Chapter Text
Kageyama has never been very good with goodbyes.
They never came naturally to him, they never slipped off his tongue as easily as a set off his fingertips.
His goodbyes were always clumsy, his tongue flopping uselessly in his mouth as his words twisted into something others thought too simple.
“See you.” was the most common response, and this came when his older sister boarded a train, on her way to cosmetology school. His parents just looked at him, before tearfully hugging their daughter goodbye. He tried to say something else, something meaningful, but his lips wouldn’t move and he couldn’t think of anything more to say.
His sister was already waving goodbye from the train window before he knew it, and he hesitantly waved back, his hand heavy with words he couldn’t even think of, and waved uselessly with the regret of not knowing how to say goodbye.
Kageyama never really improves as he grows.
His sets, his spikes, his serves, he hits them again and again, practice after practice, night after night, and they improve, they evolve, they get better because Kageyama gets better, he evolves, he sets to his teammates with full faith in his sets.
But he never improves at goodbyes.
In Kageyama's first year at Kitagawa first, Oikawa graduates.
Oikawa receives the best setter award, and he promises to defeat Kageyama.
Kageyama just offers him a tissue.
(Looking back, he doesn’t remember being that gentle. That naive. He just hears himself asking oikawa to please teach him how to jump serve, he hears himself asking his teammates how the toss was. He doesn’t remember how it all felt. He doesn’t remember how he could be so soft.)
And when Oikawa sees him in the gym, practicing on his jump serves after practice, he just laughs.
“I'm going to defeat you someday, Kageyama, you hear me?” he proclaims, pointing a long finger at Tobio. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes next to him.
“Okay.” is all Kageyama says, and tosses the ball again, jumping to hit it. He sees the two of them walk out in the corner of his eye, Iwaizumi pushing Oikawa against the doorframe.
Kageyama hears a “hey!” and mumbled complaints, but they fade away soon after.
The serve lands out of bounds.
He doesn't see Oikawa again until their practice match against Aoba Johsai.
He’d been aware it was a goodbye, Oikawa's promise. and Kageyama was two years below him, so even if he went to Seijoh, he wouldn’t have seen Oikawa for two more years.
He knew that day in the gym was a, at the very least, temporary goodbye.
And “Okay.” was the only thing he could bring himself to say.
He tosses again.
When Diachi and the rest of the third years graduate, Kageyama doesn’t know what to say.
Tanaka and Nishinoya are sobbing by Kiyoko, the latter looking troubled as they pull on her sleeves and wail “Please don’t leave me, Kiyoko!”
Ennoshita and two more of the second years are talking with Diachi, tears welling up in their eyes as they bow. Diachi looks surprised for a moment, then bowing a second later.
(Kageyama quietly raises an eyebrow at Diachi’s welling tears)
Asahi and Sugawara are standing to the side, chuckling as Hinata tells Asahi how he is going to be the ace after Tanaka, and make both his senpais proud.
He conceals a smile. Of course he is.
The sun is starting to set, a mix of golden yellow and the vaguest of purples blending together, and Kageyama lifts his head to peer at the slowly darkening clouds.
Somehow, this felt perfect.
A perfect ending to the beginning of something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.
“It's going to rain soon.” a voice comes from next to him, and Kageyama jumps, pulling his eyes away from the sky.
Sugawara stands next to him, also tilting his head upwards to look at the sunset. He doesn’t look back at Kageyama, nor does he say anything.
“How do you know?” he asks, looking back up.
“You can feel it, if you pay attention.” answers Suga, letting a small smile play on his lips. “My mother taught me, when I was younger. She insisted that the country was the only place you can properly tell if a storm is coming. The air smells a certain way, and you can feel the vague static in the air that only comes with a big storm.”
“Oh.” is all Kageyama says.
Suga looks at him, finally taking his eyes off the clouds. “Do you think Hinata will become the ace?” he asks, and catches Kageyama off guard.
“Huh? Oh. Probably.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Me too. He's had his eyes set on that position since the day he saw the tiny giant play.”
Kageyama and Sugawara let a few moments of silence pass.
Kageyama fidgets, his filed down nails lightly scraping at his palm. What should he say? ‘goodbye?’ too formal, probably. ‘I'll miss you guys?’ too weird, too much of an end. They’re not dying, Kageyama thinks to himself.
“I-“ Kageyama starts, figuring a generic goodbye would be better than none, but his tongue twists in his mouth and his lips crack. “I-“ he tries again, but his tongue just flops uselessly in his mouth. His eyes almost water in frustration as sugawara looks at him. He needs to say goodbye, especially to him after what he gave up for Kageyama to steal his position.
Come on, he scolds himself, clenching his hand into a fist, even if it’s just a ‘see you later’, I need to say goodbye.
“There's going to be more first years next year,” Sugawara interrupts his frustrated inner dialogue, eyes turned away from him and back onto the darkening clouds. “We made it all the way to nationals. I imagine you and Hinata will be some sort of inspiration for kids to join our volleyball club.”
Kageyama notices the way his voice catches on “our”. He doesn’t comment on it.
“Probably.” He responds, and says nothing else. He can't find anything else to say.
“Take care of the next generation, yeah?” Sugawara says, a smile playing on his lips. “Try not to scare ‘em.”
Kageyama scowls despite the pang in his chest at the finality in Suga’s voice, a reminder that he’s really leaving. “Why would I scare them?” He mumbles, his scowl deepening as he hears a muffled chuckle from behind him.
“Hinata!” He whips around and makes a grab at a puff of orange hair, a growl escaping his lips as it ducks out of sight with a delighted laugh.
“I didn't even say anything!” Hinata protests as he dances out of Kageyama's attempted punches, a bright smile almost splitting his face in half. “Though, Sugawara-senpai is right! You have a scary face!”
“I was born with this face, you idiot!” Kageyama lunges again and manages to grab a skinny arm, pulling Hinata down with him as the latter trips Kageyama ungracefully.
Hinata makes an undignified squeak as he tumbled to the ground, right in Kageyama's ear, and Kageyama growls, going to hit him again, but a shouted voice freezes them.
“You guys better not be fighting!” Diachi yells at them, head tilted away from his conversation with Ennoshita.
“No, captain!” They both yell, scrambling to get off the ground and dust off their uniforms. Hinata sticks his tongue out at him and Kageyama scowls.
On his right, Sugawara laughs. “Glad to see nothing will change without us.”
The third-years leave. And Kageyama doesn’t say goodbye the way he really should’ve.
“See ya, Kageyama.” Diachi says, and Asahi slaps his back, Augawara smiling as Kageyama mutters an “ow.”
“Keep Hinata under control, okay?” Diachi continues, which earns a high pitched “hey!” from across the yard, but they ignore it with a small smile.
An emotion flashes across their faces, only for a quick moment, and Kageyama puzzles at it, unfamiliar to him. He hasn’t really seen it before.
“Bye, Kageyama.” Sugawara mutters, and they all wave everyone behind him.
All Kageyama can do is wave at their backs, his hand heavy and unsure.
Asahi, Sugawara and Diachi all leave. And all Kageyama can do is wave hesitantly and wait for the storm.
(Kageyama Tobio isn’t very good with goodbyes.
but Hinata Shoyou has always been an expert in reading his mind, so Kageyama finds he doesn’t have to say anything at all.)
Karasuno High School
June 14, 2014
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
He comes into the gym before graduation, like he knew Kageyama would be there and receives the ball Kageyama serves easily, like he was made to.
They both say “See you later.” But it doesn’t feel right.
Kageyama wonders if Hinata was satisfied with their quick goodbye, but he and Hinata are too similar, and Hinata has always been able to read Kageyama's mind, so it’s not enough for him either.
After graduation, Kageyama and Hinata meet again in the gym.
And it’s almost like their first meeting all over again.
It's exhilarating.
Kageyama grabs a ball, and he doesn’t have to say anything to Hinata because they both know exactly what they’re going to do.
This is how they say goodbye.
How else would they do it?
Kageyama throws the ball, and lifts his hands to set the ball for Hinata.
His hands gently cup the ball, and Kageyama doesn’t even have to look to know where to set it.
It’s a habit, it’s a routine.
The ball leaves Kageyama's hands and it says: I don't know if I remember how to play without you. Truly without you. I hate you for what you’ve done to me. I hate you for making me feel invincible with you. I hate you, Hinata. and it should be a relief that I'll finally play without you, but it’s not and I hate you for making me feel this way. We’ll be separated for the first time since you crashed that camp like a moron, and I want to feel happy, and I want to feel free, because I get to play against you someday, but I'm not. I want to beat you, Hinata Shoyou and you’ve made it a thousand times harder because I'll miss you and how can I defeat you if I don't even want you to leave?
Hinata doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even glance at the ball because he knows it’s going to be there, and as the ball hits Hinata’s hand, it says: I know. We’ve been partners for 3 years, and I don’t know if anyone could possibly make me feel like I do when I hit your sets. I’m going to miss that feeling. Kageyama Tobio, I hate you too. I hate that we make a perfect team, I hate that our attacks make me feel like nothing else in the world could amount. I hate your perfect sets. I hate that we fit together so well. I hate that if you asked me to stay, I might actually consider it. Please don’t ask me to stay. I need to beat you. I need to beat you and I have to leave. I have to leave this gym, this country, this partnership, and I know you wouldn’t ask me to stay, but I'm begging you not to ask. I have to see you on the other side of the court. I have to defeat you.
Hinata's hand swings down, hitting the ball with raw power, and it says, with Hinata and Kageyama's combined efforts: I know I'll miss you, and I hate that you made me feel that way. I'll miss you, and this. This, right here. This attack, this gym, this partnership, and I wish I knew how to say goodbye properly, I wish I knew how to hold you in a way that wouldn’t hurt.
The ball slams against the floor.
But, for now: this.
Hinata lands.
And there is nothing else to be said.
They take down the net, retrieve the ball, and put everything back in its place.
It’s familiar, it’s routine. The silence feels right.
Within the coming weeks, volleyball practice will continue. The gym will be unlocked, the balls will be rolled out, the net will be put up, and the sound of spikes will echo from the polished ceilings.
But for the first time in nearly three years: Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shoyou will not be there.
Hinata locks the gym.
Neither of them look back.
Kageyama Tobio’s apartment
November 7th, 2015
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
Kageyama blinks at the box on his doorstep.
The box shifts.
Kageyama wonders if the exhausting practice he’d just come from was enough to make him hallucinate.
“Uh.” He says as the box continues to shift and, at one point, makes a small sound.
He approaches the box carefully when he spies a note taped to the top, labeled Kageyama in neat handwriting.
The box lays still as he walks toward it. He snatches the note, quickly stepping away from the package. He almost laughs at himself as he does so.
It’s not a bomb. Stop being all jumpy. He eyes the note. It’s not a bomb. Right?
Kageyama, the note reads. Tried to catch you before practice, but I missed my train! Sorry to dump this on you, but I found this stray cat behind my apartment building!
Kageyama narrows his eyes at that. Cat? That would explain the movement and sounds emanating from the box. He reads further, frowning.
Unfortunately, I can't take it in, Tsukki’s allergic :( None of my coworkers can take it in, and I even asked around to Yachi and Diachi and everyone, but none of them have space/have leases that allow pets. Hinata suggested you!
Kageyama scowls. He did what?
Apparently, he knows other pro volleyball players that have pets, and said that “it might help him finally relax and stop being so uptight” (his words, not mine!) Could you take it in? I’d owe you a huge favor!
- Yamaguchi :)
He finishes reading the note, then reads it again. The frown doesn’t lift on his face, and the box moves again as he reads the note for the 5th time. He pulls out his phone.
To: Hinata Shoyo
Why did you tell Yamaguchi to give me the cat.
He gets a response almost immediately.
From: Hinata Shoyo
Because he didn’t have anyone else to go to.
And maybe a cat will help you to be less moody all the time.
To: Hinata Shoyo
I’m not moody. And I'm not taking the cat in.
From: Hinata Shoyo
Come onnnn, idiotyama, he’ll have to put it in a shelter if you don’t.
He sighs.
To: Hinata Shoyo
And that’s my problem why
From: Hinata Shoyo
Pleaseeee? I’ll bring you back milk from Brazil if you do.
To: Hinata Shoyo
Dumbass, the milk would go bad on the 19 hour flight
From: Hinata Shoyo
Fine, I’ll find something else to bring you. Pleaseee can you take the cat in?
Kageyama stares at the plea with disdain, already feeling his resolve melting. “Fuck,” he mutters, typing out his response.
To: Hinata Shoyo
Fine
From: Hinata Shoyo
=)!!!
Kageyama wrinkles his nose, and pockets his phone. He stares at the box again, hearing tiny noises from it.
He sighs again.
Pulling out his keys, he unlocks the front door, leaning down to pick up the box with a mix of fear and care.
