#金木犀の夜 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hiraethwa · 4 months ago

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to be loved is to be known

four; let me be your sanctuary // a quiet kind of love

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, death, grief, divorce

wc. 12.5k

featured track. 金木犀の夜 by kinokoteikoku // the sanctuary playlist

he saved me in every way that a person can be saved.

there is nothing kageyama tobio could do as your world falls apart and you crumble along with it. nothing but hold the sky from crushing you under its weight with his bare hands and a determination to carve out a safe space for you to fall apart.

you retreat into yourself, away from the world, leaving behind a ghost of your former self. he holds his breath, for the air feels suffocating without your warmth, your light. he cannot save you, but he can shoulder the weight of the world, shield you from it.

so he does, taking it upon himself to see that you make it home to japan to see your grandmother before it is too late—handling the calls to your team for your absence, arguing his way through when the coach had the audacity to deny your request, ensuring all the immigration papers are prepared among the most of it.

booking the seat next to yours and coming with you, because he is worried sick with the state you are in, whether you would be able to make it home safely alone. his coach is not happy about his decision either, but he will deal with it when he gets back.

as long as you make it home.

he knows just how much she means to you.

you are quiet, staring out the window at the clouds below you. thirty-five thousand feet in the air and thousands of miles between you and home, you remain silent, even when the air stewardess mistakes you for his significant other.

there is an emptiness within you, wrapping around you and pulling you into its orbital vacuum, a hollowness he isn’t quite sure how to deal with, whether he should try to chase it away or let it stay, whether you would be alright.

it is going to be alright, he wants to tell you, i’m here. but he doesn’t, because he isn’t sure if his presence is welcomed if you were fully conscious and capable of going by yourself, if you were not so overcome by grief.

he knows it well, too well, this feeling that consumes you whole. he recognizes the grief, because he had gone through the same thing a decade ago, when he lost his grandfather and himself to it.

even now, there are days when he wakes up, the loss suffocating his chest feeling just as fresh as it was yesterday.

he wants to hold you, tell you that it is going to be fine even if the world falls apart, because he is going to be right there by your side, but that’s his own selfish desire speaking, so he keeps his hands neatly folded over each other in an effort to be respectful of your space.

if space is what you need, then he would be your sanctuary, shielding you from anything the world throws at you. anything, he swears silently.

and then your fingers snake between his own, hesitant and wishful, your hands fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces falling into place. he almost chokes on thin air, head jerking towards you, but you were looking out the window into the dark skies still, lost in your own thoughts with your earbuds in.

if his finger fell over your pulse, he would detect the spike in your heart rate mirroring his own.

he releases a jagged breath, wondering if you are seeking comfort in him or the other way around. but his fingers tighten around yours instinctively, a quiet reminder that he’s right here next to you. that he’s not going anywhere.

when your head falls on his shoulder, soft and even breaths falling from your mouth, he sighs in relief, carefully adjusting your posture to ease the weight on your neck.

there is a crease between your brows even in your sleep as you stir frequently, no doubt anxious and restless. he supposes he should be glad that you are getting any rest at all.

finally, after a long four days of your worrying silence, the crease eases as you push open the soulless white door of a hospital room, even though your hand stills on the doorknob, wavering on the threshold.

your hesitation confuses kageyama, but he waits for your lead, allowing you to take your time. and then, “obaasan?”

you breathe the word into the world with uncertainty and a touch of dread. the tension that lines your tired shoulders from a thirteen hour long haul flight slips away as the elderly woman on the bed looks up from her book, a wide smile gracing her face as she holds her arms out to you. “my darling, y/n-chan!”

he watches you transform before him as your grandmother scatters the worry and anxiety that had you in their stranglehold, running to her as though time unwinded and you are nothing but a lost child finding your way home.

you remember a time when she felt like your whole world, filling in for your absent parents, raising you into the person you are today—where your classmates had their okaasan and their otousan, you had your obaasan who loved you and cared for you like her own, made sure you were warm enough when you walked to school, nursing you back to health when you were sick.

she was always there for you, believing in you, pushing you to go after your dreams even if it meant leaving her behind.

she still is your whole world, but you are a grown woman now, so much older than you were at eight when your parents left you with her, a cruel reminder of the passage of time as you become aware of how your frame engulfs her smaller fragile one.

the two of you exchange a flurry of greetings and fret over each other, you lightly scolding her for worrying you so much when the phone call came as she insists that she is doing fine and the doctors are overreacting.

what you were not prepared for is the way her eyes lit up as she noticed kageyama silently standing by the doorway, bearing witness to the heartwarming bond between you and your grandmother.

oh. in your frenzied state, it has conveniently slipped your mind that he is here. and now that the haze has lifted and your mind is clear again, a new panic sets in as the realization truly sinks in.

kageyama is here. with you. in japan. isn’t the italian league still in season?

you blank out as you search your memories for how you ended up here, coming up short. your grandmother pulls you to her side of the bed where you sit dumbfounded. her hand, aged with wrinkles and dotted with scars from the years of work, stays firmly within your grasp as she gestures for kageyama to approach.

“and who is this handsome young man you finally decided to bring home, granddaughter?”

you fluster, blurting the first thing that comes to mind, “obaasan, this is tobio.” you give her a look with as much discretion as you could, and you know she caught it, but she presses on slyly.

“tobio…? a rather uncommon family name, if i might say, through my years of living.”

gods. “kageyama is his family name. kageyama tobio.” you correct yourself, reddening at your blunder.

you ignore the burn of his eyes on you, keeping your gaze steady on your grandmother. “well, it’s good to finally meet you, tobio-chan.”

finally? what does she mean by finally? you have never mentioned kageyama to her before.

“it’s good to see you are doing well too, oumae-san. i have heard a great deal of warm stories about you from your granddaughter.” he bows his head respectfully to the woman who basically raised you by herself.

“ah, no need for such formalities, young man. you can call me obaasan like y/n does.” she smiles warmly at kageyama. you tighten her hand around hers, frowning at the assumption she is making of the non-existent relationship between you and kageyama.

but you accidentally look at kageyama, your eyes locking with him and you falter at the silent question in them. you turn back to your grandmother who looks at you expectantly.

“obaasan, are you going around claiming strangers as your grandchildren now? i thought i am your favorite and only grandchild,” you pout, wrapping your arms around her childishly to keep kageyama from stealing her away.

“nonsense, there you go acting like a child again. you are an adult now, act like your age,” she chides teasingly, warmth rising to the surface of her eyes as she pats your hand lovingly.

“i will always be a child around you,” you nestle your head into the crook of her shoulder, savoring her presence, her clarity, the safety of having your grandmother back. you know you are acting like a spoiled child, but you could care less of what kageyama might think of you, knowing this moment of lucidity is rare and fleeting.

tears well in your eyes as you remember the doctor’s words, notifying you of the nearing end. you wish the tears away, sniffling slightly, as emotions overwhelm you without any warning.

kageyama saves your breakdown from being noticed by her, lightheartedly chiming in, “i suppose i should stick to addressing you as oumae-san before your granddaughter plots my death.”

“ah, tobio-chan don’t mind her, she is quick to jealousy.” she rubs your back soothingly, “always has been, hm?” her arm comes to a rest around your shoulders, giving you a firm squeeze in reassurance.

it takes every fiber of your being from crumbling in the familiar safety of her arms, resisting the urge to let your shoulders crumple with the onslaught of her recognition. a memory flashes across your mind of a similar setting as she tends to your injuries—a bloody knee from tripping on the uneven roads of the village, only you were young and her embrace engulfed your tiny frame, the only adult shielding you from the unkind world—a cruel reminder of the passage of time.

it demands every single shred of resilience you built up over the years to stand tall in the way of the persistent waves of emotion crashing against you, swallow the tears in your eyes and the tightness in your throat.

you tighten your arms around the only person who has ever loved you unconditionally, only letting go when a nurse interrupts you for their afternoon rounds, albeit reluctantly.

