Chapter Text
It was 5.43 p.m. when Tobio got the call.
(The call that would change everything.)
He'd almost let himself believe it would be a normal day. Even a good day. Of course, he would normally still be practicing now, but Coach Ukai had let them go home early today, and well…it wasn't like he had anyone to practice with anyway, because Hinata was in the hospital.
Which wasn't a big deal - definitely wasn't a big deal - because he would get better. He would. And Hinata himself had said so, so who was Tobio to believe otherwise? (And…well, he didn't want to lose anyone else. And so, for his sake, he chose to believe it.)
But of course, Tobio should have known it would all come crashing down. The day had been far too sunny, far too beautiful, with sunlight flitting through the leaves and branches swaying gently in the cool breeze, for the day to not end horribly. It was almost ironic in the sense. And certainly unfortunate, for such a warm, beautiful, almost perfect day to be tainted with such horrible news.
It was 5.43 p.m. when Tobio's phone rang, piercing through the calm, almost serene scene. He glanced at the screen. No caller ID. That was strange. Who would be calling him now?
And so, Tobio, like a fool, had brought the phone to his ear. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Hello dear, are you Kageyama?" a female voice responded. Her voice could have been motherly, but it was tainted with hoarseness, as if she'd been screaming or crying or both, and had taken a break just to phone him. Which made him even more confused. "This is Hinata's mother speaking."
And Tobio's heart stopped.
He didn't know why. (Or rather, he did, but he wasn't brave enough to say it, to even dare to think it.)
But his heart, oh, his feeble heart, it knew. Because he felt it sinking further and further into the depths of despair he knew he wouldn't be able to pull it out of.
No. This can't be what I think it is.
He willed himself to keep calm, and to hope, daringly hope that she wasn't going to say the words he feared she was going to say. Those damned words.
"Yes?" He said - and then wished he didn't. Because he knew, like the way you look up at the sky and know it's going to rain, or like the way you have a bad feeling that settles in your stomach and grips your spine oh so tight, he knew the words he'd hear next would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Don't say it. Don't say it. Please don't say it. Don't tell me.
The line went quiet, like Hinata's mother was gathering her courage to say the words Tobio really really hoped she wouldn't say. He could practically hear her taking a deep breath, but the words that came out of her mouth, those damned words, were merely a whisper.
"Hinata…he's gone."
And that was all it took.
The phone slipped from Tobio's hands, the sound of the glass cracking a bullet disrupting the otherwise quiet, almost serene atmosphere.
No.
No.
Nononononono.
This couldn't be happening.
Was this some sort of bad dream? A hallucination? A monstrous manifestation of all his anxiety that had decided to rear its ugly head?
And even then, in this state of shock and despair and anger all thrown into a blender and mixed like some sort of fucked up smoothie, he knew, this was nothing but the ugly truth.
Hinata was gone.
Hinata was gone.
Hinata was gone.
Hinata, who was the most alive person he'd ever met, was…
God, he couldn't even say it. Hinata, with his obnoxiously orange hair and his honey brown eyes and his bright bright smile- he'd never get to see them again.
He'd never get to see Hinata again.
A sob wretched its way out of Tobio's throat.
God, when was the last time he'd talked to Hinata? When was the last time they'd played together? It had been ages. He'd never said his last words, his goodbyes- fuck. His visits had gotten far and few between. (Because it hurt to see someone destined to fly so high tethered to the world by tubes and machines. And it hurt to spend time with someone who wasn't soaring like they used to.)
And now, as he slid to the floor of his room, his back against his bed, his head in his hands, he regretted it all. He should have talked more, spent more time, and told him all the things he'd never gotten to say.
But Tobio just sits there, feeling the cold wooden floor - which was the only thing tying him to reality, tethering him to the world - the cruel, cruel world.
And the sadness, the grief, the utter despair that has gripped him - it twisted and turned in his gut - a monstrous, horrible thing. It felt like someone had gone and ripped his heart out and had poisoned everything that was left of him.
He'd only felt like this once before, when his grandpa died. And he'd hoped he'd never have to feel like this for a long, long time.
Well, so much for that.
Tobio sat on the floor, unmoving, for a long time, the floor still cold to the touch. He couldn't move. He just couldn't.
And so, from there, he stared out the window - at the sunlight gleaming through the evening, the birds chirping merrily, the leaves blowing in the wind. He could hear the laughter of kids, and the chatter of parents talking about who knows what. It felt like the world was mocking him. Because how could such a beautiful world do something so horribly cruel? How could the sun shine so bright after taking his own sun away?
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that bright orange hair and honey brown eyes and an obnoxiously cheerful voice and the name Hinata Shouyou now meant loss.
It just wasn't fair.
Because the day should have just been a regular day, and Tobio shouldn't be feeling like someone had taken a part of him away, and crumbled it to pieces right in front of him.
It shouldn't have happened, it shouldn't have happened.
But it had.
It had been 5.43 p.m. when the world shattered into bits and pieces.
Tobio didn't think he'd ever get them back.
"Tobio! Come down for dinner!" A voice called, a piercing, sharp contrast to the deafening silence that had wrapped Tobio's room.
Tobio blinked.
Was it dinner time?
Sure, he'd watched the blue hues of the vast sky change into a beautiful fiery mix of orange and pink, and then fade into the black it was now, but he felt…detached, somehow. Like he was watching it from a distance, on a movie screen or something, and not through his own eyes.
