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What was it like to be in love?
If you were to ask Kageyama Tobio, it was spontaneous. Something borne on a whim, something that he hadn’t expected. In the dead of summer, when the heat had driven him up the walls, so had she. Her against the Italian coastline, her against the Tokyo skyline. She, who brazenly barged into his life, outlined in the glow of their bedside lamp, her giggles and smiles melting every guard he’d ever put up.
Then, what was it like to fall out of love, to only hold on to a small piece with nowhere to place and no one to give?
Tobio knew it as grief. A grief that mourns all that could’ve, should’ve, would’ve been, had he been less selfish of a person. He grieved for all that he had and all that he had lost at his own hands and actions. All because he couldn’t compromise, couldn’t make up his mind. When faced with a crossroads that had only irreversible turns, he’d somehow chosen the worst one.
He didn’t need to know where his feet were taking him against his will. Somewhere, down this street, she still lived in their apartment. The same home that they’d once shared, and the same home that their love had died in. Where they’d gone from everything to nothing at all in just two years.
He turned his head upwards, counting the floors and windows.
One, two, three, four, five.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
It was dark. The curtains were drawn.
He smiled wistfully to himself. Of course it was. She’d never been one to stay up late until meeting him.
Nothing had changed. The neighbors’ wide-open window and the sound of raucous laughter. The same stray cat still lounged on the gate walls, hissing as he passed by. The streetlight that had witnessed their first kiss still buzzed and flickered every other minute.
The only thing out of place was him, the only stranger.
He sank to a crouch, his back against the gate walls as he stared upwards. The stars were barely visible tonight, but it was as though they were taunting him. They blinked and shone in pairs, whispering and murmuring in disapproval.
They’d done the same the night he had broken up with her. It was in this same parking lot, the same half-cloudy sky, but one that promised snow and not rain.
Acceptance had never been something devastating until that day. It hadn’t been the first time their relationship had felt strained, but on that dreary January day, he had finally been the one to deal the finishing blow.
He could still make out her tear-stained face; he wasn’t sure if he could ever forget it to begin with. The sound of her stumbling over her words never left him. Even now, he could still feel her trembling in his arms as he held her for the last time as her lover.
With heavy hands and an even heavier heart, Tobio opened his messages. His thumb tapped on her contact, lingered in the chatbox. No contact photo, no funny pet names. All that remained was the default gray icon and her first name. He never ended up deleting their old texts. If they could no longer be in reality, then at least he’d get to keep the memory for as long as he could. The photos they shared may be all gone, but he’d kept every message.
Even the one that he’d sent while returning from a three-month-long excursion abroad. The one that had taken him weeks to muster the courage to even type, and then another week to send: “We should talk.” Something had faded between them, driven an invisible divide between them. It had become a game of waiting and pushing, like pulling teeth from an alligator. She had tried to fix it, he had realized that much, and he’d brushed her off with halfhearted replies, nothing but his volleyball career ahead of him.
But then she’d left him on read. They didn’t talk about it when she picked him up from the airport. They didn’t talk about it on the entire drive home.
Until the doors to the car had finally opened into the apartment’s parking lot, and Tobio could no longer face the silence. He’d finally broken it with unrestrained agitation.
“Did you even understand what I sent?”
He remembered vividly the immediate regret that washed over him. She’d bottled her emotions so well that he’d glazed over what he used to be so keenly in tune with.
“Of course I did,” she’d answered him with eyes that refused to meet his. Her lips had quivered, her breath had been shaky. “I’ve tried not to think about it all day.”
“We can’t keep ignoring it anymore.”
“I know. And I don’t know how to fix it anymore.”
There had been an agonizing silence that followed; they’d both spent it avoiding each other’s gazes. It was painful. It was awkward. But his evasiveness and her dedication could no longer work. He’d never learned to control his occasional outbursts of frustration; she had always been willing to overlook them, always with patience and not anger.
Always giving, but never receiving. Sometimes, he’d wanted her to yell at him. For his wrongs. For his negligence.
Instead, Tobio had muttered, “I don’t think there’s a way to fix it. Fix us. It doesn’t feel the same as it used to.”
