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Kageyama knows.
The way he sees it, it would be impossible to not know, and he doesn't know how he feels about it.
He almost considered the possibility of switching schools, before realizing what a drastic and dramatic choice that would have been, but he was just so shocked. Day one, he walks into the gym and immediately he meets not one, but two. He could tell, the way Hinata spoke and the way Suga-san moved his hands.
And some part of Kageyama freezes and shuts down.
And then it gets worse because there's more.
Tsukishima and his headphones and monotone voice, Yamaguchi and the way he echoes and taps rhythmically on his cheekbones, then Nishinoya and his bruises and excited jumping.
Kageyama can't believe his fucking luck. What are the odds?
It's almost frightening.
Kageyama always used to wish that his parents would come to his games, but now he's terrified that they might actually show up to one.
Because if they see, they'll get mad. And no one is safe from that kind of anger, and they might make his change schools, and Kageyama doesn't want to anymore.
But mostly, he's just confused.
His parents always told him that it was necessary, that they didn't have a choice, that he needed to learn if he wanted to be a part of society.
But his teammates are doing fine. They're doing great. Better than him, even.
Suga-san is a third year, and when he flaps his hands or covers his ears, no one says anything. No one looks like they care at all.
So Kageyama wants to know why everybody spent so much time holding his hands down.
Tsukishima talks to you, but doesn't face your way, much less make eye contact with you, and no one says a word.
So Kageyama wants to know why everybody spent so much time holding his head forward.
It's not fair, he thinks. He can't fit in with 'normal' people, and now he's too trained to fit in with the people that are like him.
What shitty luck.
That isn't to say that he doesn't want to. He wants to tell them, wants to be able to flap his hands in excitement alongside Hinata when they pull off an attack, but he can't. He can't even make himself do it at night, when he's locked in his room, hiding under covers. He tries to stim like he used to and instead all he feels is sick guilt and phantom hands on his skin and he has to stop.
Kageyama figured out pretty early on that it doesn't matter what he wants.
It matters what other people want from him.
And so now, now, all Kageyama can think is that he doesn't want to care what other people want from him anymore.
The noise has been getting under his skin for the past half hour.
It had been tolerable at first, the way it always is, but as the game goes on longer and longer and the more exhausted Kageyama gets, the worse everything gets. At this point, he's desperate for the game to be over, regardless of whether they win or not.
He's managing to keep himself anchored to the sound of the volleyball in the air, the full thud and sensation of it hitting skin. It's a good rich sound that he's familiar with and enjoys, but he doesn't know how long it will last. The chattering and cheering of the crowd keeps pressing itself into the space that he's trying to create for himself. He knows that it would be easier to deal with if he could stim, but he can't, even thinking about it makes his muscles lock up and he doesn't have time for that in the middle of a game.
He doesn't have time for overload in the middle of a game either, but something has to give, and it's not going to be that, not yet.
The game is over with the sound of a ball hitting the wood floor and the piercing sound of a whistle.
The whistle is that breaking point.
As the crowd erupts into overenthusiastic cheers, several things happen at once.
Kageyama's entire body goes stiff as a board; his hands want to press themselves over his ears and want to flap in agitation, but he just clenches onto the hem of his shirt and tries to resist the urge. Hinata seems largely unaffected, bouncing in place and flapping his arms in enthusiasm (why does it look so natural when he does it? Did Kageyama used to look like that too? He doesn't remember). Tsukishima is not so lucky, nearly doubled over where he stands, one hand pressed over his ear, the other is opening and closing in frantic, clenching movements at his waist. Kageyama forces his gaze away, and ends up looking over at the other side of the net, where Nekoma's setter, Kozume, has their eyes open wide in panic, arms wrapped around their head, wrists pressing down on their ears, elbows jutting out in front of them.
Kageyama wonders, detachedly, how so many things could go wrong at once.
Someone is pulling gently on his jersey, and Kageyama forces his eyes open and sees Suga-san in front of him, looking concerned.
"We have to line up," the older setter says softly, gesturing with his head. "But we're almost done; just hold on for a bit longer. Are you okay?"
Kageyama tries to say that he's fine, but he can't get the words out, so he just grits his teeth and scowls.
In the line, Kageyama can tell that no one is focused. Nekoma's eyes keep sliding down their line to where Kozume stands, rocking agitatedly on their heels close to where Tsukishima stands, hands still clenching frantically, looking like he's holding himself together with a thread.
Kageyama feels similarly frayed. He just hopes that no one else can see it.
The whistle blows again, people are still cheering and talking and moving around, and Kageyama keeps his hands at his sides, closing his eyes as if he could block out the noise that way.
The next thing he knows, he's outside. He doesn't really have time to wonder how he got out here, before there are hands on his shoulders forcing him to sit, and they're gone before he can protest the touch. He feels weirdly disoriented, like everything is happening too fast and he keeps missing important moments.
Someone is holding a volleyball in front of his face.
Kageyama looks up to see Hinata holding it out to him expectantly, and for one bewildering moment, Kageyama wonders if he's supposed to toss it, before he realizes what Hinata is offering him.
He takes it without really thinking about it, and he forces himself to continue to not think about it as he puts it in his lap, curling around it to feel the pressure of it against his chest, and then he bends down to put his ear against it, listening as he starts to drum his fingers against the side of the ball. He closes his eyes to focus better, and block out some of the light (and any possibility of having to think about people looking at him), and tries to breathe.
He doesn't know how long it is before the itching under his skin has subsided and he feels comfortable enough to open his eyes.
He'd expected that the others would have left, gone to shower or something, but they're still there. None of them are looking at him, except for Hinata, but they're there, like a barrier blocking him from view.
"Are you better?" Hinata asks, his usually loud as shit voice quieter. Kageyama nods; he's exhausted from the game and the overload, but he's better.
He thinks that with a team like this, things could continue to get even better from here on out.