𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲 || 𝐭. 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

⤷𝟛𝟡: 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕤

therapy is not for everyone.

some people were just born shiny, jolly, happy people.

some people were just born to never require therapy for a day of their lives.

good for them. good for fucking them.

however, when you're the one that walked into a room looking at a scene of frankly, total betrayal, maybe therapy is needed.

but more about therapy later.

because at that moment, you were not thinking about needing therapy.

you had far more vivid images in your mind.

as you stared at the two individuals on the ground, your heart involuntarily took a stab.

a long, deep stab. right at the center. that fresh stab engraved itself right into the small healing heart.

and there it goes. the so-called healing process shattered to pieces.

kageyama's eyes met yours as he laid there, sprawled on the ground with nari pressed against him.

with less than a millisecond, you found yourself walking away.

you tore your eyes away from the scene, but the damage was done. the damage already sunk in as fucking deep as it could've gone.

your legs were moving for you. because momentarily, you couldn't even fathom a single thought other than that scene.

you were practically sprinting your way to the bathroom.

and you would've made it there, before you felt something pull you back.

"it's not what it looks like."

you turned to find yourself face-to-face with the dark-haired setter.

"i don't care what it looks like, kageyama," you pushed him back. "i just hope your girlfriend knows."

kageyama paused, forcing you to stop moving away. he spoke as if the whole world depended on it.

"it is not what it looks like."

you took in a breath, willing yourself to hold back all the emotion coursing through you. "and i told you i don't care."

"if you don't care then why is your voice shaking?"

you directed your gaze elsewhere as you found your eyes swimming with tears.

"i don't care."

maybe if you said it more, it'll actually be true.

"i have to go," you breathed. "leave me alone."

"wait—" kageyama started.

but you had already pulled yourself away.

"leave me alone. please."

✰

it wasn't until you were curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor that you remembered what you originally came to do.

it wasn't until you were nearly drowning in tears before you even came to realize what you were going to do.

you didn't even know what hurt more: the grades or the boy.

but if you had to choose, it would (obviously) be the grades.

every bone in your body ached. it fucking hurt. physically, emotionally, and mentally.