He’d wanted her to argue back. To this day, he still tries to convince himself that perhaps just the tiniest of defiance might’ve persuaded him to change his mind.
But her response had been the final nail in the coffin he’d built.
“I think you’re right. I…I don’t want to keep chasing after you if you won’t even look back at me. I have goals too, Tobio.”
That had been Kageyama Tobio’s first-ever heartbreak. It had arrived in layers: from an ache to a sharp pain, then finally, a blunt realization. People had said that love eventually died down into something quieter, something dormant. It did not always need to be ablaze, to constantly smolder. But for Tobio, if something could not light a fire within him, was it still worth his attention?
He remembered the way she had drawn in a sharp breath before she’d finally met his gaze. The hurt and disappointment in her red-rimmed eyes still haunt him. And his pathetic response had been to freeze like a deer in headlights.
“So,” she’d reached for his hands, gently, tenderly, “let’s just leave it here, as you wanted. While we can still forget this, while we can still build distance between us.”
Forget it? Tobio scoffed to himself, dragging his hands down his face. In the months since, he’d done everything in his power to simply “forget it”. But her absence grew increasingly more pronounced by the day. He missed her. Incredibly so. But he could never admit to it.
This bed that he’d made with his own hands, Tobio forced himself to sleep in it. Because if he weren’t to do so, then all that pain he’d caused her would’ve been selfish through and through.
The sky rumbled threateningly. Tobio tilted his head upwards, tipping back the hood that had concealed his hair. As though mirroring his emotions, the night had completely clouded over in mere minutes. A warning drop of rain splattered on his cheek.
It reminded him of how she’d cried into his chest that night, angry and exhausted, but never once cursing him. Snowfall had begun, and it had decorated the two of them in powdered crystals.
It reminded him of how she’d pushed herself to untangle herself from his arms, sparing not even an additional second to linger in his touch. He’d slept on the couch that night on his own decision, and promptly moved out the next day.
She’d sent him off with only a couple of words:
“Don’t forget, I’m still your biggest supporter.”
He hadn’t been able to tell her then, but he’d wanted to tell her that he was hers as well. If not hers , then Tobio would be her biggest supporter, too. Her happiness was all that mattered, even if it wasn’t with him.
Because, when it was already too late, when he already had one foot out the door, did Tobio finally realize: it had never been her that needed him.
He needed her.
It was futile for him to even consider seeing her again. The best thing he could do for her now was to give her the peace she deserves. But he didn’t know what to do with himself, or this sense of homesickness for a heart that no longer had room for him. He wanted to know how she’s been. He wanted to ask if she’d moved on, if the next guy had been able to mend the scars Tobio had left behind.
But did he even have the right to? After all that he’d done, and all that he hadn’t done for her, did he even deserve to yearn and long for her? To mope pathetically in front of her apartment, with a scrap of hope to even see her from afar? He had no right. For after all, this was all his doing.
All his teammates had known without him saying. They’d seen it from his uncharacteristic slip-ups during practice. They’d heard it in the silence of his phone. They’d felt it in the way he turned away in shame when her name was brought up.
He hadn’t been able to explain to them, the team that had adored her so much. Not as an extension of him, but as her own person.
The sky opened up, and rain began to splatter. In mere seconds, the water was already seeping through his jacket. Tobio made no move to seek shelter, merely closed his eyes. The cold, unforgiving shower might bring some sense back into him.
But then it suddenly stopped. How could that be? He could still clearly hear the steady pitter-pattering of rainfall.
He peeled his eyes open. Above him, a clear umbrella was shielding him. From its handle hung a plush-like calico cat charm, one that he’d once bought as a gift with his own money. A calico cat, who had once been the topic of an inside joke with someone dear to him.
His heart skittered. There were plenty of charms like this; it wasn’t special.
“...What are you doing here?”
Oh.
But how could it be?
Like a poorly oiled cog in a machine, Tobio turned his head. The next breath caught in his throat along with her name.
She’d gotten even prettier. The constant sadness that had once surrounded her was gone. There was no frown etched into the corner of her lips. There was a light in her eyes that Tobio couldn’t recall when he’d last seen it.
