Growing up as a social person, Sora Suzuki was surrounded by love and affection- even from the most random people. Tender strokes, gentle kisses. Love came to him in the form of five unique beings, and damn, he's in deep. But when shit happens, and...
it is august: the true ending of a year. he's grown sick from trying to love
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SEPTEMBER FIRST, TWO THOUSAND AND TWELVE
10:14 in the morning
"AH, YA-CHAN. YOU'RE HERE, TOO?" The blonde female froze in her spot, eyes darting to the side and spotting the taller teenager walking up to her with a friendly smile on his face and a hand raised, fingers wiggling forward as a wave. Yachi swallowed thickly, mouth devoid of moisture. Her heart thundered in her chest, lungs expanding to accustom to the large intake of oxygen.
Her hands clenched around the bannister.
She smiled faintly, lips quivering towards the corner. Even after the misconception was cleared up, Yachi was terrified of the male.
And if you're wondering what exactly the misconception was, well, allow me to brief my lovely readers with a rather fond and entertaining flashback.
Red and purple splotches marked Tobio Kageyama's skin, Yachi's fellow first-year and the setter of the team she was managing as a junior. Soft, mellow brown eyes enlarged dramatically as Kageyama stumbled into the gymnasium with ruffled hair, swollen lips and bruised skin. She looked around the large area, hoping that someone would approach the evidently hurt boy, if the limp he was sporting had anything to say, and inquire about his well-being. When she observed how everyone went about their business as usual, her breath hitched in her throat.
Oh my, oh my, oh my!
Yachi felt like she was going to shit in her pants. Her gut twisted with anxiety, accompanied by horror and perturbance. Thoughts whacked her brain, worries playing fucking baseball in her head and ricocheting off her skull, bouncing from one side to the other, to the other, to the other. A never-ending bounce. With each second that passed, the velocity at which it moved tripled.
How do I approach this? Yachi thought, fiddling with her fingers. Her brown-hued eyes darted to and from the younger boy, sweat precipitating on the surface of her slightly acne-ridden skin. Kageyama-kun, is your home situation alright?
The blonde shook her head rapidly.
NO! WHAT IF HE'S IN TROUBLE BECAUSE HE TOLD ME— WAIT, DON'T TELL ME HE GOT BEATEN UP BY THE YAKUZA! I'M GOING TO DIE IF I ASK HIM! THEY'LL FIND OUT I'M SUSPICIOUS AND TRACK ME DOWN AND KILL ME! I'LL DIE!
Suddenly, she paused in her thinking. As a result, her rapid movements along the side of the court paused as well. Yachi crinkled her brows, oblivious to the worried looks thrown her way. Karasuno's boys' volleyball team was concerned about their young manager.
Narita tapped Tanaka on the shoulder and nodded to the far end of the court. Tanaka's jocular discussion with Hinata came to an end as he turned his head.