He hadn't done much, really.
At some point, his parents must have come home. He hadn't even heard them.
His mother called him for the second time, louder, her voice floating up the stairs. He really had to go down.
Really?
Tobio had absolutely no appetite. He really just wanted to sulk in his room like a child. But then, he'd have to explain himself. And that wasn't something he could do.
He'd barely even accepted it himself. To tell his parents was to confirm it, to say the words and bear their truth.
And that wasn't something he could do now.
And so, Tobio got up, and made his way down the stairs, trying to pretend nothing had happened, that it was a normal day not tainted by loss.
And maybe, if he pretended hard enough, he could make himself believe nothing had happened.
"There you are! Come sit. I made your favourite!" Tobio's mother chirped, not looking up from where she was, instead mixing something intently. She must have heard his footsteps. "Set the table please," she added.
So he did - quietly, with no words, not even a single acknowledgement, before taking his seat. His father came to sit too. (He was home for once.)
It was rare for the whole Kageyama family to sit down and share a meal together. Tobio's parents were quite busy, and even on the days there were home, there was always one empty chair, reserved for Tobio's sister, Miwa - who was in Tokyo.
Tobio missed his sister badly, though it would take a lot for him to admit it. When his grandfather passed, and there was this thing, this horrible, monstrous thing twisting in his gut, Miwa was the one who comforted him - he'd never forget it.
He could sure use it now.
Tobio's mother placed steaming hot bowls of pork curry and rice on the table, which was indeed his favourite. The smell wafted through the room, and probably through the whole house, almost alluring him to have some.
But he really didn't have an appetite.
And so, while his parents talked about some accident that happened somewhere, and about where they should go for their anniversary or something, Tobio picked at his food, because really, his mind was somewhere else - in this confusing place of despair and anger all mixed and swirling about. And really, it wasn't a place he liked to be in.
Tobio just wanted to sleep. Sleep it all away, and hope it was just a bad dream - hope that tomorrow, he would go to practice and he would see bright fiery orange hair peeking from the chaos of the volleyball gym. (Which was, of course, outlandish.)
"Tobio-chan, have you been crying?" He looked up, and met his mother's eyes, the same pools of crystal blue he had - a pool of concern.
He hadn't looked in a mirror before coming downstairs. His eyes must have been red and puffy.
"What's wrong?" his father asked now.
He really couldn't answer, because to answer was to confirm it, to say those damned words and bear their truth.
But he really wanted to tell them, to run to them, like a child yearning for a mother's embrace after enduring what might not have been much to an adult, but to a child's delicate heart the end of the world.
"Hinata, he's…" Tobio tried to force the words out, he really did, but they got stuck in his throat, and he couldn't choke it out for the life of him. He couldn't say it. He couldn't say those damned words.
Because to say them was to confirm it, to bear their truth.
The truth that Hinata was dead.
Tobio's parents shared a worried glance, but they didn't press further. (Thank god they didn't.)
He finished as much as he could of his dinner (which wasn't much) and went up to bed. "I'm gonna go to bed, I have practice early tomorrow." he made an excuse, and hastily hurried up the stairs.
It was true though, he did have practice rather early tomorrow and- right, practice.
Did he even want to go to practice?
Could he even muster the courage to go to practice?
How could he, when there would be an obvious absence. An elephant in the room.
No matter how hard he set, or how much he played, there was always going to be an absence now - one that could only be filled by honey brown eyes and bright orange hair, fiery passion and a jump so high it could reach the stars.
An absence, a gap that can only be filled by one Hinata Shouyou.
And it hurt, fuck, it hurt to know there was nothing he could do to fill that hole.
Tobio flopped onto his bed. He really wanted to fall asleep and forget, escape the cruel world that was his reality. And pretend that everything was fine, it was just a normal day where the sun was still shining.
But sleep didn't come. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy.
And so Tobio lay awake, staring at the ceiling fan spinning around and around, while everyone else in the world lay in bed to go to sleep as well.
He lays, and he stares, as his mind replays the day's events like a broken recorder, over and over again, and god, he wishes it would stop.
He wishes he could fall asleep like a normal human being, and he wishes his mind wasn't tainted with what could only be described as the aftermath of loss.
He wishes it hadn't ended like this. He wishes this hadn't happened at all.
Because Hinata Shouyou was supposed to play, he was supposed to jump and soar like the fucking beast of a player he is. He was supposed to fly.
And it hurt, that he'd been brought down, tethered, chained to the world when he should've flown.
It hurt. It hurt so much, and Tobio didn't even know why.
And he dares to wonder, as he watches the ceiling fan spin again, would he be feeling like this if he'd never known Hinata at all?
If they had been strangers, people who'd gone their separate ways, people who'd never met, would it hurt?
If he'd never gotten to know maple-brown eyes, or tangerine-coloured hair, or a voice that shouted "Kageyama, toss to me!" no matter how far down it was, would he be feeling like knives were stabbing him inside out?
Tobio supposed not.
And he dared to wonder, if it would have been better to not know Hinata at all. Because what was the point in knowing someone you were going to lose?
Wouldn't that take away the pain?
And so, as the ceiling fan spun without a care in the world, and exhaustion creeped into Tobio's grief-addled mind, he was left with one final thought of the day, before fatigue took its hold:
I wish I'd never known you, Hinata.