sidelines.

|| tobio kageyama. things are fine as they are, with you watching from the sidelines.
|| gender neutral! reader
|| 1905 words, angst, second person

--

the first time you laid your eyes upon the creature named kageyama tobio, you thought that the characters for shadow present in his name was a woefully inaccurate depiction of his true character. for shadows crawling on walls and floors, beneath tables and chairs could never be likened to someone like kageyama tobio of karasuno high school.

he was bright.

a brightness which reminded you of stars glittering in the obsidian night sky, that prismatic gleam from gems when the sun strikes across it, refracting thousands of colorful lights.

you remember that it was your second year in kitagawa daichi, autumn trees flanking the school and gathering in hues of bright red and orange, the tinges of brown and green present as leaves swirled in the air at the kiss of the cool autumn breeze. a trip to the gymnasium brought about by your friend's insistence. then you see him. the raven haired athlete serving in a practice match against another powerhouse school.

"who's that?" you ask one of your schoolmates in hopes of an answer to your query. "the one with the black hair..."

"almost all of them have black hair," you remember them telling you in response as you refused to tear your gaze away from him.

"i'm talking about that one," you point and immediately retract your finger when his eyes shift to your direction.

"that's kageyama tobio, he's our team's setter," they answer and your gaze is fixated on his figure. at first, you're unable to place a finger on what makes your eyes magnetized by his figure. is it the build? the face? the passion? or that look of happiness as he holds the volleyball in his hands, determined to be with it until time immemorial?

when you walk home and catch him staring at a cat in hopes to pet it, you find a small smile in your face and thoughts of kageyama tobio plaguing your mind.

third year. you think he's lonely. it's an accusation at best, but you insist that he is. he's always having lunch by himself, and when he plays the sport he loved so much, the same cheerfulness, the innocence is gone and there's frustration and lots and lots of screaming, jump higher, run faster, hurry, you're slow. you clutch the railings tightly. you want to reach out to him and ask, kageyama-kun, are you okay?

you don't.

you do not have the courage to. you realize that when he's asking you what your business is as you both stand in the back of gymnasium, grass blades swinging in tune with the winter air. (you wonder if there's going to be snow later. maybe it's why your hands are so cold and shaky.)

it was all perfect in your mind, you'd ask him if he was okay and let him speak his frustrations and you'd comfort him and give him the carton of milk in your hand and you're going to say something clever that'll inspire him, then... you realize that you're delusional and those things are easier said than done. you grab the hammer of sensibility and use it to shatter the walls of your delusion, one strike after another until everything comes crashing down and what remains are bare walls of reality.

you hand him the carton of milk, your fingers are trembling. "h-here," you say. "i'll give this to you."

you run out before he can reply. that's the last time you speak to him during your remaining days at kitagawa daichi.

during the first year of high school, you find out that he's in karasuno.

you believe it's fate. a cruel fate, you might call it. you're not in the same class, you rarely see him in the library, you search for his face in the cafeteria, but come up blank and when you linger a second too long in the hallway, you don't see his shadow darkening the floors.

"maybe he's an illusion."

you know otherwise. he has to be real. something with that sheer magnitude of force that renders you awestruck could not be some figment of your imagination. sometimes you catch glimpses of conversation when you're in your classroom, when your classmates are talking about sports club and they say that our volleyball team is strong, they won a set against the seijoh. you should have watched!

the first years are awesome, three of them are in the starting lineup. murmurs, whispers. you wonder when you're going to hear his name. the setter's really cool though. he's one of those cool and composed types. kageyama-kun, was it?

a smile reaches your face and you burrow it in your shoulders to hide the expression. this is so pathetic, you think to yourself, a smile just because you heard his name. you plant your face on the wooden desk. this has got to stop, seriously...

and maybe it will. if you try hard enough. you don't look for that spot of raven hair in the library, don't linger a second too long in the hallways and don't search his face in the sea of people in the cafeteria.

(it's not until seasons pass that you think fate is cruel for bringing him closer to you again.)

the buttons of the vending machine are pressed and your selection of gungun yogurt is available for purchase. the bottle feels cold as you wrap your fingers around it. you move to the side, not wanting to get in the way of other people hoping to get their favorite treat from the vending machine. you're just about to twist the cap open when you hear the sound of footsteps dashing towards you. the figure leaves dust clouds in the wake of his speed and you squint your eyes to identify said person, but when you realize who it is, your eyes widen palpably and you feel your grip on the beverage loosen.

