A Gentle Silence

The next morning, Kageyama woke up to find Oikawa sitting beside him, a gentle smile on his face. Oikawa had apparently spent the night on the couch, waiting for Kageyama to wake up. Kageyama's eyes met Oikawa's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Oikawa didn't try to talk to him or coax him into speaking. He simply sat there, his eyes locked on Kageyama's, a calm and patient presence. After a while, Oikawa stood up and walked over to the bedside table. He picked up a small bag he had brought with him and pulled out a brand new notebook. Kageyama's eyes widened as Oikawa handed him the notebook, a pencil tucked between its pages. "I brought this for you," Oikawa said softly, his voice a gentle whisper. "You can write if you want to. I know you can't talk right now, but maybe writing will help." Kageyama took the notebook, his fingers brushing against Oikawa's as he did. He opened the notebook, and a faint scent of fresh paper wafted up. The pages were blank, waiting for him to fill them with his thoughts and feelings. Oikawa sat back down beside Kageyama, watching as he tentatively began to write. At first, Kageyama just scribbled random lines and shapes, but as he continued to write, his strokes became more deliberate. He started to form words, and then sentences. Oikawa didn't try to read over Kageyama's shoulder or pry into his thoughts. He simply sat there, a comforting presence, as Kageyama wrote. The silence between them was no longer oppressive, but rather a gentle, soothing quiet. As the morning wore on, Kageyama continued to write, pouring his thoughts and feelings onto the page. Oikawa sat beside him, a patient and understanding friend, offering a listening ear – or rather, a listening heart. At one point, Kageyama looked up at Oikawa, his eyes searching for something. Oikawa met his gaze, a soft smile on his face. "I'm here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll wait for as long as it takes." Kageyama nodded, a small smile on his face, and went back to writing. The words flowed out of him, a cathartic release of emotions he had been unable to express. Oikawa sat beside him, a steady presence, as Kageyama began to find his voice again – not his speaking voice, perhaps, but a voice nonetheless.