He pulls the box inside, shutting the door and locking it.
Now what? His mind supplies as he stands in front of the box, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Would the cat be too intimidated if he were towering over it? He sits down. Don’t be ridiculous, he chided himself, cats are probably used to people towering over them. He stands up.
Kageyama never had pets growing up. He remembers begging his parents for a dog at age 9, but they just sighed and continued on their business calls.
He remembers a lot of conversations going that way.
Shaking his head, he sits down again when he remembers it’s a street cat, so it probably hasn’t been around a lot of humans.
He stands up again as he realizes it could be dangerous.
Fuck, this is ridiculous, he thinks and gingerly takes the box lid off, revealing a ball of all-black fur.
He waits for the cat to attack him.
The cat just hops out of the box and scurries down the hall, disappearing around the corner that leads to the bathroom.
He sighs, and pulls out his phone
To: Hinata Shoyo
Dumbass
Not a minute later, he gets another text, this time not from Hinata.
From: Tsukishima Kei
Sucker.
Kageyama leaves him on read.
From: Hinata Shoyo
Did you get cat food and toys for him yet??
What are you gonna name him
Make sure he eats!
Kageyama
Are u asleep
To: Hinata Shoyo
Stop bugging me
From: Hinata Shoyo
You haven't gotten him food yet have u
To: Hinata Shoyo
Shut up
From: Hinata Shoyo
I’ll stop bugging you when you get him food!
Also I’m thinking you should name him shadow! Bc he’s like a shadow :D
Kageyama sighs. While Hinata was annoying, he was right. Kageyama hadn’t gone to the store yet, opting to collapse on the couch instead. His body seemed to pull him down, exhausted with the practice that comes with being in pro volleyball.
Damn it, Hinata. He thinks as his phone buzzes again, and he scowls at another obnoxious emoticon looks up at him.
Dragging himself from the couch, he heads to make coffee, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his phone vibrates and he types out a response with a frown.
To: Hinata Shoyo
Fine. But if it gets too annoying I’m gonna name it after you.
Kageyama wakes to Hinata’s eyes next to his.
He blinks slowly, his eyes blurry with sleep, and he jumps when he realizes how close his cat is.
“Fuck,” he swears, righting himself on the bed just in time to avoid falling off.
Hinata just blinks at him, tilting his head curiously.
“Damn cat.” He mutters, running a hand through his mused hair. He glanced at the clock, sighing when it reads 6:00am.
Damn. Today is a rest day and he had planned to sleep in, usually finding his days boring without the thrill of playing running through his veins. He looks back at his ruffled sheets, thinking about going back to sleep, but his body protests, itching already for his morning run.
“Fuck,” he says again and glares at Hinata, but it’s half-hearted at best as the cat lays down, right where Kageyama had been sleeping, and curls himself into a tight ball. He spends another second staring down at his now-asleep cat, before turning on his heel.
“Sleep well, Hinata,” He whispers, trying and failing to sound annoyed as he closes the door on his way to make coffee. He ignores how the name rolls off his tongue, rusted and unused, but familiar all the same.
The sun is already sending glowing rays all over his furniture as it rises, and he squints at the brightness as he walks from his dark bedroom. Making his way over to the coffee machine, he pulls his phone from the counter, absentmindedly scrolling through the texts from his teammates as he ruffles around the cabinet for his package of coffee mix.
He calls his sister back as the machine bubbles, spilling coffee into a mug he’s had since he was 6, a gift from his grandfather. It’s faded now, the colors of the volleyballs decorating the mug now the vaguest blue and yellow. They talk about her job, her complaints and customers, and Tobio tells her about his scrimmage last week.
He sips his coffee after they hang up, scrolling through his instagram his manager had talked him into getting, to “interact with his fans”. He didn’t understand, still doesn’t, but keeps it for the purpose of scowling at the screen when Oikawa or one of his teammates posts something weird. He takes another sip, narrowing his eyes when he sees a new post from Oikawa, clicking on it with disdain when he sees Oikawa’s cheerful face, grouped together with the faces of his teammates. He scowls as he usually does, and goes to close out the post, but the caption catches his eye.
Heading to Brazil this week! Gonna beat everyone there obvi!
He goes to scowl deeper but he can’t find it in himself as he reads the word “Brazil”.
Karasuno High School
March 15th, 2013
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
“I’m going to Brazil.” Is the first thing Hinata says when he sees Kageyama at the end of their second year.
“Oh.” Is what he replies, in lieu of a better response.
Hinata seems to wait for him to say something else, widened eyes staring into Kageyama’s long enough for the latter’s chest to twist into something he doesn’t like. He looks away first.
“Now?” Is the next thing he says, the question feeling stupid before it even leaves his mouth.
“No,” Hinata frowns. “Not now. A year after we graduate.”
“Oh.” He says again, feeling dumb as his tongue can’t seem to work out any other words. He takes another sip of milk to avoid the responsibility of speaking next.
“I’m gonna be gone for 2 years; Coach Washijo set it up for me.”
Kageyama frowns as he remembers the Shiratorizowa coach, old and petty, and he wonders how in the world Hinata managed to convince him to help.
“Are you gonna tell me not to go?” Hinata asks, and stares at him again, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
They both sit in silence for a few more seconds. Then: “I’m going pro, V1. I’ve already had scouts talk to me.” He says, breaking the suffocating silence. He hasn’t planned to tell anyone, much less Hinata until their third year, but in the wake of what he’s been told, he feels obligated to share his after-graduation plans.
“Oh.” Is all Hinata says back.
“Do you even speak Portuguese?” He asks, remembering Hinata’s shitty grades on his last English test. “It’s similar to English, right?”
Hinata sighs. “I’ve started lessons. Coach says it’ll be easier to learn when I’m actually there and that’s all anyone speaks.”
Kageyama ignores the song in his chest at the second mention of Hinata leaving. He wants him to leave. He wants Hinata to get better. He needs him to.
He frowns as a thought comes up. “Why Brazil? Other countries probably have better volleyball teams.”
Hinata puffs up his chest, and Kageyama resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Beach volleyball!”
“Beach volleyball?”
“Yeah! It’s like regular volleyball, but apparently way harder to learn, and the sand is super different from hardwood floors!”
Kageyama asks the only question that matters.
Well.
The only question that should matter. “Are you going to get better?”
“Yes.” Hinata’s response comes without hesitation. “I’m going to get better. And then, I’m gonna come back to beat you.”
Kageyama smiles at the promise. He thinks of his grandfather’s words.
That someone better is Hinata Shoyo. He’s sure of it. He’s been sure of it ever since that 3-on-3 game, where the sound of Hinata’s palm slamming against the ball echoes in the gymnasium where they were destined to spend the next 3 years together.
And if Hinata needed to go somewhere to make sure of it, well.
He would be damned if he let the urge to keep Hinata drown that out.
“That a promise, dumbass?” He asks, leaning against his arms and glancing at his spiker. The setting sun was shining on his face, his eyes turning the color of whiskey in the sun. He closes his eyes, and tilts his head towards Kageyama.
“Yeah. That’s a promise.”
And that’s all Kageyama needs.
(And so, he ignores the pangs. He ignores the aching that twists in his chest when he brings up Brazil. He ignores how his heart races when Hinata smiles at him, truly smiles at him, with a face-breaking grin. He ignores how his skin warms when they slap their hands together in celebration of a win, or the nailing of a quick attack, or a block point. He ignores the feeling that rises in his gut when Hinata asks him to toss for him. He ignores it. He ignores all of it, because they made a promise. Hinata Shoyo is going to Brazil, and he’s going to get better and one of them is finally going to beat the other. So he ignores the longing. He ignores the blushing when Hinata touches him. He ignores the fact that sometimes, only sometimes, he finds himself struck with the need to tell Hinata to stay.)
(Hinata Shoyou has always been that someone better. So Kageyama shoves it all down, and just smiles at his partner.)
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
Kageyama Tobio’s apartment
November 7th, 2015
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
Kageyama wonders what the weather in Brazil is. He wonders if Hinata put on enough sunscreen. He wonders if he were there, if Hinata would let Kageyama put it on for him. He imagines his own hands, well taken care of and gentle, rubbing white sunscreen on Hinata’s tan skin, running over newly-acquired muscles and calluses and popping veins. He imagines how close he would be, if Hinata could feel Kageyama’s breath on his neck as he works up his arms and down his back, feeling between his shoulder blades, pressing down on pressure points just to hear Hinata gasp and-
Jesus Christ. What the fuck?
Was he- fantasizing about Hinata?
No. There’s no way. He’s not gay.
(Right?)
Kageyama shakes his head, more ferociously than he usually does to clear his thoughts, and stares down at Oikawa’s stupidly happy face. He scowls, half at Oikawa, half at his persisting thoughts.
Ugh, he thinks as his eyes refuse to refocus, a blurry outline of people in blue shining up at him. The word “Brazil” is still painfully clear, and he tries, rather unsuccessfully, to not think about it.
He’s probably gotten taller, too, his brain adds unhelpfully, and Kageyama scowls deeper. How do you think he looks jumping from the sand?
Kageyama shuts that down before his mind can wander again, abruptly standing from his chair, setting his mostly-empty cup down. His body is still restless, even more so with the coffee, itching to get moving, so he obliges. He changes out of his pajamas and into his work out clothes, grabbing his jacket as he eyes the weather on his phone.
He’s not thinking about how he used to race with Hinata. He’s not. He doesn’t think about his loss to win ratio with Hinata as he steadies his breathing, jogging down the street. He doesn’t think about how Hinata’s cheeks colored every time he flopped down outside the gymnasium doors, proclaiming victory with a smile on his face. He doesn’t think about how he used to look at Kageyama after they raced, after they nailed another quick attack, after Kageyama praised him with a “nice kill”. He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about how Hinata’s overgrown hair used to fall into his face in third year, he doesn’t think about how the corners of his eyes used to crinkle with each ear-to-ear smile he gave Kageyama. He doesn’t think about any of that.
He doesn’t think about it so successfully, in fact, that he almost runs into a stop sign.
Fine. He admits as passersby give him a quick, concerned glance as he tries to play it off with nonchalance. Okay, fine. Maybe my mind’s wandering a bit. But it’s fine.
He shakes his head again, trying to reset his mind. What were his original plans for today, anyway? He had woken up 3 hours earlier than he’d planned to, and he doubted a nap later would happen. He curses Hinata in his head, looking around as he picks up his quick pace again, his death turning white in the cold weather.
His thigh buzzes, once, then twice a second later. He sighs, sliding the phone from his pocket and slowing to a brisk walk, not trusting himself to not run into a pole again. He scowls when he sees who it’s from.
From: Hinata Shoyo
How’s the cat??
Have you named him yet :0
Kageyama rolls his eyes.
To: Hinata Shoyo
He’s fine.
I named him dumbass
From: Hinata Shoyo
D:
You remembered to feed him right??
Kageyama scoffs. Of course he did, how could he forget, with Hinata’s incessant texts from yesterday?
To: Hinata Shoyo
Of course I did. Not everyone is a dumbass like you
From: Hinata Shoyo
:D
Gotta go to sleep, I’ll text you when I wake up to make sure you feed him again!
To: Hinata Shoyo
Please don’t
But he doesn’t get a response, and sighs. Damned cat.
Damned cat? His mind provides. Don't you like him texting you more?
Nope. He shakes his head. He doesn’t. It’s annoying. He despises it.
And with an exasperated sigh, he finds himself looking forward to Hinata’s later text as he picks up his pace again, increasing the brisk walk to a sprint.
Damned cat. He thinks again. Damned Hinata.
He doesn’t imagine Hinata behind him, almost catching up. He doesn’t imagine Hinata laughing next to him, keeping up with Kageyama easily. He doesn’t think about a cancelled practice in their 2nd year, and he doesn’t think about him and a boy, burning him with a bright smile.
He doesn’t.
There are no stop signs in sight, only billowing grass and children’s laughter, so Kageyama successfully doesn’t think about it, until he does.
Hinata Household
February 10th, 2013
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
Kageyama doesn’t remember coming here. He doesn’t remember why he came here. All he remembers is being in his room, listening to the muffled sounds of his parents whisper-screaming, thinking their son was asleep, and turning in his bed, flinching as his mother mentions his name. All he remembers is walking past his parents, their fighting forgotten for a second as he walks by, pulling his jacket from the coat rack and shoving his feet into his running shoes. All he remembers is trying not to slam the door as he leaves, as the fighting picks back up, the sound following him out before he closes the door. All he remembers is the cold whipping his face, coloring his cheeks as he huffs out white breaths. All he can remember is the sound of his feet on the sidewalk, on the grass, on the road as he runs and runs, running while thinking I wish my home felt like home.
He doesn’t remember running up that hill to get to the Hinata household, but his legs burn, telling him he did, and his breath wheezes slightly.