No, not prettier. She was happier . As though her world was healing, moving on. Unlike him, who was still stuck in the same place, wasting his time being blinded by nostalgia.
But her hair still fell in the way he remembered. Her brows still crinkled in concern—in the same way he remembered. Even in her plain white t-shirt and athletic shorts, she was still as beautiful as that snowy night they’d ended.
A flash of movement caught his attention. Tobio’s gaze flickered to her neck, where a dainty necklace they’d once picked together rested at the base of her throat. What once had been a promise was now a bitter reminder of what had been. But Tobio was shameless enough to feel relieved. He felt glad .
Because she still carried a part of him with her. Even if it was a mere accessory, she’d kept traces of Tobio in her life.
He must’ve stared for too long, for she tucked the necklace under her collar with a cough.
“I guess you’re still not a fan of answering my questions.”
He bolted upwards, nearly knocking her umbrella out of her hand with his towering height. But she was quick to adjust, even as he reached out with fumbling hands, only to catch her by the wrist.
For a moment, they came to a standstill. The rain was beginning to pick up in a steadier pace, but it paled in comparison to the pulse that Tobio felt under his fingers. She shivered from his touch, and he was quick to let go.
“...How have you been?” He finally choked out.
She was quiet. Her eyes spoke of so many questions, so many suspicions, and uncertainty. They studied his face, searching and scanning for answers that Tobio wasn’t sure if he could give.
“Fine,” she finally said, her grip tightening around the umbrella handle. “Getting by.”
Tobio nodded. Unsure of what to add, he lowered his head, rubbing at the back of his neck with one cold hand. She’d averted her eyes too, staring off to her side.
Her next question struck a chord in his heart.
“What about you?”
Like a scolded dog, Tobio lifted his head. Her head was still turned, but she hadn’t left yet. Was she humoring him for old times’ sake?
What about him? How has he been?
Not well , he wanted to say. Everything I do, everywhere I go, I see and hear traces of you.
I pushed my luck too far. I didn’t realize how wrong I was. I shouldn’t have held you at a distance. I should’ve prioritized you, should’ve put you first.
I miss you.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
But these words meant nothing now. He had already missed the stop where he could confess these thoughts on this winding, downhill road they trekked.
Had it ever been love, for her? His long periods of silence, of quiet, cold avoidance; had she ever truly felt loved by him? Or did she feel as though it was a need, one that stemmed from the necessity of fulfilling a role?
“I’ve…” Tobio clenched and unclenched his fist. Fought the urge to pull her into a hug. “I’ve been well. Been busy with the league.”
He cursed himself the second it left his lips.
Stupid.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Why couldn’t he, for once, say what he wanted? Say what he felt ?
He watched as she seemed to crack a smile, cringing when she let out a soft scoff.
“I know. I’ve been to the games I could make. You’re as impressive as ever.”
From anyone else, it would’ve been a compliment. But from her, it was a slap across the face. It was more offensive than any insult she could’ve spat at him. Because even now, she was upholding her promise. She was still in his corner, even after all this time.
And him? Tobio hadn’t even picked her out from the crowd. This woman whom he swore he knew and loved. He’d never so much as looked for her when he was on that court since they’d ended.
What made him think he ever deserved her?
She finally met his gaze again, this time with less resolve, more hesitation. The rain was beginning to clear; Tobio willed for it to last a little longer. Because for as long as it was raining, she and the little space they shared under this umbrella couldn’t leave.
“Is that why you camped out at my apartment, Kageyama? To see how I was doing?”
His heart twisted.
Kageyama. Not Tobio. She couldn’t even spare him from formalities.
He couldn’t admit that a part of him wanted to see if she felt the same as he did. He couldn’t admit that he was relieved to know that she didn’t, that her love hadn’t become a burden on her as it did for him.
And that was fine. Tobio knew he deserved to grieve alone, in the same silence as she had. He knew she had already done so; their relationship had been over for her long before he had even thought to look back.
So he nodded in deceit, still yet to overcome his cowardice.
“I just…wanted to see for myself, I guess. So this is good. This is…”
He struggled to find the word.
“...perfect.”