“why don’t you two go get something to drink in the meantime? you must be tired from your travels.” your grandmother pats your arm reassuringly.

you try to return a smile, but it comes out all tight and tense. “we will be right back, okay?” your assurance sounds more for yourself than anyone else.

wait for us. it goes unsaid.

“come on,” kageyama guides you out of the room with a hand on your back, a quiet reminder that you are not alone in this, leading you down multiple hallways and corners. you lose track of them as your thread of control snaps, spiraling into devastation.

“i can’t do this.” before you know it, you are breaking down in front of a vending machine with a tight fist on the sleeve of his jacket. “gods, gods. i can’t do this, kageyama.”

the lights are blindingly bright and blurry in your vision. uneven breaths leave your quivering lips as you pant, grabbing at your chest where it hurts. and gods, does it hurt. your ribcage heaves under pressure with each inhale, this thing in it is all you could feel, all you could focus on.

“hello, is this oumae y/n?”

“yes, this is her speaking.”

“i’m calling about your grandmother, oumae fumiko. i am afraid i have bad news. she was admitted to the hospital yesterday, and her dementia has progressed much faster than we anticipated. she has already lost too much weight from losing appetite, which is typically a sign of end stage dementia. we are doing all we can for her, but i am afraid all we can do at this point is making her as comfortable as we can.”

the phone call repeats itself in your head again, a record broken on loop, holding you captive, unable to escape its claws that sink deep in your chest, injecting devastation and hopelessness straight into your veins, into the organ that keeps you alive.

a minute.

a minute was all it took to tear your world apart.

you sink to your knees as ugly sob after sob finally rips free from your throat, grieving the inevitable loss of your only constant. multiple streaks of warmth streak down your cheeks, as you cry out, hands finding hold on anything you could to keep you anchored as the world spins around you.

“w–we were supposed to have m–more time.” you hiccup, leaning into him, your anchor. the thing in your chest—pain, grief, desolation, everything—feels too much to bear, and you wish you could pour it out. but it stays stubbornly, even as the tears and cries are released from you.

kageyama’s own heart breaks alongside yours, knowing what the loss of your grandmother would take from you. your heart wrenching sobs tug at his heartstrings, reminding him of his own loss that suddenly feels as fresh as yesterday, only it had been more than a decade ago.

his breath staggers with yours, selfishly collecting your frame into his arms after a lengthy debate with himself. he rubs the back of your head awkwardly as you allow yourself to give in to the flurry of emotions that you had kept at bay since you received the call.

he internally scolds himself for the satisfaction that settles in with the knowledge that he is the one you sought comfort in. how selfish—but how could he deny you comfort when there is no other shelter for you to take refuge in?

so he allows it, his hand taming the strands of hair on the back of your head, fingers gently running through the knots from lack of care. you bury your face further into his chest, hands bunching up the front of his sweater.

“i know.”

kageyama wraps his other arm securely around your shaking shoulders, hoping it gives you some sense of comfort. he slows his breaths down, gradually lengthening each inhale and exhale, waiting for you to match his own before continuing.

slowly but surely, your sobs grow silent, and your breathing evens out with his coaxing.

he holds his breath when he feels you shifting in his embrace, suddenly aware of the proximity between you.

he licks his lips nervously, unsure of how you would react as you lift your head to meet his eyes. you blink, visibly vulnerable and he chides himself for his actions again. but was he supposed to let you suffer and not do anything?

“sorry.” the apology leaves his lips roughly before he could think about it, moving to release you from himself, only to stop abruptly as he notices your face scrunching with distress.

“don’t go.” you dip your head, arms snaking around his back, enveloping him in your embrace firmly as you nestle back into his chest.

his heart jumps, mouth running dry, but he manages to reply, “i’m here as long as you want me to stay.”

“stay forever,” you mumble, the words coming out muffled, failing to reach his ears.

“hm?” the sound rumbles in his chest, echoing through your body pressed against his, starkly reminding you that everyone has their own path to walk, overlapping for a short moment in the march of time, forever destined to walk the path alone.

you cannot keep pretending this could be forever. friends no longer encompass the feelings that took on a life on its own for him, threatening to burst into fireworks and alert everyone of just how much you love kageyama tobio.

and it hits you then, hard. the repressed feelings jumping at the moment of weakness, springing free from the carefully locked box you forcefully shoved them in.

it punches the air out of you, the enormity of your love for him, rivaled only by your love for your grandmother. leaving you gasping for breath, for air that could not come quick enough.

because one way or another, you are going to lose them both.

when you return, the nurse coming out of the room informs you that your grandmother has taken her medication and is resting for the night. you note the sympathetic look in her eyes and her thinly pressed lips.

oh.

kageyama tries to protest, to which you give a firm shake of your head, telling him in a quiet voice that you are tired and that you wish to go home.

home. is it still home when she is no longer there?

the house stands exactly the same as you remember up to every tile in the slanted rooftop. the two missing tiles in the left corner from accidentally hitting a volleyball into it as a teenager, the mismatched wood colors from a makeover that was never completed. the front door that needs a little coaxing to open from its misaligned frame.

it’s just as you recall. the corners of your lips quirk a little as you turn the doorknob, pushing in and up at the same time and the door creaks open with no resistance.

the last standing testament of your grandparents’ love, this house that has bore witness to it all.

you wonder what it is like to have experienced a love so whole, so overflowing that a mere fifteen years shared is enough to sustain her through forty more surrounded by his memories.

the thought brings a fresh wave of tears that prickle at your eyes and over the brim. because soon that would be you trying to cope in a world without her in it.

how did you do it, obaasan? you already want to crawl into bed and stay there forever, hide from a world where you could not reach her whenever.

“you still have her.” kageyama says gently, reminding you that you are not alone. you sniffle, quickly wiping at your cheeks, the corners of your traitorous eyes.

“sorry, i just– my emotions are all over the place.” you take your shoes off, placing them in the open rack in the entrance and moving over so that he could follow suit. “make yourself at home.”

you miss the conflict in his eyes, his struggle on whether to push you to open up or allow you more space. the frustration that wells up within him, hating that you don’t trust him enough to lean on him when you so clearly needed someone earlier, that you have shut yourself off again.

unreachable. untouchable.

you lead him past the living room, into the kitchen, softly pointing out the cabinets for cups, utensils, snacks, tea, anything he might need before heading up the stairs. the eighth step on the way up groans underneath your weight like it always does, and you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

kageyama has an unreadable expression as you show him to the spare bedroom that your parents use when they deigned to show up, the number of times of which you could count on all ten of your fingers and toes.

his lips part, a quiet storm brewing inside his mind as he struggles to find the right words.

“do you need anything else?” you ask.

he hates this. he hates the feeling of helplessness as you struggle alone to stay afloat and all he is allowed to do is watch you edge closer to the precipice of despair and wait for you to reach out.

“you are not alone in this, i am here. if you need anything,” he swallows, “anything at all. just remember i am here.”

“it’s fine, i am used to it.”

“are you? i have gone down this road before. keeping everything bottled up,” he shakes his head, “there is only darkness and pain waiting for you at the end of it.”

“i have made my peace with it a long time ago, but facing it now, this goodbye seems more permanent than i ever imagined.”

“it gets easier, i promise.”

you turn away so that he does not see the shimmer in your eyes. “that is also what i am afraid of.”

you send a silent prayer to the gods the next day when you find her awake and lucid.

and the next day.

and the next.

they are short, fleeting moments. sometimes minutes, sometimes up to a few hours. each time she remembers you, you breathe a sigh of relief. each time she forgets, kageyama is there to catch it first.

in some way, he became your safety, your shield.

your grandmother is enjoying herself recounting your childhood stories to kageyama, who listens raptly, nodding along to each sentence. you protest weakly, correcting her dramatisations of the mischief you were up to.

“she is always so full of energy, running around the fields, chasing after grasshoppers in the grass, scaring away the birds that came to our home. one time, she climbed up the big tree in the backyard to chase after a cat that conveniently left you stuck up there crying and i ended up having to ask our neighbor to rescue her.”

“obaasan, but i did catch the cat.”

