Chapter Text
It started when he was young. The feeling of being loved. Not by his mother, no, not that sort of love. He hadn't really understood what it meant when his little six year old heart thrummed against his ribs when he laid eyes on another boy his age as he himself sat against the candy shelves at the store. He hadn't realized what it meant when he found him at school that week at recess, and smiled wider than he had in a long time.
Surely, now, he realized it was love.
The brightness of his smile, the way they held hands and ran around the school yard together like nothing could separate them. The way he was always warm, even in the winter when there was nothing but biting snow and frost dangling from their lashes. Everything about him was so nice, and bright. So good in every purest form of the word.
And he loved all of it.
Even in middle school, when he wanted to play volleyball, that sunshine smile would hurry along after him during practice, even if the now teenaged boy wasn't as good as most, he tried his very best. He always smiled at Tobio like he was his world, like nothing would shatter the closest trust he had ever had. Destroy the love he felt for him.
Until he changed, and their new friends Kindaichi and Kunini decided it was better to split them apart. After his near sacrifice to the game, no, to Tobio, all he did was call him worthless. When it was himself that was worth nothing. He had cried that day, not because the teen who had stayed with him when no one else would was crumpled on the ground, beating the gymnasium floor with weak fists and an ankle twisted in the wrong direction. No, he cried because he was going to be benched, because his team didn't want to deal with him anymore. He cried for himself.
A year later, he cried for himself again.
In the open air of the Aoba Johsai gymnasium, after beating them, him, with his new team at Karasuno. He sobbed and sobbed into the shoulder of that same, sunshine smile bearing face after meeting his gaze. Seeing what he'd become without him. He cried because he had had nothing to do with it. He cried because he hadn't helped, he had moved on.
He didn't need Tobio anymore.
And now? Kageyama Tobio was steady in the cold, biting winter air outside of the public library, fighting back tears as he watched that face that had held a smile just for him turn cold, watched the boy he had loved run away from him.
Watched him leave, without him. It tore him apart. It made him realize what a fool he had truly been. Those bright eyes and beaming smile had turned into nothing but features as cold and relentless as the fevered winds currently chilling his breath.
Kageyama ended up with a cold the next day.
Monday wasn't easy. He went to class, couldn't focus on the English sentence structures being written alongside the Japanese between his miserable sniffles and the whirlwind of angry thoughts shuffling around in his mind. Even with Hinata squawking in his ear throughout the day, during lunch, at volleyball practice, that storm of what-ifs and what went wrong was too strong for him to ignore. Practice was a flop, too, and everyone could tell. No one said anything.
For the most part.
Tsukishima, the asshole he is, had to pry. Had to bring Tobio out of his reverie and into the quiet gymnasium that was either in shock or moving away from the sure to come confrontation.
"So, how'd it go with your boyfriend."
Kageyama barely registered it at first, he didn't have a boyfriend? He didn't remember telling anyone he did, or that he was talking to anyone, for that matter. What did he mean..? Unless.. oh, yeah, he'd mentioned missing a meet up on Saturday to talk to... you... And then he whirled, gave the blond a look of defeat as the tiny rush of anger deflated into sadness once more. "He wasn't my boyfriend, and he never will be, so just leave it at that."
It was left at that.
The days turned to weeks, progressed into months, all of which held the same nagging thoughts, the same restlessness, the same overarching fears of never seeing you again outside the court. At first he tried telling himself that was fine. You had your friends, your team, he had his, you were separate people in separate places and your meeting that day was gone and done with. Then he couldn't tell himself that anymore. He'd question why you had to be separate people. Why you both couldn't meet up again, do it over, talk about what you meant. He knew what you meant. He knew what he'd done, he just didn't know how to fix it. Could he fix it? Was it too far gone? Hell if he knew.
He knew he loved you, though. He knew he regretted not telling you that day you met again at practice. Regretted not saying it at the library before letting his cynical side vomit out accusations of the meet up being a sick joke.