She didn’t respond. Merely stared. Pinned under her gaze, Tobio had nowhere to run. And frankly, it was the last thought on his mind. He’d spent months running away to begin with, and look where that had landed him.
Another smile. Another squeeze of his heart. All that contentment he’d seen in her before had become sentimental, like his very presence only reminded her of the past.
“Is that so?” She asked, softer now, without as much of an edge. “ I guess I should thank you for finding the time for me.”
Why was she thanking him for something like this? Why couldn’t she treat him coldly so that he could forget about hurting her, forget about the memories every time he scrolled through their texts?
He could only nod again. Like a puppet, held afloat by strings. But the curiosity was gnawing at him, and he needed to know. For closure, for peace of mind.
He gestured at his neck with one finger, finally spitting out the question eating away at him.
“You kept it?” He blubbed, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant.
Tobio, with quiet anticipation, watched as her free hand reached up to touch the necklace, her fingers trailing the thin chain as her hand fell again.
It was her turn to nod. The apple of her cheeks had turned a dusty pink, and he knew it had nothing to do with the heat of the night.
“Wouldn’t your boyfriend be upset to know you kept something from your ex?”
It was his best attempt at a joke, but even he found it poorly executed, as it was not funny in the slightest.
She didn’t seem amused either, from the way a shadow had washed over her eyes.
“There is no boyfriend,” she deadpanned, “and there won’t be one for a while.”
“...Oh.”
The rain was clearing, faster. They gathered instead in her eyes, in the form of tears. Again. He was making her cry once again.
Her lips pursed into a line, trembling like the tightrope she kept his heart on. But the way she tensed her jaw, the way her eyes narrowed: she wasn’t crying from sorrow.
“I don’t know who you take me for, Kageyama, but I know who you think you are. You think you’ve wronged me, that I deserve to move on with someone better, someone who cares.”
He didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. All those times when he hadn’t listened to her thoughts and concerns, he wanted to hear them now. She was right anyway. There was nothing for him to refute.
“But you don’t get to decide when that is for me. You’ve already given up that right.”
Before Tobio could even react to the fat tear rolling down her cheek, she’d already wiped it away with a swipe of her hand.
“You should go,” she mumbled. It was followed by a quiet sniffle, one that threatened to pluck Tobio’s heartstrings one by one. “Take a warm shower before you get sick.”
She was turning, preparing to leave. The same scene of her receding figure struck panic in his heart. The little control he held over his emotions finally slipped away, manifesting in words Tobio had been keeping to himself:
“Why did you do it? Why did you keep waiting for me when you knew?”
He watched as she came to a halt. Held his breath as her shoulders rose and fell as she heaved a sigh. She never turned around fully again, only enough that Tobio could catch a glimpse of her sad smile.
“I was waiting. For the day that you’d look me in the eyes and say you’d never loved me. But that day never came, even when I knew it was over.”
The realization crashed down on him like an avalanche, burying him in a mountain of guilt and sorrow. Because, even in their last moments together, they’d never so much as cursed at each other’s love. But unlike Tobio, who couldn’t move past what had been, she’d patiently come to terms with her feelings by accepting the past as it was.
Before he could stop himself, Tobio’s hand shot out, latching onto the hem of her shirt, two shaky fingers clenching at the fabric. It was enough that she finally spared him a look, turning over her shoulder.
“...It’s lonely. Without you.” He finally confessed, his words nearly lost in the night with how quiet they were. This time, he didn’t duck his head, didn’t hide from her gaze.
He wasn’t looking for a second chance, wasn’t looking for a fresh start. All he wanted was to let her know that even now, even if their love no longer holds the same shape as it used to before, her place in his heart never changed.
For a moment, she held his gaze, and in the next, she was wearing the same doting smile that Tobio used to bask in every day.
It was cruel; he could only truly be grateful for the little things when they were gone. But you reap what you sow, and Tobio knew better than to whine over what he’d given up.
But what might be crueler, were the words that came from the lips that had once spoken his name with unspeakable affection. Words that spoke of a kind forgiveness, the type that planted a new seed of hope within him.
“Well then, don’t be a stranger, Tobio.”