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Day 1: The Experiment Begins
Tendou’s POV
Tendou had always wondered what it would be like to be friends with Ushijima. Not just the self-proclaimed best friend he had made himself out to be, but an actual friend—someone Ushijima actively wanted around.
Because when he thought about it, it had always been him chasing after Ushijima, him pushing his way into conversations, him making up for Ushijima’s blunt awkwardness with jokes and deflections.
Ushijima had never sought him out first.
So, as a little test, Tendou decided he was going to stop talking to Ushijima altogether. Just for a few days. See what would happen.
He started that morning. No greeting in the hallway. No exaggerated yawn as they woke up in their dorm.
Ushijima didn’t say anything, but Tendou noticed the pause when he didn’t hear his usual “Morning, Wakatoshi~!”.
By the time practice rolled around, Tendou’s resolve had only strengthened. When Ushijima looked over after a spike, Tendou looked away. When he lingered near his usual spot beside him in the cafeteria, Tendou made a point to sit next to Reon instead.
When Ushijima—who never usually had to ask—gave him a short, expectant glance on the way back to the dorm, Tendou simply walked ahead.
Ushijima didn’t stop him.
And that, more than anything, set an uncomfortable feeling in Tendou’s gut.
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Day 2: The Cold Room
Ushijima’s POV
Ushijima did not need excessive conversation. In fact, he preferred silence to meaningless chatter.
But the silence Tendou left in his absence was different.
It wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t simply the absence of sound. It was heavy, pressing down on his chest, suffocating.
The first night was the hardest. The dorm felt wrong. Tendou wasn’t humming to himself while flipping through a manga. He wasn’t kicking his feet against the bed frame, ranting about some ridiculous fan theory he read online.
He wasn’t talking to him.
Ushijima stared at his textbook longer than usual that night, re-reading sentences without processing them. Normally, he could focus well. Tendou’s voice had never been a distraction before.
But this silence? This was a distraction.
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Day 3: Waiting for the Break
Tendou’s POV
Tendou thought Ushijima would have given in by now. That he’d at least say something, even if it was a flat, matter-of-fact "You are ignoring me."
But he didn’t.
He still passed the ball to Tendou in practice, still played alongside him like nothing was different.
The only thing was different.
Ushijima was playing worse.
Not dramatically, not enough for the coaches to say anything, but Tendou noticed. His spikes weren’t as sharp. He hesitated before serves. He was thinking too much.
It should have been funny. It should have been satisfying. But instead, it pissed him off. Because why wasn’t Ushijima angry? Why wasn’t he calling Tendou out for being petty? Why wasn’t he doing anything?
The fact that Ushijima wasn’t reacting at all made something ugly twist inside Tendou’s chest. It made him want to push harder.
And so he did.
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Day 4: The Deterioration
Ushijima’s POV
By now, it was clear this wasn’t a misunderstanding.
Tendou was deliberately avoiding him.
Ushijima still didn’t know why. He tried to retrace his words, tried to recall any action he had taken that could have driven Tendou away.
But his mind kept coming up empty.
That night, he hesitated before entering their dorm. He lingered just outside the door, listening.
There was nothing.
For the first time in years, he felt something he had never let himself acknowledge before.
He missed Tendou.
But he did not know how to get him back.
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Day 5: Spite
Tendou’s POV
Tendou could feel himself unraveling.
It had started as a game. A stupid, meaningless game.
But the longer Ushijima refused to break, the more bitter Tendou became.
It wasn’t fair.
He had given everything to this friendship. He had been the one to push through the awkwardness, the one to make them work. And yet now that he was gone, Ushijima just... took it. Accepted the silence.
It made Tendou furious.
So he ignored him harder.
He laughed a little louder at Semi’s jokes. He made a point to jostle shoulders with Yamagata. He made sure to look like he was thriving without Ushijima.
But at night, when the dorm remained cold and silent, Tendou couldn’t ignore the truth.
He had never felt lonelier.