“who scratched you on your nose, and hopped off the tree gracefully, did you forget? i was watching it all from the kitchen window, child.” she taps your nose teasingly.

“and your teacher, she asked you to try out for volleyball because of that restlessness and that mind of yours, hoping you would get into less trouble, and what did you manage to do? break our roof.”

“it was two tiles, obaasan! you are overexaggerating everything.” you pout at her.

the two of them exchange a glance and burst out laughing at you. oh, so that is how it is.

and despite the imminent end that hangs over your head, you smile.

your apprehension begins to fade as the days pass with laughter and happiness next to the two people you loved most. the selfish hope that the end will be painless for both you and her begins to grow. that you would not have to live through the pain of her forgetting you again.

it is easy to pretend like this could be forever.

but forever falls apart. it always does.

you grew complacent, forgetting how unpredictable dementia is. it hits you when you least expect it, reminding you of your own mortality as helplessness floods your veins, freezes you in place, as you stare at the blank face of the woman who raised you.

the lines of worry that formed over the years, the smile lines that run along the sides of her nose to her mouth, the curve of her nose that you inherited—everything was familiar as your mind remembers.

everything but the lack of recognition in her eyes as she stared back at you.

your play pretend world comes crumbling down around you. there it is. the dementia that takes her away from you.

and you had stayed up all night makes her favorite stew in hopes that she would eat more than a few bites.

your fragile heart plummets as kageyama steps up from behind you, hand sliding into yours to take the soup flask from your shaking hand. oh, you had not even noticed that you had started to shake.

your eyes are still pinned to her, frozen in place, watching as her eyes flick over to kageyama, and then—recognition dawns on her, a wide smile appearing on her face as if she is the sun incarnate.

“hatsu?”

a smile reserved for the warmth that was taken away from her too soon, too young. a smile reserved for oumae hatsu, the first and only love of her long life.

kageyama startles, looking to you for help, worry evident in his dark eyes as they roam over your tightly clenched fists.

“she thinks you are my grandfather who passed away when my father was in junior high.” you press your lips into a thin line, hurt fresh on your mind that she does not remember you. the last thing you want to do is push him to do something he is uncomfortable with, but his eyes soften, understanding shining through them.

it makes you swallow hard. this side of him that somehow no one else sees is the reason you gave over your heart unconsciously, the reason your heart throbs in pain alongside the hurt you feel from your grandmother.

if only he knew…

“go ahead, if you want to talk to her.” you glance at the flask of stew, a sad smile ghosting over your lips. “i will head home first.”

“you don’t want to stay?” he catches your wrist as you turn to leave.

“no.” you glance back at her, at the frown marring her face. “no, it hurts us both more if i stay.”

kageyama hesitates, wondering if he should return with you. but your grandmother looks at him expectantly, and you give him a small reassuring shove towards her before disappearing from the room.

all right.

he sets the thermos on the overbed table, unscrewing the cap and handing over a spoon to the elderly woman smiling warmly at him. “here, y/n made your favorite stew.”

she scrunches her nose in confusion at the name but takes the utensil regardless, sniffing at the smell of the food before tasting it.

“it tastes just like how you used to make it.” she looks at him, spooning another mouthful of stew into her mouth after lightly blowing on it. he takes a seat at the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed, giving her a small smile, allowing the silence to stretch as she eats a good amount of the food.

at least your efforts did not go to waste. his heart pains for you, thinking of how hurt you must have felt when she did not remember you. he knows for a fact that if it was him and his grandfather he would have broken down on the spot.

how much have you had to go through by yourself all this time?

“do you remember this time of the year?” she is looking out the window at the budding cherry blossoms, set to bloom early this year compared to past years. “it should be right around the time you asked me to marry you in a few weeks.”

a smile blooms across her aged face at the memory, and kageyama could see the features you inherited from her, the same slanted nose and the almond shaped eyes that sparkles with happiness.

“we would get married around summer, the season you were named after. aptly, because you are the only person who managed to melt through the ice i wrapped around myself. we would have our perfect baby son just a year later.”

kageyama wants to interrupt her, say that he is not who she thinks he is, but he could not bear to cut her happy memory short.

she laughs at the memory. “he is the cutest baby i have ever seen in my life. do you remember how soft and caring he was about us as a kid? always worrying past his age for our wellbeing. sometimes i was not sure if we were his parents or the other way around.”

“sometimes i would wonder if we were raising him right, if it was our fault that he became the person he is today because we did not give him enough safety as a child,” she takes his hand in hers, voice thick with emotion. “you promised me we would grow old and haggard together, but the gods took you from me too soon. i tried so hard in the days after to reach out to him, but i failed him as his mother and his only remaining parent. i am sorry, i promised you i would keep our family safe after you left, but i failed. i am lost without you.”

a tear rolls down her cheek as she sniffles. “there was so many times i wanted to give up, but it would all the worth it because i get to be with you soon.”

his hand tightens around hers, as he gives her a tight smile, a small voice at the back of his head telling him that now is the time to free her from being trapped in a past filled with pain.

but she suddenly withdraws her hand, features shifting into a distrustful frown. “who are you?”

not allowing him a moment of explanation, she begins to shout for the nurse, getting upset over his presence in her room. he quickly follows her wishes, stepping out as a nurse comes rushing in to check on her.

he did not even realize how high his heart rate rocketed over the last minute of whiplash, trying to catch a breath with his head in his hands on the bench right outside the room, a question nagging at the back of his mind.

how long have you had to go through by yourself?

kageyama finds you at your grandmother’s home as promised, staring absently at the cup of tea in your hands, sitting cross legged under the kotatsu. he suspects that the cup has long since turned cold, but he does not bring it up.

“how are you feeling?”

“i am fine.” your reply comes a few moments later, as though you took a while to register that he is talking to you, to remember to respond.

clearly not fine.

“come on, oumae. talk to me.”

“i said i am fine.” your face scrunches as you take a sip of the tea, setting it back down on the table and pushing it away from yourself. clearly cold.

“don’t shut me out.” he knows he promised you time and space to figure it out on your own, but worry gnaws at his mind persistently, and the truth is he is afraid that he would be too late.

“why did you come? was it pity?”

“no, how could you think– no. i came because you were hurting, and i wanted to be here for you.” his heart is lodged in his throat, and he wishes he could hand it to you on both hands on the slightest chance that he could take on your pain for you.

“you shouldn’t have.” the immovable mask slips back in place on your face. “i need to learn to live by myself again. i can’t rely on you forever.”

he feels an urge to leap across the table and shake the truth out of you. it is the grief speaking, molding your helplessness into anger, into doable actions. he would let you draw blood with your knives, words sharpened with the intention to cut him, if he had not glimpsed the momentary pain flashing across your face.

“why? that has never been a problem before, even before– is it because of what i said in the interview?”

“yes.” you say, but the split second of hesitation gives you away. “we are just friends, and i cannot keep counting on you to be around forever. so yes, i need to remember how to do this alone. i can’t keep running to you whenever i have a problem.”

“that’s not–” he begins, confusion swarming his mind from your explanation.

“i cannot keep losing people i care about, tobio. there is only so much of me that i can lose until i am gone.” you cut him off, stumbling to your feet, trying to shake off the numbness that collected in your limbs.

and then you are gone.

the dots do not connect, but… should he respect your wishes and go?

he exhales, rubbing his hand over his face and pushing his hair back from sticking to his forehead, staring out at the backyard where the first of the cherry blossoms have bloomed on the giant tree overlooking the house.

kageyama pretends not to notice your swollen eyes the next day when he steps into the kitchen. he himself is not any better off with the heavy circles under his eyes from tossing and turning all night.

something about your last conversation is bothering him, and it is all he can think of when he closes his eyes and try to sleep. but he does not mention it and neither do you.

there is a strange distance that separates him from you—awkward but not entirely unpleasant. an odd harmony that feels both on and off, like a light switch being forced to balance between the two.

although, the question itches at his lips. do you want him to go? he lets it weigh heavy on his chest because he is a coward who is afraid to know your answer.

to no surprise, your grandmother picks it up, waving him over for questioning when you step out to speak to the doctors.

