Astray || iwaoi

lost a friend

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Walking into the gym was like stepping into a symphony of screams, cheers, jests, and chants. Hundreds of voices, all packed into one audience, echoed with each other creating a massive sound that crescendoed to near deafening proportions. Even from outside the massive building, the sounds could be heard clearly through the open double doors.

Cheers of joy erupted around the arena, people who've been holding their breaths finally seemed at ease, two youngsters with teary eyes brought their body close to each other, emerging their overwhelming emotions together; who could blame them? It was an emotional match. Despite the joyful atmosphere on the major part of the place, the players of the opposite side of the court were filled with sadness, some with regret, but the strong feeling that overcomes their being was defeat. They felt like crying, their tears are forcing its way out, threatening to spill. They can hear each and every beats of their heart, it's hammering its way out too.

Each players felt responsible, why didn't they back up; they could've received that ball more easily, if they called short; the vanguard players could have prepared to make the first contact. Somehow, they realized even the smallest of mistakes they have done; but those who were the strongest in Seijou's team felt most responsible; they were suppose to support their teammates; but they couldn't, everybody was counting on them; but they have let them down. Being human is difficult sometimes; not being able to control your overflowing emotions, the author means.

"Karasuno, fight!" The exhausted players formed a big circle and raised their arms, chanting their cheer. Shouts, hands clapping, whistling, bottles being crashed agaisnt each other, covered the arena once more, but as if his eardrums exploded, Oikawa can not seem to hear any of it. He stood lifeless, his hands trembling, his breathing is cut short, not because he played at his best form, of course, playing that position requires a lot of stamina, but it's not about the lack of energy that made his breathing quick, short and unsteady. His throat was dry, making it difficult for Oikawa to swallow a lump of nervousness forming in his pharynx.

A hand landed on his right shoulder, bringing him back to reality , "Come on," a voice called out. A voice Oikawa hears everyday, since the day he was born, a voice that has the guts to throw insults at his face, a voice that brings him comfort, a voice that feels and sounds like home, a voice that brings him back to reality. "Come on, Shittykawa", this time a rare emotion coated those three words. Oikawa once heard that voice, when their team, at its full power, was defeated by Shiratorizawa.

His feet seemed heavy, felt ike they were weighing a ton, as he walked towards the back line, his teammates' head were faced down. "Should I cheer them up? Say that, we did our best? I'm sure you can win it next time? Pat their back, and give 'em a 'good game!' ? What gives me the right to say that to them? To say 'good game' , why should I say that? We didn't win! So stop saying 'Good game'. Good game my beautiful ass, I'll spike a volleyball to all your fa- "

Someone poked Oikawa's sides, interrupting his inner ranting. He turned his irritated eyes to the left, shooting a glare to whoever did it, and was met by a calm, collected dark brown orbs. "Iwa-chan, I'll make you pay for that." The setter shot the ace a playful wink, the corner of his lips raised, forming a smirk. Iwaizumi grumbled under his breath saying how trashy their captain is. The brown-haired boy turned his face forward again, breathed deeply, and tried to get used at the feeling of being defeated, and not being able to fulfill his sole dream since middle school: defeat Ushijima. He grinned to himself , eyes wrinkling slightly, but enough to let the the pool of tears forming to slipped out, sliding down to his cheeks, to his chin.