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Day 6: Cracks in the Wall
Reon & Semi’s POV:
Reon noticed first.
Ushijima had barely spoken in two days.
It wasn’t that he was ever particularly talkative, but there was something off about his quiet now.
Semi picked up on it too.
It became undeniable when Ushijima, their ace, missed a simple spike.
"Okay, what the hell is going on with him?" Semi muttered as they rotated positions.
Reon followed his gaze, watching as Ushijima walked past Tendou without so much as a glance.
"...I think it has something to do with Tendou."
Semi raised an eyebrow. "Well, no shit."
Yamagata, who had been listening in, crossed his arms. "They haven’t talked all week. It’s creepy."
"So what do we do?" Reon asked.
Semi sighed. "We fix it."
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Day 7: The Breaking Point
The Third-Years
Semi had been watching Ushijima struggle for days now. The way his spikes had lost their edge, the way his usual sharp focus seemed dulled.
It wasn’t like him.
And it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
So when practice ended, Semi and Reon cornered Tendou in the locker room.
"Tendou," Reon started, voice even but firm, "this thing between you and Ushijima. How long is it going to last?"
Tendou, still changing his shoes, didn’t even look up. "Dunno."
Semi narrowed his eyes. "You’re being a dumbass."
Tendou scoffed. "Wow, thanks for the deep insight."
Reon crossed his arms. "You know he’s not okay, right?"
Tendou’s fingers twitched.
But then he shook his head, laughing under his breath. "He’s fine."
"He’s not."
Tendou let out an exaggerated groan. "Come on. He’s Ushijima. He doesn’t care about this kind of stuff. He probably doesn’t even notice."
Semi stepped closer. "Then you haven’t been paying attention."
That got under Tendou’s skin. His eyes snapped up, annoyance flashing in them.
"Oh, please," he said, voice thick with sarcasm. "Are we seriously acting like Wakatoshi ‘Volleyball Is My One And Only Passion’ Ushijima is secretly falling apart because I’m not talking to him? Don’t make me laugh."
Reon sighed. "Believe whatever you want. But ignoring him like this—it’s cruel."
Tendou’s jaw tightened. He stood up, grabbing his bag. "Well, maybe I’m cruel, then."
And with that, he walked out.
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That Night: Another Silent Night
Tendou’s POV
The dorm was dark when he walked in.
Ushijima was already there, sitting at his desk, staring at an open textbook.
Tendou didn’t say anything.
He dropped his bag onto the floor, kicked off his shoes, and climbed into bed without a word.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ushijima’s head tilt slightly, like he was considering speaking.
But in the end, he didn’t.
Tendou rolled onto his side, back facing him.
The silence was suffocating.
He clenched his fists.
This was what he wanted.
Right?
Something Tendou wouldn’t realize, was that the only thing holding Ushijima close to human society- was him. So without it, he would crumble and slowly retreat into the dark; just as he did before.
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Day 8: Crumbling
Ushijima’s POV
Ushijima had always been alone.
Even as a child, he had been different. Too blunt, too serious, too quiet. Other kids didn’t understand him, and he had never been good at understanding them either.
He had accepted it. Loneliness was just part of life.
Then Tendou had come along.
Tendou, who never seemed to care that Ushijima didn’t know the right thing to say. Tendou, who filled the space between them with noise, with laughter, with life.
Tendou, who had forced himself into Ushijima’s world without asking, without waiting for permission—until, one day, that world had started to feel less empty.
Now, that world was quiet again.
And Ushijima did not know how to stop himself from slipping back into the dark.
At practice, his spikes were slower. His reactions delayed. He still went through the motions, still followed the structure, but something was missing.
Volleyball was supposed to be everything. It was supposed to be enough.
So why wasn’t it?
At night, the silence of the dorm pressed down on him.
Tendou was there.
But he wasn’t.
And without him—without that tether holding him in place—Ushijima was slowly floating away.
Tendou didn’t notice.
Or maybe he didn’t care.
Ushijima wasn’t sure which was worse.
