You fiddled with your pen, glaring at the Geometry exercises scribbled in your notebook. "Shit, god damn it, I don't remember shapes being this fucking difficult," you cursed, smacking your head against the sheet.

It was late evening; thus, it was really dark outside. Streetlights illuminated the road and pavements very poorly. And it was so quiet.

You had your window open, letting the fresh air in. Letting it caress your hair gently and play with the flames of many scented candles you lit up to calm yourself down. Studying at least for the aesthetic, I guess.

You turned your head to the side, pressing your cheek against the paper underneath and hoping the pen had dried already and won't leave marks on your skin. You noticed an empty space on your drawer where the fabric camera case usually stood.

The image of a short grinning guy who's name slipped from your mind appeared in front of you. Why is it so important that I come to the next practice? You squirmed in your chair. Your butt hurt from sitting down for so long. "I swear if he goes through the photos- "

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"Gah, finally!" the boy plopped down on the sheets of his bed with a sigh of relief. Sweet heavy scent followed him out of the shower. His hair was damp, waterdrops slid down the strands and soaked right into the pillowcase. In his palms he held a small camera which he 'borrowed' from a certain girl.

He flipped the device over and turned it on. The last photo taken popped up on its display.

"Holy shit-" his eyes widened as he brought the camera closer to his face. It was a picture of him. With body just about to slide down to the ground to save the ball from making contact with the court's surface. "This one is really good!" he smiled widely. Not just because I'm in it, but it's like.. really good in general!
And the fact he seemed interesting enough for you to take a picture of him made the libero feel a certain way.

He pressed a button that took him to previous photo taken right before the match started. You wanted to capture the tension sprawling on the court, the seriousness in player's eyes.
Next one was a scene of an empty classroom. Peaceful and silent.

Photo after photo flashed before Nishinoya's eyes, which widened with each one that passed. They weren't particularly special. Maybe he'd even call them weird. There were many random objects, random places and scenes. And there were no selfies whatsoever. Not once he spotted your face in any of those. You always seemed to hide behind the camera lens. Until he reached the time period in which this device began to be used.

He fixed his eyes upon image of two people pressed close one to another. First face belonged to a girl whom he has never seen before. She had her nose pierced and her short hair was fiery red, with brown roots growing out.

Nishinoya sat up. "Huh? Who is that?" Yet, his gaze then moved to the second face. It belonged to you. Or better said to your younger self. The two of you were smiling widely, eyes almost disappearing in thin lines as your cheeks pushed your lower eyelids up. Despite the happy expression the dark circles under red-haired girl's eyes were clearly visible. Though, the short boy didn't seem to pay any attention to them. His attention was glued to you.

The time seemed to have stopped for a while.

Her smile.... It's so genuine. He thought to himself.
"Dude, it's- it's beautiful-"

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You groaned almost as if you were in pain. "I hate school so much. What use will this have for me in the future? Rather teach me how to do my taxes god damn it."

Your body was equally exhausted as your mind. And the assignment was only halfway done. Your teacher had no mercy when it came to homework. No, she had no mercy at all, saying it's all about practice. 'And the more you practice the better you'll be.'

"Suck my dick."

You always spoke your thoughts out loud, whenever you were finally alone. And your mother would always ask who you are talking to. And you would always say you're talking to yourself. Because it felt like only you would actually listen and understand.

People would even call you talkative if they saw your one-sided conversations taking place every evening.

"Y/n, are you still studying?" your mother knocked softly on your door, alerting you she's coming in before she actually did.

You nodded, not lifting your gaze from the papers. "Honey, you don't have to do it if you don't know how. We don't need you to have perfect scores in every subject. Take a break," she spoke softly, in a whispering manner, afraid of disturbing the peace if she let her voice raise even an octave higher.

You sighed. "You know I can't just not do it. The teacher will tear me in half."

"Oh please, she can't do that. Don't sweat it, okay? Me and your father are going to bed, you should too," you felt her worried gaze stick to the back of your head.

"Yeah, okay ma. Good night."

"Good night, dear."

A sigh escaped your lips again as soon as silence overtook your room once more. You did not go to sleep. Not very soon at least.

You were so tired by the time you finished; it was almost impossible to keep your eyes open. Knowing your answers were wrong anyway, you lifted yourself up from your chair and blew out the candles before moving over to your bed. The scent of burn filled the room immediately, white trails of smoke rising from the liquid wax and dancing in the air.

The most frustrating thing was that you tried. You really did, but somehow you could not figure out what was expected of you to do in those exercise. It made you feel stupid. Whenever it happened, your inner voices whispered unwelcome things in your ears, trying to bring you down. And fuck they knew exactly what to say.

I don't wanna lose control

Clock hanging on the wall began to count the minutes from zero again. And you didn't even realize when the time slipped you into another day.
You buried your face in your pillow, it was cold against your skin. Your breath becoming shallow and heartbeat increasing.

There's nothing I can do anymore

God, I'm so tired.
Why am I even doing this, what's the point?
It's just a waste of time.

Tears sprinkled in your eyes as the well-known unpleasant feeling began to bubble in your stomach. Salty tears overflew your eyelids and slid down your cheeks, onto the pillow your face pressed into.

Trying every day when I hold my breath

But it was such a nice day, why am I crying again...
Indescribable pain gripped your chest. It dug it's claws deeply inside, pushing the air out of your lungs. Making you gasp for it in desperation.

Spinning out in space pressing on my chest

I hate this feeling so much.

The silence suddenly became terrifying as you could hear every beat of your heart in it. Every sharp inhale as your body hyperventilated. Every sniffle.
And it felt so lonely. Because no one was there to help. No one could hear your cries. Your parents were sound asleep in their bedroom. And she... she was not here...
.
.
.
"I... I just miss you so much..."

I don't wanna lose control