The volleyball hits the net and bounces to the floor. Oikawa tosses another ball into the air and hits it as hard as he can, serving it across the net.
Out.
Pathetic.
Another serve. And another. The volleyballs pound against the floor again and again.
Weak.
He serves until he runs out of volleyballs, his hand red and stinging. Then he gathers them up again and continues.
Worthless.
It's dark outside. The rest of the team left hours ago. Iwaizumi was the last of them to leave, after making Oikawa promise not to stay too long. He's probably texted him by now to check, but Oikawa's phone is tucked away in the bottom of his bag.
He hits the ball out again, wincing at the pain in his knee when he lands slightly off.
Broken.
Volleyball after volleyball slams into the polished floor, into the tight net, into the wall. Oikawa stares into the empty cart. He bends down to pick up a ball before stopping and standing up straight.
What's the point?
He smacks the cart with his right hand, sending it smashing into the ground. The sound of metal hitting wood echoes throughout the gym.
This was his chance. Their chance. How had he let this happen?
The back of his throat tightens, a burning feeling settling in his chest.
No, he won't cry over this. He hasn't cried all afternoon, and he's not starting now. It's useless. It's better to just… get better.
He jogs to the back of the gym and retrieves a ball, spiking it straight into the net. Tears of frustration burn in his eyes, and he rubs his face roughly, trying to control his gasping breaths.
Damaged.
The gym blurs as Oikawa serves again, the ball bouncing off the opposite wall. A few hot tears slip down his face, running down his nose and into his mouth. They taste like sweat.
No, no crying. He's the team captain. The shoulder to cry on. He doesn't get to cry, not even alone, in the empty gym, sore and frustrated and tired.
He attempts a serve again, a feeble cry slipping through his lips as his knee buckles and he falls to the floor.
Not good enough. Never good enough. Never enough.
Oikawa buries his face in his arms, slowly curling into a ball, and rubs his throbbing knee.
And he cries. Even though he's not supposed to.
There's a slight click as the motion sensing lights turn off.
And then he lies there in the darkness, the captain of Aoba Johsai, the Grand King, the supposed shoulder to cry on, in a crumpled heap on the floor, pathetic, weak, worthless, broken, damaged, never enough.
A/N: It was SO HARD not to give this a happy ending, as in very difficult not to have Iwa-chan swoop in when Oikawa needed him, but I needed to write something kinda angsty and sad, so this happened.
Anyway, thanks for reading! Your feedback is appreciated, but please be gentle! I'm new to this!