~•Y/n First Person POV•~
Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day I have to mail him the files. I really don't want to. I don't want to have to think about him more than I do. I don't want to touch anything that belongs to him. I don't even want to go in that room.
I was hoping that Kageyama would know about my family by now. I was hoping that I would be able to talk to him about this whole situation. That he could comfort me. Unfortunately, we are far from that reality. We haven't spoken since that day he asked me about Hinata. He even left for camp three days ago without saying a word to me. He's currently on day four of five.
I hope he's okay. Did he get there okay? Did he get lost at all? Did he remember to pack everything? His shoes? Extra shirts? I want this to be over. I think when he comes back, I'll talk to him. We can figure this out together. I really shouldn't have let this drag out for so long.
I pulled out my notebook from my desk drawer. I opened my laptop and wrote down the address I need to mail these files to. I'll get stamps and stuff tomorrow. I went to sleep, thinking about what could be so important to him. Why didn't he grab them years ago? Why does he need them now? What are they? Are they important? Is it something I should know about? Should I look? No. I can't. It's better this way.
It's probably better that I don't know.
I woke up the next morning and got ready for my day. When I finished my typical morning routine, I started to get these files together. I walked into my kitchen and grabbed the key to the room. When I turned the key that was now in the doorknob, it did nothing. I opened the door with ease. The door was already unlocked? I didn't leave it like that. I know for a fact that I locked it after grabbing Kageyama a towel a few months back.
When I walked inside, I sneezed. I should probably dust in here. I began looking around for things that were out of place. My eyes grazed the dresser and I noticed that there was a patch. It was faint because dust was covering it, but it looked as though someone ran their fingers along the piece of furniture. I looked over the room.
The only people that have been in my house recently was the team. My eyes widened. They know. Someone on the team knows. It's definitely not Kageyama because he would have said something. Who did it wasn't important to me; it was the how and when that were.
I started scrambling through the room. I ran to the left bedside drawer and that's when I realized it. The files. The files are gone. No. They can't be.
I started panicking. Without checking anything else, I ran out of the room and out of the house. I ran, even faster than I did when I was running to get papers to Ukai in Tokyo, to the gym. This is the most important thing right now. If I don't get him these files, I'm screwed. He'll come. He'll-
I bursted through the gym doors. "Which one of you did it?" I accused. "Which one of you guys broke into the room?"
They all froze. Each and every one of them. Too big of an entrance, now I can't tell who looks guilty because they all do. "Calm down," Daichi said. "Just take a minute. Then, explain what happened."
"No, I'm not gonna calm down. That room is locked for a reason." I pushed past Daichi to look at Ukai. "I haven't been in the room since you know what."
"We're in the middle of pract-"
"I'm sorry but this is a little bit more important than volleyball practice," I cut Asahi off.
"What happened?" Ukai walked over.
"Someone broke into the room," I answered.
"What room?" he asked.
"Their room. And important papers are gone. Shit, I need those." I slapped the wall behind me. "If I don't get them those papers they're gonna come back to my place and get them themselves."
"You're in contact with them?" His eyes widened. "You never told me that. They haven't contacted me since last year."
"You knew?" Suga said quietly; I didn't address him.
"Not by choice. Now, I will deal with questions another day, but right now, I need to know where my papers are. I can't have hi-" My phone began ringing. I pulled out my phone and nearly dropped it. It's him. "It's too late." I tensed up. I answered the call. Everyone watched me eagerly.
"Where are my papers?" he demanded.
"You said to mail them today. The day isn't over yet," I replied.
"No," he said, angrily. "I said mail them by today. Meaning, I wanted them here on this day."
Either way, I'm screwed, so it doesn't even matter at this point. I left the gym before anyone could ask anymore questions. This isn't going to be a pleasant conversation. "Are you sure you didn't bring them with you?" I asked.
"What kind of question is that?" he asked in return. "I would know if I brought them." He paused. "What did you do to my papers?"
"They're not there. I haven't touched anything in that room," I explained.
He sighed. I have never heard an angry sigh up until this point. "Since you obviously cannot handle a simple task, I am on my way now to get them. I am close by. I will be there in five minutes," he announced.
"Five min- five minutes?" I gaped.
"Yes, I am on my way," he said, as he hung up the phone.
The school is at least ten minutes away. I' starting to hate running. For the millionth time, I began sprinting. I was running so fast, it was difficult to breathe. I kept pushing myself harder because I had to make it home before him. I had to.
I did it. I ran into the house and shut the door. I felt like I was going to throw up. I wasn't sure what from. Was it my nerves? Or was it the fact that I didn't breathe for the last few minutes? I got myself together. I caught my breath and fixed my appearance. At least I made it.
