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2017-05-07
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I'll give you all of my love

Anonymous

Summary:

Sitting with a needle in your arm and a tube stuck halfway up your vein, Kageyama thinks it’s safe to say, sucks.

Notes:

In all honesty, I'm in too many fandoms now to actually keep up, but it's always such a wonderful thing to enter into one and find people just as enthusiastic as you, who are also kind and lovely. In particular, slashbringingtrasher, someonestolemyshoes, sasukesdad, Ellessey, Esselle, and many many more I'm probably forgetting.

The condition varies, so Hinata's Crohn's Disease that is described is my own. Any queries/comments are welcome!

Title by Sjowgren's, “Seventeen”. Playlist at the end!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Sitting with a needle in your arm and a tube stuck halfway up your vein, Kageyama thinks it’s safe to say, sucks.

The sun is beaming bright and warm, and Kageyama can feel the heat where he’s sat near the window, but he can’t actually enjoy it, because he’s currently been sitting for forty-five minutes on an uncomfortable hospital chair as an iron drip is slowly pumped into him.

He’s tried to change the speed three separate times, but it always results in tangled wires and beeping machines because he’s accidentally cut off the supply or created an air bubble or some other complete crap, and the nurses will tut and fuss around him and he'll scowl as they fix it. 

He should be outside. He should be training, he should be at practise, tossing volleyballs until sweat is dripping down the sides of his face. Energy thrums throughout his whole body, making him restless and jittery.

All because he’s anaemic.

Really. It’s pathetic. All because he had some slight reaction to folic acid tablets and now has to come in, every week for the next month, to have iron intravenously pumped into his body.

One would think the situation was life-threatening.

Alright, so he might have passed out slightly on court, but it couldn’t really be classed as passing out – he more of less stumbled, dizzy, and sunk to the ground before the whole team was crowding around him, feeling his forehead and touching his face, and Kageyama shoved them all off and stood up again. 

So not passing out.

But then he was forced to sit out on the game, and then the medics were asking all these questions about how tired he’s been lately and does he lose energy and Kageyama grumbled that yeah, maybe, and then they told him he was probably anaemic and that was it.

Or that should have been it. 

But no, he had to come out in a rash as soon as he tried the tablets offered by the doctor, and then they told him if he can't take those, he'll need to come in every week for an intravenous drip.

It’s not that. It’s not the drip that’s the annoying part – it’s sitting on his ass for the better part of an hour and waiting. 

Especially considering he’s in a public ward, watching everyone else get their drip, only their drips look a lot more serious, and they look a lot more ill.

There’s this boy (and Kageyama refuses to call him cute) with two bags on his drip stand, knees bouncing and jittery fingers restless as they strum on the armrest.

Kageyama is vaguely worried they're giving him adrenaline.

His hair is a shock of orange, tuffs that stick up wildly, eyes large and almost cartoonishly wide, a clear, warm brown. 

He’s not cute, Kageyama tells himself fiercely. He’s not.

He looks about fourteen. Kageyama himself is sixteen and does not feel comfortable with the sharp jolt in his chest he gets every time he sees the boy.

It just feels vaguely wrong. Kageyama doesn't even know if it’s legal.

The first time he saw the boy, it was Kageyama’s first infusion, and he spotted him as soon as he stepped into the ward.

It’s hard not to. He’s like a glowing beacon of light.

Kageyama took the chair opposite him, and was met with a sunny grin and a curious head tilt.

“Hi!” The boy said.

Kageyama blinked. “Mm.” He huffed, noncommittal.

The boy’s face fell, and he turned away, a slight pout to his already plump mouth.

Kageyama clenched his teeth, an apology wriggling inside his mouth, pressing against his teeth.

He swallowed it.

And that was that. Or that should have been it, but now he’s back, sitting across from Kageyama again as he gets another infusion of iron, tapping his foot restlessly and glancing out the window every few seconds.

As soon as the nurse appears as she makes her rounds, the boy is jumping up, almost flying off his seat.

“Emma!” He shouts, waving. “Emma, please can I go outside? You promised!”

Kageyama blinks and sits up at that, frowning, because surely not –

The nurse (Emma, it seems) rolls her eyes. “Alright, let me disconnect you first.”

