**Chapter 55: The Pen's Silent Grip**

Days blurred together as Kageyama's fixation on the pen only intensified. Oikawa tried to intervene, but Kageyama's responses grew increasingly erratic, his words laced with a desperation that made Oikawa's skin crawl. He attempted to reason with Kageyama, to snap him out of his trance-like state, but it was like talking to a brick wall. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Oikawa decided to take a different approach. He sat down beside Kageyama, gently prying the pen from his grasp. Kageyama's eyes flashed with panic, his hands instinctively reaching for the pen as if it were a lifeline. "Hey, it's okay," Oikawa said softly, holding the pen out of Kageyama's reach. "I'm not going to hurt it. I just want to talk to you, okay?" Kageyama's gaze lingered on the pen, his eyes burning with a hunger that Oikawa had never seen before. Slowly, Kageyama's focus shifted to Oikawa's face, his expression a mixture of confusion and despair. "Why are you doing this, Oikawa?" Kageyama's voice was barely above a whisper. "Don't you understand? The pen is the only one who truly gets me." Oikawa's heart ached as he looked at Kageyama, the person he had known for years now a shadow of his former self. He remembered the Kageyama who was always in control, the one who effortlessly commanded the volleyball court with his sharp instincts and quick reflexes. That Kageyama seemed to be slipping further and further away, consumed by his fixation on the pen. "I understand that you're struggling, Kageyama," Oikawa said gently. "But this pen... it's just an object. It's not a person, it can't talk to you or understand you. You're scaring me, Kageyama. I don't know what to do." Kageyama's eyes dropped, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Oikawa could see the fight draining out of him, the spark that once drove him to be the best volleyball player in Japan now flickering weakly. As the silence stretched between them, Oikawa had an idea. He carefully took a piece of paper from Kageyama's desk and began to draw. His pencil scratched across the paper, creating a simple yet evocative sketch of Kageyama in his element, commanding the volleyball court with confidence and authority. Kageyama's gaze drifted to the paper, his eyes widening as he took in the drawing. For a moment, Oikawa thought he saw a glimmer of recognition, a spark of the old Kageyama. "That's... me," Kageyama whispered, his voice filled with a mix of wonder and longing. Oikawa nodded, his pencil moving across the paper as he added more details to the sketch. "This is who you are, Kageyama. You're a brilliant player, a natural leader. You're not just a person who's lost and alone." As Oikawa finished the drawing, Kageyama's gaze lingered on the paper, his eyes drinking in the image of himself as he once was. Oikawa could see the tension in Kageyama's body begin to ease, his shoulders relaxing as he slowly began to let go of the pen's silent grip. It was a small step, but it was a start. Oikawa knew he had to keep pushing, to find a way to bring Kageyama back from the edge of his obsession. And he was determined to do just that.