SWEAT MATTED THE LUSCIOUS WAVES OF CARAMEL ON HER BACK TO HER NAPE. Her breath is rapid, contorted, and the ball trembles on her grasp. She raises her arms, throws the volleyball with her left and with force, hits the ball with her right hand. It trembles as it sails past the net and lands softly on the wooden floor. The way it bounces against the floor, and the sound that comes from it is the only sound that is heard throughout the expanse of the Aoba Johsai gymnasium.

Well, not until, hands collide together in resounding claps and the brown haired boy cheers. It is childlike and obnoxious but Akatsuki Mana remains unfeeling and her eyes only look at the volleyball. It has stopped bouncing, it is still like a rock and she walks towards it to pick it up and practice another serve.

"You were great, Mana!" he says as he saunters towards her and encircles her waist with his hands. He rests his face on her collarbone and there is a sharp intake of air that comes from her.

"Nothing less from my adorable pupil slash girlfriend!" he announces after he parts with her collarbone.

"Thank you," the way she says it is so cold that anyone would be offended. Oikawa doesn't though, he merely ruffles her hair and laughs awkwardly. His laughter is big and hearty and it resonates throughout the entirety of the gymnasium, it bounces on the corners and crashes against the windows.

"What would you like to do?" he asks her. "Do you want me to teach you how to serve?"

She shakes her head in dismissal, writhing from his grip and picking up the volleyball. "I just killed time."

"Hmm..."

She places the volleyball back on its proper place and she stands on the entrance. Oikawa follows suit and before they truly leave the gymnasium, he interlaces her fingers with her.

"Let's go to that coffee shop we went to last week," he suggests and she only answers with a nod. Mana likes that coffee shop. There, she can enjoy the company of books and coffee. The silence there is endearing and the way it envelops her is pleasant. Truth be told, she didn't mean to take Oikawa there on their date last week. It was a sanctuary void of the storm named Oikawa Tooru. It was something he hasn't ruined yet.

She doesn't like the idea of going there with him, but she knows that if she disagrees, he'll only pester her into agreeing. It is always like this. He is in control; she is only a marionette whose strings are handled by the monster named Oikawa Tooru. The man disguised the attachment of strings and called it courting. And when she agreed, she cannot let go. She has fallen to deep and attempting to climb up again is almost impossible.

"Let's walk," he says.

"Why?"

"Because it's more romantic that way!"

She doesn't respond and merely nods. From her pocket, she gets a mauve colored string and ties her hair to a ponytail. Her nape feels free and her hair has stopped moisting itself with the salty liquid. In the process, her hands are removed from Oikawa and she notices the frown that spread on his face.

"Let's go," he says coldly.

She bites her lower lip at the foolish course of action. She shouldn't have spoiled the mood. Now he is done pretending like he is still the dotting boyfriend, now his mask has melted and they are back to the reality he always insists to keep from her. As if she is blind; as if she is a mute.

Nothing will be solved now, so Mana walks in front of him and doesn't look back. Pedestrians join them in crossing the road and the traffic lights as it's always supposed to. Cars honk and smoke coming from cigarettes and street stalls envelop the atmosphere. Various perfumes clash, and Mana can't help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. She rummages through her pockets for something to cover her nose, but it is in vain. The handkerchief is nowhere to be seen.

"Stupid," she mumbles to herself as they finish crossing. She still doesn't look back.

"Mana," it is Oikawa's voice. She is fairly certain at that. "Here."

He hands her a handkerchief and she would've appreciated the gesture if the handkerchief didn't belong to another girl. It's obvious from the embedded designs; the daffodils and the minuscule dragonflies. Not to mention the carnation pink color.

She retracts her hands; an action that surprises her. "I don't need it."

"Take it," he says, with a cordial smile that brings forth unwanted memories and foolish expectations. It is the same smile she fell in love with, the same smile that only people special to Oikawa could see. It is kind and gentle; she loves it.

But she doesn't yield. Those days of halcyon and laughter are gone. Swallowed by time and will never come back. Memories bring many unwanted things, forgotten wishes and hopes, and almost everything that Akatsuki Mana dreads.