“how is she holding up?” she must have seen the hesitance in his eyes, continuing, “i forgot again, didn’t i? and she was here to witness it again that time.”

she knows? “i don’t know, but…” he trails off, unsure of what to tell her. she gestures for him to go on. “not too well, i think.”

“she has gone through too much. maybe i didn’t do that good of a job in raising her.”

he scrunches his nose with disbelief. “you did great, trust me. she is like nothing short of the greatest person i know. she is stubborn but forgiving and kind, passionate to a fault but it’s one of the things i love about her. she does not like to burden others with her own problems, even though she is always thinking about what they might feel or need. sometimes i wish she would–”

he stops short as he catches the knowing look on her face. fuck.

“well, did you tell her all of that and more? i am guessing you didn’t because you would be together by now if you did.”

“she doesn't feel the same way, obaasan. who am i to force it?” he ignores the pang of hurt that echoes in his chest as he recalls your words from last night.

“kuroo tetsuro never saw past her brilliance that captivated everyone. never once did he bother to look past the warmth she radiates to the people around her, or the cheeriness that she wore for so long it became natural. the sun burns only as long as there is something left to burn.” her eyes are hard now, glittering like gemstones, as she holds him to an unspoken scale.

“but you, you have always seen it, haven’t you? you are not blinded by her brightness like the others are. you love her the way my hatsu loved me, like she is the sun and the air, and life itself. so let me ask again, tobio-chan, have you told her?”

“i–” he get interrupted by her clearing her throat, looking in the same direction as her only to find you walking back in, wearing exhaustion and sorrow like a second skin.

heartbreaking but still, hauntingly beautiful. tragically poetic.

he feels like an ass for not being able to tear his eyes from you in a time like this, when you are surrounded by the promise of loss and grief.

somehow you manage to pull together a smile for your grandmother, and there. he sees it, the last of the fuel burning up behind your eyes.

your lips move at a rapid pace, though he is too deep in his thoughts to hear the conversation between the two of you. her words echo in his mind—the sun burns only as long as there is something left to burn.

he thinks about her question and your admission that he should not have come. no, he has not told you, but it does not matter. not when you drew that line so firmly defining where you ended and where he began. even if the words don’t quite fall into place when played over and over.

i cannot keep counting on you to be around forever. why not? he had wanted to ask. why not? he would be there whenever you call for him, in any way you would take him, even if it is just friends.

have you told her? he did, he wanted to scream. he did, and it did not matter.

unless— and suddenly everything clicks in place. unless you had not heard his not-so-secret confession on national television. but still, he must be missing something, something that triggered the change of distance between you?

“tobio-chan,” your grandmother calls, noting the way he immediately looked for you. “she left already. i told her i have something to talk to you privately about.”

“do you think i stand a chance? i–if i confessed to her, that is. not right now, of course, maybe after…” he trails off, gesturing at nothing in particular.

“stand a chance? no.” he flinches as her words send his precarious hope plummeting over the self-imposed cliff. “have a chance? yes. she looks at you the way i look at my husband. and don’t wait on my account because who knows? you might be the reason she survives my death.”

“you think she might not recover when you–” he bites his tongue, finding it disrespectful to discuss her own death to her face, even if she knows it is coming.

“it’s alright, you don’t have to dance around it. i know death is coming for me. my hatsu has been visiting me more and more in my dreams, sometimes even when i am awake. but yes, us oumae’s love hard, and we have a hard time letting go. always has been, always will be.”

the knowledge bears down on him. he thought he understood how important your grandmother is to you, but it was tainted by his own experience of losing his grandfather. it is all of that, but different, more.

learning about your past makes him uneasy because it feels wrong that you had to go through so much as a child. because as cold as his parents were, he had his grandfather and his sister. but listening to your grandmother recount what you were forced to live through—a messy divorce and being sent away because of a stepmother who disliked you, with your grandmother as your only support.

he didn’t know his heart could break further for you, but it does.

her last words accompany him on the quiet drive back to the farmhouse.

“when she told me she was marrying kuroo, i had hoped that he would prove me wrong, that he could love her the way she deserves to be loved. then the call about the divorce came, and i was angry at the gods for being so careless with her heart. but the day you walked into this room, i knew. my prayers were finally being answered.”

his gaze roams to you from time to time. there is something lodged in his throat, he thinks, the vastness of his emotions, or the thought of laying it bare before you makes him want to jump out of the moving car.

he struggles to find the words to describe it, any way to start a conversation like this, and fails terribly. all the progress he made in the decade decides to leave him, leaving him a fresh first year too caught up with his own demons to convey the thoughts running through his mind.

you disappear up the stairs before he could even get a word out. fuck. always too late.

it is not until later that night that kageyama finds his opening as he is looking for a midnight snack in the dark kitchen. he catches movement outside the house out of the corner of his eye, chalking it up to the trees swaying in the wind.

he shakes his head. but—there. a small movement illuminated by the soft moonlight catches his eye again. his heart picks up pace as he pads closer to the window that overlooks the backyard, suddenly finding it rushing up his throat as he realizes what or more specifically, who it is.

there you are, all huddled up in a chair with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

he licks his lips, wetting his dry mouth, as he finds his heart rate accelerating for an entirely different reason.

there is no better time than the present. a voice reminds him, though he could not put a face to the voice.

he knows that, and yet he lingers by the back door, fingers hovering over the switch for the lights in the backyard. an unknown source of courage surges through him, nudging him onwards.

kageyama slips out the door, footsteps swallowed up by the wind rushing over and around him.

the thundering in his heart never pauses, even as he takes in your tired features carved in with sorrow. your cheeks are gaunt although it has barely been a week. he realizes that it is not only his own desire and your grandmother’s encouragement leading through what he is about to say, but also fear that you would not be able to find your own way back.

he would light the way home for you, if you allowed him to.

“do you remember what you said to me on the day we first met?” he curls up in the chair next to you, following your line of sight to the moon hanging low in the sky.

“wha–” you stop yourself short as you decide to go along with it, not knowing where this is leading. curiosity prickles at the back of your mind, prompting you to search through your memories. “i don’t know. i think i said something embarrassing and fangirled too much that i blocked it from my memory.”

“really? i didn’t peg you for a fan.” he jokes.

“well i didn’t peg you for a joker either, but here we are.” you shoot him a deadpan look. “what kind of embarrassing things were they?”

“nothing embarrassing. though you did call my serves godly.” he smiles lightly while meeting your eyes.

your eyes fly wide open, mouth falling open in indignation. “i did not. no way in hell.”

“oh, but you did. you took me by surprise with the sincerity behind your words, especially coming from the best setter in the v-league.”

“oh gods. you are being serious. i did really say that, didn’t i? oh.” you bury your face in your hands, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks.

the light mood sours as soon as your mind drifts off from the conversation, turning your expression somber. “i know you are trying to cheer me up, but you don’t have to.”

“i’m not– i’m not here out of pity or sense of duty. i’m here because i am selfish. because i could not bear to see the woman i love alone in her grief, even though you tried to put distance between us. because you are my heart and i cannot live without it.”

“what?” your head whips towards him, five different thoughts flying through your mind in an instant. he licks his lips in nervousness, wishing he could hear your thoughts in that moment. “but– you said– in that interview, you said we are just friends.”

in the interview — he said what? he could only assume that it’s the same interview that he is thinking of, though he draws a blank on those words leaving his lips.

“you said we are just friends in that post-game interview against milano. that pretty interviewer was all over you too, did you forget?”

did he say—oh. he remembers the question now. he did say that, but it came from a place of respect for you, not wanting to assume things by himself.

“i have never seen you smile at anyone the way you smiled at her. i don’t understand. how could it be me that you–” you stop abruptly, as though you could not say the word love.

the urge to throw someone (mostly hinata) flashes through his brain, and this time it’s directed at you. he crosses his arms, frowning at you, the absurdity of your misled beliefs forcing a laugh of disbelief from him.

“where do you want me to start? i love that you are intelligent and witty and don’t hesitate to put me in my place if i say something stupid.”