He just stares at the plaque that reads “Hinata”
And he wishes, for the 5th time today, that Coach wasn’t sick, that he could set volleyball after volleyball to Hinata, to anyone, and feel giddy with the control he has on the court. He wishes Coach didn’t have to cancel practice, and he especially wishes Ennoshita didn’t know them as well as he did to text them “Today’s a rest day. If any of you come in, I will personally kick your asses. Especially you two, Hinata and Kageyama.”
His fingers tingle as he turns around, and he clenches and unclenches them, taking a deep breath as he prepares to run down the hill.
Thump. Thump.
Kageyama stops, tilting his head at the unmistakable sound of a volleyball hitting someone’s arms.
Thump. Thump. He hears again.
Thump. Th- “Damn it.”
The sound is cut off as the person bumping the volleyball most likely had it fly off their arms.
“Sloppy technique.” He can’t help but mumble with a smile on his face. Of course Hinata would still have a volleyball in his hands even if practice was cancelled. He moves his head back to stare at the bottom of the hill and starts to walk-
“Kageyama?” A surprised voice says, and he cringes. Shit.
“Hey, Hinata.” He tries to say with his usual annoyed voice, but it’s an octave higher than he intended.
“What are you doing here?” Hinata asks with a cocked head, volleyball tucked under his arms. “We didn’t have plans, did we?”
“No.” He says too quickly. “No. I just...went for a run and ended up here by accident. It’s fine.”
“By accident.” Hinata’s raised eyebrow burns into him, unbelieving.
“Yeah, dumbass, by accident.” He spits out, almost rolling his eyes out of habit. “Whatever. I’m gonna go.”
“Wait!” Hinata runs out, faster than Kageyama can move, and grabs his arm. “Come toss to me!”
Kageyama ignores how his skin flushes hot at their contact. It’s the temperature. Obviously.
He sighs, volleyball idiot at heart, and says “Fine.”
“Yes!” Hinata celebrates, pulling him towards the house with the arm that isn’t holding the volleyball. Kageyama stumbles, caught off guard, but regains his footing as they bound through the front door, and the shorter boy lets go of him as they both slip off their shoes.
Hinata’s mother peeks from the kitchen, and beams when she sees him. He’s only been over twice, once to retrieve his homework Hinata had accidentally taken home like a dumbass, and the other for an impromptu study session, even though they were equally terrible at the subjects they’d been attempting.
“Kageyama-san.” She greets, and Kageyama bows slightly.
“Hinata-san.” He greets back, and she smiles.
“We’re gonna go practice!” Hinata practically yells, vibrating with excitement, and ignores the urge to scowl. The smaller boy grabs their shoes and bounds to the back door leading to a backyard.
“Okay!” His mother yells back as he slides the door open. “Try not to get too dirty!”
Hinata just laughs at that, and leads Kageyama to the net he has set up in the grass of his backyard, tossing the dirty volleyball to him.
“Toss to me!”
Kageyama just looks at him. “We just did this yesterday, dumbass. Why are you so excited about it.”
“Oh, so you haven’t been itching to play today, to?” Hinata questions, pointing a finger at him.
He just rolls his eyes, and lets the volleyball roll between his hands. “Fine.”
He gets into position near the net, and watches as Hinata throws him the ball, his fingers capturing the curves, holding it for a few milliseconds before sending it to an already-flying Hinata Shoyo.
The setting sun glows in Hinata’s orange hair, and it curves around the sharp angles of his face, of his neck, of where his collarbones jut out just above the neckline of his shirt, and his shoulder blades flex under the tight shirt. Kageyama can’t look away. He watches as a muscled arm swings back, and he watches as Hinata’s eyes follow the fast ball, and he watches the smile grow on the other boy’s face as he swings his arm forward, palm meeting faded leather.
He lands milliseconds after the ball slams onto the opposing side, rolling in the grass before coming to a full stop.
Hinata ducks under the net, retrieving it, before walking over to Kageyama.
“Again.”
And Kageyama is helpless to say anything but yes.
Hinata’s mother calls them in after it gets dark, to both of their disappointments. Though, Kageyama thinks, they could play until the sun rises and still not be satiated.
“Dinner will be ready in 20 minutes!” She calls over the sound of a sizzling pan. She peeks her head out again. “Will you be staying for dinner, Kageyama-san?”
“I-“ He starts, then closes his mouth as words escape him. Should he? Contrary to other people’s perception of him, he wasn’t an intentionally rude person, and he tries to think of a polite rejection, not wanting to impose further. “I d-“
“Of course he is!” Hinata interrupts him, slapping his back. He jumps, and scowls. “Right, Kageyama?”
Hinata looks at him with a grin, and he finds himself saying. “Yes, if it’s no trouble.”
“Of course it isn’t!” She says with the same tone as her son.
“Should we go upstairs?” Hinata suggests, and Kageyama flushes for some odd reason. Probably because of the practice outside. He goes to respond, but before he can open his mouth, he feels weight on the side of his torso, almost making him stumble.
“Kageyama!” The weight shouts out, and a pair of wide eyes stare into his with the same intensity the boy next to him does.
“Oh.” He says, reaching a hand to pat the back of the girl hugging him. “Hello, Natsu.”
He looks to Hinata for help as the weight doesn’t cease, but he just stands there, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he watches his little sister latch onto Kageyama.
“Do you want to see my stuffed animal collection?” Natsu asks as she hugs him, only detaching her head from his torso to ask the question.
“Uh.” He says, still looking at Hinata. The other boy shrugs. “She’s been really into that kind of stuff lately.” Then, to Natsu: “Aren’t you getting a bit old for that stuff?”
“Am not!” Natsu fires back, pouting.
“Are too.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“I’d like to see your collection,” Kageyama cuts in, just to annoy Hinata.
“Yay!” Natsu exclaims, and almost slips as she runs up the stairs, eliciting a “be careful!” from her mother.
Hinata sticks his tongue out at Kageyama, face as childish as his sister’s. Kageyama tells him so.
The shorter boy just scoffs, and looks away, pouting.
Natsu bounds down the stairs a few seconds later, lugging a basket full of colorful lumps.
“Look, look!” She insists, plopping down in their living room, pulling on Kageyama’s pant leg to do the same. He does so after Hinata.
“This one’s my favorite!” She starts, pointing at an obnoxiously orange rabbit. “His name’s Shoyo! I named him that because he looks like my big brother.”
“Huh.” Kageyama says, looking between the rabbit and Hinata, pretending to think. “It does look like him, doesn’t it? Same obnoxious hair-“
“Hey!”
“And they oddly are both childish things-“
“Am not!” Hinata’s voice comes but it’s half hearted at best, a laugh cresting in his words.
“And they’re both really small.” He finishes, flicking his eyes to a red faced Hinata.
“I can’t believe I’m being bullied in my own house.” He just scoffs, but his lips betray him, twisting into a small smile. Kageyama finds his own lips mirroring the other boy’s.
Natsu begins to rattle about her second favorite stuffed animal, a bright pink elephant, and handles it with gentle fingers when she hands it to him, wiping the dirt from the volleyball off on his pants.
He can feel Hinata watching from the corner of his eye, and he ignores how his heart races when he catches him, Hinata looking away quickly.
The blush he feels creeping up is interrupted by Natsu placing another stuffed animal in his hands, this time a pitch black bird. A crow, he thinks.
“This one looks like you.” Natsu whispers, staring at it with wondrous eyes.
Kageyama gives a quick surprised look, then whispers back “Yeah. It does, doesn’t it?”
His voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been since his grandfather-
Since-
He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He inspects the animal closer, and finds it had bright orange eyes, empty and plastic, but reminiscent of the boy next to him, fiery and passionate.
He smiles, letting his lips rise and his eyes spark and he doesn’t fight the warmth in his chest. He looks at Hinata again, as the small stuffed animal in his hand is switched out with a flash of black and orange, but he can hardly pay attention as he catches the eyes of the bright boy to his left.
Hinata’s eyes are wide, unmasked and readable, shining with something Kageyama can’t identify. He looks at the discarded crow, then back to Kageyama, then his eyes dart a kilometer lower, almost as if watching his soft smile.
“Oh.” Hinata breathes out, wondrous and somehow, final. If he was going to tease Hinata about how stupid he looked, that word cut it off, and his tongue feels twisted. He can vaguely hear Natsu in the background, ranting about her collection and what the names of all her stuffed animals mean, but he can’t make out the words.
He shifts as Hinata looks at him, truly looks at him, and he feels his skin heating.
Oh, Hinata had said. Oh. Oh. Oh. The word echoes in his mind.
And when Hinata’s lips twist into a thoughtful smile, and when his muscles shift underneath his sweaty shirt, and when his hair falls into his eyes and he shakes it to the side, his collarbones moving with his neck-
O-
No.
Kageyama stands abruptly. “I should.” Is all he can say.
“Okay.” Hinata looks up at him, eyes no longer passionate, but filled with poorly masked disappointment.
Natsu frowns up at him, stopping mid-rant. “Kageyama-san?”
“I have to go.” It’s everything Kageyama has to say to this.
“Oh.” She responds, her eyes shining with disappointment, somehow different from the boy in front of him.
He walks to the door, slipping on his shoes and jacket.
He doesn’t look back.
When he arrives home, his parents are still fighting, though not as passionate. They barely spare him a glance as he takes off his shoes and slips upstairs to his room, barely managing to shut the door before he collapses to the floor.
He wonders if he can ever forget that look in Hinata’s eyes.
He wonders if he can ever forget what he came close to tonight.
And when something in his jacket digs into his side, he puts a hand into his pocket, wondering if he’d left his keys or wallet in-
A small, stuffed crow stares at him with orange eyes.
And Kageyama just curls up on the uncomfortable floor, and cries himself to sleep.
Kageyama Tobio’s apartment
November 7th, 2015
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
When Kageyama gets back from his run, wheezing slightly, successfully avoiding all poles and stop signs, he hopes that the restless energy inside him has simmered down. He just wants to shower, change. and take an hour nap, maybe even two-
No such luck. After he hops in the shower and cleans the sweat off, regaining his breath, his body still thrums with the thought of Hinata.
“Fuck,” He mumbles as he reaches for the shampoo, sighing.
After he towels off and changes into an Adlers hoodie and sweatpants, he walks to the kitchen, gulping down water. As he wipes his chin, he leans against the counter, noting the time.
8:30, a half hour before he would regularly wake up on his rest day. He usually goes to the grocery store around noon, as he knows it’s usually crowded in the morning and he really doesn’t want to deal with that. He feels too restless to sit on the couch and watch those horrific Spanish dramas Romero swears by, so he sighs and sits down, sipping on his water.
He technically could go on another run, he just had to be sure not to overexert himself, so it would have to be slower paced, but it sounds better than sitting restless in his apartment. Maybe another run would be enough to drive this Hinata-rooted problem from his thoughts.
But before he can get up, already contemplating how long he could run for before needing to stop and cool down, his thigh buzzes, long and loud. He furrows his eyebrows before he takes another sip of water. Was Hinata...calling him? He hadn’t spoken to him, actually spoken to him since…
See you later, Kageyama!
He pulls his phone from his pocket, slow and hesitant, almost afraid to eye the screen.
He relaxes as he doesn’t see the words Hinata Shoyo fill the screen, but freezes as he does register who’s calling him.
Oikawa Tooru, his screen reads.
And Kageyama chokes on his water.
Oikawa? He hasn’t spoken, or even texted him since their last game in high school.
He coughs as the water goes down, bumping a fist against his chest
“H-hey, Oikawa.” Tobio answers slightly sputtering.
“Hey!!” Oikawa exclaims from the other end, and Kageyama oils the phone back, frowning. “How’s it going, Tobio-chan!”
“Good?” Kageyama hesitates, still holding his phone 4 inches away from his ear, cautious of Oikawa’s yelling.
“Yeah, yeah, Iwa-chan I’m- anyway. How's the pros treating you?” Tooru speaks to someone quietly interrupting him before turning his attention back to Kageyama.
“My team is doing fine, Oikawa. Why are you calling me?”
“What, I can’t call my best rival out of the blue? You must’ve missed me- ok! fine, I’ll ask him. Anyway, I have a bet with iwa-chan and I need you to settle it for me.”
“Ok?” Kageyama starts, deeming it safe to take another sip of water while Oikawa quietly argues with Iwa.
“Were you in love with Hinata? Yes, right?”
Kageyama spits out his water.
“What?” he exclaims, looking sourly at the water he’d spilled.
“You heard me, Tobio-kin. You were, right? I saw the way you- hey! He hasn’t said no yet, iwa!”
Kageyama was frozen, mouth agape. tiny drops of water dripping from his lips. “I- I,” he starts, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth. He can’t speak.
In love with Hinata? What? Oikawa was either out of his mind, which wasn’t implausible, or he was just asking that to fuck with Kageyama. He goes with the latter.
