✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* asanoya *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙁𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡

Nishinoya Yuu was so bored. As he stood in his one bedroom apartment with plain gray walls, little to no decor, and minimal colors that strayed from your standard whites, grays, and blah beige, he began to button up his suit.

He glanced at his reflection in the metal of a nearby window and looked himself over. His hair had grown down, no longer gelled back in that fun style he left behind in high school. The tuft of blonde that used to hang from the center of his hairline had eventually grown out and been cut at a local barber shop with silver clippers. Other than that he looked the same as he used to in high school, but with more tired features. His skin had tanned from constantly being in the sun in order to fish from small wooden docks and never applying sunscreen. His lids hung lower on his eyes than they used too and his movements were slower and less jumpy. You could say he mellowed out a bit over the years.

Why wasn't he excited? It was the day his best friend of over 5 years would finally get hitched to the woman of his dreams. Shouldn't he be happy for Ryuu? What a joke. He finished zipping up the pants after struggling to get his foot through the slim holes at the bottom of the ebony pants. Yuu started to fit his arms in the sleeves of his white button up shirt he was instructed to wear underneath a matching black tuxedo type jacket. It really wasn't all that surprising that Yuu wasn't excited given that same 'woman of Ryuu's dreams' was the girl Yuu had also spent years pining after. It was so bittersweet, like the taste of citrus-y orange rind catching on your teeth as you go to take a bite of sour-sweet, not yet ripe, orange slices.

Noya stepped into his bathroom and combed his hair through with a short, stubby wooden comb. His hair occasionally hit his knuckles as his hands pulled the comb down, wincing when it caught on to a surprise tangle. A buzz from his bedroom made Yuu jerk the comb. He yipped and slapped a hand to his scalp in an attempt to numb the sudden pain that came from the seemingly harmless styling tool. He set the comb down and walked off, but not without scowling at it and flipping it off with both hands like an angsty teen. He smiled as he walked to his bedroom door, it was comforting to know the old Yuu still lived inside of the dull adult version of himself.

It wasn't like he was depressed or anything, he wouldn't call it that, but he felt so bored with the repetitiveness of his days. Wake up, , go fishing, say hi to the old man who sold bait at the docks, go home, look for another source of income, scroll on his phone, text Ryuu, and go to bed. Yuu was a people person, he loved to talk, but now he lived alone and talked to someone face to face maybe once or twice a day. He missed high school. He missed friends. Everyone had become so distant to him. Kageyama and Hinata carried on into professional volleyball, Daichi and Suga found jobs, Tanaka was getting married, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima had remained in touch and rendezvoused somewhere else that wasn't wherever Noya was and Asahi, Asahi was god knows where. It hurt. Sure he had remained in touch with his teammates, but they had become adults and moved on from their exciting adventures spent in the innocent bliss of the high school volleyball team. Noya tried so hard, so fucking hard to move on but he just couldn't. He latched on those memories like an oyster did to a rock during high tide when the waves tugged and urged for the animal to finally release its grip from the rock. It was impossible for him now as he felt so lonely, so isolated in the life he dared to call his own.

Yuu perked his head up after he saw the small blue-tinted light that faded in and out with corresponding buzzes that laid underneath one of the messy sheets on his bed. He had spent a good few minutes just rummaging through his room for that damn phone, there were even a few socks he found in odd crevices that matched up to the single socks that were collected in a pile in one of his wooden, metal knobbed drawers. After burrowing his fingers into the pile of scrunched up sheets, he finally managed to feel around and brush his fingertips on the familiar sensation of cool, smooth glass. He wrapped his fingers around the device and yanked his hand out of the nest of fabric and stared at his phone as if he had just felt the cold, yet refreshing feeling of salty water hitting his skin in sprays and droplets from reeling in a beautiful, dark olive green bass that flopped around on his hook against the bright afternoon sun.