"tch," kageyama tobio says, brows furrowed in exasperation as his eyes roam the selection of treats in the vending machine. "someone beat me to it."

his vision lands on you, trails from your still frozen face to the drink on your hand. his eyes narrow, the furrows in his brows slacking.

"are you gonna drink that?" he asks. his tone is scary, but it's the fact that he's here in front of you, striking up conversation that makes you want to faint.

it takes a while before the reply escapes your mouth and when it does, they come out barely coherent. "i— i wanted to try... the drink." you pause. "d—do you— do you like this drink k-kageyama-kun?"

he nods.

you try to muster a smile and you hope that it doesn't come off as weird and too forced. "then... i'll give this to you." with thankfully non-shaky hands, you hand him the bottle. your fingers brush against each other. you hope you're not going to melt like a cone of ice cream under the intense rays of the sun. because that's what he is, you think, a bright star that lights the earth, so warm, so brilliant, so... unreachable.

"are you sure?"

you nod and plaster another smile. "i'll just try it another time."

"thanks," he says with a slight bow of his head. one word. just one word and you're back in a spiral of emotions again. there's a gleam in his eyes that make you tremble. it's a gleam that spreads to the entirety of his body, one that coats his skin when he plays that sport he loves so much.

you watch one of his games and you think: ah, he's really brilliant.

i could never hope for someone like that.

kageyama tobio was destined for the stars, brilliant blinding lights.

he would burn so bright, so fiercely that you could not stand the absolute brilliance of his presence. he would never stop shining, would never resign to shadows like those collapsing stars.

those sentiments loom over you as you cross his path in the corridors of the sendai gymnasium. their match with shiratorizawa is about to begin and he's clad in his usual sports jersey and there's an unmistakeable trace of excitement on his face.

"kageyama-kun," you give yourself a mental pat in the back for managing to murmur his name without any blunders.

he stops on his tracks, looks at you with a trickle of surprise. then it morphs into confusion. "oh... you are...?"

your heart cracks but you hold it together. "it's me... i go to karasuno too..." you gesture lamely at the typical black uniform. "the one near the vending machine... umm... the one who gave you gungun yogurt."

his face brightens, but it's such an indiscernible amount that you'd doubt anyone would see it. you do though and it inspires so much emotion within you. you take it as a sign that he acknowledges your existence and there's something thrilling about that fact.

"kageyama-kun," you want to tell him you love him, that you've been in love with him for three agonizing years and sometimes, tucked underneath your blankets, you'd imagine him trailing kisses on your face and caressing your cheeks with some kind of tenderness. you want to tell him that his presence makes your heartbeats rapid and that you love him so much, in such a grandiose amount that could never be measured by weighing scales. kageyama-kun, i like you. those words are ready to escape the confines of your lips and you try to meet his eyes (they are a dark blue like the sky in that particular moment when the sun hasn't fully risen yet, like ocean waves lapping on the seashore or those delectable blueberries tinged with condensation), but kageyama-kun is so so bright that it's difficult to meet his eyes, that you'd have to look down at the gravel in order to elucidate the syllables in your words competent enough for human understanding. "i..."

you can't say it.

the words are not difficult, but you feel like they're lodged into your throat with nails and staples and sticky glue. you try to shove them out, but at the first letter that hints an escape, you swallow the words down in one go, opting for a new set of words that do not in any way relay the feelings bundled in your chest.

"i... good luck on your match, kageyama-kun."

he dips his head a little, mumbling a small thanks that makes your heart want to somersault and land on a split, but you shove all the tinges of that particular emotion from the expanse of your face. you can't do it. you can't.

he turns around. he walks away. you do not reach your arms to stop him, to clutch the back of his black shirt, murmur wait and confess your undying love. you simply watch as his figure fades due to distance and when he's simply a small splotch of black paint in the canvas that is your vision, you turn away as well.

not until... you run, past staring passersby and the blurring colors of the walls, your backpack hitting your back as you move. "kageyama-kun, wait."

"here," you say after you dig through your backpack, reaching the object out to him. "you can have it."

you hand him the carton of milk.

(it's fine. to simply watch from the sidelines.)

--

|| this one has been in my notes app for months, but i was never satisfied with how it turned out so it never got published.
|| i'm still not satisfied tho, but it's more tolerable i guess. and i really want to give you guys something since the last time i updated it was like, way back in august.
|| hope you guys enjoy anyway.
|| kylalily, 2020