“Are you fucking with me?” he asks, his words slow as his tongue slowly started to work.
“What? Tobio! I would never!” A pause. “Ok, maybe I would. Regardless! You were in love with him right? Just say yes to I can prove this jerk wrong, he’s so confident, ugh-“
“No.” It feels like a lie.
Oikawa falls silent. A quiet “Told you!” echoes in the background, but the both of them say nothing.
“Really?” Oikawa breaks the silence first. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s weird’?” Kageyama asks, but either Oikawa doesn’t hear him, or he just ignores him; either way, there is a quick “Alright, thanks Tobio-kun! Alright, alright, don’t get too cocky, Iwa-chan-“ and then a loud click to signify the end of the call.
Kageyama stands there for a moment, phone still raised to his ear, wondering what the hell just happened.
“Were you in love with Hinata? yes, right?”
“Because Hinata’s leaving. And you still haven’t told him you’re in love with him yet.”
Karasuno High
February 3rd, 2014
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
It’s raining.
Kageyama hates the rain.
He's in the locker room, in the midst of changing for afternoon practice, eyeing the door for the blur of Hinata racing him to the gym.
First years talk amongst themselves, eyeing Kageyama occasionally, a tiny spark of fear lighting up their eyes.
Kageyama’s always scared of the newcomers, no matter how hard he tries to be nice. Once, he went to congratulate a first year student whose name he can’t remember, and he let out a strangled scream as Tobio raised his hand for a high five.
Tsukishima never let him live it down.
He sighs, wondering why the hell Yamaguchi made him vice-captain in the first place.
The door opens and closes as his teammates leave to join practice one by one, Kageyama still eyeing the door as searches his bag for deodorant.
“So.” Tsukishima starts, and Kageyama jumps. He didn’t even realize he was there. Tsukishima was like that, despite his height, able to sneak up on anyone quite easily. “Did you hear about Hinata going to Brazil after he graduates?”
“Yeah.” Kageyama finds his deodorant, and quickly applies it, still looking at the door.
“What do you think about it?” The taller boy has opted to lean his arm against one of the many shelves in the team room, looking as smug as ever. Asshole.
“I don’t know. Why do you care?”
“Because he’s leaving. To a different country. And you still haven’t told him that you’re in love with him.”
Kageyama goes rigid. Tsukishima’s smirk doesn’t fade, but doesn’t grow either. They’ve both frozen in the wake of what he said.
Kageyama tries to open his mouth, tries to speak to refute the accusation immediately, but his lips stand stubborn, and his tongue flops uselessly in his mouth.
He doesn’t expand, doesn’t make fun of Kageyama for being speechless. He just stands there, quietly, patient for Kageyama to regain his ability to talk. He stands there as if there is nothing left to be said.
A whistle is blown before Kageyama is able to move, and Yamaguchi sticks his head in. “Tsukki?”
Tsukishima just shoots Kageyama a look before leaving, letting the door swing closed behind him.
In love? With Hinata?
Gross.
Kageyama scoffs.
“I-I'm sorry, Kageyama. I won’t do it again-“
No.
Shut up.
Tobio shakes his head, and then the rest of his body, as if to shake the accusation from every inch of his skin.
He wasn’t in love with Hinata.
Wasn’t in love with the way he smiled, as if nothing in the world could possibly knock it off his face. He didn’t love his stupid optimism. He didn’t love the fact that Hinata always knew what Kageyama was thinking. He hated that, actually. He didn’t love the way the edges of Hinata’s smile crinkled, and he definitely didn’t love Hinata’s laugh of pure joy.
He didn't love Hinata’s growing muscles. He didn’t love the way he jumped with full confidence to Kageyama’s sets. He hates everything about Hinata.
He wasn’t in love with him.
As if on cue, Hinata popped his insufferable head into the room. “Kageyama? Ha! You’re not even dressed! I win!” shoyo exclaimed, laughing in a way that made Kageyama furious and warm at the same time.
(Shut up.)
Kageyama growled in response, pulling his jersey on furiously, chasing after him with a “Hinata, you moron!”
No, he wasn’t in love with Hinata.
Tsukishima never mentions it again.
Hinata leaves exactly a year after graduation, just like Kageyama knew he would.
Kageyama gets recruited by one of the best volleyball teams in Japan.
They part ways for the first time in two years, ever since Kageyama was invited to U-19 and Hinata crashed the rookie camp.
He ignores the longing. He ignores how, sometimes, he will toss the ball and there will be no sound of a spike because he tosses it too high, because he thought of a boy with orange hair who made him feel invincible, who made him feel like practice wasn’t exhausting work, like they were just too puzzle pieces clicking over and over again, each click more satisfying than the last. He tosses it too high, sometimes, because he thinks of a boy who made him feel like he didn’t need to go home because he was already there. He ignores it, and adjusts. “Sorry!” He calls out to the spiker, and tosses again.
Kageyama Tobio’s apartment
November 7th, 2015
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
Kageyama stares at the contact information on his phone, feeling like it’s burning a hole in his hand. A smiling Hinata Shoyou beams up at him, frozen in place by one of the former first years snapping a picture. Below that, his name shines in the brightness of Kageyama's phone. His finger hovers over Call.
After Oikawa had hung up and left him with so many questions, he’d remembered how he thought Hinata was calling. How he’d almost been okay with it. He remembers how close he thought he was to hearing Hinata's voice again. He remembers how his heart raced and how his breath stuttered at the possibility of speaking to Hinata again, of hearing his laugh, of hearing how his voice had deepened or grown softer or had an accent.
He had wondered how much Brazil would’ve changed his voice, so he’d pulled up Hinata's contact information without a second thought, and almost called him.
Almost.
But his finger had frozen when he saw Hinata's photo, eyes so full of happiness and joy as he laughed. and he’d stopped.
What am I doing? He thinks to himself, his throat catching the more he stares at Hinata’s genuine smile. Call him.
But his finger doesn’t move, can’t move, so perilously close to calling him that he’s frozen.
Call him. He thinks more urgently, telling his body to move, to hit the button, to hear the call ring and connect, to find out how much Hinata’s voice has truly changed with the overbearing sun and unforgiving sand, but he’s stuck. He can’t move.
The corner of Kageyama’s eyes prickle, and his body unfreezes as he moves to throw his phone on the couch, burying his face in his hands.
“This is so stupid.” He mutters to himself, almost laughing despairingly. “Why can’t I call him?”
His question hangs in the empty apartment, heavy. He breathes in, trying to take a deep breath, but it stutters in his chest, his chest suddenly shaky and unreliable, and he breathes out much too soon. He can feel his throat tightening, his eyes squeezing shut as he gulps down a breath, greedy for relief for his burning lungs, but it’s not about breath, it’s not about inhaling because his lungs are satiated with the new breath but his chest burns with something, something horrible and unidentifiable, and he can’t breathe again but it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter because Hinata’s face is burned onto his eyelids even though they’re squeezed shut, and his mind is suddenly filled with questions he could answer if he just picked up the god damn phone and called him-
“Why can’t i just fucking call him?” He chokes out, barely managing to speak. He wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to, but he can’t because he can barely breathe in his apartment where his only company is a cat whose namesake is 13,000 miles away. He digs the heel of his palm into his eyes, pressing and pressing until he sees stars, and he only takes them away when he’s sure he won’t cry.
I’m fine. He tells himself as he tries to take a deep breath, failing the first few times, hands shaking as he retrieves his phone. His eyes avoid Hinata’s beaming smile, going back to his list of contacts. His fingers tremble as he tries to formulate a text to him, trying to at least find comfort in a text, if he couldn’t call him. He grips his phone tighter as it threatens to fall to the floor in his sweaty grip. I’m fine. He thinks again, lying to himself as he tries to breathe steady breaths. His fingers hit the screen, slummy and uncoordinated, and he chokes out a curse as he licks on the wrong contact, wiping his eyes as tears threaten to spill over. He goes to hit back to find the contact he was looking for, but freezes when he sees what he clicked on.
Hinata Shoyo (old number)
His fingers continue to shake as he stares at an older picture of Hinata, this time from their first year that he never bothered to change, his face tiny and childish with the same smile. He finds his lips upturning at the memory of Hinata forcing Kageyama to take this picture, the Tokyo Skytree standing tall in the background.
He hits the call button before he knows what he’s doing, holding the phone up to his ear, holding it in place with his shoulder. His breath stutters as it rings, once, twice, five times before he stops breathing as he hears a click.
“Hey!” Hinata’s voice greets him. Kageyama drops the phone.
“Fuck,” he mutters, scrambling to pick the phone up again. He brings it to his ear, tongue scrambling to work out a response.
“What’s up?” Hinata’s voice asks.
“Uh.” is all Kageyama can say, rendered speechless. Hinata had gotten a new phone when he moved to Brazil, needing an international plan and therefore a new phone, but he’d refused to give up his old phone and sim card. He'd insisted I don’t want anyone to have my number! Kageyama told him he was stupid, obviously, but the other boy paid no attention to him, instead tucking his phone in his home desk, in the very back of his drawer. What are you gonna do with it? Kageyama had asked, scowling. I’m gonna keep it! And...I dunno, I'll figure it out! was the response he’d gotten.
and as far as Kageyama knew, it remained in the back of his desk when Hinata went to Brazil. “I-“
He’d interrupted by Hinata’s voice. “Ha! I’m just screwing with you!” It says, and Kageyama, out of habit, scowls. “I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes!”
Kageyama is gonna kill him.
“Catch you later!” The other line exclaims. A quiet beep comes next, followed by a few seconds of silence as Tobio catches his breath, flexing his fingers in an effort to stop the shaking.
“Hey, Hinata.” He breathes out, his voice only slightly shaky. There’s no response as he fully catches his breath, and he summers in the silence before clearing his throat. “It’s uh, been a while.”
Even with no one on the other end, it still feels pressuring, still feels like Hinata is there, still feels like he’s going to fuck something up if he speaks again, so he stays silent for a minute. Then: “I’m sorry I can't call you.”
No response, just like he expected. Just like he wants and doesn’t want.
He takes another breath in, even breathing finally achieved. “It’s not that I don't want to hear your voice. It’s not that I don't want to talk to you, I just...I don’t think I'm ready yet.”
He resists the urge to cringe as he says it. Christ, was he a teenager going through a breakup? He mentally smacks himself as he gathers the last pieces of his almost-breakdown.
“I hope you haven’t gotten sunburnt yet. I checked the weather for Brazil earlier and-“ Kageyama doesn’t even let himself finish the sentence before he actually smacks his forehead. What, was he a mother now? Get yourself together.
He clears his throat again. “We played against the Red Falcons last week and crushed them.” He ignores the urge to say I wish you could’ve been there to see it. “I bet I'm improving faster than you. I scored 3 service aces off them.”
He imagines Hinata's surprised expression, and smiles.
“We have a scrimmage this week.” He continues, then stops, awkward silence hangs over him, and he struggles to think about what he would actually say if he were talking to Hinata. It’d be about the cat, most likely, at Hinata’s insistence.
“The cat’s doing good, I think.” He pauses. “I lied to you, earlier. I named him Hinata. He was getting annoying, just like you.” I didn't do it because I missed you. I didn't name him after you so I'd have an excuse to call your name again. “He takes after you, though. Eats way too much and bites me when he doesn’t get his way.” He chuckles, remembering the cat’s incessant yelling when he’d forgotten to feed him at night.
“Saw on instagram that Oikawa’s going to Brazil.” He says after a moment of quiet. I'm jealous. It’s unfair he’s closer to you than I am. “I wonder if you’ll run into each other.” Probably not. Brazil's a big country. But I'm still jealous because he’ll be near you and I'm still 13,000 miles away.
Kageyama's throat tightens as he says "I hope you’re getting better.” His voice does not crack as he whispers “You promised.”
Christ. He thinks again. When did I get so soft?
“I-” he tries to say something to cover the unusual gentleness, but scouring his mind leads to nothing but:
I miss-
Kageyama hangs up the call before he can even finish the thought.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Hey, Hinata” I don't think I'll ever get used to being away. it fucking hurts. “We won the scrimmage I was telling you about.”
The silence on the other end perseveres, and he tries to imagine Hinata responding. He tries to imagine Japanese with a twinge of a portuguese accent. He tries to imagine a deeper, familiar yet unfamiliar voice.
“The cat’s still doing good. She's been sleeping with me more often and not waking me up as early on my off days. I, uh, got the outfit you mailed for him.” His fingers gently rub the orange material. “It’s ridiculously ugly. Can’t believe anybody could look at this thing without getting a headache. He ran off as soon as he saw the damned thing and I don't blame him.” He huffs out a laugh. “I did eventually get it on him, though. Sent a picture to tsukishima after i sent it to you, just to piss him off. I think he might’ve blocked me though.”