Kageyama was soon nothing but a puddle of regret. That puddle iced over, trapped him in it, solidified his wallowing and made his already temperamental teenage emotions fragment like frosted glass. He didn't know if he should cry or scream or punch a hole in his bedroom wall. Nothing was cohesive. Everything felt like it was falling apart. He lost sleep, because whenever he closed his eyes he watched you run away on repeat.
It was something like hell.
Come time for the InterHigh, Kageyama was somewhat composed. He had slapped some sense into himself, there were games to win, his team needed him to focus. And for a while, he was fine. They were doing well, a few hiccups here and there, but nothing they couldn't push passed. Push they did, and soon came a match they needed to win.
A match Kageyama was nearly sat out of before it began.
The match against Aoba Johsai.
He stood frozen alongside his team as Aoba Johsai entered the court, Oikawa as annoying as ever, a new face to the crowd, Kunimi, Kindaichi... and then you. You seemed to almost glow, like the world was lifted from your shoulders, and subsequently thrust onto his. The bright, sunbeam smile lit up the gymnasium, tickled the edges of the stand, warmed the court. A light bubble of laughter followed, eyes crinkling in effort. It was like a spell, Kageyama was stuck in it, trapped against the floor. Your eyes turned toward his team, smile faltering as they landed on him, but it returned full force as Oikawa called you and the rest of the first years over to the coach's bench. That brief glance and falter, it made Kageyama's world screech to a halt. All the mental preparation was for nothing. He was still in love, so hopelessly, but that look told him he'd never have another chance at that.
The game was hard, as an understatement. The new player for Seijoh, "Mad Dog", was a crazed machine, and it took everything Karasuno had to deal with him. Then Oikawa would show up, and crash through the careful setups and plans. It was a massacre for a while. Kageyama had been trying his hardest to focus, he was doing well, the team was holding strong and scoring against Seijoh well enough. You hadn't been in, sitting on the sidelines with the swap-outs. You weren't first string anymore, he didn't know what to think.
Until the last set. The set to win.
As everyone took a bit of a break and regrouped to deal with the line-up, Oikawa called your name, annoyingly chipper, and he froze again. He watched, a towel pressed to his cheeks, as you jumped to action, taking the place of the newer member for the time being. You'd pat the teen on the shoulder and bid him a job well done with a grin before practically bounding onto the court. A high five to Oikawa, some whispers and excited nodding to him and the rest of the team. It made Kageyama every level of jealous conceivable.
Daichi's hand dropped against the raven's shoulder, voice laced with concern. "Are you sure you'll be okay this set? We'll pull in Suga if you need a break."
He considered it. For a long while, as he watched you talk so animatedly with the team, the coach, wave to someone in the Aoba Johsai crowd you probably knew. Then decided he would be fine.
He wasn't fine.
Aoba Johsai had the first serve of the set, and who better to serve than the boy who hits comets straight from the sky. Kageyama was in the server's corner, eyes following every single movement they could. It was like the practice match all over again. You were serving, he was across the court in the same spot. The ball spun once, twice, was stilled then tossed high into the air in front of you. Your legs propelled you forward in time with the crowd in the stands. Arms back, knees bents, launched into the air and ended with sick crack against the gymnasium floor and a riled up crowd before Kageyama could even track the ball flying between him and Hinata. It was like a comet shot out of the brilliant night sky, colliding with the earth with a mighty impact. He stood still, shaken even, as the service ace was declared and Aoba Johsai enveloped their star server with cheers and hugs and praise. Bubbling laughter filled the energized gymnasium. The tides had turned once more.
Five points to service ace before Nishinoya managed to dive save the ball into play. Karasuno caught up slowly. The rest of the set was a back and forth fight to keep the ball from being tossed back into your own hands. Kageyama's focus dwindled on occasion, but volleyball was his life, the thing he strived to be the best at, the thing he loved the most.