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Day 9: Fading Away
Ushijima’s POV
Ushijima had never been one to hesitate. His choices were deliberate, his actions decisive. There was no point in dwelling on things that could not be changed.
But now, everything felt… slow.
He caught himself hesitating before jumping for a block. His thoughts wandered in the middle of practice, his body moving out of habit rather than instinct. Even when he landed a perfect spike, there was no satisfaction.
Tendou didn’t react.
There was no obnoxious “Ohoho! Look at you, Wakatoshi!”
No exaggerated cheers, no teasing remarks.
Just silence.
Ushijima told himself it didn’t matter.
But something in his chest ached.
He ate slower at meals, but no one filled the quiet spaces. He walked back to the dorm at a sluggish pace, but no one waited for him. And at night, he stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Tendou shifting under his blankets, waiting for something that would never come.
It was happening again.
The slow retreat. The sinking feeling of becoming separate from the world, of slipping further and further away from human connection.
Before Tendou, this was normal. It was just how he existed.
So why did it feel unbearable now?
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Day 10: Unseen Damage
Tendou’s POV
Tendou should have felt victorious.
He had proved his point. Ushijima had let him go without a fight.
And yet, the anger that had kept him going for the past week felt hollow now.
Maybe because no matter how hard he ignored Ushijima, no matter how much distance he put between them, it didn’t feel like he had won.
If anything, it felt like losing.
But still, he pushed forward.
At practice, he threw himself into blocks, forced laughter with the others, acted as if nothing was wrong.
Ushijima didn’t react.
That was fine. It wasn’t like Tendou wanted him to.
At lunch, he avoided sitting anywhere near Ushijima.
Ushijima didn’t look for him.
That was fine too.
At night, the silence in their dorm was so heavy it made Tendou’s skin crawl.
Ushijima barely moved anymore. He sat at his desk long after the lights were off, staring at his textbooks without flipping the pages.
It was starting to get under Tendou’s skin.
But he refused to be the first to break.
So he turned away, closed his eyes, and forced himself to sleep.
He didn’t see the way Ushijima’s hands curled into fists, how his shoulders hunched just slightly, as if bracing against an invisible weight.
Tendou didn’t notice.
And Ushijima was already too far gone to pull himself back.
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Day 11: The Edge of the Abyss
Reon’s POV
Something was wrong.
Reon had suspected it for days, but today, he knew.
Ushijima had always been quiet, but now, it was like he wasn’t even there.
He moved mechanically, answering only when spoken to, his voice flat and distant. His eyes had lost something—some silent weight that Reon couldn’t quite name.
And Tendou—Tendou—still wasn’t talking to him.
Reon had given him time. He had hoped Tendou would see it himself, would snap out of whatever stubborn spiral he had thrown himself into.
But watching Ushijima now, barely reacting when Semi called his name, when Yamagata clapped a hand on his shoulder—
This wasn’t just an argument anymore.
This was something else.
Something dangerous.
Reon made a decision.
After practice, he found Tendou leaning against the gym wall, fidgeting with the strap of his bag.
“Tendou,” he said. “We need to talk.”
Tendou sighed, tilting his head back. “Man, why is everyone so obsessed with this?”
Reon didn’t waver. “Because whatever you’re doing to Ushijima? It’s killing him.”
Tendou scoffed. “Oh, come on. He’s fine.”
Reon took a step closer. “No, he’s not.”
There was something sharp in his voice, something heavy enough that Tendou finally looked at him.
Reon’s expression was unreadable.
“You don’t see it,” he said quietly. “Because you’re too angry to look.”
Tendou frowned. “Look at what?”
Reon’s jaw tightened. “He’s fading.”
Tendou blinked. “What?”
“He’s slipping away,” Reon said, voice low. “And if you don’t pull him back soon—”
He exhaled, shaking his head.
“You might lose him for good.”
Tendou stared.
For the first time, something cold and uneasy settled in his chest.
He didn’t want to believe it.