He lets silence hang for a moment before straightening, remembering the events of two days ago. “Oh! Everyone went drinking the other night after our win, and Ushijima got really drunk. I didn’t even know the guy drank. He starts babbling on and on about chocolate, I think it was? Turns out, he’s having relationship troubles with his fiancé who lives in Paris. Romero mentioned how in love Ushijima must be to drink like that, and that led to another rant about distance and the unfairness of love and more chocolate talk and he eventually passed out on the table at the end of the night. Hoshiumi wanted to draw on his face, but Coach wouldn’t let him, something about giving the guy a break.”
He imagines Hinata laughing at the story. He imagines anything but the resounding silence he’s left with
A loud meow interrupts him as he breathes in to talk about how he heard something in the news about Brazil, and he jumps. “Christ,” he mutters, looking down at his cat. “What, Hinata?”
He just meows again.
Checking his watch, he sighs as he remembers that he always feeds Hinata around this time.
“Gotta go, Hinata” He closes out, and stands.
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Tendou-san! He’s engaged to Tendou-san!” he takes a deep breath, laughing on the exhale. “Holy shit.”
The sounds of roaring laughter and chatter continue as he leans against the cool tile of the bar bathroom wall. “Never in a million years would I have guessed him. I mean, he mentioned something about him and fiancé being high school sweethearts, but shit. They’re total opposites.
Opposites attract, his mind provides. He thinks of bright orange hair and pitch black hair, he thinks of a beaming smile and a scowl-
No.
He clears his throat, suddenly suffocating with the silence he thought he would’ve gotten used to by now. He had called Hinata, well, his voicemail in a rush because he was the first person Kageyama wanted to call with his excitement. With the initial goal of his fulfilled, he didn’t quite know what to say.
“Um-“ he starts, and almost drops the phone as the door bangs open.
“Kageyama!” the familiar voice of his captain booms out, and Kageyama whirls around to look at him.
“Yeah?” he manages to reply, just barely.
“Come on, get out here!” He gets in response, his hair ruffled as he’s dragged back to the table. He smiles as Ushijima beams up at him, his cheeks flushed with color from the booze.
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Hey, Hinata.” He can hardly speak. “I- I found-“ a choked cough. “Do you remember that canceled practice in our second year?” I do, and I don't want to because I can never forget how you looked at me, how your eyes shined with the horrible realization and I wish you don’t remember because I know loving me was one of the biggest mistakes you ever made. I'm sorry you had to love me. I found the bird.” It still has eyes the color of your hair. I felt this...burning in my chest when I saw it and I haven't been able to breathe properly since I picked it up. “How is natsu?” I never told her I was sorry for leaving too early. I never stayed for dinner until I was sure you knew how to hide your lovesick from me. I'm sorry you fell for someone who made you do that. “The bird is smaller than I remember. Its hair is matted and one of its legs is bent at a weird angle.” But it’s still perfect because it reminds me of you.
A huffed out laugh. “Do you remember the look in Ennoshita’s eyes when you slipped up and mentioned that we practiced on our rest day? I thought he was going to make us run 10 more laps, the way his eye twitched. He was even scarier than Diachi sometimes, not that we’d ever tell him. You remember when we were racing and got lost? I think we ended up near...Seijoh? We had to call Coach to come get us and I thought Ennoshita’s face would stick with that scowl by how long he held it.” He smiles as he imagines what Hinata would say if he were actually on the phone.
You’re one to talk, Kageyama! He would laugh. Kageyama can almost hear it.
“Oh! and do you remember when the third years came to visit, right before pre-lims? Sugawara practically gasped when he saw you receive one of Yamaguchi's jump floaters, but I could hardly hear it over Nishinoya yelling excitedly at Asahi." It was a good day. You fumbled a receive to one of my serves because you kept trying to show off. I don't think I was even mad at you when I told you off, even though I should've been. “And when Siachi bought us meat buns, you choked trying to talk while chewing and Asahi had to hit you on the back to keep you from dying, and you still tried to keep talking while chewing.” A pause. Then, softer: “Dumbass.”
I wonder if you actually do remember. I'd like to think you do, so I don't feel so alone. “I, uh, have to go. Practice.”
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“We won! We won, Hinata!” A breathless laugh. “We just played against the MSBY Black Jackals and we won.” Another laugh. “We won.” We won and you were the first one I wanted to tell. I still haven’t caught my breath yet. “That's all I wanted to tell you.” You're the first one I thought of when that taste of victory bursted on my tongue.
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Hey, Hinata. Saw you and Oikawa together.” Why couldn’t that have been me, why couldn’t that have been me, why- “Glad you could see someone familiar in brazil. I know it must be...nerve-wracking being in a new country with nothing but your stubbornness.” A huffed out laugh. “So I'm glad you saw him.” I am, I’m not, I am because you deserve familiarity, I'm not because it should’ve been me-
“I remember when you saw him for the first time. All freaked out, mouth gaping open like an idiot during our first practice match against Seijoh. Calling him that ridiculous name you deemed him because he was my…” he sucks his teeth as he mutters a hesitant “...mentor”.
“Hinata’s doing well, as always. Yamaguchi came by the other day to visit him, and agreed with me about the outfit you sent, though he’d never admit it. I think the color blinded Hinata; he ran into the wall as soon as Yamaguchi left." I wish you could’ve been there to see it. I wish I could've heard your laugh. I want you to be here and I'm sorry.
“We have a game against the EJP Rajins in a week and a half and they have a killer libero, so I've been practicing my serves more. I'm hoping to beat my 3 service aces of our last game. I'll, uh, call you as soon as the game’s over. I hope you’ll be watching me. I want you to see me.
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Hey, Hinata.” A soft voice “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
Click
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
Click
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
Click
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Why can’t I call you, Hinata? I want to hear your voice. the voice you have now.”
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“I saw you.” And it fucking hurt because I've never missed someone like this, never missed someone so much i could hardly speak. “Some kid was watching a video of Ninja Shouyou at this ramen place near my apartment. looks like you’re keeping your promise, huh?” I knew you would.
“You looked tanner.” And you had muscles in places I've never seen and your shoulder blades were rippling back in the spaces of your tank top and every part of you was mesmerizing, from your collarbones to the corner of your eyes that always crinkles when you’re smiling, and that’s what hurt so much when I saw you. Your smile hasn’t changed a bit. “Glad you’re finally getting sun. You used to be glow-in-the-dark pale.”
you didn’t talk in that video and I wished you would so I could hear your voice without being brave, I wished you would talk so maybe it would give me the courage to talk to you now because you’ve always given me courage, Hinata. Always you. “You looked ridiculous in that hat and sunglasses.”
I can't wait to see what you’ll do next, Hinata Shoyo.
“Gotta go.”
Click.
“Hey!…What’s up?…Ha! I’m just screwing with you, I’m not really here! You’ve reached Hinata Shoyo! Just say what you need to when the beep comes! Catch you later!”
“Hey, Hinata.” The sun is out today but I've never felt colder in my life. I wonder what the weather in Brazil is. “You're a celebrity now, huh? Romero brought his son by and all he could talk about was a ninja with orange hair and how awesome he was. Romero even admitted the ninja’s receives were killer. Guess it can’t be you, huh?” The attempted joke falls flat. His voice is filled with something he can’t identify and it’s starting to scare him. Gaps of sunlight shine in through his curtains and it almost feels cruel. He wonders if Hinata still likes meat buns.
I can’t stop thinking about what you would say if you were here. How you would sound. How your laugh’s changed. Everything reminds me of you and I can't stop it. “I remember when you were so bad at receiving that you got us kicked out of the club. I had nightmares about the look Diachi gave us for over a week.” I hated you then and I can't remember what that felt like. I can't remember what it felt like to not want to toss to you. What have you done to me?
“I hope you’re taking care of yourself.” I don't think I could handle seeing that look on your face again, the way I could see your heart sunk as you saw your temperature during that fateful match. I still dream of how hot your hands felt that day. I hope you’re taking care of yourself because- “I care about you.”
and Kageyama can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He's being stripped raw by the silent end of the phone call and he doesn’t even mind. It should scare him. It doesn't.
I think I realized how much I care about you during that match. My hands for hours after the game ended. I thought I was coming down with a fever too, because everything felt hot and all I could think about after the match was you, you, you and it felt like nothing else mattered. “I know you’ve gotten better at taking care of yourself since that match, but I still worry, sometimes.” His hand burns. “I think I always cared about you, ever since the day we met. I just…”
Kageyama's heart stutters as he bares himself to a half-filled voicemail. “I just don’t think I realized it until that match, until I felt my heart drop to the ground as you collapsed.”
I don’t think- “I don't think I'll ever stop caring about you.”
Everything he’s saying should drive him to hang up, to cut off this stream of vulnerability, but his hand won’t let go of the phone and he can’t find it in himself to care. “I remember the first time we did our quick attack. You, with your eyes closed like an idiot, trusting someone that everyone hates. “ I always wondered how you could trust someone like me. Love someone like me. I don't think I'll ever figure it out. “I remember your stupid smile that...that…” That made me- “That made me start to fall in love with you.”
Kageyama freezes.
Your stupid smile that made me fall in love with y-
He hangs up as quickly as he can.
Click.
He goes to practice, as usual. He spins the volleyball in his hands before he serves, as usual. His serves are hard to receive, as usual.
He thinks of Hinata.
As usual.
Your stupid smile that made me fall in love with you-
That stupid fucking smile.
He spins the volleyball. The libero gets into position. His teammates send him a smile.
He tosses.
He jumps.
His hand connects.
Your smile hasn’t changed and it hurts. You’re ruining me, Hinata Shoyo. Your stupid smile. Your stupid spikes. Your stupid determination that took you to Brazil. You’re ruining me and you’re not even here. You’re ruining me and I can’t stop it. I hate you.
The ball lands out of bounds.
When Kageyama gets home after practice, he puts on coffee and calls Oikawa.
He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until the line connects, a click echoes as someone picks up, and a surprised voice goes “Kageyama?”
“Oikawa?” He echoes the surprised tone of who he’s just called.
“Uh.” Oikawa goes silent for a moment, before annoyance slips into his tone. “You called me.”
Kageyama can practically hear his eyes narrowing as he tries to analyze why his rival is calling him back.
“Oh. He says, without meaning. “Yeah.”
“Is there…something you called about?”Oikawa prods, clearly sounding annoyed but a sliver of curiosity slips into his voice.
“I, uh.” he says gracefully, and ignores the huff of exasperation from the other end. “I-”
“Come on, Tobio-kun.” Oikawa interrupts, groaning. “I don’t have all day. Unlike some people-”
“Why did you say it was weird that I said I wasn’t in love with Hinata?” he blurts out, cutting Oikawa off, which he knows would normally end with the other setter hanging up, but the end click doesn’t come. He can practically hear Oikawa’s raising as a smirk crawls onto his face.
“That’s why you called me?” He says after a moment of Kageyama’s pained silence, a smirk obvious in his voice. “Wow, Tobio-kun, you must be desperate.”
Kageyama resists the urge to hang up. “Shut up,” he settles on instead.
“Now, is that any way to talk to your Sensei?”
“My what.” He deadpans.
“Your Sensei! I assume you called me because my question inspired a crisis within you and you’ve realized you’re in love with Chibi-chan and now you’ve come to oh mighty Oikawa-Sensei to learn the ways of love! Am I r-”
Kageyama hangs up.
He throws his phone on the counter and buries his face in his hands. Why did he think this was a good idea? He could’ve called anyone else. In fact, he should.
He’s not going to call Oikawa back. He’s not.
The phone connects again and a smug voice meets his ears again before he knows it.
“I knew you would call back.” Oikawa answers after letting the phone ring for a few seconds. Kageyama tries not to imagine the shit-eating grin on his face for the purpose of staying on the call.
He sighs. “Why did you think it was weird that I said I wasn’t in love with him?”
Oikawa responds with a sigh of his own, and the sound of shuffling as he most likely switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Because, Kageyama, it was obvious.”
“Obvious?” he echoes.
“Yeah, Obvious. I knew it from the first game we played against each other. You looked like you wanted to make out with him every time you did that god awful quick attack. He had you wrapped around his tiny finger.”
“He didn’t have me around his finger.” Kageyama mutters, half-hearted at best, as he tries to ignore the making out comment.
He pointedly is not thinking about what it would be like to kiss Hinata.
“Sure,” Oikawa drawls, sarcasm dripping from the speaker. “I saw the way you looked at each other, Tobio. It’s like everyone else was invisible, like it was just you two and the ball.”
“It’s volleyball.” Kageyama responds as he tries not to think about Oikawa’s choice of words.
I saw the way you looked at each other.
Each other.
“We both wanted to win. That need for victory is what you saw.” he tries to argue, but his words are weak and his voice wavers. He’s not in love with Hinata.
