Oikawa was contestant being treated by doctors outside of school, trying to find why he fell blind. It didn't compute to anyone -- why would a sense fall under itself without a reason?

But regardless, Oikawa showed up to school convincing himself that the other students were laughing with him, not at him.

And soon the retired setter's grade began to slip considerably. For a dumb, good for nothing, alien loving dork like Oikawa, his grades were shockingly high. The brunette was one of the best students in the class. But every day, his grades drowned, one less, two less, three less, four. Soon he began to be pushed under the their student's scores, falling to the bottom of the special needs class.

Despite even that, Oikawa forced his thinned lips to be curled up in a twisted smile, one that he forced the others to believe.

And every day, the same blind male would visit the cleared out gym after hours, failing to hit so much as one ball successfully.

And every day I followed quietly, leaning in the doorway and watching as my best friend failed at his passion.

Even if he were ever to hit the leather ball over the tall net so much as once, he wouldn't have been able to know exactly where it went. He could hear if the ball slumped left or right of the court's bounds, but he couldn't depict the height. Sometimes he could hear how far away it was North of him, or South. But most of the time all he heard was a ball fall pathetically to his trembling feet.

And every day the strength of his willpower worsened. His smile began to fade as the students lost interest in him. And the hope he had for recovering his long lost talent fell harder than the leather volleyballs at his feet.

And eventually, he broke.

He broke as the vision of his lifeless eyes did. He tossed the ball in the air, too far backwards, and it landed on his head. A small grunt escaped his quivering lips, and his eyes clouded with salty tears.

He hung his head, walking aimlessly through the gym. He headed to where he heard the happy chatters of those who had all their senses. He bit his pale lip, barely maneuvering through the scattered balls.

And there I watched, the pathetic figure of a man without hope as he continued to wander. He got closer and closer to the ball bin, and I opened my mouth to warn him, but nothing came out. He fell a moment later, stumbling against the bin and hitting the hard, polished gym floor.

And that's where he shattered.

He broke out in a fit of tears, the salty liquid falling down his face and shining the floor. He was in pain, but his heart hurt more than his physical body.

"Why? What did I do to deserve this?!" He shouted angrily through the empty room, as the huge walls bounced his words back at him mockingly.

"Give it back! GIVE IT BACK!" A small puddle dripped around Oikawa's fallen chest. He cried loudly, begging for someone to hear. All I could to was stare, my own lip starting to quiver gently as I watched. I hadn't cried in years, and I was about to.

The sight of a man who has lost his purpose is more pitiful than the sight of one who can't see.

So I watched, I stared, I listened. I watched as my best friend fell to nothing within himself, as I did nothing to help. I stared as he struggled to regain his stance. And I listened as he wailed throughout the gym, and the gym mocked it back at him.

I watched as he fell into shatters.