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His feet felt cold and he could feel the rocks crunching in between his toes. Wet pavement and dirt mixing together under Kageyama’s feet. His body was numb to anything, the fluorescents of Tokyo’s beautiful buildings calling to him no more and he briskly weaved in and out of the way of the people on the street. None of them spared him a glance, which was normal cause at the end of the day your business is yours and their business is theirs, but for some reason he just wanted one person. One person out of the billions--nay, trillions of people in Tokyo to ask him if he was okay. And then he would lash out. He would cry, scream, yell, throw a tantrum. He would feel something. His fingers would stop tingling and the beating in his head would stop hitting so hard. And possibly he could feel alive again.
And he knows, he knows all too well nobody is going to ask. Nobody is going to say a thing. And Kageyama would continue to wander the streets in the thinnest of coats and no umbrella out in the pouring rain. He would continue to ignore the buzzing of his phone in his pocket.He would go back to skipping classes and volleyball practice. He will curl up in his dorm, with sugary coffee to jolt him awake. He smiles bitterly. He’s just sad. He’ll get over it soon, he always does. First the sadness, then the anger, then back to the blissful catacombs of numbness to the world. It stings, as always, except this time it seemed to hurt even more.
It sucks. It really sucks when you love someone. He really liked him; more than he has ever liked someone in the longest times. And it’s like a cold slap to the face when Kageyama has to face reality. The cruel, merciless, and unforgiving reality that Kageyama will never be able to call him his. Godammit. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to go and fall? And the worst part of it all, he can’t even be jealous.
‘You aren’t even mine,’ Kageyama hissed.
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