But suddenly, ignoring Ushijima didn’t feel so victorious anymore.
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Day 12: The Weight of Realization
Tendou’s POV
Tendou had spent the rest of the afternoon in a haze, the words Reon had said hanging over him like a storm cloud. He couldn’t shake the image of Ushijima, his eyes blank, his movements stiff. For the first time, Tendou started questioning his actions—why he’d pushed so hard, why he hadn’t noticed the warning signs earlier.
But even then, he didn’t expect what he would find when he returned to the dorm that evening.
The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering desk lamp near Ushijima’s bed, which was now empty. Tendou’s eyes scanned the space, finding the usual stillness where his roommate would have been, but today there was an unsettling absence of the man who had been a steady part of his life for the past three years.
On his bed, there was a folded piece of paper—neatly arranged, as if placed there with care. Tendou’s stomach dropped as he recognized the handwriting.
"I find myself unable to put my feelings into words—perhaps because there are none. Over the past few days, I've come to realize that you might have been the one thing that made me feel human. But it seems you’ve grown tired of that, and for that, I apologize. There’s no reason for us to remain close if all we share is a silence that only drains us. As for the notebook, I’ve created several drawings that may help you understand how I’ve processed our separation. They may appear graphic, but that’s because black was the only pen I had, and red represents you. Thank you for the past three years; those were the moments I felt most alive. If you wish to contact me, I am at home. Ushijima Wakatoshi."
Oh he royally fucked up.
Tendou’s hand trembled slightly as he finished reading. He’d expected silence, maybe an angry word, but this? This was something different. It was raw, honest, and broken. It wasn’t the kind of message he’d ever imagined receiving from Ushijima.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the paper, the guilt gnawing at him like an open wound. The weight of it pressed heavily against his chest. He’d been too wrapped up in his own emotions—his own anger and hurt—and had pushed Ushijima too far. He never stopped to think about what was happening on the other side of the silence.
But it wasn’t just the note that made Tendou’s blood run cold. It was what was lying next to it—the notebook. He reached for it slowly, almost afraid of what he would find inside.
When he opened it, the first image made him flinch.
It was a drawing of a figure, drawn in black ink, its body contorted in a twisted, painful pose. It was hard to make out the details, but the expression on the figure’s face was unmistakable—a mix of frustration, isolation, and sorrow. Tendou could feel his stomach tighten as his eyes moved across the page. The figure was drawn with sharp, violent strokes, as though each line was an attempt to claw through the pain.
But what struck him the most was the red—small, almost inconspicuous, but unmistakable when it appeared. Red filled the empty spaces, splattered across the figure’s chest and limbs. Tendou’s mind raced. Red is you.
It hit him like a punch to the gut. He was the red. He was the stain in Ushijima’s life. The one who had once filled his world with color, and now…
Tendou flipped through the pages. More drawings followed—some of the same figure, others of abstract shapes and symbols. Some were too graphic to even comprehend, others were muted but still full of meaning. And throughout all of them, the same themes emerged: isolation, frustration, and loss. And, always, that red—painful, harsh, and inescapable.
Tendou could hardly breathe as he turned the final page.
It was a drawing of Ushijima himself. He was standing, facing away from the viewer, his shoulders slumped. In his hands was a black pen—unfocused, as if he had just finished drawing the final lines of his descent. And in the corner, there was a single drop of red falling from his hands, staining the page like blood.
Tendou closed the notebook with a sharp exhale, the sting of realization settling in his gut.
Ushijima had never been good at asking for help, never good at expressing his pain. And Tendou had failed to notice it, to recognize it for what it was. He had been too caught up in his own frustration, his own feelings of neglect, and had completely overlooked how much his absence had affected Ushijima.
Ushijima had made it clear, but Tendou hadn’t been listening.
With a heavy heart, he turned back to the note, his fingers trembling as he reread it.
The words felt like a final goodbye. Tendou could feel his chest tightening, and the weight of guilt threatened to suffocate him. He had been the one person who kept Ushijima tethered to this world. He had been the one to keep him grounded. And now, it seemed like he had driven him away.
