Chapter Text
“ You paint dreamscapes on the wall ”
Kageyama lies awake, eyes open but not looking. The yellow light of the streetlamps outside his window creeps in between the gaps of his blinds, painting the wall in stripes of faded gold. He imagines his mind creeps along each moment in time with the blue digits on his clock, constant but unchanging. The first time he closed his eyes and wished for sleep, only to remain as awake as he would be at midday, he brushed off as the result of a busy mind. The second time he told himself he just didn’t work himself hard enough at practice. However, when this becomes the third consecutive night of sleep eluding him, he can’t deny that the reason he could not sleep was that the silhouette of Hinata flying over the net would not disappear from the inside of eyelids- imagined orange of his hair intertwining with the red haze that comes with closed eyes. Even when he allows his vision to return, he sees Hinata everywhere- on his walls, ceilings and in the way the shadows of the trees sway in the night. Frustrated with his inability to dispel his roommate from his consciousness, he rips the blanket from his body, and hastily pulls his socks on, silently declaring that a brisk night walk should get his nerves to settle.
His windbreaker hangs over the back of his chair, cold from the lack of a wearer, before Kageyama slips his arms through the holes and zips it up, being careful when it reaches his neck. He tiptoes carefully through the hall, not bothering to turn the lights on, scared of waking Hinata. When he exits their building, Kageyama shivers at the night’s chill, mildly piercing in a way that only fall knew how to be. The gradieting shades of browns and golds from the trees hold his attention for a moment, breath coming out in a faint cloud of white before Kageyama tears his eyes away and begins his journey at a brisk pace. He relishes the metronomic rhythm of his footfalls against the concrete, muffled through his headphones but clear in the way it reverberates through his chest. It becomes less pleasant, though, when the pattern lulls his mind back to subconsciousness, leading his train of thought back along the path, up his apartment and to his friend sleeping across from his own room. Gritting his teeth, Kageyama shakes his head as if he was a dog trying to dry itself, imagining the droplets of his imagination being flung away. He stops at the traffic light and presses the button, waiting before it turns green even though the street is empty of cars and people.
He jogs across the white stripes, hands moving in tandem with his legs. I should’ve warmed up , Kageyama thinks, dreading the way his knees will creak in the morning. And, as a result, his mind wanders along morning practice and whether he’ll finally get to see the fruits of his labour for the new jump serve he’d been practicing and if Hinata will wear his skin-tight exercise gear.
What?
Kageyama halts beside a faded green bench, lifting his foot onto it and leaning forward, allowing the back of his thighs to stretch.
I don’t have time to be thinking about that .
Lately, Kageyama’s been confused. More often than not, he’d be following along with the lecture his professor would be presenting, writing down how one muscle contraction will affect the surrounding groups. But then, suddenly, and very evidently not part of the content, he’d somehow be thinking about how Hinata’s arms looked during their cooldowns. The way the sides of his torso flowed into the socket of his arm, round before they straightened into the more gentle curve of his bicep. And now he was drawing Hinata in the margin of his book.
When Kageyama proposed that they should dorm together, it was only because of the mutual benefit of the situation. They’d both been admitted into the same university, and thus, would evidently be on the same volleyball team. Kageyama didn’t even entertain the thought of their separation. It was a balmy afternoon, the kind of summer day that actually made you want to stay inside and just lounge around, making dumb sounds in front of the living room fan for your best robot impressions. He’d been flicking through some sports magazines, eyeing the grey sweatpants advertised on the glossy pages of the book while Hinata laid horizontal on the couch, happily licking at an ice block.
“We should room together,” he’d suggested casually, not even bothering to look up.
It was only through the sound of the springs recoiling that he knew Hinata heard him.
“What?” he said in a tone Kageyama couldn’t call anything but dumb.
“Are you deaf?”
“No, I just thought that you said we should-”
“I did.”
At this, Kageyama looks up, face almost blank except for the tinge of exasperation at having to repeat himself.
“We’re going to the same university, going to the same volleyball club. It would be convenient.”
Hinata only stares at him, so long that his desert begins to drip neon orange down his hand and Kageyama tilts his head towards it as if saying you’re gonna do something about that ? Hinata yelps, quickly lapping up the mess with messy licks of his tongue and wipes his mouth with the back of his other hand.
“No, no, that sounds so fun! We should start looking for places!”
Kageyama thinks about this while his fingers loop around his shoelaces, tightening the knot that hadn’t come undone. His hands were unsteady. In the end, he goes back to their apartment physically more tired, but mind no less alert. When he slips into bed in a fresh set of clothes, eyes adjusting to the darkness, he still can’t escape the hold of brown eyes and raucous laughter. Even in his dreams, the smell of tamago kake gohan lingers and how Hinata’s embrace feels after a win.