The boy is squirming around in excitement, but Kageyama is still frowning, confused, because he can’t –

But then he is, he actually is.

The plug on the wall connected to his drip is being unconnected, and then he’s taking it by the stand, wrapping the wire around and –

He stops. He looks at Kageyama, blinks once, and then beams.

“Do you want to come?” He asks, practically vibrating.

Kageyama gapes.

The nurse nods her head, smiling. “I’ll disconnect you, honey, if you want to go outside.” She says. “Too nice a day to be in here.”

Kageyama blinks, and then he feels his cheeks heat at the sudden attention focused on him. “Um.” He looks down at his arm.

The nurse comes over, reaching over his head to the plug, and pulls it out in one swift motion.

Kageyama jerks and whips his head to his drip machine with wide eyes, scared that alarms are going to ring out in the hospital.

Nothing happens.

The boy laughs. “You look shocked!” He says, pointing at Kageyama’s face and doubling over.

Kageyama scowls, stands, and takes a hold of his drip. “Let’s go.” He states.

It would just look rude to refuse now, Kageyama tells himself.     

The boy jumps – jumps, like Scooby-Doo – and then he’s taking his drip with his good arm, the one currently not attached to a tube, and almost sprinting out the ward.

“Careful!” The nurse – Emma, shouts after him, and the boy purposefully slows, throwing a wide, careless grin over his shoulder to Kageyama that does not make his heart do a double flip, no.

Until they’re out in the hallway, and the boy turns to him.

“I’m Hinata!” He says, one hand held out, all his fingers spread as if this is the first time he’s ever offered someone his palm.

Kageyama blinks, and then he’s tentatively reaching out, grasping the boys – warm, soft, strong – hand, and he’s not blushing, he’s not.

“K – Kageyama.” He replies, voice a little rough, and he clears his throat.

“Cool!” Hinata says, and then he grins, wicked, and says, “watch this.”

Kageyama has no clue what’s about to happen, but he sure as hell isn’t expecting Hinata to put a foot on the wheel of his drip, propel himself forward with the other, and skid down the hallway at lightning speed.

“WOOHOO!” He cries, and Kageyama is about to rush forward to stop him from crashing into the wall, until about three separate voices from the inside the ward all shout, “HINATA!”

*

They sit on the bench just outside the hospital, and Hinata is beaming, his face upturned toward the sky and eyes closed, basking in the heat.

Kageyama studies him: his fire-red hair, the light, sun-tanned freckles dotted over his skin, the wide stretch of his mouth, and almost thinks that it’s like looking at a tiny sun.

A tiny, fragmented piece of the sun that’s fallen down to earth. That’s blazed a trail on its way here and is still burning, just as bright as it was in the sky.

Hinata peeks one eye open and looks at him sideways.

Kageyama flushes to the tips of his ears and glances away.

“So,” Hinata begins. “What age are you?”

“Sixteen.” Kageyama states.

“No way!” Hinata turns, almost dislodging the wire in his enthusiasm. “Me too!”

Kageyama frowns, one eyebrow raising. “No you’re not.”

Hinata blinks, but Kageyama carries on.

“You’re tiny.” He waves a hand, as if this encompasses Hinata’s tininess.

“I swear!” Hinata puffs out his chest. “I’m sixteen.”

Kageyama feels his face embarrassingly hot, but he won’t believe it. “You look about twelve.” He insists.

Hinata makes a high, wounded noise in the back of his throat that sounds a bit like ‘FWAH’, or ‘WUH’, or maybe a combination of both, and then he’s reaching forward and smacking Kageyama on the shoulder.

Kageyama catches his wrist easily, but Hinata scrunches his entire face up at him, eyes blazing.

“That’s stunted growth, bakageyama!” He shouts, and Kageyama lets him go, fingers releasing quickly.

“Stunted growth?” He frowns.

“I have Crohn’s Disease.” Hinata huffs. “Means I barely grow.”

Kageyama is quiet.

“Oh.”

There’s quiet.

“Bet you feel bad now.” Hinata says, primly.

“Boke, of course.” Kageyama gripes, mouth tight. “How was I supposed to know?”

