Strategize: Haikyuu Fanfic

Chapter 71: Wistful and Forevers

Wistful (adj.)- refers to being full of melancholy or yearning, or having a mournful or regretful longing.

A cordial reminder that this is a Tsukishima Kei. He doesn't cry. Crying is for weaklings, he said to himself. But unlike how he expected it to be, the pain didn't come as a one time hit and it wearing away briefly. No, it ended up way worse than his predicament. It was like him falling in love. Like stepping into a sinkhole once again: slowly but surely, the sand engulfs you with each and every time you struggle out of it.

He can't seem to wrap his mind around it. Surely, it has to be a cruel prank...It has to be. When he arrived her apartment to confirm it (and hopefully scold her harshly for being an asshole), some furniture was still in place, but some were rearranged- more like piled up, really. Three men in black suits rummaged through her belongings, though all their heads snapped back at the intruder at the sound of the apartment door creaking open.

Despite the dark sunglasses blocking their eyes, the three men exchanged subtle looks, portraying the same message: It's him.

One of them cleared his throat, talking in the most business-like way. "Sir, we would have to kindly ask you to leave."

He didn't fight back or struggle, though it took him a good few seconds to let the image sink in. Deciding to bite back with just as much crudeness, he replied with a professional tone with a sting of sarcasm. "I see...I apologize for the intrusion."

As soon as the blonde was out of their eyesight, a strong hand gripped his arm, yanking him down the room right beside Ayame's and shutting the door close with a loud thud. His eyebrows slightly raised in surpise.

"Tachibana-san...?"

She was just devastated. To the point of speechlessness, words can't seem to fathom themselves into phrases- something meaningful or in the least uplifting. Unlike her usual cheery, talkative demeanor, she was quiet. Her swollen eyes, bloodshot and puffed up, darted on a lilac notebook placed on top of her coffee table. She lifted it up, handling it as if it were the most fragile object in the world and held it out to him. It was then she finally spoke, her throat dry and ragged, mouth forcefully twitching to a smile, "she wanted to give you this."

When his fingers first made contact with the notebook, it stung a little - like a small, quick ant bite. He muttered out his thanks before heading out the door. But before he twisted the doorknob, she spoke once more, her voice barely audible and filled with grim.

"...Before she left, she looked the same as when she first got here."

He didn't witness her state when she first arrived at Miyagi, though he seem to make a sketchy picture of her appearance in his mind: eyes dull and lifeless, worn bruises scattered on her pale, snowy skin.

He nodded, tightening his grip on the notebook as he left the apartment complex with nothing but the notebook, which started to sting bit more under his fingertips.

Why? Why do good things always have to end so abruptly? Why does everything have to end with him being hurt all over again? For the only time he actually tried. One time he actually didn't push people away.Stepped out of his comfort zone. Outside his thick, aloof wall. One time he pushed all the negativity aside and gave him an grain of hope that maybe - maybe the world isn't so bad after all.

Now he's damaged yet again. He fucking knew it. Cursing incoherently under his breath in betrayal. Not by her. Not her at all. The situation was completely out of her control and he understood that. His knuckles turned white as his hand clenched at the notebook, the stinging sensation is burning now. The data she collected from practices ranging from the past nine months all bounded in a single notebook. It all burned right through the lined pages and up under his fingertips, the poison coursing up his skin.