Chapter Text
Tobio wiped the sweat from his forehead and dropped his tired body onto the gym floor. Across the net, Shōyō whined, “I almost have it, Tobio! Just five more minutes.”
“I’m cutting us off,” the taller boy sighed. “That practice match against Date Tech is tomorrow. We need to sleep.”
With a huffy grumble, the redhead conceded his defeat after kicking the nearest volleyball in Tobio’s direction. It hit him in the calf and he shouted, “Get over here so I can kick your ass!” He didn’t bother moving, though, and Shōyō stuck out his tongue before flitting about to clean.
After a few moments watching a humming Shōyō pick up their mess, Tobio stretched then rose to his own feet. The spring of their second year in high school was already underway, both boys having graduated by some miracle (or government prodding. Tobio wasn’t sure). He couldn’t believe they were already halfway to summer break. It brought to mind the melancholy words of his former upperclassman, advice given in hushed tones following a brutal defeat: it’s over before you know it. “H-Hinata?” Tobio ventured as the two met at the ball cart.
The redhead narrowed his amber eyes at the taller boy and elbowed him in the side. “Why do you look so annoyed already? I didn’t even say anything yet!”
“You don’t have to say anything to be annoying,” Tobio retorted, grabbing a handful of orange curls and ducking the shorter boy into the cart. There’s still time, he thought as the alien squawked and scrambled to right himself. Watching the brief struggle brought a smirk to Tobio’s face, which Shōyō made an exaggerated show of cowering from once he saw. He was too quick this time for Tobio to catch.
“I’m gonna tell my mom you’re picking on me,” the alien informed with a haughty frown that was in no way serious. “No amount of gratitude she had before will save you from her wrath now.”
“I think I’ll manage,” Tobio said dryly, though after a pause he added, “She wouldn’t actually be mad at me, right?”
Shōyō snorted as he pushed the full cart toward the storage room. “Puh-lease,” he drawled. “She would probably get a kick out of it. She already loves you more than she does me.”
There were words on the tip of Tobio’s tongue, but he swallowed them down before he embarrassed himself. It took a moment of him taking down the net to compose himself, during which time Shōyō had trotted over to their belongings to take a swig of water. “How is she and your sister?” Tobio asked politely instead.
Rejoining him, the alien shrugged, his face growing pensive. “Better every time we talk, I think,” he admitted. “I think hearing everything that happened with my dad gave them closure. Plus they're rebuilding now so they’re staying busy.” He gave a short shake of his head, then flashed Tobio a cheeky grin. “You’d know that if you hadn’t skipped out on the video chat last night.”
Tobio was still working up the courage to get onboard Shōyō’s ship, much less the courage to venture into space to be part of a video call to his alien friend’s family. Shōyō reported everything back to him of their conversations, which often included him, and for now that was enough. They had dubbed Tobio ‘the shy one,’ according to Shōyō. Though Tobio wouldn’t say as much, it wasn’t only shyness or hesitancy about space travel that kept him from the conversation. Part of him still worried that the talks would involve Shōyō planning to go home, a topic they had avoided. He told himself there was time, over and over, even if he wasn’t sure there was.
“M-maybe next time,” he mumbled as he always did. Shōyō snickered, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence as they made quick work of the remainder of their mess. By the time they started the walk home, the small redhead was chattering away about plans to meet up with Oikawa and Iwaizumi that weekend and his intent to drag along Tobio as well. The tall boy groaned, but the prospect wasn’t nearly as disagreeable as it had been before “Aliengate,” as Oikawa so dubbed it in his blog. The fact that the world had been exposed to the existence of hostile aliens in such an abrupt manner was still resulting in a slew of global changes. Not that Tobio paid attention to non-volleyball news: he heard so from his mom, who marveled that aliens could exist without knowing one practically lived with them. The only changes for which Tobio cared were the ones which Agent Tanaka made happen once Shōyō decided to stay on Earth for the time being: a real identity for him; an apartment (which he didn’t sleep in much); a bank account with more zeros than Tobio had ever seen in his life; and the promise that Shōyō would never be forced to do anything he didn’t want to do.
When both boys, sweaty and panting after an impromptu argument and subsequent race to determine the winner (Tobio), arrived home, Mayumi Kageyama was there with dinner and a smile. The house was filled with laughter as they recounted their day (another brief argument about whether or not Tobio had snored during class- he had). After a scarfed down meal, she ushered them upstairs to shower and get ready for bed.
There were some nights Shōyō collapsed into Tobio’s bed with him after his shower. On those nights, he wore a gloomy frown and itched for a Link, clinging to Tobio beneath the sheets. It was guilt, more often than not, for what happened at the end of February- what he’d had to do. Sometimes it was guilt for his father’s death, but sometimes remorse for the sheer quantity of lives lost, enemy or not. Even if Tobio didn’t like the pain it had caused Shōyō, or that it was a decision his friend had to make at all, he relished the closeness it brought them. With their thoughts connected, Tobio reminded him that it wasn’t his fault and he was still Hinata Shōyō, the person he loved. Not that the thoughts ever relayed exactly. (He’d finally asked what Shōyō heard or felt when they were Linked, and he’d less-than-helpfully replied, “The stars.”)
That night, though, Shōyō was in good form, and collapsed with a grateful groan into the guest futon which never left its spot by Tobio’s bed. “We’re gonna kick Date Tech’s butts tomorrow,” he affirmed with a gleeful grin. “Then it’s just a couple months until the prefectural qualifiers!”
“Don’t forget the other practice matches, dumbass,” Tobio reminded.
A head of orange hair popped up from the floor and Shōyō made a mocking face at him. Tobio swiped at him halfheartedly. “Hey, Tobio?” the redhead started, propping himself up on the edge of Tobio’s bed. The sudden gentleness of his voice in the dark room sent a shiver down Tobio’s spine.
“What?” he whispered.
Shōyō was quiet for a while. The only evidence that he hadn’t fallen asleep was the dip in Tobio’s bed when Shōyō leaned onto it. Tobio was about to ask again when the alien finally said, “I’m glad it was you. Out of everyone it could have been when I first got here.”
The sentiment warmed him from head to toe, and Tobio buried his face into his pillow to hide the flush creeping onto his cheeks, even though his friend wouldn’t be able to see it. “Me too,” he mumbled, the response muffled but no less sincere. He couldn’t have foreseen this outcome that evening more than a year ago when he’d agreed to bring home an alien. He wondered how different his life could have been, in another life, a different reality where they didn’t meet the way they had. In none of those scenarios was he quite as happy as he was now.
Some other time he would relay all that to Shōyō. For whatever time he was gifted, Tobio was content to be a friend. He hoped it would be a long time; maybe anything short of forever wouldn’t be long enough.
He grumbled something to hide his embarrassment, telling Shōyō to shut up and go to sleep. With a snort, his friend crawled back into his own blankets, leaving behind a warmth that lingered in Tobio’s chest. Some other time, he affirmed as he peeked from his pillow to see the outline of orange curls in the darkness. He would relish the time he was given, and Tobio thanked all the stars which had blessed him with Hinata Shōyō.
THE END