“I’m in a hospital, Yama-kun, it might give you some idea.” Hinata says, and Kageyama is just about to reach over and grab him by the hair, but then Hinata is turning with a grin, one eye squinted with the force of it, and the light catches him in such a way that makes him glow.

Kageyama rolls his eyes, an uncomfortable pressure in his chest making it hard to breathe. “Yeah, yeah.” He huffs.

“Why are you in here?” Hinata tilts his head, curious.

Kageyama clears his throat. “I’m. Anaemic.”

Hinata stares. And then he tips his head backwards and laughs.

“Hey!” Kageyama shouts, but Hinata just slaps his thigh, wheezing.

“Anaemic!” He shouts. “You’re anaemic!”

“It’s a thing!” Kageyama retorts, but then soon realises that doesn’t make sense. “It’s – serious!” He amends.

Hinata shakes his head, still wheezing, his eyes watering. “Not – it’s really not –” he gasps.

“People can be really sick with anaemia.” Kageyama crosses his arms, petulant. People can be. He just doesn’t happen to be one of those people.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Hinata shakes his head, but then a snicker escapes, and he’s laughing again.

“It’s not funny!” Kageyama growls, irritation starting to seep into his voice. “This –” he holds up the arm attached to the drip wire. “Is not fun.”

Hinata blinks, dispelling the look instantly, and then he’s just staring at Kageyama, brown eyes serious. “I know.” He states, soft. “I know.”

Kageyama is quiet, caught in Hinata’s gaze, in the depth and warmth staring back at him. 

Kageyama swallows and glances away, down at his knees.

“So, what – what is Crohn’s Disease, anyway?” He stutters.

Hinata takes a sharp breath in. “Crap.”

Kageyama nods, awkward. “Yeah.” He says. “Uh, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain –”

Hinata waves a hand. “Basically, my bowels are inflamed. So they hurt all the time. I can’t eat much, and pooping hurts. This.” He shakes his drip stand, and the two intravenous bags bump together. “Is called Infliximab. It’s an immunosuppressant, so it blocks the thing that makes inflammation. But it also blocks my entire immune system, so I catch, like, everything.”

Hinata heaves a sigh then, and if Kageyama is imagining it, his hair loses some of its bright shine. Everything seems to dim inside him.

“That’s shit.” Kageyama says, with as much feeling as he can push into his voice.

Hinata whips to him with wide eyes. “Yama! That’s so vulgar!”

Kageyama looks very hard at Hinata and says, “I think it’s deserved.”

Hinata’s face colours, just slightly, a soft tinge of pink gracing his cheeks. He looks away, and then his jaw clenches in determination, and he turns back to Kageyama with a fire in his eyes.

“It’s shit.” He states.

“Shit.” Kageyama agrees.

“It’s shit!” Hinata shouts, turning away.

“Shit!” Kageyama yells, into the open air.

Hinata jumps up onto the bench. “IT’S SHIT!” He cries.

Kageyama stands, takes a hold of his drip, and shakes it. “THIS IS SHIT!” He booms, as loud as he can.

Hinata throws both arms open wide, throws his head back, and screams in one long, drawn-out screech, “SHIIITTT!”

Kageyama is laughing, but it comes out as more of an unpractised, startled snort at Hinata’s pose, but then Hinata is laughing, collapsing back onto the bench beside Kageyama and laughing so hard he curls in on himself, and so Kageyama joins in.

“Today was a good day.” Hinata says abruptly, as they’re making their way back. Kageyama’s drip is finished, but he thinks he spotted 1hr04 on Hinata’s machine.

Kageyama blinks in surprise, blood rushing to his face, until Hinata carries on.

“I’m glad it was today I met you.” He says, a half-smile still on his face.

Kageyama blinks, a furrow appearing between his brows. “What do you mean?”

Hinata grins wider. “Nothing.”

It doesn’t sound like, ‘it means nothing.’ It sounds more like, ‘it’s nothing you need to worry about.’ 

*

Kageyama is lying awake that night, tossing his volleyball up in the air and catching it in the palm of his hand, replaying Hinata’s sunny expression, the unconscious way his head tilts, the bright spark that lights his eyes.

