My Inspiration

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Suddenly, it came to him. The most exquisite prompt for him to follow.

Kageyama groaned, his hands flying all over his desk to find a pencil, pen, quill, anything he could write with. The lined paper was already in front of him, neatly arranged in a short stack, as it usually was. Just as he'd found an inkwell pen to scribble down his thoughts, his assistant burst into the room.

"I've got it!" He exclaimed, face alight with happiness and self-satisfaction. "What if you're next novel was about a guy who saves a princess to win her favor-"

"No. That's extremely cliche. I'm trying to work. I just had the perfect idea." A growl rose in Kageyama's throat when he realized the pen he held tight between his fingers lacked the ink he needed to jot down his inkling. As he tried to shake the thought of looking into Hinata's dark eyes, Kageyama raked his hands through his dark hair, pulling the silky strands while desperately searching for a source of relief. "Can you find me a writing utensil, please?" His voice dropped in volume, attempting to appear calm and collected, when he really was nervous and anxious about the idea that had been dropped in his mind.

Hinata blinked at his boss. His mouth opened, but then it closed immediately afterwards as he began to look for an object that was capable of writing. "Are you okay, Mr. Kageyama? You seem kinda... Urgh. And your desk is a mess. You wanna write on your laptop while I clean it?"

The small male might've been unaware of his surroundings most of the time, but he did at least know when things, such as cleaning, had to be done. He wasn't too smart, but it was the best Kageyama could do in terms of help. Hinata just seemed the most enthusiastic, and eager to get every little thing done with grace, even if most things didn't turn out the way he wanted them to.

"I think that would be a good idea, Hinata. And please, just call me Kageyama." Said young man spoke softly, moving from his rolling office chair to a small sofa that sat a ways away from his desk, in the middle of the room. He grabbed his navy blue Toshiba laptop on the way over. It was outdated, but he trusted it like an old friend. Sitting down, he opened the device and was greeted with the same startup screen he'd seen for years, except with a different wallpaper. The photo was of him and his assistant, Hinata, overlooking a giant waterfall. Niagara falls, he faintly remembered other tourists calling it. Droplets of water had graced the camera lens, as if it had been raining that day. To be truthful, they'd stumbled upon the landmark by mistake while trying to find a place to get some decent food in upstate New York. They were there on a business trip, of course. It certainly wasn't regarded as a trip among two friends who shared respect and admiration for one another, oh no. It was simply a trip to discuss some business involving Kageyama's editing and publishing company, Pens Over Pals.

The author typed in his password, but only after several tries did his efforts bear positive results. His password was a sacred code of numbers and letters, that he refused to tell anyone. It was: animalsloveme23. Though he was aware that animals did, in fact, wish him dead, it was nice to dream of a world where all sorts of animals wanted to be his friend. Cats were some of his favorite animals, as well as a dogs, and even more specimen that he enjoyed. However, none of them enjoyed him or his wishes to befriend them.

Kageyama almost cooed at his wallpaper of a white kitten who'd tied itself up in some equally light and fluffy yarn. It was by far the cutest thing he'd ever seen, so he had to have it with him always. He could say the same for a certain individual who had spilled his coffee all over his burnt orange button-down shirt that morning, and has since worn a black coat that was two sizes too big for him.

The coat in question, that being a hand-me-down Giorgio Armani-cashmere, not one of his favorites to be painfully honest- was indeed Kageyama's. He couldn't have his assistant walking around with a brown stain on his shirt, now could he?