“are you a masochist?” you interrupt.

he frowns harder at you before continuing, “i love that you are kind and strong-willed–”

“you mean stubborn.” you mutter.

“would you please let me finish?” he sighs exasperatedly, pointer finger massaging the crease between his brows. you relent, settling back in your seat while pouting. “and you look so gods-damned cute when you do that, it takes all my willpower to not kiss you. if you asked me to fetch the moon, i would do it in a heartbeat.”

he could go on forever if he wanted to, though words would fail to accurately capture the love that blooms far and wide within him. that is, if he could even begin to find the words that have collectively decided to leave him.

kageyama tobio has never been good with words anyway so he settles for something simple as he turns his body to face you fully.

“it has always been you. from the first time i watched you play, from the first day we met, even when you were still with him, it has always been you for me. even with a whole continent between us, when i thought i should let you go, it has always been you.”

he searches your eyes for any hints of emotion, wishing to run his hand over yours and soothe your trembling fingers, but he keeps it to himself instead of intruding in your space. “i’m sorry for dumping this on you at such a time, but obaasan–”

“but the interviewer, you smiled at her like– i don’t know–”

“like she was my sun?” you nod. he could not help himself then, as he reaches over and flicks your forehead lightly. “she asked me about you. i was thinking about you, my sun.”

“i am not– you could have chosen someone else. anyone else.” your nails are carving crescents into your flesh now with how tight you are digging into your forearm. “someone who is stable, not a divorcee. someone who knows what family feels like, who could give that to you. someone who can give you everything they have. someone whole.”

oh.

he feels your insecurity cutting into him like shards of glass, not only because he was hoping to hear a different answer—he had expected you to reject him—but also because this is the first thing that comes to your mind.

that you are worried over what you can give him. what he deserves.

what about you?

“i am not asking for anything in return. i only wanted you to know that someone else in this world loves you besides your obaasan.”

“that’s stupid. everyone expects something in return. love is always conditional.”

“not mine.”

“then you are stupid for giving it so freely.” the look in your eyes hardens as you stare back at him unflinchingly, unwilling to back down.

“you–” he bites back the ugly retorts that rise in himself reflexively as his patience finally gives under your resolve. he grits his teeth, spitting out the words flatly, “well for the record, i think it’s stupid too.”

kageyama regrets it almost instantaneously as hurt flashes through your eyes so quickly he thinks he imagined it.

but it is not until he slides down against the shut door of the guest room that he realizes he never got an answer from you. though he thinks he has a good idea of what it is.

you almost regret the hurtful words you flung at kageyama last night.

if you are being honest, you didn’t quite understand what you are trying to achieve with that either, going to war with yourself over whether you should accept or reject it. his love. as if it is yours to decide what to do with.

you had done neither, pushing him away by insulting the very love he offered to you on both hands, no better than the people you compared him to.

for the record, i think it’s stupid too.

it hurts to breathe when you hear his voice saying those words, worse than stepping on shards of broken glass—his heart that you broke so carelessly, but you deserve it. the pain and the disappointment when, not if, he sees you for who you truly are and falls out of love.

it is bound to happen, and it’s better for both of you that it happens sooner rather than later.

the sooner he moves on from you the better, you know that.

you expected the pain that followed, but the flare of hope in the midst of the disbelief, that had been real too. the brief glimmer of a promised heaven only serves to drive the wedge deeper in your bleeding heart in your fall from grace.

he probably thinks the worst of you now. you would not be surprised if he decides to take it all back. a logical person would.

and kageyama tobio is nothing if not logical.

still, reality pierces through the useless wisps of spider silk you have carefully woven around yourself over the years to hide away from the world. his absence at breakfast slices through the layers easily, leaving you alone to ignore the pang of hurt that springs up in your chest whenever your eyes wander to the empty seat in front of you.

even your grandmother has decided to side with him after taking one look between the two of you, chastising you for your stubbornness the moment kageyama is out of earshot.

of course she had a hand in it. you sigh, scooting closer to her bed as you peel an apple while she continues to scold you with disappointment.

“obaasan, we accept the love we think we deserve.” you try to explain your side. “kageyama, he’s not like me. he’s the north star in the night sky, burning bright and unbridled. i won’t taint it.”

“are you blind? you are perfect for each other. and you, you deserve everything, the whole world at your feet, so don’t even go about thinking of rejecting him because you think you don’t deserve him.” she trains her eyes on you, staring you down. “if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”

“obaasan, there is nothing i will not do for you, except this. i can’t, i am sorry.”

“you are stubborn, like your father.” she huffs, evidently upset about your refusal to budge on the matter. “go, i don’t want to see you until you make the right choice.”

“obaasan–” you protest weakly.

“go.” you turn your face away to hide the brimming tears, the sting of betrayal that she chose him over you when she is the one who was supposed to stand by your side when everyone is against you.

you stumble into a wide-eyed kageyama on your way out. he must have heard some parts of your conversation. you give yourself the time to think too much into it before you are pushing yourself away from him and leaving.

you hear his voice projecting from the open backyard before you see his figure approaching the garden by the side of the house.

“hey, you doing alright?” his hands are in his pockets, shoulders relaxed as though what happened the other night is long behind him.

that’s good, you remind yourself.

you shrug in response, not knowing what to say when you don’t know how to feel about it yourself. “i don’t know.”

the hand trowel hits the hard soil again as you pour your energy into loosening the garden bed instead of sorting through your feelings. useless things, bringing only turmoil and confusion.

stab, push, pull. repeat. you lose yourself in the rhythm before you remember to speak up. “she calls me stubborn, but isn’t she the same? it’s been a few days and she still refuses to see me. and for what? it’s like, does she not realize the line between the dead and the living that is about to separate us?”

“all she cares about is tobio-chan this, tobio-chan that. who is her real grandchild?” you complain, pointing the trowel at him in an accusatory manner and narrowing your eyes at him. “traitor.”

you ignore the pounding of your heart, the dull throb that runs through it at his proximity, at the feigned normalcy between you.

“you’re upset because you know she is right.” your jaw falls open at his straightforwardness. oh, so we are not dancing around it anymore. “we accept the love we think we deserve, i think that is what you said to her.”

“eavesdropping is dishonorable.” you hiss back at him. why does it feel like the tables have turned?

“why are you running away?”

“i am not running away from anything. i didn’t accept your confession, or whatever that was.”

“but you didn’t reject it either,” he raises an eyebrow at you, arms crossed over his broad chest. the innocent action sends your poor heart into a gallop, temporarily forgetting the pain that has been inflicted upon it by yourself. “you are easy to read when you are jealous, did you know that? the expression on you when you complained about your grandmother liking me too much, it is the same one you had when you were asking me about the interviewer.”

he leans in and steals the trowel from you, continuing your forgotten task, satisfaction written all over his face for leaving you speechless.

“you are reading too much into it.” you breathe once you recover your bearings. “give that back.” you make a grab for the tool in his hands.

“tell me i am wrong then. that everything i have seen and heard that seems to point to the same answer is wrong.” he circles your wrist with his left hand, tugging at you gently. “tell me.”

you blink at the burning touch setting your skin on fire, the overstrained heart stumbling and stuttering in your ribcage. “you said you didn’t need anything from me.”

“i did. but that and this are two completely different things. i am fighting alone here, but if there is even a shred of you that wants us, i will keep fighting for you. so tell me to leave you, y/n. tell me to pack my bags and go back to italy. tell me to go and i will.”

leave. the simple one-syllable word refuses to vibrate in your vocal cords no matter how hard you try. your mouth is open, ready to push the sound through, but nothing comes out. there is warmness on your cheek—tears, you realize.

“if you want us, then why are you fighting so hard against it?” his voice almost sounds pleading.

we accept the love we think we deserve. and you are kageyama tobio.

and then that burning touch is on your face, wiping your tears away so tenderly it almost convinces you that you are worth it all.