The train of thought screeched to a halt along with the ball that knocked the wind out of him that you'd rocketed over the net after a near perfect set from Oikawa. The gymnasium screeched to a halt at the sick smacking sound of the volleyball hitting skin, then erupted into motion fast than the teen fell to the floor. Kageyama all but crumpled to the floor in some sort of twist of pain and sad realization. His lungs hurt from the sharp intake of breath from the splitting pain in his head, his head screaming in agony and downright sorrow. A voice that sounded far away called out to him, his own hand tentatively reaching to his face. It stung, but not as bad as the barreling train derailing its course.
He loved volleyball more than anything. Even more than his friendships. Even more than you.
And that had been the issue, he was realizing all too late.
The gymnasium came back in full swing suddenly, all of the noises screaming in his ears and causing more pain to well, tears falling from watering eyes, hands on him trying to get him to focus on where he was. A voice cutting through all of the racket and beaming bright like the sun, thick with concern and trembling. It called his name, reached for him as he squinted. A hand moved his own away and rubbed his cheek, tilted his head slowly, another on his back to steady him into a sitting position. His name, repeated and repeated until he managed to look up and find a downcast, grey cloud hovering over what should be a radiant, blinding smile.
"Kageyama, if you can hear me, blink twice."
That's not the right voice, that's Daichi. The face he was looking for is replaced by the stern attentiveness of his team's captain. The hands from before were removed, and as Kageyama reaches around for them, blinking twice slowly to clear his eyes and make Daichi happy as, his mind only fears not finding those hands. "Where is--"
Almost as if he'd called the name, his eyes were allowed to focus on a face that looked like yours but it was too sad and concerned and almost scared to be you. There were tears threatening to blur his sight again, but he reached up to clear them as a broken, crying, voice floated around him like they'd break. "I'm so sorry, Kageyama, I wasn't paying attention to where I was aiming! I missed, I'm so sorry, K-Kageyama are you sure you're okay? Oh my god, we gotta--"
Kageyama reached his hand forward to try and touch something, anything, and assure you he was okay, but he could barely flinch before he was moved against his own will and into the arms of what he assumed were medical staff. He tried to assure them he was okay, but words weren't coming out, all he could do was listen, hear someone usher you away as the medics carefully moved him away from the court.
---
The game had been finished before he was even cleared to leave. Seijoh had won, and though he wasn't on the court, he was just as devastated as if he had been there. He was about to leave the medical area when he heard a shuffling at the door to the room, hand pausing over the door handle as it was pulled away from him. He looked at the teen in the doorway, unable to think about what to say or do. The teen couldn't think much on it either, apparently, because he stood there, still, staring right at Tobio.
"I'm sorry-"
"No, I'm sorry, I finally realize why I hurt you so much, and I can't imagine a way to tell you how much I wish I could go back and redo everything."
A set of blinking eyes scowled, not quite sure what to do, mouth open in question. So, as if he could find no better way to explain, Kageyama swallowed what overbearing fear he had, forced the room to stop spinning long enough to get his hands against smooth, somewhat tear-stained, cheeks, and leaned forward.
There was nothing but silence and a slowing of time. Kageyama let himself stumble a bit, his head still not clear enough to keep from spinning his senses dizzily. He let himself try to apologize and redo some of the terrible things he'd ever done with nothing but slightly chapped, teeth bitten lips pressed against a pair softer than any flower petals he'd ever felt. He tried to convey everything he could, hoped that he wouldn't suffer another head injury for doing something so not like him. Something that might not be welcomed. A few seconds felt like hours in a cotton-like haze, a slight pressure on his wrists pulled his hands away from where they rested, and for a second he thought for sure he was going to get the punch of a lifetime, but a small, hiccupped laugh popped like little bubbles between the space he was invading before the gap was closed once more, quicker, arms circling around his neck as soft lips met his once more.
For once, in what seemed like a long time, Kageyama let himself smile in genuine happiness, laugh like a little kid, squeeze the person he loved more than he could probably understand as tightly as he could. This time he was determined to never make you let go ever again.