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It’s four in the morning when Kageyama’s phone goes off. He doesn’t have to look at the name to know who’s calling; he calls at around this time twice a month, and as always, Kageyama picks up. He knows he shouldn’t—he’s seeing someone and even if it’s not official yet, he needs to stop this and let go.
But when he opens his eyes and sees his and Hinata’s smiling faces staring back at him on his phone, his fingers ignore all the warning bells going off in his head and press the green button.
“It’s four in the morning,” he complains. There’s a laugh from the other end of the call, and the sound makes him forget he’s tired. He rubs the sleep from his eyes very well knowing he was going to be on the phone for a while.
“You didn’t have to answer, Bakageyama,” Hinata teases. He can hear the smile on his best friend’s face, and his mind starts to imagine the smile on his former teammate—maybe he’s tan now from all the beach volleyball, grown a couple of inches, stronger, but his smile remains as bright as the sun.
You shouldn’t have pictured that, his mind scolds him.
“Yeah, I did or else you would’ve called me again,” Kageyama responds with a smile of his own.
Hinata’s been in Brazil for about a year now, and to this day, Kageyama is not used to not seeing him on a weekly basis. He thinks of the night they last spent together; both drunk out of their minds, but being bold enough to be honest of how they felt for each other. He thinks about that night a lot, and he wonders if Hinata thinks about it, too. If he thinks about the nasty taste of vodka, if he thinks about how the sky was painted that night, if he thinks about the stupid game they played—if he thinks about the unspoken feelings thrown into the night, about the nerves that came with touching his hand.
He thinks Hinata doesn’t care.
No, I know he doesn’t care.
Three months ago, Yachi texted Kageyama; they kept up with each other after high school, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to text him. It started off normal, he remembers; they asked each other about their jobs, mental wellness, and even made plans to see each other within the month. Then she brought up Hinata and asked him how he felt about Hinata’s fling with Oikawa. A fling he didn’t even know was happening, and probably for a good reason, too. He recalls the ache in his chest; it was like a punch to the stomach and it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t text Yachi back after that.
He didn’t respond to Hinata’s random text messages or videos on snapchat for a while, but then the realization hit him about two weeks later: they were never dating to begin with, so he can’t be upset at Hinata because ultimately, in the end, they were just friends—nothing more, nothing less. He goes back to answering his messages like nothing ever happened.
In an effort to get over his best friend, Kageyama joins the dating scene. The first few dates are awkward, and it almost makes him quit; then he finds his old friend, Akira Kunimi.
Kunimi’s different from Hinata, and to his surprise, Kageyama likes it. He’s having fun and smiling and laughing that when the date comes to an end, he’s disappointed. He walks Kunimi back to his place and asks him if they can see each other again; Kunimi kisses his cheek before letting him know that he’s free on Thursday night.
They’ve been seeing each other for two months now, and Kageyama really likes Kunimi. He likes Kunimi so much that he’s asked Yachi for help on how to make it official (to which she gave him so many ideas that he’s not sure what to do).
But every time he thinks he’s ready, Hinata reappears into his life, and Kageyama lets him.
“You know me so well,” Hinata laughs.
Yeah. I do.
He lets Hinata ramble about the game he just finished, and every now and then, he chimes in with his own comment, usually just to tease or make fun of him. The more he hears Hinata speak, the more the warmth in his heart spreads. He misses him, but he knows he shouldn’t say that.
He thinks about Kunimi and his feelings for him. They’re real. What he and Kunimi share is more present than anything he and Hinata ever had (not that they ever had anything to begin with); he wants more than anything to leave his feelings for Hinata in the past and just solely focus on the man who actually cares about him. He knows he can do it—people move on every day. Hinata did it, so why is he struggling?
“I just hope you’ll be able to receive my serves one day,” Kageyama jokes when Hinata tells him about how much better he’s gotten at receiving.
“Oh, I’ll be able to do that, and so much more. Just you wait, Kageyama.”
Just you wait, Kageyama.
Just you wait, Kageyama.
“I’ll be waiting, dumbass.”
When the call ends, he dreams of warm golden rays and Hinata’s laugh. When he wakes, he calls Kunimi.
