The final whistle blow announces the end of the
match and a devastating loss for Karasuno. You were so sure they’d pull it off in the end. Quickly you make your way
from the stands to the common area, looking for silver hair. When he comes out
of the arena your heart breaks; he’s barely holding it together.
You reach his side, trying to give an encouraging
look but it’s impossible; everyone feels this loss.
After a brief meeting with the coach he’s free to go
but just sits on a bench, staring at the sky.
“I don’t know what to say,” you murmur feeling
helpless.
Looking at you with sad but kind eyes he asks, “Can I hold your hand?”
Wordlessly you thread your fingers together, giving
his hand a squeeze before you both watch the clouds float by. Sometimes words
aren’t needed to comfort.
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