“then i will make sure you know you deserve the universe.”

realization dawns on you as you stare after his retreating figure—you had said those words out loud. your body releases the shuddering breath you didn’t know you were holding, betraying your warring inner thoughts.

he is still fighting for you. despite your every effort to chase him away.

kageyama tobio must be your blessing from the gods, considering he managed to change your stubborn grandmother’s mind. perhaps your greatest blessing because it was only through his peacemaking that you were able to spend her final days with her.

you let out a huff at the thought that she would be stubborn enough to keep you away even on her deathbed.

it was all blurry in your memory, but it had been like any other day, or at least you think so. everyone was prepared for the day to come, the doctor and the nurses, kageyama, you. she continued to grow weaker, getting more tired, mistaking people for your grandfather, and with it she slipped deeper into the holds of dementia, forgetting.

you had braved through it, the days when she would not remember you, ignoring your instinct to run away and protect yourself from getting hurt, knowing you would never get a chance to see her much longer.

but on that final day, she was sitting in the chair overlooking the gardens, turning to look at you when you entered as if she had been expecting you—waiting to say goodbye to you.

not long after that she was gone. and all you can remember is the shock that sank into your skin, disbelief as her warm calloused hands turned cold. hands prying you away from her and with it, the part of you that she once commanded space in.

you remember the emptiness that came creeping in with the realization that she is truly gone, pushing out the emotions that you should be feeling, numbing you to the pain that should have set in.

her departure left a hole within you where your feelings used to reside, leaving behind someone you don’t recognize, as if it stole away your will to live.

kageyama had expected screams and cries, not this. a human shell who resembles you, alive and breathing, eating and drinking whatever he pushes your way, but nothing behind those eyes that once glowed with life as though a living star breathed through them.

nothing but a blank stare and a faraway look, as though your body may be there, but your mind has long since left. he had not heard your voice in days, not a single word or noise leaving your lips. you continued to remain in that statelessness through the wake where strangers showed up to offer their condolences.

your parents are absent, not a single call, even with the funeral service happening today.

you are not surprised—how often have you really seen them growing up? you could probably count it all on ten fingers.

still, they are nowhere to be found as the guests complete their round in placing the flowers in the casket. you stare at the pure white of the kimono on your grandmother. the hole in your chest seems to grow by the minute, consuming everything in its path.

not when the coffin is nailed shut, your grandmother’s serene face disappearing beneath the wood for one final time. not when the funeral procession leaves to the crematorium.

not even when the casket is slid into the cremation chamber, the door sliding shut between you for the final time, a permanent separation between the living and the dead.

something in you cracks at the sight, pinning you in the place of your last farewell. this is as far as you could accompany her.

so this is the way your world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

the fracture grows as the time for kotsuage approaches and you are returned to the harsh reality of a world that exists without her, a world that keeps spinning even if yours had stopped, remains of it laid bare before you, and sitting next to it is an urn and two pairs of chopsticks.

all that is left of your memories and your love, the only evidence left that they ever existed are the white bones mixed in ashes on the sterile metal tray.

you think you might throw up.

a commotion behind breaks the narrowing of your vision, as your ears pick up the quiet shuffle of kageyama’s feet to investigate the noise.

something rushes at you, hot and pressing, rushes up your neck and your ears, your cheeks as their voices become discernible. it spreads across your chest, enveloping you in its heat, squeezing your hands into trembling fists at your sides as recognition walks in.

anger, hot white anger erupts in your vision at the sight of your father and his wife. it engulfs you in its flame, pressure rising against the nothingness in your chest, turning your breathing ragged.

it builds and builds and you explode with it, instead of succumbing and crumpling under the pressure.

“what are you doing here?” your voice croaks, raspy with disuse. they had not bothered to show up, not when you needed them, not when she needed them, not even to put up a show at her funeral and play the role of a good son and daughter-in-law.

“not even a hello or how are you? your grandmother was just cremated and you have already forgotten the manners she taught you?” your father shakes his head with disapproval dripping from his voice, dressed in a clean cut suit.

you might have mistaken it for funeral attire if not for the shiny watch slapped on his wrist. funerals are meant to grieve the deceased, not show off your wealth.

you hate this. him. how dare they show up now and insult her when the funeral rituals are not even complete, her bones not even cold? how is it that he is alive and she is not?

“get out. you are not welcome here.” you hate the blurriness in your vision, fighting to keep your voice level, holding onto your anger with a tight leash before it consumes you whole, before the tears that follow it arrive.

“i have every right to be here as her son. i will not disrespect the traditions of our ancestors simply because you think you are grown up enough to make your own decisions.” he says it so matter-of-factly that you wish he could have taken her place instead.

“get out of here.” you breathe, nose flaring as he takes another step closer, reaching for the special chopsticks reserved for the ritual.

“did you forget? kotsuage is a ritual that requires two relatives of the deceased. no matter how much you despise me, i am still her closest living relative.”

not when you have not bothered to visit her in years, you want to scream. not when you have not bothered to see her even one last time. you knew she wanted to see him for the last time even if she did not say it aloud—and he had not come.

you hate the way you shrivel under the stare he pins on you, making you feel small and dumb and five again, being yelled at for mistakes that are not yours. you will for the words to come, for your vocal cords to make the sounds, but it is kageyama who speaks up when your own voice fails you.

“you are right, kotsuage is a ritual that requires two close relatives of the deceased,” your heart plummets at his words, deathly still as he glances at you, “but it does not dictate that they have to be blood relatives of the deceased. sometimes flesh and blood is no different than strangers, and from what i heard from obaasan, that would be the case here.”

you tense, instinctively taking a step in front of kageyama as your father turns his attention to him. your hand finds kageyama’s arm, giving him a light squeeze in gratitude.

“remind me, who are you and why are you meddling in my family affairs?” he narrows his eyes on kageyama with an unpleasant glint. you brace yourself for the insults that are sure to follow, but what comes is worse than you could have imagined. “is this what you have been up to in italy, daughter? is this why tetsuro divorced you? because he caught you cheating? i always knew he was too good for you. at least have the decency to keep him away from staining the funeral.”

his words cut deep into the heart of the eight year old girl he left at his mother’s door—the girl who still waited for her father to return and keep his promise that she will be his little angel, the same girl who fell asleep waiting by the door when he bails on their plans. the girl who was left behind because she did not fit into the new and perfect family of his.

somewhere deep within you, her heart shutters for a final time, but you are not her anymore. you have not been your father’s daughter for a while now.

you hold onto kageyama firmly as his arm flexes in response to your father’s outrageous insults, feeling your own rage reflected in him. he relaxes slightly as your hand wraps around his tightly clenched fist, fingers winding between his own and closing the distance.

behind you, kageyama swallows stiffly, barely able to see past his rage at your father’s implication that kuroo deserved better than you, his own daughter. he might have tackled the older man with grey streaks in his hair, if not for your hand laced tightly with his.

i got it, you seem to say.

he believes it—believes in you. you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it. he busies himself with the different ways he could handle the fallout with your father, shield you from his anger.

he does not expect the words that come next.

“this is kageyama tobio. he’s only the best setter the world has ever seen, and a better man than you could ever be, or even dream of. he is the one who sat by obaasan’s bed, peeled fruits for her, fed her when her own strength failed her, kept her company when she forgets about me and i cannot bear to be there. right until the end, even though he was not related to her in any way.”

you wipe the stray tear that slides down your cheek, the final tears from the five year old who needed her father, as you turn to look at kageyama.

“he saved me, again, and again, and again, asking for nothing in return. so if you cared to ask anyone, kageyama is a part of this family more than you ever were.” you run your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling gratefully at him. “he will carry out the kotsuage with me. so please feel free to leave, or watch quietly by the side, i don’t care either way.”

your father seethes at your words, ready to rain hell upon you, but kageyama silences him with a glare, “i would listen to your daughter, if i were you. like you said, we should not be disrespecting the traditions of our ancestors by making a scene at a time of mourning.”

