one shots of the haikyuu breed {on-going}

Airplanes

For the life of him, Yaku couldn't find a way to possibly sit still. After boarding the plane, he thought he'd be okay. His breathing checked out, but soon, as if the rest of him had just gotten into the plane, he started to tweak out.

Simply seeing an airplane could give Yaku a heart attack, yet there he was.

Sitting on a plane.

Alone.

He shifted his bag in his lap uncomfortably. He didn't know whether or not someone was seated next to him. If there wasn't, what would he do, being stuck with his panic and no reassurance?

He tried to shrug off his fear but it simply clung to him.

Maybe if he shut the window he could pretend he was in a car or something. Not thousands of miles in the sky in a flying vehicle of death.

He waited a moment before opening it again. What if he got claustrophobic? Before long, he'd open and shut the window so frantically, so many times, that it became stiff. He left it half opened.

He mentally face palmed. I need to calm down.

He leaned back in his seat, and his eyes darted around constantly, each set of eyes that passed were blank and emotionless. He concluded that they were business people due to the sophisticated clothes and suits. Appearing bored and hating their lives, he adults stuffed their bags into the over head compartments and slumped in their seats.

"What a pitiful way to live.." He muttered. "I hope I don't end up like that..."

He sighed and shifted in his seat anxiously. He wouldn't be able to take a job that traveled over seas. His brain muddled over different occupations which could suit him, and where he would go after graduation. His eyes blurred as he blanked out.

God, what the hell am I even gonna do?

His focus on the back of the chair in front of him snapped when a loud crash sounded towards the entrance of the plane.

Yaku's heart dropped into him stomach.

Oh my god, we haven't even taken off and we're being hijacked. What the fuck, this is my luck? This is Japan, why are there terrorists!

Yaku began to tack off the worst possibilities, that is, until he heard an oddly accented apology.

"Gomen, gomen! Here, let me help you." The deep rumbling tone sounded out. Yaku frowned and pushed his bag off his lap and leaned across the outer seat.

He peaked his head out, and he observed an annoying sight.

"I'm so sorry, I was just so excited to be on the plane I was running and..." A tall, like really tall, guy crouched down to scrape together clothing items into his big hands. He stood, his long, muscular legs propelling him up, and he handed the pile to the victim of his energy.

I pray for the godforsaken person who has to sit with that guy. Yaku chuckled to himself and shook his head. That sounds truly hellish.

He sat back up properly and leaned his head on the window.

Footsteps tracked down the walkway, and Yaku stared at his hands. They became louder, heavier, closer. Then they stopped all together, and a dark shadow covered him.

He glanced up, but his eyes met the stomach of a towering man, and they crawled up his broad chest and to his face. His up turned emerald green eyes trained on him, and Yaku felt actual intimidation. His nearly parted grey hair led Yaku to realize that he was the big buffoon that knocked someone over with their things.