“I miss you, Akira,” he says. He means for it to sound sincere because, well, he does miss him. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth after the words are spoken—it feels like his first taste of vodka and the nasty burn that comes with drinking the liquor; it’s a gross feeling, and he doesn’t like the way it feels, but he means it. He misses Kunimi.
“I miss you, too, Tobio. Can I come over when you’re done with practice?” Kunimi proposes.
Or maybe he likes the way alcohol burns his throat.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” His heart rate speeds up at the thought of seeing him, but there’s a knot forming in his stomach that reminds him of Hinata’s existence.
It’s four in the morning when his phone goes off. There’s a groan followed by an outstretched hand reaching for the object that disrupted his sleep. He knows who it is. He doesn’t have to check, but he opens his eyes to stare at the contact picture set up for Hinata. He quietly gets out of bed, exits his room, and makes his way out onto the balcony so as to not wake Kunimi who’s lying next to him.
“You do know what time it is, don’t you?” Kageyama asks with a yawn. He leans forward, resting his arms on the rail. He stares at the moon shining over him and wonders if Hinata is staring at the sun.
“Why pick up if you know what time it is?” Hinata muses on the other end of line. He can hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, the sound of a pan being placed on a stove.
He’s cooking, Kageyama figures out.
Hinata’s question sits on his mind; Kageyama knows why he picked up the phone, and he thinks Hinata knows why too. They always dance around this question, never truly giving an honest answer, and he’s getting tired of playing this game. They’re not nineteen anymore, and Kageyama decides he doesn’t need vodka to be truthful anymore.
“You know why I always answer your calls.”
There’s a long silence. He doesn’t hear the sound of Hinata cooking either; he thinks maybe the call has bad service, but they’ve never had that issue before, which is how he knows Hinata is still listening.
Finally, the man who has been disrupting his sleep for the past few months responds. “Yeah, I know why,” he quietly says. There’s tension that follows his response, and he doesn’t know how to break it. Hinata does. “But I’m still here—”
“—for another year. Yeah, I know,” Kageyama finishes bitterly.
It’s unfair, he thinks.
“Look, Hinata,” he starts, “I’m seeing someone. You can’t keep calling me at four in the morning anymore. I’m trying to just be your friend, but it’s hard when I feel guilty for thinking about you while I’m with Akira.”
The words are out before he can think about what he said. Hinata didn’t know he was seeing someone, much less knew it was Kunimi.
“Oh,” is all Hinata says, and Kageyama feels the same ache in his heart that he felt three months ago. He’s only heard and seen sad Hinata a handful of times, and tonight, he was responsible for it.
“I’ll let you go then. Goodnight Kageyama.” Then there’s a beep and silence.
He’s no longer staring at the moon, but at the stars that decorate the deep blue sky; it’s four in the afternoon in Brazil, which means Hinata is staring at the sun—so Kageyama stares at the stars to feel closer to his old partner.
It’s four in the afternoon when he tells Kunimi he can’t give him a relationship right now. He expects Kunimi to lash out at him like he deserves, but when he tells Kageyama that he knows, Kageyama cries, and he decides he doesn’t like the way alcohol burns his throat nor his heart.
It’s four in the morning when he makes a phone call. It rings and rings and rings and rings; Kageyama’s starting to think he’s not going to answer, and he doesn’t blame him. This is the first time he’s reaching out in two months since they last spoke. The memory of that night is still fresh in his mind; he dreams about it often, and every time he does, he tries to stop himself from ruining his friendship with Hinata.
“Hello?”
He sounds confused and all Kageyama wants to do is cry because god, he’s missed his voice; his heart thumps and the old familiar ache is back.
“Shoyo,” Kageyama croaks. What should he say? What can he say? Is it too late to make amends?
There’s an inhale then an exhale. “Hey, Bakageyama,” Hinata softly says.
I have so much to say and so much to apologize for, Kageyama thinks, but first…
“I miss you.”
“I miss you so much.” A pause follows Hinata’s response before he continues, “I’ll be back in eight months. Wait for me?”
Kageyama stares at the moon while Hinata looks at the sun—a star in a sky they both share, just like the court they shared in high school, like the bottle of vodka out on the rooftop, like the unspoken feelings exchanged on his last night in Japan. They might not have shared much like he and Kunimi did, but the things they did mean so much more to him.
“I never stopped waiting, dumbass.”