tell me something i don't know | oikawa tooru ✔

Its Admitted

Chapter 43-

[approximately 24 hours earlier]

      Nozomi tossed yet again another failed written work of paper onto the side, rubbing her face stressfully. What was she doing? No, seriously—what was she doing?

Nozomi could not write truly emotional and from the heart realistic fiction to save her life. She just couldn't. And she had no idea why.

Actually—she had a couple of ideas about why she couldn't write in general at the moment—from her parents, to this college opportunity that would honestly be a waste if she didn't do it, to . .

Oikawa Tooru.

She was trying to distract herself from the entire debacle of Oikawa Tooru—and the events that occurred with him. It was incredibly hard.

She didn't have anyone to consult anymore—anyone to talk to when she's stressed or feeling down. No one would understand, no one would understand like he did. How he always understood her.

"Talk to me."

Couldn't do that anymore.

And realistic fiction. Nozomi gets why it exists, it's pretty obvious. School stuff, the real world—but wasn't fantasy and magic better?

Nozomi blinked. Wait a minute, exactly why was it so hard for her to write realistic fiction?

"Instead of thinking of the fantastical things that don't exist, think about the few good things in life. Think about the good things you have right now, the real things in this world." Is what Ms. Ito had told her.

It wasn't like Nozomi didn't appreciate the things in reality—the books, the places, the music; she liked those things. She appreciated those things and wouldn't give them up for anything.

And it wasn't like Nozomi's mind goes totally blank when she writes realistic fiction. She actually could write it, just as Ms. Ito had agreed.

She just couldn't connect with it.

There was something blocking her path when she tried to connect with the genre—a broken bridge out of use, a missing puzzle piece that had been long lost, a page that was torn out. A chain that had been broken.

Nozomi just couldn't seem to reach the last step.

It was so irritating.

Everything was just—

"Oh, Nozomi dear! Tis I, your sister Hanako! I have created something new for dinner today! I know that you're feeling down, so I won't push you to eat downstairs. Which is why I brought some! Aren't I just the best sister ever?"

Hanako, who was talking to her from outside her closed door, had interrupted her thoughts before they could get even more convoluted. Nozomi mentally thanked her for that.

Nozomi slowly opened the door, letting it creak open a bit has she poked her head out. Hanako was standing there, her eyes closed with a smile on her face as she held a tray of—spaghetti? Thick spaghetti? It actually looked pretty good. "Hello, Nozomi!"

"Nee-san." Nozomi greeted, taking the tray from Hanako into her hands. "Thank you. But you don't always have to cook for me . . . I already told you that." She said quietly, a small blush on her cheeks as she stared at the food.