Forty Winks | K. Shirabu

┗ 𝘛𝘞𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘠-𝘍𝘐𝘍𝘛𝘏 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘒

━━━━━━━━

𝘛𝘞𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘠-𝘍𝘐𝘍𝘛𝘏 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘒:
— you never let things end.

━━━━━━━━

Hearts shatter and shatter another.

The weight of the world resting on their shoulders was lifted upon the end of the last examination, but it was soon replaced with the collisions of celestial bodies within their minds when they realized that the dreaded results were going to be handed out the day after.

Goshiki was a nervous wreck, allowing Yui to repeat reassurances that he'll do fine this time. Kawanishi was indifferent, but his sigh of relief after told her that he was glad to have everything finished. Shirabu was collected— as always, to the point that he might want to share his peace with the sophisticated third years.

There were plenty of amusing conversations in between, about what they'd do if they all failed, yet every thought of it seemed to disappear when they stepped on the court that afternoon.

Driven individuals were a sight to see. It could heal even a fractured heart.

"Exams may be over, but don't forget about the Nationals, alright?"

A chorus of nod snapped her out of her thoughts, proceeding along with her duties to set up the other net for the rest of the club members. When Saito called out to her from her side, she winced at the familiar burning sensation at her fingertip upon hastily sliding it down the edge of the pole. Papercut was the worst— sometimes, it even appears out of nowhere and at the most unlikable scenarios. It went ahead and reminded her to avoid detrimental friction at whatever cost.

Applying pressure, it bled. She frowned, approaching the man knowingly, "Ah, right. Misaki-san said they might be available tomorrow." Referring to Johzenji's 3rd-year manager whom she called over the phone, Yui examined Saito's acknowledgment.

"I'll confirm with Washijo-sensei."

Yui shook her head in agreement, before turning her attention towards the court. Their practice match for today involved college students from the same district. From a distance, there's no doubt everyone was playing their best today for some reason.

Since Saito was handling the records, she decided to settle with watching the game for a while. Even if she was unmoving, she felt eyes lay on the back of her head— maybe she was starting to develop a wicked sense these past few days. Her lack of sleep was a massive factor, she admitted. There'd be no surprise if she starts seeing things sooner.

Resolved on proving that she wasn't imagining gazes, she spun her heel and saw Semi nearing with his stoic expression intact. She smiled a little at him, in which he nodded, before facing the game once again as he stood beside her. It was unspoken on his behalf, but she knew of what he wishes to ask, "We talked— a little."

"How did it go?"

"He's mad." She quickly waved her hands to deny the regret he might feel. He was the one who initially forced a conversation between her and Shirabu the other day after all. "It's fine. He had every reason to be."

He kept his silence, eyes trailing on the setter on the court. Semi noticed an odd observation, but whenever Shirabu's playing, he'll never reciprocate anyone's gaze from the audience— aside from hers. It would be short, a moment caught in time, and it'd be gone the next blink but it was there.

Upon that thought, he found no other way to express himself other than resting his palm on her head— which Yui didn't move away from, but didn't exactly lean closer to. Like it wasn't even there, she'd merely smile in return.