He’s not. He just…
He just…
“I just wanted to win, and Hinata was the most effective weapon I had. That’s all.” he tries to say firmly, but he knows Oikawa sees through it. He sees through it himself, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.
His hand starts to throb as his clenched fist tightens.
He’s not in love.
He can’t be.
Not with him.
“You miss him, don’t you?” Oikawa’s voice is unusually soft, and Kageyama’s fist unclenches in surprise. Sure, he’d heard the gentle voice before in middle school, though rarely, but it was never directed to him.
Never to him.
“I-” he starts, but pauses as his voice threatens to crack and his eyes water. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I don’t know.”
His jaw clenches with the lie.
“Yeah you do.” Oikawa’s soft voice filters through the phone again, and Kageyama can’t hold back the tears anymore, can’t keep his voice from breaking as his jaw relaxes and he finds himself saying against his will:
“Yeah.” An attempt at a deep breath. “Yeah, I do.” And it-” He clenches his fist again. “And it hurts.”
Silent tears drip from his chin as an unidentifiable ache burns in his chest. His lungs can’t take in air fast enough and his chest stutters with his attempt at even breathing.
“I know.” is all Oikawa says for a moment. Then, “I know, Tobio-kun.” A deep breath. “It never goes away, you know. That ache.”
Kageyama wonders for a moment, childishly, if Oikawa can read his mind.
“You never stop missing them. Not for a moment. That ache, it’s there when you wake up, and it’s there when you sleep and it’s there when you try not to think about it, it’s just there all the time and it’s so unfair, because that’s the thing about love.”
Kageyama doesn’t protest the use of “love”. He thinks it’s the closest to describing the feeling in his chest, anyway. Not that he’s in love.
Because he’s not.
“That’s the thing about love.” Oikawa sighs, repeating the tail end of his sentence. “You always love someone you really shouldn’t. And no amount of distance or logic will ever be able to lessen that ache.”
A pause.
“It’s funny, you know.” A small huff of sad laughter. “It always makes itself known too late. Realizing you love someone when you’re thousands of miles from them, I can’t imagine anything crueler than that.”
He doesn’t think Oikawa’s talking about Hinata and Kageyama anymore.
“How’s Iwaizumi?” He asks, and he hears a sharp intake of breath before a light laugh.
“I taught you well, my protege,” Kageyama hears a sad smile on Oikawa's lips. A moment’s pause. “He’s good. Met Ushiwaka last week and sent me a photo, the bastard.”
Kageyama offers a small laugh, and they fall into silence.
Then, “How do you know if you love someone?”
Oikawa makes a quiet, surprised sound before answering. “You just...you just know, Kageyama.”
“Yeah, but-” he attempts to further his questioning, but Oikawa cuts him off. “Come on, Tobio. You need to be honest with yourself.”
“I am honest with myself!”
Kageyama can practically see Oikawa’s raised eyebrow.
“Are you?”
He doesn’t answer, not trusting himself to disagree.
“Look,” A sigh, and a quiet rustle. “Just...listen to me for a second. No arguments, no opposition, no lying.”
He seems to take Kageyama’s silence as reason to continue.
“Iwa-chan was my ace. My best friend. My vice-captain. My Iwa. Every time I would practice too much, every time I got tunnel vision, every time I compared myself to you, he was there, always taking the volleyball out of my hands and taking me home with him. Every toss, I sent to him, I trusted him to follow through. My spiker. Of course, I trusted members of my team as well, but Iwa-chan was...he knew me. And I knew him. He was mine, and I was his. He was my spiker, my ace, and I was his setter, his captain. He was my best friend and I was his. I knew him better than I knew myself, and vice versa. I’ve never known myself quite as much as I did when I was with him.”
Kageyama can’t help but ask, “But you’re not with him anymore. You’re in two different countries.”
Surprisingly, Oikawa doesn’t call him out on interrupting, just sighing instead. “Yeah, we are. We’ve never had this distance before. We’ve always been 4 houses away from each other. Always 4 houses down.” A beat of silence. “But I allowed him to know me. And he allowed me to know him. We spent 14 years together, and I know I wouldn’t be here without him.” Oikawa’s voice becomes choked, and he clears his throat before continuing. “And even though I’m in Argentina, and he’s in California, even though we’re thousands of miles away, he’s still my Iwa-chan. My ace.”
Kageyama stays silent while Oikawa clears his throat again, obviously trying to stave off tears. Then, “He’s always going to be your spiker, isn’t he?”
“Yes. And Hinata is always going to be yours. Stop lying to yourself.”
Stop lying to yourself.
“Kageyama! Toss to me!”
His sun.
“I’m here!”
His spiker.
“As long as I’m here, you’re invincible!”
His Hinata Shoyo.
Oh.
“Oh.” He breathes.
“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “Yeah, Tobio-kun. Oh.”
Kageyama hangs up, and Oikawa doesn’t call him back but it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter because. Because Kageyama remembers and nothing matters but this:
Karasuno High School
January 4th, 2013
Miyagi Prefecture, Japan
“Oi, dumbass, are you listening?” Kageyama snaps, waving his hand in front of Hinata’s face. The latter was drifting, looking anywhere but at the boy in front of him. At Kageyama’s comment, he doesn’t offer a snarky response like usual.
“Yeah.” He says, simple and completely unlike him.
Kageyama squints at him. “Do you have a fever again?” He asks, bringing his hand to feel Hinata’s forehead, but Hinata flinches like he’s been burned when they touch for the briefest of moments.
“No, I’m fine,” He responds a few seconds too late, voice shaky and quiet, and Kageyama feels a frown mold itself onto his face.
“Are you sure.” He narrows his eyes, lifting his hand again to feel Hinata’s forehead, the same dread he felt at Nationals last year settle into his stomach. If Hinata was overworking himself again-
“I said I’m fine,” Hinata snaps, slapping Kageyama’s arm away, and his face goes pale at the contact. He mumbles something Kageyama doesn’t quite catch.
He doesn’t attempt to feel for Hinata’s forehead again, the dread in his stomach gone at their brief contact as the other boy’s skin didn’t seem to feel any warmer than usual.
“What?” He attempts to catch Hinata’s mumble, trying to figure out what the hell’s going on with him.
“Nothing.” is the answer he gets.
“No, not nothing.” Kageyama starts, shifting so he could face Hinata, unintentionally bumping their knees together.
Hinata immediately draws back, flinching at their touch again. “Don’t touch me.” he blurts out, and his eyes widen as if in surprise of what he said. “Please. I can’t-”
“Don’t-” Kageyama starts to echo in shock. “Don’t touch you? Hinata, what is-”
Hinata kisses him.
Hinata kisses him.
Kageyama can't even remember what he was saying before, can’t remember why he was even mad because nothing else matters, not his notebook falling to the floor, not the warning bell, not anything but this.
Hinata’s lips are warm and welcoming and passionate, and they remind him of their quick set, when his toss leaves his hands and Hinata’s hand is already there, ready to spike because he knew the ball would be there.
Although Hinata’s lips on his are an entirely new feeling, there is something inherently familiar about it. It feels like the satisfaction of fitting the last puzzle piece into a particularly hard puzzle, like mastering their new quick set, like Hinata spiking the ball with his eyes closed because he trusted Kageyama to bring the ball to him. It feels like home. It feels like setting a ball for someone he knew was going to be there, It feels like collapsing into his bed after a long day of practice, It feels like seeing his set being turned into pure power by his teammate. His partner. It feels like reassurance, satisfaction, home.
Hinata’s eyes are closed now, eyelashes fluttering against his soft skin, bright orange hair waving in the air conditioning breeze, tickling Kageyama’s nose.
(And of course Hinata had jumped into this with his eyes closed, just like he did with Kageyama’s first year sets, because Hinata was always a dumbass who trusted Kageyama more than Kageyama deserved to be trusted.)
He pulls away.
His body protests, his skin turning cold as he pulls further and further away from the source of warmth that was Shoyo Hinata. He pushes it down.
He pushes it all down.
“What are you doing.” Kageyama says, deadpans, and it is supposed to be a question but it falls flat.
They stood there in silence for a few moments, Shoyo’s eyes shining with tears as he tried his best to pull on a mask of something, anything besides the betrayal Hinata most likely felt.
Kageyama’s hands twitched, as if trying to reach out for Hinata’s hand. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to sit back down and whisper “It’s okay. i love-“
No.
No.
Instead, Kageyama just stood there, shoving down his regret, shoving down his disappointment at the fact that he had to pull away.
““I-I’m sorry, Kageyama. I won't do it again-“
The bell rings, cutting off Hinata and his apology.
Before Hinata can continue, Kageyama just turns away and says “We’re going to be late.”
(Kageyama has to win Nationals. He has to be the best. He has to beat Hinata Shoyou, and he can’t do that if he loves him. He can’t win everything if he loves Hinata Shoyou and allows himself to be loved by him because Hinata is the sun and blindingly bright and Kageyama will be blinded if he looks too long. If he allows himself to admit he doesn’t want to look away.)
(Practice goes like this: Set, spike. Set, spike. Set, spike. They do not look each other in the eye for the rest of the day.)
Kageyama Tobio is 13,870 away from Hinata Shoyo when he realizes Oikawa Tooru is right.
There is nothing crueler than this.
A too-late realization, a love that really shouldn’t have happened.
And all Kageyama can think is: Oh.
Oh, he’s so fucked.
Kageyama isn’t avoiding dealing with this. He’s not.
He’s totally coping with the newly realized love. Well, crush. Maybe. He doesn’t know. Would it be weird to think something like lover? Ugh, yeah. It’s weird. He’s approaching this newly-found...something with total control and clearheadedness. He’s not avoiding it.
Hence why Kageyama is on his 5th hour cleaning his house.
Obsessively, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Oikawa offers.
It’s not obsessive, though, he swears. It’s not. And, if he’s been in the same spot scrubbing at a stupid shower stain that won’t come off for the past hour, that’s completely his business.
He’s dealing with this. In a healthy way.
“Fuck!” he shouts, sitting back on his heels as the stain looks up smugly at him. “Shut up” He mutters.
Okay, maybe he has the tiniest amount of unresolved emotions. Maybe.
“Ugh.” He groans as he stares at the brown stain, swearing it’s gotten darker since he started scrubbing. The bleach he’s using has soaked through the washcloth and scrubber, slightly burning his hand. “Shit.”
Wobbling a bit on his nearly-asleep legs, he stumbles to the sink to wash the bleach off, shuddering at the thought of having to take days off if his hands were injured.
Stupid Oikawa. He thinks as he washes his hands, scowling. Stupid Hinata. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Stupid Hinata Shoyo, stupid honey-brown eyes and stupid ear-to-ear smile that always makes him feel warm.
Ugh.
He shuts the water off, staring at his reddening hands. Stupid Hinata’s spikes. Stupid Hinata’s ability to draw Kageyama in.
He’s so fucked.
Another stain stares at him from the sink, taunting. He scowls even deeper at it.
He squats down to ruffle through his cabinet underneath the sink, drawing out a pair of latex gloves.
He’s going to handle this stupid...crush, love, whatever healthily. Starting with that stain.
On his 7th hour of cleaning, Kageyama starts to feel restless again. His apartment was spotless, fully dusted and free of stains (he finally got that shower stain off after 30 more minutes of scrubbing, thank god), and he finds himself wishing it were dirty again, if only to have something to keep his mind occupied.
Okay, so he might be avoiding dealing with his...feelings or whatever, but only a little.
Besides, it provided him the opportunity to realize how messy his apartment was, not that it was surprising. All he ever did was practice, come home, eat and sleep, and laundry on the weekends. His apartment wasn’t a home as much as it was just a place to keep his things.
(Where is home? He thinks of a boy with a name that means the sun and-
No.
Not right now.)
Every surface he can possibly think of has been dusted, every corner swept free of cobwebs and crumbs. The shine of his cleaning makes him slightly uneasy the longer he stares.
Maybe he could purposefully make a mess, intentionally dirty up the kitchen making a simple meal. Or, he could-
Loud purring between his feet interrupts his thought process as Kageyama looks down in surprise. “Oh, hey Hinata.” He says, blushing as the name still made his chest feel warm.
Ugh.
“Where have you been hiding?” He wonders aloud, as he had to every room in the apartment and hadn’t seen him or any indication he’d been there recently. Hinata just looked up at him, cocking his tiny head. He meows in response.
Was there one he missed? No, there couldn’t have. He’d gotten the bathroom, the laundry room, his bedroom, the kitchen, the patio. What else-
“The closet!” he realizes, a sharp gasp echoing as he remembers. Hinata just stares up at him, unimpressed.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, moving to the kitchen to refill the cat’s bowl. He forgot how high maintenance animals were. He pours cat food into a bowl, and walks to put it down in Hinata’s usual eating spot.