“Urgh.” He groans, catching the ball in both hands before smushing it to his face in order to hide his blush, even though nobody but him can even see it.

*

Kageyama is not looking forward to his next infusion. He’s not, not at all.

His heart isn’t beating, his hands aren’t sweating, and he most certainly isn’t wearing his best jumper, hair smoothed down that he hasn’t checked more than three times.

As soon as he enters the ward, his eyes are scanning the room, and –

Hinata’s not here.

Kageyama pauses, blinking, and just stands there. Some people glance up, and Kageyama feels his face heat. He goes to his usual seat, holding out an arm as the nurse ties the elastic band around his bicep.

Maybe he’s just late. He’ll be here.

Five minutes turns to ten, turns to twenty. The longer time wears on, the further Kageyama’s heart sinks, inch by inch, until it’s lying somewhere by his feet.

This is a good thing. Maybe he doesn’t need to get his infusions anymore, maybe this means he’s better.

Today was a good day. Kageyama has a feeling not many are.

Worry churns in his gut like nausea, twisting his insides. He sees Emma, and almost wants to call over, to ask her if she knows where Hinata is, but she’s busy, and he only has fifteen minutes left.

As soon as it’s over, Kageyama presses the cotton pad into his arm a little harsher than necessary once the needle is taken out. He isn’t pretending he doesn’t care anymore.

And so of course, it’s as he’s stalking out, scowl set firmly into his features, that he bumps into a small body turning around the corner of the hallway.

“GAH!” Hinata stumbles back and flails, arms waving, and Kageyama catches one before he topples over.

“Hey! Watch – oh!” Hinata blinks, and then he’s beaming, bright as that. “Kageyama-kun!” He shouts, jumping up on the spot.

“Where were you?” Kageyama huffs, even though his face is so obviously flushed.

Hinata frowns, head falling to the side. “Huh?”

Kageyama holds out an arm, showing him the bandage. “I had my iron. Where were you?”

Hinata blinks, and then he’s laughing.  “Silly!” He shakes his head. “I don’t get it every week! I had it last week because I just started, but now I’ll have it every three weeks.”

Kageyama blinks. “Oh.” He states.

Three weeks. Every three weeks. Kageyama’s last infusion is next week.

He won’t see Hinata again.

Hinata blinks at him, a slow spreading smile creeping over the sides of his face. “Are you sad?”

Kageyama blushes to the roots of his hair. “No!” He shouts, a little louder than is strictly necessary. “Dumbass.” He huffs, lowering his voice and gritting his teeth.

Hinata grins. “Do you want to come to my ward?”

Kageyama blinks. “You – are you staying in hospital?” He frowns.

Hinata nods. “Just while I’m flaring. C’mon, I get a private room, I’ll show you.”

Hinata takes Kageyama’s wrist and pulls him along, but he doesn’t let go in the elevator, simply holds three loose fingers over his pulse point as they wait.

Kageyama’s heart is pounding. He stares straight ahead and very deliberately does not react.

But then Hinata is dragging him along, down a corridor with a lot of people and a lot more noise, turning around and –

“Tada.” He holds a hand out to a door with the number 11 on it, and Kageyama peers inside.

It’s just a bed, really.

A bed in the middle of a small room, with a TV on the wall, an IV drip in the corner. There are blankets bundled up on the chair, a laptop sat on the little table that wheels out.

But then there are other things too – a fluffy teddy bear at the foot of the bed the same colour as Hinata’s bright hair, books stacked up on the bedside drawer, film cases, deodorant, a pair of headphones.

All the signs of living permeate the small space, as much as any real living room.

“Sorry it’s a little messy.” Hinata is saying, bustling around as he gathers up his rubbish, throwing the deodorant into one his drawers, and Kageyama did not need to see a flash of boxer briefs, he really didn’t.

He averts his eyes and looks out the window, willing the flush to recede.

“Anyway.” Hinata says, and he goes around to the IV drip, rolling up his sleeve easily and revealing a tube that he hooks himself up to.

Kageyama frowns. “I thought –”

“Oh, this is just vitamins and potasseium and stuff while I can’t eat much.” Hinata grins, blinding. “And iron.”

