sponsorship - kenhina

the dimming of sunlight.

They always say that it's normal for you to experience homesickness in the first few weeks of being away from everyone and the place that you grew up in. They say you eventually get over it, that there will come a time where you are happy with where you are right now, and that you know that all the nights spent crying and wishing you were in your own bed back home are worth it.

Hinata Shoyo wants to ask if they're still worth it even after a month has passed.

Things take time, he knows that better than most. But everyone's patience grows thin, and Hinata isn't any different. By now, he sort of expected himself to have made some kind of progress. Any kind, even in the height department (though he knows that was kind of pushing it).

So why does this feel like a complete waste of time and energy? Why does he feel so helpless?

Those who graduated with him are doing so much better. Kageyama's playing in the international league. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are in college, and Yachi is working as a temp in a design firm. And here he is, sitting in his bedroom, crying his eyes out as his roommate sits in their shared living room, eating dinner and being carefree. Something in Portuguese is blaring through the speakers of their TV (a welcome gift from Kenma when Hinata moved in), but he can't be bothered to go and tell Pedro to turn the volume down. So he decides to hunker down in the bed, wrapping himself in the mass of blankets he had bought three days ago, and hopes that the tears will stop.

It's a stinging rampage on his face; they burn and bite more than insects do during the humidity. He knows that when he wakes up in the morning and washes his face that the person staring back at him will be someone else entirely. Someone with a red, splotchy face, eyebags that have seen better days, and the runniest nose known to mankind that would make doctors never ever want to approach him. They spill and they continue to spill, like a broken tap that just lets the water flow out in varying sizes of droplets even after you fix it.

It hurts, so so much. The pain he feels inside is worse than anything he's ever felt before. There's guilt and remorse tearing away at his soul, eating away at the tiny fibers that stitch together his very fabric of being. He feels like he's being ripped to shreds like a tailor undoing stitches to an already premade piece of clothing; he can't remember the last time he had ever felt so unraveled.

The buzzing of his phone beside him forces him to crane his neck to the side and check who could be calling him at this late at night. The call notification brightens up the phone screen; it makes him sick.

Through bleary eyes he tries his best to read the name on the screen, and once he's rubbed his eyes one too many times he makes out Kenma's name.

Why is he calling me?

Despite Kenma only fulfilling the role of sponsor during Hinata's time here, this past month has been the most lavish he's ever had to experience. Despite his current emotional state and how homesick he feels every day, Kenma has never stopped the barrage of gifts that are delivered to Hinata's shared apartment every two days.

First it was the television, which Pedro currently occupies during the night. Next was the package of books on physical health and nutrition, as well as a cookbook with a note attached to it, that read: For when you wanna try new things - Kenma. Soon after that, Kenma had made it a point to deliver the newest volumes of Hinata's favorite manga to him every week, and Hinata isn't sure if this was going to lead him to open a book rental here.

Apart from the books and television, Kenma had sent him a copious amount of money for his monthly allowance, which partly went to the blanket haul, but Hinata had put the rest into savings.