courage dear heart | Yuki Ishikawa

30 - S. pt1

After we changed and ate, we went to his room.

As soon as we walked in, I flopped onto his bed. 
"Your bed is sooo much better! Why do you keep sleeping in mine?" I stared at the ceiling, letting the quiet of the room settle around us.

I could feel Yuki moving around the room, and eventually, he joined me, lying down beside me. 

"Because you're in that bed."

I turned her head slightly to watch him, not saying a word.

Yuki noticed my gaze but didn't speak right away either.

The silence between us was comfortable, but I could tell he was thinking about something. After a moment, he broke the silence.

"How's your hand?" he asked softly, his eyes gentle as they flicked down to my wrist.

"It's okay... just sore. I'll be fine." I smiled, but Yuki didn't seem convinced.

"I know how frustrating it is," he said after a beat. "Being injured... and having to sit out. It's hard not to feel useless." His tone grew quieter, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to me.

I listened, remembering that Yuki had also been through his own injury.
He had been sidelined for weeks, forced to watch from the bench as his team kept playing. I could only imagine the frustration of not being able to do what he loved.

"How did you deal with it?" I asked quietly.

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before replying. "Honestly, it was rough. I tried to stay positive, but it got to me. I hated feeling like I was letting everyone down. But... eventually, I realized I had to be patient with myself. Let my body heal. It wasn't easy, but... you'll get through it."

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words.

Yuki always seemed so strong, so capable, but it was moments like these that reminded me how human he really was.

I reached out slowly, letting my fingers brush against his before taking his hand in mine.

We stayed like that for a while, lying close together, holding hands in comfortable silence.

Even though we weren't talking or doing anything, I felt at peace.

It was a new feeling—one that made me believe I could stay like this for hours without ever growing tired.

I turned toward him, my voice soft. "How was your day?"

He glanced at me, his expression serious. "It didn't go that well... I couldn't focus, my mind was all over the place."

A slight pang tightened in my chest.

He shifted onto his side, facing me. "At first, I was frustrated. It's not like me to get distracted during practice, and as time went on, I just kept messing up more and more."

He lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers through my hair. "I kept thinking about your beautiful face... but that's not what frustrated me the most." His fingers traced my forehead, smoothing the lines as they furrowed.

"It bothered me that I didn't get to see your face this morning because it was too dark. It bothered me that you ran away... and most of all, it bothered me that I didn't get the chance to say what I wanted to say."

He propped himself up on one elbow, moving closer, his face just inches from mine. "I know I'm not exactly the ideal person to be with. My schedule is always packed, I have my routines, and I don't like when things change. For most of my life, there's only been one thing on my mind—volleyball."