Kageyama tightens his mouth into a thin line. “I hate you.” He states, and Hinata laughs.

“Anyways, this is it.” He nods, and then his face is abruptly flooding with colour, and he’s throwing himself over the bed.

“Wh –” Kageyama starts, worried Hinata’s left out a pair of boxers – which he totally wouldn’t look for – until Hinata snatches the bear and stuffs it under his t-shirt.

“You – you didn’t see anything, did you?” He asks, wide-eyed.

Kageyama crosses his arms and tries very hard not to grin.

Hinata sags, shoulders slumping, and he pulls out the teddy. “It’s Natsu’s, she’s my little sister, she left it here.”

Warmth blooms, cracks open and comes to life inside Kageyama’s chest. “Ah.” He says.

Hinata peers up at him. “Wanna watch a movie?” He asks, almost – shyly.

Kageyama now tries very, very hard not to react.

As casually as possible, he says, “sure.”

But then Hinata is springing up and picking his laptop off the desk and sitting on one edge of the bed, clearly designating space on the other side for Kageyama. Kageyama swallows hard and sits hesitantly, until Hinata is placing the laptop between them.

Kageyama sees him quickly shut the page he was on, but not before the catches a glimpse of the screen.

“Were you watching Brother Bear?” Kageyama finds that he’s grinning despite himself.

Hinata blushes furiously, made more obvious by their proximity, cheeks as red as his hair. “No! That just came up!”

Kageyama bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s my favourite Disney movie.” He says.

Hinata blinks. “Mine too.” He whispers, as if it’s a secret.

“Want to watch?” And now Kageyama is whispering, stupidly, but he can’t seem to help it.

Hinata’s sunbeam of a smile is worth texting his mom that he’ll be home late.

It’s not until they’re actually watching the movie, and the sky is darkening outside the window, casting the room in grey, the only sounds Hinata’s whirring IV drip going through, his soft breaths beside Kageyama and the noise of the movie that Kageyama hasn’t been paying attention to since Hinata’s knee brushed his and didn’t move away, that Kageyama starts to realise he’s fucked.

Hinata’s breathing grows heavier, until, slowly but surely, his head tilts, once, twice, and then falls onto Kageyama’s shoulder.

Kageyama doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t even breathe.

He knows, for sure, that he’s fucked.

Hinata is at such an awkward position that he can’t possibly be comfortable – his neck is all bent, one of his legs is lifted up and crossed on the bed while the other dangles off the edge, but his mouth is agape, eyes fluttering.

He’s fast asleep.

Kageyama breathes through his nose, slowly, heart hammering against his ribcage like a wild, caged thing.

He’s been this close to people before, but it’s never seemed to matter as much as it does right now.

Because right now, Hinata has his nose pressed into the collar Kageyama’s jumper, nuzzling his face into Kageyama’s neck as he sleeps, and Kageyama’s whole body feels odd. Too hot and sweaty, as if his blood is heating up inside him.

He waits until the credits are rolling over the screen, volume turned down, before he takes Hinata’s wrist gently.

“Hinata.” Kageyama murmurs, squeezing gently.

Hinata stirs, and Kageyama truly hates to do it, but he squeezes again. “Hinata.” He repeats, just as soft.

Hinata blinks slowly, brown eyes coming open, before he gasps and sits up. “Did I fall asleep?”

Kageyama chuckles. “Yeah.” He says, and clears his throat to cover the fondness even he can hear.

“What time is it?” Hinata asks, frowning, still sluggish.

“Time I should go.” Kageyama says, and Hinata blinks at him.

“Oh.” Hinata says, a soft exhalation.

Kageyama looks down at the sheets. Their knees are still touching. “I – I enjoyed this.”

His face can’t possibly get any hotter. Kageyama doesn’t think there’s a known temperature for his face.

“Me too.” He hears, and he looks up to find Hinata’s eyes on him, startlingly clear and intense in the darkness of the room.

Kageyama’s throat feels tight. “Cool.” He whispers.

“I – I like you.” Hinata says, in a rush. “By the way.”

Kageyama feels as if he’s about to die.