But there was something in the note that gave him a sliver of hope. Ushijima hadn’t cut him off. He had left the door open, if only just a crack. “If you would like to contact me, I am at my home.”
The problem was, Tendou wasn’t sure where that was. He had never asked.
He had never cared enough to.
The Third-Years’ POV:
When Semi, Reon, and Yamagata found Tendou later that evening, they could see the look in his eyes—the same vacant, guilt-ridden stare that they had hoped he wouldn’t develop.
“Did he leave?” Yamagata asked quietly.
Tendou nodded, clutching the note and notebook in his hands. He didn’t say anything at first, his voice stuck somewhere between his throat and chest.
The others didn’t need to ask further. They could see the damage.
It was no longer about fixing things or telling Tendou he was wrong. That much was obvious.
Reon was the first to speak. “You need to fix this.”
Tendou nodded slowly, though his hands still shook slightly. “I don’t know how. I—I didn’t realize… How could I have not seen it? How could I not have realized that he needed me?”
Semi stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t undo what’s been done. But you can make it right. You need to find him. Before he slips too far away.”
Tendou swallowed hard, nodding. “Wherever he is… I’ll find him.”
They watched him leave, knowing the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy. But they also knew that Tendou, for all his faults, would move heaven and earth if it meant saving the only friend he had ever truly cared about.
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Although the wounds would slowly stitch together, Tendou hadn’t realized, those where the last words Ushijima would give him, and they had been on paper. Through all that pain, that single drop of red, was Ushijima, letting Tendou apologize; even if he wouldn’t respond.
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Day 13: The Cost of Silence
Tendou’s POV
Tendou couldn’t sleep that night.
His eyes wouldn’t close. His mind wouldn’t stop. The images from Ushijima’s notebook played over and over in his head, the drawings haunting him in ways he hadn’t expected. He could still feel the weight of the words in that letter, how they had cut through him deeper than any insult or confrontation could have.
But it was the drop of red—the one that fell from Ushijima’s hands in that final drawing—that stayed with him the longest.
That red wasn’t just an apology. It wasn’t even an act of anger. It was a surrender.
A single drop of red, staining the page, was all that Ushijima had left to give. He had let Tendou apologize, even though he wouldn’t answer. He had given him that final piece of himself—his pain, his humanity, and his quiet acceptance that Tendou had hurt him.
And now, that drop was all Tendou could think of.
It was the last thing Ushijima had offered him. A silent, fragile offering that had bled onto the page like an unspoken plea for something—anything—to change.
But the silence remained. And it wasn’t the quiet of mutual peace. It was the kind of silence that cut through you, hollowed you out, and left you wondering if you could ever fix what had broken.
Tendou knew he couldn’t undo the past. There was no going back. What had been said, what had been ignored, was already out there. But he could still try to stitch the wounds, however jagged they might be. He could still go after Ushijima, even if he didn’t know where to begin.
The Third-Years’ POV:
Reon and Semi had expected Tendou to leave the moment he finished reading the letter. It had been hours since he’d found it, and they had been waiting for him to make a decision.
They were seated together in the common area, but no one spoke.
Yamagata broke the silence first. “What do you think? Will he find him?”
Reon shook his head. “I don’t know. But he has to. He doesn’t have a choice now.”
Semi looked down at his hands, his face unreadable. “It’s not about finding him anymore. It’s about what happens once he does.”
Yamagata nodded slowly. “Tendou has to realize—Ushijima may never come back.”
The words settled between them like a heavy fog. They didn’t say anything else for a while. There was no need to. The truth of it was too painful to speak aloud.
But they all knew: even if Tendou found him, even if he did everything right from here on out, things would never be the same. The words that had been written on that page—those were the last words Ushijima would give Tendou.
No amount of effort could undo the weight of that silence. And as much as they wanted to offer him comfort, there was none to give.
They couldn’t change what had already been done.