“you would stand there and allow him to speak to your father like this?” he turns to you, disappointment on his aged face. you always remembered him to be in his prime, but perhaps that only serves to show how long it has been since you saw him last.

the young girl who wished for her father fades away into the shadows, finally coming to an understanding that she will never be loved by him the way he used to ever again. it feels like the weight of a boulder is lifted off your shoulders when you hold his stare and say, “i have not had a father for years.”

kotsuage brings back somber memories from his early teenage years, of his absent parents, of him and his sister painstakingly transferring each bone that used to be part of his grandfather into the ceramic urn.

if he had to describe the hollowness he felt that day, you would be a close description of it.

your father had left in a fury, slamming the doors behind them, and silence fell in the time since then. silence that forces you to face the new reality, punctuated with the sound of chopsticks picking up each individual bone starting from the feet all the way up to the head.

with each bone carefully lowered into the urn by both of you at the same time, pieces of you that awakened momentarily during the confrontation with your father return to dormancy.

“thank you, i’m sorry for asking this of you.” you had told him softly as your shoulders drooped with exhaustion, dropping your bravado as soon as your father was out of sight.

he had wanted to wipe away the single line of tear that streaked down your left cheek, but you looked so fragile that he was afraid his touch might be the final straw connecting the hairline fractures that accumulated over the weeks, shattering you into pieces too small to piece back together.

you tried so hard to hold it together, not wanting him to see beneath the facade that you are just fine and grieving that he allowed it, pretended to not notice your nails digging into the flesh of your palm, or the shiny film of tears that you will away every now and then.

that was three days ago. three whole days since he had seen you eat, watching you wither away before his eyes as you fought the grief shrouding you. he had stood by his promise and gave you time and space to face the grief, but he could not bear to watch as you keep running.

so enough is enough. he would not stand by and watch you lose yourself any longer.

deciding that is easy. the hard part is choosing when and how to approach it, especially since you have been keeping your interactions to a minimum.

kageyama feels guilty for springing this on you, of course he does, but he made a promise to your grandmother that he would help you find your way home when you are lost, and he intends on keeping it.

“hey,” you flinch at the sound of his voice breaking you out of your empty gaze staring out the backyard. his eyes track your movements, zeroing on the way your fingers fiddle with the glass in your hands. “you holding up alright?”

you give him a half smile, hoping that it is enough to pacify his worries, nodding your confirmation.

kageyama had given you a wide berth since… since then, and so you expected him to do the same today, but he takes a step towards you, and another, and another until he comes to a stop next to you at the kitchen sink, entering your bubble separating you from the world.

he half expected you to step away, to leave, but you don’t. it surprises you as well, finding his presence within your imaginary sphere of safety to be soothing, instead of suffocating, like the past few days had been.

you tried to not think about the things you had said to your father about kageyama, about what it meant for the two of you. it had been easy to ignore them, memories of the day reminding you of—

you shake the thoughts away like you did for the past few days. it was not a revelation that you wanted him to stay and fight for you despite you pushing him away. a selfish desire you harbored for him to prove that he would not leave at the first sign of inconvenience. but that is selfish and wrong of you to wish for, and you wanted him to turn away and never look back.

you aren’t quite sure which side you stand on anymore, and it had not been a priority as you were preoccupied with walking away from the truth that keeps tapping you in the shoulder. it sunk its claw in you, forcing you to look it in the eyes, but it had been too horrifying that you had ignored it ever since.

if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it cannot be true, right?

he probably wanted to know where you stand, you don’t blame him at all. you would too, if you were him.

what you don’t expect, are the words that follow—“it’s okay to mourn.”

mourn. the word shudders through you, an unwelcome weight that settles between the spaces of your ribcage, heavy yet unable to fill the void carved out of your soul.

your slumbering emotion cracks an eye open at the surge of conflict awakened within you.

“i am.” you withdraw your hand, spitting the word out like it is poison. “mourning.”

“you are angry. that’s normal too.”

“i don’t appreciate you psychoanalyzing me.” you shove back at the crack of anger that sparks to your defense. deep down you know he means well, his words make the emotions in you swell further.

“you are trying to run away from it, just like i did.” he splays his hands on the countertop, a neutral gesture to soothe your defensiveness. “i know how hard it is to live with the sudden emptiness that appeared inside you, but it’s alright to sit with it, to feel the nothingness of what used to be there.”

you open your mouth to deny it, but he knows. suddenly you are reminded of the fact that he went through the same thing as a child, and it leaves you feeling guilty.

“i can’t” you finally admit the truth softly. “already, her smile is slipping from my mind. i lost her, i don’t want to forget her too, kageyama.”

“you won’t. ten years from now, twenty, thirty, her memories will live on in you. you will never lose the love you hold for her, or forget the love she gave you. grieving, properly mourning her passing is only the beginning of the end that stays with you for the rest of your life. i learnt the hard way that grief is just love with nowhere to go.”

your bottom lip wobbles as tears start streaming down your face at the eventuality of it all. the dam of tears that you suppressed over the last few days come breaking all at once, and then you feel it—the rawness of a broken and bleeding heart at the thought of never seeing her again.

“i– i can’t–” you gasp between whimpers and sobs. “it’s too much.”

“it gets easier, but it never goes away completely.” kageyama says quietly, rubbing your back in circles as sobs engulf you.

as much as he wants to take the pain away from you, he would never deny you the final act of love that stands as a testament of the bond that existed between you. so he stands there, right next to you as you finally allow yourself to grieve.

“love was here. love still is.”

you shatter in the sanctuary of his arms as grief finally catches up to you.

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity @wordsofelie @theshxaverse @animechick555 @jkkhay @sickpatientt (gen) @mintgrumpy @box-of-roses (tobio nation) @hiraethwrote @shouyuus @yogurtkags @mcdonaldsnumberone @lale-txt (add yourself here)

a/n. it took three months to get here <33 and i couldn't wait any longer so forgive any mistakes i may have missed xoxo

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama angst #kageyama fic #hq #kageyama tobio angst #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n #hiraethwa writes #《 to be loved is to be known 》#hq x reader

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tamanine · 8 months ago

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2024.10.13

映画『HAPPYEND』を見る。父の時代の学生運動のような雰囲気と、街の風景のクールな切り取り、存在感があり重厚な音楽の使い方から愛しいものとしてのテクノの使い方まで大変気に入り、今度会う人に渡そうと映画のパンフレットを2冊買う。その人と行った歌舞伎町時代のLIQUIDROOM、どんどん登らされた階段。小中学生の時に自分がした差別、あの分かっていなさ、別れた友人、まだ近くにいる人たち��

2024.10.14

銀座エルメスで内藤礼『生まれておいで生きておいで』、ガラスの建築に細いテグスや色のついた毛糸が映える。日が落ちて小さなビーズが空間に溶けていくような時間に見るのも素敵だと思う。檜の「座」で鏡の前にいる小さな人を眺める。「世界に秘密を送り返す」を見つけるのは楽しい。黒目と同じだけの鏡、私の秘密と世界の秘密。今年の展示は上野・銀座ともに少し賑やかな雰囲気、外にいる小さい人たちや色とりどりの光の色を網膜に写してきたような展示。でも相変わらず目が慣れるまで何も見えてこない。銀座にはBillie Eilishもあったので嬉しくなる。

GINZA SIXのヤノベケンジ・スペースキャットと、ポーラアネックスでマティスを見てから歩行者天国で夜になっていく空を眺めた。小さい頃は銀座の初売りに家族で来ていたので、郷愁がある。地元に帰るよりも少しあたたかい気持ち、昔の銀座は磯部焼きのお餅を売っていたりしました。東京の楽しいところ。

2024.10.18

荷造り、指のネイル塗り。足は昨日塗り済み。年始の青森旅行時、2泊3日の持ち物リストを作成し、機内持ち込み可サイズのキャリーに入れ参照可能にしたところ、旅行のめんどくさい気持ちが軽減された。コンタクトや基礎化粧品・メイク用品のリスト、常備薬、安心できる着替えの量。持ち物が少ない人間にはなれそうにない。日常から多い。部屋に「読んでいない本」が多いと落ち着くような人間は持ち物少ない人になれない。