Is that a feeling? His entire body goes hot in the space of a second, and it feels as if his lungs expand while his heart explodes at the same time.

A pulmonary aneurysm? Is this what he’s experiencing?

“Yeah?” He hopes his voice is conveying something other than a pulmonary aneurysm.

Hinata nods, eyes roving over his face.

“Me too.” Kageyama says, before he ruins everything by not saying anything. “I like you too.”

Hinata’s face colours beautifully, that same pinkness of before heating his freckled cheeks. His eyes flutter downcast, and he ducks his head in one bashful motion that clenches Kageyama’s heart.

Kageyama feels a touch to his knee, and glances to see the tips of Hinata’s fingers just grazing the material of his jeans.

His heart jolts, and he reaches out with tentative fingers to brush the back of Hinata’s smooth hand too.

“Cool.” Hinata whispers.

Kageyama nods. “Um. So, we can do this again?” He asks, just to be sure.

Hinata nods quickly, his head still ducked, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looks down at their hands. Kageyama runs the tip of a finger down the vein on Hinata’s wrist, slowly, and watches Hinata shudder.

“I have to go.” Kageyama says mournfully. “I’ll come back tomorrow?”

Hinata nods, still not saying anything.

“Room 11, Ward 3.” Kageyama recites, and rubs the pad of his thumb in a little circle on the back of Hinata’s hand.

Hinata makes a noise then, choked back, and then he’s nodding furiously.

“Alright.” Kageyama stands, but it feels as if his feet don’t touch the floor. “Cool.” He states, and then he crosses over to the door.

“Tomorrow.” He says again, at the doorway, and nods once before walking out.

It’s not until he’s actually walked out, door closed behind him, that Kageyama hears the sudden, ear-splitting squeal of, “GWAHHH!”

Kageyama startles and rushes back, but then he sees, quite clearly through the little window on the door, Hinata pressing the teddy to his face, doing nothing to hide the grin stretching his mouth apart. He squirms on the bed in an attempt at dancing before crushing the bear to his chest.

Kageyama whips around, presses himself to the wall, and stuffs a fist into his mouth to keep from beaming.

*

Lying in bed that night, he still has to cover his face with the volleyball, but mostly because he’s being so embarrassing not even Kageyama himself wants to deal with it.

*

So, Kageyama sees Hinata again.

And again. And another time. And some more after that.

They have a … thing. A thing. Yeah, Kageyama would call it that. It’s definitely something. Kageyama goes to the hospital, and they’ll sit out in the sun, or they’ll take a walk, or watch a movie, and their hands might brush sometimes, and Hinata might blush, so.

It's something.

“What do you like to do?” Hinata asks one day as they’re trailing around the walkway, Hinata’s IV in tow.

“Um.” Kageyama begins, and swallows. “I like volleyball.”

He doesn’t expect Hinata’s eyes to light up the way they do, but then again, Kageyama never knows what to expect when it comes to Hinata.

“Really?” He gushes, excitement making him almost vibrate. “Me too!”

Kageyama blinks. “Do you?” He asks.

“Yeah!” Hinata bumps a fist into the air. “What position do you play?”

“Uh, setter.” Kageyama says, but he’s already red in the face, his heart pounding with the realisation that Hinata likes the same things as he does.

“No way! I’m a spiker!” Hinata mimes hitting a ball, and Kageyama has to stifle laughter as he gets tangled in his wires.

“Dumbass, be careful.” Kageyama chuckles, unwinding the tube wrapped around his arm.

“But I am!” Hinata insists. “I’ll show you.”

“Okay.” Kageyama says, and that’s that.

The next time he visits, it’s with a volleyball.

The look on Hinata’s face would have Kageyama bringing him a thousand volleyballs, just to see it again.

*

“Okay, ready?” Kageyama asks, poised to toss.

Hinata is standing a little way away in the courtyard, his drip stand pushed to the side.

He still has his IV tube in his arm, ready to be connected up again, but his sleeves are rolled over it. He looks just like anybody else.

“You sure you can do this?” Kageyama asks again, just to be sure.

“Ready!” Hinata shouts, and Kageyama throws the ball, soft and gentle, into the air towards Hinata.

Hinata jumps, both arms lifting, before he suddenly yelps, and.