A small nip at his ankle makes him hiss “ow!”, and another nip draws the same reaction. “Ow, you little gremlin! Relax, here you go!” He sets the bowl down, and watches as Hinata rushes to it and immediately begins scarfing down the food as if he hadn’t eaten in years. “I just fed you 5 hours ago, Christ.” A chuckle. “Just as violent and hungry as your namesake, huh?”
He ignores the pang his chest offers, and turns on his heels.
He would deal with that when the closet’s done.
For a V1 player who mainly wore his uniform and workout clothes, he has too many fancy and completely meaningless clothes.
He scowls at each neglected piece as he pulls them out one by one, throwing them into separate piles over his shoulder.
A shirt that reads something in English is next, and he squints at it, trying to remember his English lessons from all those years ago. “B-brain?” Is all he can manage before ultimately giving up and throwing it into the “give away/throw out/don’t keep” pile. He couldn’t decide on a shorter name.
A towering pile of clothes still sits in front of him, never seeming to lessen even as the piles behind him grew larger. He frowns at it, and glares.
It still doesn’t lessen.
He sighs, and moves to remove another useless jacket or shirt, fingers wrapping around thick material.
He freezes.
No.
Not right now.
He carefully unclenches his fingers from the material, and grabs another white button up that’s missing a few buttons. He sighs, avoiding eye contact with the place he’d just buried his hand in a few moments ago.
“Why do I even have this?” He groans, and throws it into the trash pile.
He continues to pull out clothes, one by one, jacket by jacket, shirt by shirt, carefully avoiding the thick, familiar material buried underneath quickly dwindling clothes.
Huh. Now that he didn’t want the clothes to end, the pile seemed to grow centimeters smaller by the second.
Ugh.
Kageyama is sorting through his two piles next to his bed, very pointedly not looking at the black piece of clothing, familiar white lettering on the back.
He attempts to fold one of his running shirts, but drops it with shaky hands. “Shit.” He mutters, picking it up and trying to fold it again, but it slides out of his grip for the second time.
Fine, it’s whatever. He doesn’t need that shirt. He crumples it up into a tight ball and throws it against his wall. It’s fine.
He watches as the white fabric hits the bland wall with a quiet thump and falls onto his plain bedding.
“Fuck.” He mutters, and picks up another shirt. He manages to fold it before it falls this time, landing on the vacuumed floor neatly.
He doesn’t bother to pick it up, and rubs his hands across his face. “Fuck.” he says again.
He’s not going to pick up the jacket, he’s ignoring the jacket, he’ll deal with the jacket later-
The jacket’s in his hands before he knows it.
“Fuck.” Kageyama swears for the 3rd time, but there’s no malice behind it, it just comes out...sad.
Turning over the jacket delicately, as if it were glass, he traces his fingers of familiar white writing.
Karasuno High School Volleyball Club
“Fuck.” Is the last thing he manages before his eyes well up, tears streaming down his cheeks before he can stop them.
What have you done to me, Hinata Shoyo?
He doesn’t know how long he cries. He doesn’t know how long he spends on the floor, clutching the jacket to his chest, as if trying to absorb it, as if that would fix the aching that’s making it hard to breathe.
He doesn’t know what Hinata’s done to him that's making him cry from the 13,000 mile distance that he should care less about.
He doesn’t know when he calls Ukai, he only remembers a familiar voice saying “Sakanoshita market!” and then “Hello?” and “Hello, anyone there?” and:
“Hey, coach.” He doesn’t know how he speaks through his chest strangling him with yearning.
“Kageyama?” Ukai’s voice lights up, surprise peppering his words. Then, when he hears Kageyama take a shuddering breath: “What’s wrong? Someone better not be dying.”
“No.” He huffs out, the small laugh a reprieve. “No, no one’s dying.”
“Oh.” The other man says, then “No career-ending injuries, right?”
“No, nothing like that.” He responds, and breathes out at Ukai’s sigh of relief.
“Thank god.” A small rustle as Ukai shifts the phone. “What’s up, Kageyama?”
“Why did you send it to me, coach?” Kageyama blurts out, his words all coming in a rush.
Even though it’s been years, his coach, well, old coach, knows exactly what he’s talking about. “I was wondering when you’d ask that, kid.”
“You could’ve sent it to his sister, his mom. Could’ve kept it in the Karasuno club room,god knows the new club members would’ve worshiped it. I-” His voice threatens to crack and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pull back the anger. “You could’ve done so many things with it. Why did you send it to me?”
“Because you were partners, Kageyama. You spent all 3 years together. And, after he said he didn’t want it, well, you were my 1st choice to get it.”
He hugs it closer.
“What if I didn’t want it?” His voice wobbles as he asks. “What if I threw it away?”
“He knew you wouldn’t. That’s why he agreed with me when I asked him if I could give it to you. And he was right, wasn’t he?”
Kageyama looks through his blurred vision to the black material, tiny and worn. His jacket, full of Hinata Shoyo, was bunched in Kageyama’s fist as he tried to bring it impossibly closer and closer. “Yeah. He was right.”
Damn him.
Damn him and his jacket, damn him and his ability to just know that Kageyama would never throw out what Ukai gave him.
I love him, is what Kageyama wants to say. I love him so much, and I can’t stand that there’s 13,000 miles between us and I feel this devastating aching every day he’s there and I'm here and I know it’s for the best because he’s getting better and I’m going to beat him, but still. I love him and it’s not fair.
What comes out is: “I hate him.”
And Kageyama doesn’t care if it’s true, doesn’t care if it’s the biggest lie he’s ever told, he doesn’t care because all he can feel is hatred; hatred at loving him, hatred at Hinata kissing him, hatred at the fact that Hinata knew him better than he knew himself. Hatred at the fact that Kageyama will now never be able to forget the feeling of Hinata’s lips against his. And Kageyama thinks he loves him, and god, he fucking hates him for making him feel this way. “I hate him.” He says again, sobs crawling quickly up his throat, and he burns, every part of him burns with that god forsaken feeling, a mix of hatred and living and aching, a mix of cruelty, a mix of realizing something too late. He hates Hinata. He hates that all he wants right now is to be loved back.
Every cell in his body loves Hinata Shyo, and every cell desperately wants to be wanted, wanted by him.
Kageyama hates him, hates this feeling, hates everything in his chest that burns with want. And the sobs creep closer to slipping out, and he desperately tries to swallow them down as he buries his head into the jacket, not daring to take a breath. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so much. It’s not-“ His lungs burn with the absence of breathing and he takes his face out of the jacket, a shuddering breath taken in the cold air of the apartment. “I hate him so much, and it’s not fair because.” He squeezes his eyes shut and chokes out: “ Because I think I love him, Coach.”
And he wishes it weren’t true.
He wishes the confession didn’t make him breathe easier, he pretends his fist isn’t clenching the familiar fabric so hard his hand is starting to cramp. He wishes he didn’t remember how Hinata made him feel. Makes him feel. He tries to wish the kiss didn’t happen, he tries to wish Hinata Shoyo didn’t burn so fucking bright, he tries to wish that he didn’t love him, but he can’t because that’s the thing about love.
You always love someone you really shouldn’t and Kageyama realizes with distaste that he can’t even wish none of it happened.
Because Hinata Shoyo is a bright campfire, the sun, and it hurts his eyes to look but that’s the thing about bright things: you can’t look away, no matter how much you want to, and Kageyama finds this is a metaphor for his life.
Someone teaches Kageyama that humans can’t live without the sun. “Your skin needs the nutrients sun-rays provided and humans need the crops it nourishes.” his teacher says, “And the world would fail within days if it were to disappear.”
Kageyama, age 12, spends most of his time outside, running, doing his training regimen, practicing in his backyard after the coach tells him to go home. He doesn’t mind the sun, but doesn’t mind when it’s gone, either. He likes cloudy days, if he’s being honest. Less chance the sun catches his eye and makes his toss off by a few inches, less chance his sister will usher him inside for fear he’ll get sunburnt.
Kageyama is taught in his early youth that he needs the sun.
(He learns, a few years later, that the sun needs him too.)
“Kageyama! Throw me another toss.”
Kageyama Tobio learns the sun is ridiculously short and has beautifully bright orange and jumps with complete faith, with complete trust that Kageyama can’t quite ever remember feeling. He learns the sun jumps higher than he really should and he learns the sun has a rounding softness that Kageyama feels a pang of nostalgia at, a sense of unfamiliar familiarity dripping in his chest. He learns the sun hits Kageyama’s sets with his eyes closed and he learns that he can feel awe again, and he learns that the sun trusts him more than he deserves to be trusted. He learns the sun loves challenges and racing and counting wins and loses and he learns that the sun runs as fast as him and has more stamina than he should, than he knows what to do with.
He learns the sun loves hitting high tosses and loves to jump and spike and see the view from the summit and Kageyama learns he doesn’t know what the hell the sun is talking about most of the time.
He learns the sun reads his mind and allows his mind to be read too, and he learns the sun stays late to practice with him and doesn’t mind how king-ly he is or used to be.
He learns the sun loves practicing with him.
He learns the sun loves meat buns and riding his bike over a steep mountain and laughing when the slam of a volleyball echoes throughout a mostly-empty school gymnasium.
He learns the sun is impossible not to be around.
And he learns the sun is becoming his other half.
He learns the sun is blinding him and he learns that he should mind, he learns that he should try and detach, that he should try and push away, that he should run as fast as he can.
He learns the warmth the sun provides shouldn’t be enough incentive for him to stay, he learns the laughter and touches the sun gifts him shouldn’t be more to him than the recklessness and blindness he is being filled with.
Kageyama learns that they don’t let each other go, that they can’t let each other go, not yet, and he learns that he doesn’t mind, even though he should.
And the sun burns him, sometimes, and it hurts, it leaves scars, it sears into him but Kageyama just looks at the marks and thinks about how close the sun was. And his heart races.
And when the sun, the reliable, the always-there sun, the sun that provides him seemingly never-ending warmth, the sun that demands more from him than anybody ever has, tells him he’s leaving, Kageyama just blinks and pretends his skin doesn’t suddenly feel cold.
And he remembers the teachers who told him that you can’t survive without the sun, who told him that true living cannot exist without it, and he wonders if they’re right. He wonders if the absence of the sun, the absence of a blinding smile, if the absence of the brightest presence he’s adjusted and gotten used to will throw him to the ground and leave him to rot.
He wonders how his skin will feel when the sun no longer touches them. He wonders if the scars will heal.
(He thinks about if he even wants them to.)
Kageyama pretends he doesn’t linger around the sun more, he pretends he doesn’t gather more scars and burns by touching the sun more, he pretends he doesn’t think about how, sometimes, the sun will lean into his touch and he especially doesn’t think about his racing heart as he stares into wide brown eyes.
He pretends he won’t miss the sun. He pretends he’ll be okay without him, without his warmth, without the rays of sunlight that had been reliably shining for the past three years, that had reliably burned him.
Kageyama Tobio pretends he remembers what it’s like to be without the sun.
Someone tells Kageyama when is a child that the sun will be around forever. That no matter what happens, the sun will always be in the sky, smiling down on him. They tell him that it never leaves, not really.
Kageyama wonders if whoever told him this knew that Hinata Shoyo is going to Brazil in three months. He wonders if they know how to live without it.
Without him.
“I think I love him, coach.” Kageyama says, and his voice cracks softly and he’s reminded of the days before the king of the court.
“Yeah, I know, kid.” Ukai says quietly on the other line, sympathy almost cracking his voice as well.
And Kageyama just bursts into tears.
Kageyama doesn’t remember being soft. Being vulnerable. Being naive, being the person who offered Oikawa a tissue during his graduation ceremony when he promised to beat Kageyama. He doesn’t remember how he could be that weak.
But Hinata Shoyo was always the one who challenged him, who made him feel things he didn’t even know existed, who stayed late to hit his tosses and hit them with his eyes closed and promised he was always there, and who looked at him with all that trust in his eyes and blinded Kageyama so that all he could do was set for Hinata and never look away from him.
But now he’s gone, across the world, 13,360 kilometers away from him and getting better than Kageyama and winning and losing without him, and spiking someone else’s tosses and the sun is shining in Tobio’s apartment, throwing sun rays across his walls but it’s not his sun, it’s not his spiker. Kageyama is in his apartment, alone, finally admitting his love for someone who left. For someone who he has to defeat someday.
And Kageyama just thinks about how cruel it is.
“I love him.” he mutters, rubbing his hands across his cheeks, trying to collect tears but they fall just as quickly as he rubs them away, and his hands quickly become soaked with the confessions of a boy who realizes something too late. “I love him.” he says again, and his mouth opens again, salty tears dripping off his lips, but he doesn’t notice because his mouth is moving involuntarily, sobbing out words he really should’ve realized earlier. “I love him, I love him, I love him.”