"God damnit!" I heard.
I jumped and sprinted to the room. As I poked my head through the door he threw a box in my direction. No, I didn't. That's when I noticed the room was turned upside down. He tore absolutely everything apart. He unmade the bed, opened every drawer in sight (even took them off the hinges), looked over and under things. He got to the boxes and threw everything everywhere.
"You lie," he grumbled. "They were here all along. With your papers."
"Impossible. I don-"
"Was this your excuse to get me to come here?" asked he. "This was a waste of time. I hope you understand the level of anger I am at."
"I didn't-" I cut myself off. The team. When they were going through things they must've not put it back in the right spot. I can't tell him someone went through his files. That'll make things worse. I should have checked the boxes before I left. I'll take this one. "I must have misplaced that years ago," I lied. "I apologize."
"I almost believe you," he said. "Clean up your mess." He began walking toward me.
"That's it? You're just going to leave after all these years? Again?" I asked him.
"You're real brave for speaking to me like that on this day." He was now towering over me. I never realized how tall this man is until now. Unlike Tsukishima, this man was tall and bulky. He does not seem like the person you'd want to piss off. I would know; I've got first hand experience with it.
"Why?" I asked. "Why are you like this? What did I ever do to you?" He scoffed and turned to leave. I ducked underneath him and blocked the doorway just like the first time.
"Move aside, Y/n," he ordered. "Don't do this again."
"Not until you tell me why. You never, not once, told me why things are like this. It's not fair," I stated.
"You do not want me to get angry," he warned.
"Tell me," I pleaded. "I was just a child! Your child! You ignored me, for what?" I began shouting at him; he didn't like that.
He put his hand on my shoulder to push me away. I was holding onto the doorframe. Since I was older now, he couldn't pry me away so easily. He did eventually manage to unlock my grip from the wall. He threw me into the room; I ended up landing on the remains of the vase that broke months ago, making it dig into my palms and scatter across the floor more. I slammed my head in the process, vision blurring, like last time. He began to take his leave, but I refused to let him go so easily. I sprung back up, wobbling a bit, and ran after him. He was already out of the house. I saw the same car I saw out of my window when I was ten. The woman from back then was sitting in the back seat while someone else was driving. I didn't recognize the driver.
I ran after my dad and grabbed his arm to hopefully gain his attention. He pushed me back, causing me to trip. I lost my footing and tried to catch myself from falling. When I did that, however, my wrist landed in a bad position. SNAP.
I had to suppress myself from crying. I was sitting on the ground, holding my wrist as he walked away. I looked at my mother, helplessly. She didn't even bother to pay no mind to me.
"You were born," he stated. He got in the car and they drove away.
I was born? That's why? He's mad because I was born? Well that's his problem, I guess! It's not my fault!
I stumbled trying to stand. Out of instinct, I caught myself with my left wrist, the one that just snapped, causing me to cry out. I was able to get myself to stand and went back into the house. I walked back into the room and looked at the wreck. I fell to my knees.
I feel so drained. My wrist hurts. My heart hurts. My head hurts. Everything hurts. While I was laying on the ground, I noticed a paper under my bed. "What the-"
I began reaching for it with my right hand. I managed to pull it out. It was a picture of him and a woman. They looked so happy. She looked so familiar. I was trying to think really hard about who she was.
I stood up and turned on a lamp. The light increased my headache. I definitely have a concussion again. I examined this picture. It was a woman with long (hair color) hair. She had matching (eye color) eyes. We had the same curve at the bridge of our nose. What gave it away was her smile. Our smiles were identical.
That's when it hit me. This looks nothing like the woman my dad was with the last two times. "No," I whispered.
I focused all my attention on the woman in this photo. I ended up leaning in too much. The light shined directly in my eyes. I backed away, bumping into the same piece of furniture when I knocked that vase down. I fell to the ground again, more glass burrowing into my skin. That woman in the picture . . . is my mom. It has to be. That's why she looks familiar. That's because she looks just like me. We have the same face.
If she's not with my father, then where is she? They looked too happy and genuine to split up in those photos. Then again, it is just a picture. I tried looking closer, but every minute that passed made it harder to keep consciousness. I have to figure this out. I can't stop now. I can't-
The rest of my body fell to the ground, head colliding with the floor, and the darkness finally caught up to me.
Unlike last time, I was alone now. There was nobody else in this house, but me. There was no one that was going to chase after the car that left eight minutes ago. There was no one that was going to run and find me on the ground. There was no one that was going to take me to the hospital. It was just me, in this colorless house. Cold and alone.