2024.10.19

早起きして羽田空港。8:30くらいに着いたらまだ眺めのいいカフェが開いておらず、とりあえず飛行機が見える屋上に行く。このあと雨が降るはずの曇り空からいきなり太陽が照り出して暑くなり、自販機でマカダミアのセブンティーンアイスを買い、食べる。突然の早朝外アイス。飛行機が整列し、飛び立つところをぼんやりと眺める。飛行機は綺麗。昨夜寝る前にKindleで『マイ・シスター、シリアルキラー』を買って「空港ではミステリー小説だろう」と浮かれて眠ったのに、100分de名著のサルトルを読み進める。実存主義を何も分かっていないことをこっそりとカバーしたい。すみませんでした。

10：15飛行機離陸。サンドイッチをぱくぱく食べたあとKindleを手に持ったまま眠ってしまい、11：55宇部空港着。

宇部空港、国内線のロビーは小さく、友人にすぐ会う。トンネルを抜ける時、窓が曇り、薄緑色の空間に虹色の天井のライトと車のライトがたくさん向かって来て流れる。動画を撮影しながら「綺麗くない？」と言うと「綺麗だけど本当は危ない」と言われる。かけるべきワイパーをしないで待っていてくれたんだと思う。

友人のソウルフードであるうどんの「どんどん」で天ぷら肉うどん、わかめのおにぎりを食べる。うどんは柔らかく、つゆが甘い。ネギが盛り放題。東京でパッと食べるうどんははなまる系になるので四国的であり、うどんのコシにもつゆにも違いがある。美味しい。

私は山口市のYCAMのことしか調べずに行ったので連れて行ってもらう。三宅唱監督の『ワイルドツアー』で見た場所だ。『ワイルドツアー』のポスターで見た正面玄関を見に芝生を横切ったが、芝生は雨でぐずぐずだった。でも全部楽しい。

広くて静かで素敵な図書館があり、心の底から羨ましい。小さな映画館もあり、途中入場できるか聞いたおじいちゃんが、「途中からだからタダにならない？」と言っていたがタダにはなっていなかった。一応言ってみた感が可愛らしい範囲。

YCAM内にあるのかと思っていたら違う倉庫にスペースのあった大友良英さんらの「without records」を見に行く。レコードの外された古いポータブルレコードプレーヤーのスピーカーから何がしかのノイズ音が鳴る。可愛い音のもの、大きく響く音のもの。木製や黄ばんだプラスチックの、もう存在しない電機メーカーの、それぞれのプレーヤーの回転を眺めて耳を澄ませてしばらくいると、たくさんのプレーヤーが大きな音で共鳴を始める。ずっと大きい音だと聞いていられないけれど、じっと待ってから大きな音が始まると嬉しくなる。プログラムの偶然でも、「盛り上がりだ」と思う。

山口県の道路はとても綺麗で（政治力）、道路の横は森がずっと続く。もとは農地だっただろう場所にも緑がどんどん増えている。私が映画で見るロードムービーはアメリカのものが多く、あちらで人の手が入っていない土地は平らな荒野で、日本の（少なくとも山口県の）土は放っておくとすぐに「森」になるの��、ということを初めて実感する。本当の森の中にひらけた視界は無く、車でどんどん行けるような場所には絶対にならない。私がよく散歩をする所ですら、有料のグラウンドやイベント用の芝生でない場所には細い道を覆い隠す雑草がモコモコと飛び出して道がなくなってゆく。そして唐突に刈られて草の匂いだけを残す。私が「刈られたな」と思っているところも、誰かが何らかのスケジュールで刈ってくれているのだ。

山口県の日本海側の街では中原昌也と金子みすゞがそこかしこにドンとある。

災害から直っていないために路線が短くなっているローカルの汽車（電車じゃない、電車じゃないのか！）に乗って夜ご飯へ。終電が18：04。霧雨、暴風。一瞬傘をさすも無意味。

焼き鳥に挟まっているネギはタマネギで、つきだしは「けんちょう」という煮物だった。美味しい。砂肝、普段全然好きじゃないのに美味しかった。少し街の端っこへ行くとたまに道に鹿がいるらしく、夜見ると突然道路に木が生えているのかと思ったら鹿の角、ということになり怖いらしい。『悪は存在しない』のことを思う。

2024.10.20

雨は止んでいてよかった。海と山。暴風。人が入れるように少しだけ整えられた森に入り、キノコを眺める。

元乃隅神社、123基の鳥居をくぐり階段を降りて海の近くへ。暴風でiPhoneを構えてもぶれて、波は岩場を越え海の水を浴びる。鳥居の上にある賽銭箱に小銭を投げたけれど届くわけもない。車に戻ると唇がしょっぱかった。

山と海を眺めてとても素敵なギャラリー＆カフェに。古い建物の改装で残された立派な梁、屋根の上部から太陽光が取り込まれるようになっていて素晴らしい建築。葉っぱに乗せられたおにぎりと金木犀のゼリーを食べる。美味しい。

更に山と海を眺めて角島へ。長い長い橋を通って島。古い灯台、暴風の神社。曇天の荒れた海も美しいと思う、恐ろしい風や崖を体感としてしっかりと知らない。構えたカメラも風でぶれるし、油断すると足元もふらつく風、窓につく塩の結晶。

山と海を眺めて香月泰男美術館へ。友人が見て良い展示だったからもう一度来て見せてくれたのだ。

全然知らなかったけれど、本当に素晴らしい絵だった。油彩なのだけど、質感が岩絵具のようで、フレームの内側に茶色のあやふやな四角が残っているのがとても良い。

フレーミングする、バチッと切り取ってしまう乱暴さから離れて、両手の人差し指と親指��四角を作って取り出したようなまなざしになる。

山口県の日本海側の山と畑と空の景色、荒い波、夜の静けさや月と雲、霧の色を見てから美術館へ連れて来てもらえたから色と色の境目の奥行きを知る。柿はずっしりと重く、花は鮮やかだ。香月泰男やシベリア抑留から帰ってきた画家で、この前読んだ『夜と霧』の暗さと冷たさを思い返した。絵の具箱を枕にして日本へ帰る画家が抱えていた希望、そのあとの色彩。　

夕飯は友人の知り合いのハンバーガー屋さんへ。衝撃のうまさ。高校生の時に初めて食べたバーガーキングの玉ねぎの旨さ以来の衝撃、20年ぶりだ。そんなことがあるのか。

2024.10.21

晴天。海は穏やかで、深い青、テート美術館展で見たあの大きな横長の絵みたい。初めて見た海の光。

海と山を眺めて秋吉台へ。洞窟は時間がかかるので丘を散策、最高。

風光明媚な場所にしっかりとした情熱が無かったけれど、「好きな場所だから」と連れていってもらえる美しい場所は、友人が何度も見るたびに「好きだなぁ」と思っただろう何かが分かり、それは私が毎日毎日夕陽を眺めて「まだ飽きない」と思っている気持ちととても近く、感激する。

今までの観光旅行で一番素敵だった。

道々で「このあと窓を見て」と教えてもらい、味わう。

ススキが風に揺れて、黄色い花がずっとある。山が光で色を変え、岩に質感がある。

山口市、常栄寺、坂本龍一さんのインスタレーション。お寺の庭園が見られる場所の天井にスピーカーが吊るされ、シンセサイザーの音を演奏しているのは色々な都市の木の生体信号だ。鳥の声や風の音と展示の音は区別されない。砂利を踏む音、遠くから聞こえる今日の予定。豊かなグラデーションの苔に赤い葉っぱが落ちる。

宇部空港はエヴァの激推しだった。庵野さん、私も劇場で見届けましたよ。

行きの飛行機は揺れたけれど、帰りは穏やかに到着、家までの交通路がギリギリだったため爆走、滑り込む。

東京の車の1時間と山口の1時間は違う。

何人かの山口出身の友人が通った空と道と海と山の色を知ることができてとても嬉しい。

「好きな場所」「好きな風景」ってどういうものなんだろう。

私が通う場所、好きな建築、好きな季節と夕陽。あの人が大切にしている場所に吹く風、日が落ちる時刻が少し違う、友人のいる場所。

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