remember why volleyball seemed like such a beacon to him, but he loved it from the bottom of his heart.

Even if he couldn't play, Shiro would always find a way to limp to the court, always just standing there, staring up at the net, feeling at home.

Whether it be day or night, his frantic mother would always find her missing son on the court. Never in the field.

Shiro didn't know why he kept ending up at the court. He didn't know why it pulled him in, why it was so important-feeling to him.

But he kept seeing a taller boy there, an older boy, smiling at him from the other side of the court.

He had the prettiest golden locks that glittered in the sun, and had a shit-eating grin over his face. Shiro felt like he knew the boy, but didn't understand how.

 Little Shiro used to see the golden-haired boy all the time. Whenever he would touch a volleyball, whenever he would walk to the court, that boy appeared out of nowhere. The boy looked so friendly to him.