"I don't need it," she repeats firmly. "Thank you for the concern."

"Mana," he says. "It's your handkerchief."

"It's not mine," she says, and the acid is almost dripping from her voice.

"It's yours Mana," he says. "Don't you remember?"

Remember. What an ugly word.

"You gave it to me after our game with Karasuno," he informs, and there is that jovial tone in his voice that makes her want to explode into tears. "I was finished threatening Tobio-chan and his new team and then, you told me that I was so sweaty and... you gave me this. I haven't had the opportunity to give it back to you, but here it is. It's been with me for ages."

"You remember, don't you?" She doesn't.

But she knows. That if she dismisses that question, he'll be so heartbroken. He'll be sad and this- this bubble that gave her so much hope would burst and... she doesn't care anymore.

Remember?

He forgot. He forgot. He forgot. He forgot.

All those anniversaries, birthdays, White Days!

He had no right to be upset.

He had no-

But Mana is just a puppet. An empty shell of a girl. She can't afford to sadden him. She doesn't matter. She doesn't matter.

"I remember," she says with an endearing smile and Oikawa's facial features light up. He looks so happy... would she have been this happy if he remembered all those special days?

She accepts the handkerchief. "Thank you."

He ruffles her hair and plants a kiss on her hair. The handkerchief proved to be very useful in hiding the tint of red that spread on her cheeks.

The coffee shop is only a couple of blocks away. As usual, it's grey and white colors do not stand out and the metal chime that hangs on the entrance is still. From what she can see, there aren't many people. She can see two middle school students and an old man reading a newspaper.

Mana hurries. In no time, they are already in front of the coffee shop, hands entwined.

"I'll order for us," Oikawa says with a saccharine smile. "I'm getting a frappe. What would you like?" He should know by now. They've been dating for too long that it hurts to know that he hasn't memorized the same thing she orders.

But Mana cannot complain. Oikawa is not obliged to anyway.

"White coffee," she murmurs and gets the novel she's been trying to finish from her satchel. The novel is in the genre of historical fiction, an ample amount of mystery made it better and the smallest amount of romance makes the fans go on edge.

"I see," Oikawa replies and she almost forgets that he's there. She merely nods, immersing herself in the book.

Mana likes it this way. She likes the calm sensation that envelops every fiber of her body when she's alone reading a book. Once or twice, there is a thrill that runs through her spine and she likes that feeling.

It is melancholic too. Oikawa used to make her feel that way. When they were in their first year, he was a solace she loved. She loved how he pampered her. How he respected her privacy, but made sure to care for her nonetheless. ( She is selfish for wanting that from him, she knows. )

Oh, how things change.

Time is cruel, indeed.

It takes, and takes, and takes until you're left with only your miserable life.

And someday, time will take that too.

It took their love, and Mana wishes that it takes her life too.

Everything just hurts.

"Mana." She looks up to face him, tears threatening to pour from her eyes.

"Why are you crying? Are you okay?" Mana clamps her palm over his mouth, muffling his yells.

"The book... is sad," she lies, and makes a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Oikawa gently pries her palm from his lips and places the tray containing their beverages on the table. He gestures for her other hand and she gives it to him.

He holds both her hands tightly, enclosing them in his own. Mana looks bewildered. He always did it when he wanted to comfort her. It's been too long that she almost forgets the sweet gesture. Their hands fit perfectly together. And Mana used to like how it felt so warm. Now, it's just cold. It's like holding a corpse. (Mana is sure about the comparison, she's held the hand of one before.)

Oikawa's forehead brushes against hers, and there's that beautiful smile etched on his face.

What is he doing?

"It'll be okay, Mana," he says, softly. "It'll be okay."

It won't.

* * *

e n d.
-
[ Supermarket Flowers ]

'sometimes, it's just better to let go.'

[ a u t h o r ' s c o r n e r. ]

still unedited, lmao xD

in fact, every chapter i post here will be unedited. i'll finish it first before editing.