And all he can think about is how Oikawa was right. There is nothing crueler than this.
Ukai stays on the phone for the complete 5 minutes it takes for Kageyama to finally speak through his tears.
“God, I-“ Kageyama spits out, tears flowing down his cheeks faster than he can furiously rub at them. “I hate him for doing this to me. I hate him. I hate him because I wake up every day and he’s not here and I miss him so much it aches and he’s the one who left and now I have all this-“
Kageyama heaves out in one breath, taking a shaky breath in when his lungs burn. He struggles to continue.
“All this...” he tries again, and his throat burns, his lungs burn, his heart burns, everything burns and aches because Kageyama has all this love with nowhere to go and Hinata isn’t even there to relieve any of it, and Kageyama just breathes into the phone: “How do I live with this, coach. How do I-“ he struggles again, taking shaky breaths, in and out, in and out, trying to regain some form of control that Hinata Shoyo stole from him.
It doesn’t work.
It doesn’t work because Hinata Shoyo lit a fire in his chest and kindled it for 3 years and now the untamed fire is spreading, has been spreading, into every nook and cranny in his body, every fingertip and eyelash, every curve of his lips as he remembers an old memory he really shouldn’t dwell on. It doesn’t work because Hinata Shoyo left him alone with a fire and a promise to beat him, and what was Kageyama supposed to do with that?
Move on, a part of him thinks. And wait for him.
But moving on is a lot harder than it sounds.
Living without Hinata Shoyo is a lot harder than it sounds.
Tears stream down Kageyama’s cheeks and his throat is thick with some variation of grief.
Some variation of love.
Some variation of aching so hard for someone, his body doesn’t know what to do with itself.
“How do I live without him?” he asks finally, barely keeping himself from choking on the words.
Logically, he knows he’s lived without him before.
Logically, he knows Hinata isn’t gone forever. He isn’t dead. He’s coming back.
But the aching in his chest doesn’t cease because of logic and the tears don’t slow and the fire started by a tiny spiker who treated Kageyama’s tosses like they were the world, it just burns through Kageyama’s skin.
He thinks about Hinata’s hands on his arm.
He thinks about a stairwell, about how Hinata always handled the fire with the utmost care.
He thinks about how Hinata is doing in Brazil.
And all Kageyama knows, no matter the logic he tells himself, is that Hinata Shoyo is not here and Kageyama’s chest tightens with something he can’t name.
“I don’t know, kid.” Ukai’s gentle voice filters through the phone, a quiet bell ringing in the background. “I don’t know. Loving someone’s kind of a pain in the ass, huh?”
Kageyama huffs out a laugh, sniffling. He feels five again. “Yeah.”
There are a few moments of silence before Ukai says: “He’s coming back, you know.”
“I know.” Kageyama responds, and his skin burns with the absence of touch. “I know. But...what do I do until then?”
“You wait for him.” Ukai responds firmly. “Just like you promised. You get better and better and you wait until he comes back and you fulfill those thousands of promises you’ve both made about beating each other.” a pause. “He's coming back, Kageyama. He might be gone now, but he’ll be back.”
“Yeah.” he says simply, trying to swallow down his own grief. “He’s coming back.”
To me, he almost says.
And as if Ukai hears the thought, he continues. “You two always find your way back to one another.”
And Kageyama’s halfway-swallowed grief comes full force, pulling silent sobs from his raw throat, spilling out from his lips, his eyes, his skin as he tries to pull himself into a makeshift hug.
“Yeah,” he sobs out, squeezing his eyes shut in a very unsuccessful effort to slow his tears. “We do, don’t we.”
Here’s how it goes:
There is the sound of a gentle bell, familiar from his Karasuno days, and he knows a new customer has walked into Ukai’s shop. Ukai has to go, and Kageyama tells him that, and they bid each other goodbye as another bell rings, then another, Ukai’s voice full of regret.
Kageyama puts the phone down.
Hinata’s jacket sits to his left, small and worn and slightly dusty at the abandonment of it years ago.
The tears don’t stop as he slips it on. The ache magnifies.
The jacket is tiny, Kageyama’s muscles straining the fabric, even his wrists too big to fit through the tiny holes. It’s too tight, too small, too much of Hinata.
He doesn’t take it off.
He lifts an arm, fabric of the jacket tightening against him, and brings it to his nose.
The smell hasn’t faded, it smells like him, like sweat and practices that go too late and wonderment at the size of Sendai gymnasium and the burning sun that is Hinata Shoyo.
He catches a small, minuscule smell of the Sendai Gymnasium on the jacket’s right cuff.
“Smells like air salonpas!”
He smiles.
His skin is burning with the memory of the sun, of Kageyama’s own fire, with the memory of how the jacket he now wears looked on Hinata Shoyo all those years ago.
Kageyama lays down on his living room floor. He ignores the zipper digging into his stomach, he ignores the hard floor making for an uncomfortable bed.
He ignores everything except for this:
The smell of Hinata Shoyo pulled taunt around his muscles. He drags an arm, black fabric tight and uncomfortable around it, to his face, gently inhaling as his hand continues to his hair.
His fingers, with the gentleness of sending a toss to someone, card through his hair. They separate tiny knots and scratch his scalp lightly, his filed down nails barely making a sound.
He takes another breath of Hinata’s jacket. Another drag of his hand through his hair.
Kageyama can almost, just barely, imagine Hinata Shoyo there with him, limbs tangled with his, his familiar scent invading Kageyama’s senses as his head lays against Hinata’s chest, his hands carding ever so gently through dark hair.
And Kageyama has never felt so alone.
He wakes up to an aching neck and sore throat.
Alone.
His arms are hugged to his chest, the jacket still stretching over him, and one arm is still tangled in his hair. Everything smells unbearably like Hinata.
A quiet click echoes in his almost empty apartment, followed by the whir of the air conditioner, and Kageyama shivers in his jacket.
Hinata’s jacket.
He inhales again, unable to resist the urge, and his throat tightens, thick with love, thick with yearning.
He can’t breathe.
And he begs his body not to do this right now, he begs himself to keep it together, because he has a year left. A year left until the sun shines on his skin again, his sun, and he can’t do this right now.
He has so much time left and he can’t spend every waking second missing him.
But his throat tightens still, and his lungs burn with the need to breathe, and his chest fills with sobs and he just curls in on himself.
Why can’t I stop missing you?
The corner of his eyes prickle, and he doesn’t have the energy to bring a hand to wipe the oncoming tears away.
Why can’t I let you go?
He can’t breathe, can’t do anything but let tears roll down his cheeks and sobs work themselves up his throat, can’t let himself do anything but miss Hinata Shoyo.
God, he hates this. The hatred he felt yesterday still summers in his stomach, though it’s nowhere near the intensity as it was when he was on the call with his old coach. It just sits there, barely sparking even as Kageyama finds he can’t move.
He grips the jacket tighter.
And he wishes he had the courage to call Hinata. Actually call him.
He wishes he could hear the call connect, he wishes he could hear Hinata say something other than his voice message, he wishes he could hear how Hinata’s familiar voice has changed.
He wishes he could call Hinata so he can reject Kageyama.
He wants him to say “I don’t love you” or "I never have” or “Why would you think I loved you back?” and even though his stomach twists in pain at the thought, he wants it-
No.
He needs it.
He needs to fucking move on.
Nothing’s changed from that day on the stairwell.
He still needs to beat him. He still needs to fulfill the promises they made to each other. He still needs to be the best.
And he can’t do that if he loves Hinata.
He can’t.
And no matter how much Kageyama wants to be loved, no matter how much he wants to be wanted, he finds himself wishing to be hated and rejected instead, because being vulnerable in the hands of his rival is the worst thing he can imagine.
It can’t happen.
He won’t let it.
But Kageyama Tobio is not brave. Not when it comes to this.
With every other aspect of his life, he’s bold, brave, riding the knife’s edge of recklessness. He pulls off setter dumps at set point, he tries new attacks in the game, he takes risks every day because he wants to, because it wouldn’t be fun without them. It wouldn’t be volleyball.
But he’s a coward when it comes to love.
His phone is in his hand before he can register it. The jacket tightens around his arm.
The call connects.
A familiar voice rings out, and Hinata’s voice message plays.
There are a few moments of quiet after it ends. He still hadn’t gotten used to this, the deafening silence on the other end.
“Hey, Hinata.” He chokes out, trying to smile. “I-uh.”
Sobs threaten to break through his lips, so he screws them shut, curling in on himself again. He tries to breathe evenly, chest stuttering with every attempted breath. “I talked to Oikawa the other day. And Ukai.” He pauses. “Turns out I’m in love with you.” He can barely say it, words falling from his tongue before he can take them back, before he can think too hard about what they mean.
He laughs humorlessly. “Little late, I know.”
There is no response, no rejection, no confession because Kageyama is too much of a coward when it comes to love that he’s confessing his love to a voicemail that’ll never be listened to.
(He hopes not, anyhow.)
“I’ve tried not to be. I’ve tried not to miss you. I’ve tried not to wish you would come back early, even just to visit. I’ve tried to get over you, I think, for years before I realized that I…” His chest twists. “Before I…” He can feel the words bubbling in his throat, words that will strip him raw even though there’s no one on the other line, and he tries to tighten his throat to trap them, but they keep inching up and up and panic seizes him.
He can’t, he can’t, he can’t-
“I know it’s not fair.” He blurts out. Damn it. “I know it’s not fair because you loved me when you kissed me in that stairwell, and I couldn’t admit it to myself, but I think I loved you too. I know it’s not fair because you’re probably over me and not even thinking about me in Brazil, and I want you to love me, I want you to want me back, and I can’t even call you or hear another variation of your voice because I’m scared, Hinata.” A shuddering breath. “I’m scared. I’m scared that when I finally hear you, when I finally see you, that I won't be able to stop this feeling that’s already eating me alive, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to stop myself from asking you to love me. And I know that’s not fair. That’s why I'm leaving you this message. I’m afraid of gaining you and I’m afraid of losing you; I’m fucking afraid of loving you too, Hinata.” His voice cracks as he continues. “I miss you so much it aches. And I hate you for what you’ve done to me.”
His voice is unbearably soft.
“I’m sorry. i know it’s not fucking fair. I wish…” he tries to say I wish I didn’t love you but he can't. He can’t because he won’t mean it.
He doesn’t know where he'd be if he hadn’t loved Hinata Shoyo, even if he didn’t know it all those years ago. Instead he says: “I wish I kissed you back.”
And his mind flashes back to the stairwell, back to Hinata’s lips on his, back to the blinding light of a boy who loved and trusted too much.
And he just says again: “I wish I kissed you back.”
then: “I love you. God, I love y-“
A loud beep interrupts him, and Kageyama flinches, swearing as he fumbles his phone, holding it up to his ear as a mechanical female voice speaks.
Sorry, but this voicemail is now full. Please consult the owner of voicemail if you wish to leave more. Thank you for understanding.
He keeps the phone to his ear, even as the call is cut off.
Voicemail full, huh? He thinks. How many did I leave?
Truthfully, he lost tack weeks ago.
He finally brings down his phone and looks at the screen when a loud notification goes off in his ear, from his coach.
Practice is still on today. Be in soon.
He furrows his brows, wondering how long he slept for as he checks his watch.
“Shit!” He exclaims, jumping off the floor, much to the chagrin of sleeping Hinata, who lifts his tiny head to stare at Kageyama.
“Fuck.” He mutters as he dashes to his room, grabbing his clothes and stuffing them into his team bag, slowed by the jacket still wrapped around his arms.
He stops.
Carefully, he peels the jacket off him, folding it and setting it down on his bed. His neck still aches from where he slept on it wrong.
Then, with none of the grace a professional V1 player should have, he stuffs his feet into his running shoes and runs out the door, fumbling with his keys as he locks the door.
Damn you, Hinata, he thinks as he rushes down the stairs. Still making me late, even when you’re not here.
And it’s only when he’s on the train, out of breath and no doubt attracting looks, that he has time to think about what happened before he was reminded about practice.
Sorry, this voicemail is full rings in his mind as the train slows at his stop.
Please consult the owner of this voicemail if you wish to leave more echoes in his mind as he rushes in the building where they hold their practices, barely making it into the locker room on time. His captain raises an eyebrow at his breathlessness, but says nothing.
Thank you for understanding.
He flubs 3 serves at practice. His coach sends a look his way, and Kageyama ignores it.
Thank you for understanding.
His body moves on autopilot. He sets, there’s a spike. He sets, there’s a spike. He moves onto practicing receives. Someone sets, someone spikes, he receives. Someone sets, someone spikes, he receives. Someone sets, someone spikes, and as he moves to receive, all he can think about is how Hoshiumi’s hair glows orange under the gymnasium lights.
The ball bounces off his arms, and goes straight to the setter’s position in a high arc.
A perfect receive.
Thank you for understanding.