• Sunflower • Hinata Shoyo x Reader

4 • Going Home

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❝ Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.❞

-Ed Cunningham

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You splash cold water on your face, sighing. You don't want to go back out there; you can still hear Shoyo and his friends' mindless chatter, and you just feel awkward around them.

You turn off the water, taking a deep breath, and leave the bathroom. The atmosphere of the store is the same as you left it: the boys munching on their treats, the owner of the store sitting at his counter, shooing them away.

"It's late," he mumbles mostly to himself, "don't kids these days have a curfew?"

"He's right," Shoyo's dark-haired friend says, "It is getting late."

All the boys turn to you.

"It isn't really safe for you to go home alone," buzz-cut boy smiles, "I can walk you!"

You shrink back. "Sorry, but I think it'd be worse going with a stranger."

"I'm Tanaka," he says, wrapping an arm around the dark-haired boy, "and this here is Kageyama."

Kageyama shrugs off Tanaka's arm, then grumbles to himself. "I'm going home."

Kageyama leaves, and Tanaka sighs. "Well I can't just let him go by himself either."

You're quiet.

"I-" Shoyo stutters, "I'll take her! I know where she lives, anyways."

You sigh with relief, glad you don't have to go with the older-looking-Tanaka boy, although he did make a good point about a girl walking home alone; he can't be all that bad.

"Well, then," Tanaka smirks, "See ya! Don't be late to practice again, or Daichi will hang your ass."

Shoyo nods, and you watch as the two boys leave. You turn to the orange-haired boy, and notice he's blushing, which makes you blush too.

"My bike is outside," you say to him, opening the door. 

"Oh! You have one too?" He smiles, following you outside.

"Yeah."

You grab the handlebars and roll your bike beside you, not sure what to say to the boy. 

"So," you start, "you play volleyball?"

Even in the darkness of the night, you can see Shoyo's eyes light up. He nods enthusiastically. 

"Everyone thinks I can't because I'm not as tall as them," he says, clenching his fist, "but I'll show them. I'll be the next Tiny Giant!"

You didn't really notice his height before; yes, it's below average for a boy, but you're not much taller than him. As you look at him, you notice he has his bag with him. You smile.

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight," you quote, "but the size of fight in the dog."

"Where'd you hear that?" Shoyo asks, intrigued. 

"A book," you say, "let's just say I have a lot of free time, so they're one of my favorite past times."

"Oh, cool," Shoyo exclaims, "Where do you go to school? You live pretty close to Karasuno, but I haven't seen you around."

You kick a rock along the sidewalk. It's weird, but you feel like you can trust this strange, wild boy.

"I don't go."

For a short moment, the night is silent, the only sound being footsteps and crickets. 

"That must be why your garden looks so awesome," Shoyo says, breaking the silence, "You must spend a lot of time taking care of it."

"Oh yeah!" You say happily, delighted he noticed. "The sunflowers are especially beautiful. You should see them. They're taller than me, even."

"I only got a glance last time I visited, but it looked great from what I saw!"

"Well," you laugh, "it wasn't really a visit, per-se." You point to the band-aid on his cheek.

Shoyo blushes, cupping his hand around it. "I-I swear my foot just slipped off the pedal--!"

"Yeah, and massacred my neighbor's roses in the process."

"L-look, we're here," he points at your house, changing the subject. The porch light is on, and your grandma stands by the door.

Your heart drops. You left her.

That feeling returns, creeping through you like poison. You don't want Shoyo to see you like this.

"Oh I can see the sunflowers!" Shoyo says, pointing in the direction of the garden. 

"Please leave," you reply, a little harsher than you mean to.

"Can I see them though? I bet--"

"Please!" You snap.

You turn to him and he looks hurt, but he nods. You try to fix it. "Y-you can come over tomorrow to see them, just not. . .now."

"Okay."

And with that, he leaves you. You turn back to the porch, that sinking, poisonous feeling flooding your mind. It dissolves into tears, manifesting your feelings into droplets that fall down your cheeks.

"Grandma, I'm sorry," you sob, crying again, running into her arms.

"It's okay, Dear," she whispers, holding you tight. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I-I left you alone," you say between cries, "I just ran away--"

"But you came back, and that's enough. Let's go inside."

You follow her back into the house, and watch as she slips back into her chair, huffing from the effort of walking so far. 

"Please," she asks, "fetch me some water."

And so you do, the day playing over and over again in your head.

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