Waning golden light broke the horizon as evening began to ascend; darkened patches of sky poked through the canopy of tawny bricks and terracotta tiles of the estate you were walking through, dappling the roofs with uneven rectangles of light.

You gazed inattentively at the flagstones blurring beneath your feet, hands sitting loosely by your thighs and drumming a quick beat as you walked. A few children were riding their bikes up the hill, scattering as you mounted the slope and swerved to avoid one of them, and a sudden chill caught you in its midst as the wind picked up.

The evenings were getting colder as winter approached. Dusk was already weaving its grey and lilac threads through the sky as you left school, making it dark by the time you reached home.

Winter was a season you'd never grown to like. You hated having to wear thick coats you could barely move in, and scarves that itched and felt suffocating against your throat. You hated coming to class with frostbitten fingers that could barely hold your pen straight, and thick tangles in your hair from where the wind had swept it side to side. But mostly, you hated thinking about how the year had passed and you still hadn't made any important decisions in your life, or made any new friends, or done anything at all remarkable.

This was your last year of high school. Your last year to do something - to make a difference, to do something unexpected and brave and extraordinary.

Your last year to make the most out of your youth.

You pulled a loose thread out of your mouth, jostling the scarf away from your throat where it was clinging too tightly, and glanced around with sudden alarm.

The neighbourhood you now found yourself in was unfamiliar. A jigsaw of streets that fit together in one giant maze. The houses here were narrow and lean, unlike the neatly trimmed properties a few streets back. The bricks were dark and mismatched, most of the houses reflecting a state of disrepair. Too lost in your thoughts, you must've made a wrong turning somewhere, for you were sure you didn't recognise this street.

Alas, as you lifted your eyes further, your panic began to subside. The slate-grey clock-tower just peering over the rooftops was certainly a familiar landmark - you lived only a couple of blocks away, so you were headed in the right direction at least. With that in mind, you kept walking.

You were halfway down the block - your focus drawn to keeping your feet aligned with the slits in the pavement - when you heard it. It sounded like a cross between a whimper and a murmur, and it took a long moment before you realised someone was crying.

Your eyes lifted to the house on the left, where slanted yellow light was pulsing down from the overhanging porch lamp, illuminating a figure crouched below. The house itself was tall and lean, planted askew in the middle of the street, with dense patches of weeds and coarse thickets making up the garden outside.

Your steps faltered, breaths coming out in short bursts, as your eyes picked over the boy's features; shaggy blonde hair, long arms swathed in a thin grey sweater, rounded glasses... "Tsukishima?" You muttered under your breath, not quite loud enough for him to hear over the hiccups slipping between his whimpers.

Kei Tsukshima was something of an oddity. Cold, detached, aloof. Yet every time you laid eyes on him, he evoked an impression that sent your mind tripping over itself to figure him out. He was like a mystery - an enigma.

You could have left then. You could have simply walked away and never looked back.

But at that moment in time, Kei was an enigma that was begging to be solved.

"Uhm, h-hey?" You called to him - your voice lacking the courage you'd hoped to portray - and Kei raised his head with a start, his eyes dark as they caught yours. A crease appeared between his brows - one that appeared much too acquainted with his face - and he shuffled across the step as if to distance himself from you.

"What?" His voice was deep and hoarse from crying - a sound that cut deep into your chest from the weight of his melancholy.

Your palms grew sweaty, braced against the wall as you tried to quell the butterflies in your stomach. "Are you... okay?"

His nostrils flared as he dragged his eyes away from yours. At least he'd stopped crying. "Does it look like I'm okay?"

You watched as he laced his fingers in his lap, shuffling his feet again, and your throat dried up. What now?

"Uhm, c-can I do anything? I'm here to listen if you n-need me," you stuttered, tugging a strand of hair away from your face. Why did you have to sound so pathetic?

He fell quiet then, eyes still downcast, and you stayed fixed to the spot, somehow unwilling to leave.

"No," he said after a long pause, climbing peevishly to his feet. "I don't need you."

The slam of his door caused your heart to stutter, an ache stealing over your chest at the way he'd stormed away, so easily, as if you didn't mean a thing.

Admittedly, you didn't. But that didn't stop it from hurting.

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oops; another story. right before my exams too ;-; eh, expect short chapters and probably infrequent updates. don't forget to let me know what you think! thanks for reading x

started: 22nd november 2016