Misses.

He misses.

The ball goes sailing past, bouncing against the wall before falling to the ground.

Hinata stares, dumbstruck, down at his arm.

“Idiot, what did you do?” Kageyama rushes over and takes Hinata’s arm.

The little tube that’s taped to his skin has gone red inside.

“Is that blood?” Kageyama asks, and feels faint. “Is that –”

“I’ve never missed.” Hinata states.

“Wh – Hinata –” Kageyama babbles.

“I’ve never missed.” Hinata looks at him then, and his eyes are wide, sad.

“Because you’ve got a stupid drip in, boke!” Kageyama shouts. “Anyone would miss!”

“Not me.” Hinata shakes his head. “Not me.”

They sit on the little grassy patch afterwards, and Kageyama buys them both a milk carton from the vending machine.

“It’s good for you.” He grumbles when Hinata raises his eyebrows playfully, but doesn’t say anything.

“Good for iron.” Hinata nods.

Kageyama huffs, an unwilling smile tugging at his mouth.

“I know. I know I have a drip in my arm.” Hinata starts, looking down at his feet where his knees are hugged to his chest. “I just thought I could do it anyway.”

Kageyama is quiet.

“I haven’t played in a while.” Hinata confesses, a soft murmur. “Sometimes.” He swallows. “Sometimes I’m worried I might forget how to play. That I’ll walk into practise one day and – and I won’t be able to catch anything.” Hinata stares down at the grass hard. “I’ll miss everything. My hands will just forget how to do it.”

Kageyama collects what he wants to say, gathers up all his thoughts, and then he’s speaking.

“I used to be the best in my school.” He begins. “I thought that meant I was the best in the world. I really did.” He clears his throat, and plays with the straw of his carton. “But then this – this third year joined the team, and in months he was already better.” Kageyama feels his chest hurt as he thinks about it. “Things I’d been practising for years he could do – just effortlessly. He won the award for best setter.” Kageyama takes a breath, in and out. “And I think that’s when I realised I’m still improving, and that’s okay.” He says. “I don’t have to be the best.”

Hinata is watching him with clear, vivid brown eyes.

“There are talented people in the world, and sometimes it can make you feel talentless, but you have to know that your talent is always improving.” Kageyama tells Hinata, staring hard. “Alright? So what if you forget? So what if you can’t catch a toss right now?” Kageyama asks. “Who’s to say you won’t ever be able to?”

Hinata is staring back, and then he tilts his head. “This guy – he was a third year?”

Kageyama blinks. “Yeah.”

“So he was two years older than you?” Hinata carries on.

Kageyama feels his cheeks heat. “Yeah.”

“And he had a lot more experience.” Hinata says. “And he’d been playing for a lot longer.”

Kageyama huffs. “I guess.” He says, mouth twitching. “It’s just. It was more the award.” Kageyama admits. “I thought. For a while, I thought it would be me.” It’s embarrassing to even admit, but Kageyama finds himself doing it anyway.

“Because it would be like – confirmation?” Hinata asks, his head tilting. “Something solid to hold, to say, ‘gah, I’m good at this.’” Hinata mimes holding an object with both hands.

Kageyama nods softly, eyes wide.

“I don’t think you need confirmation.” Hinata tells him, and wraps his arms around his knees again. “I think all the confirmation is already there, if you look for it.”

Kageyama frowns, his own head falling to the side. “What?”

“You love volleyball, right?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama nods. He can’t imagine not loving volleyball, despite all the heartache and pain it’s brought him, all the inadequacy and jealousy stored up inside his chest.

“So, that’s all that matters.” Hinata says. “That’s how you know you’re good. Because no matter if you lose a game, or sprain your ankle, or keep failing, and keep failing, you’ll still play, because you love it.”

Kageyama shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “That doesn’t make you good, dumbass. You have to actually make some kind of contribution to the sport.”

“Like how?” Hinata asks.

“Like winning a game, or an award, or – doing something.” Kageyama waves a hand.

“I think the contribution you make to the world is a lot bigger than just numbers or letters, winning and losing.” Hinata tells him, beaming up. “I think it’s something that can’t really be explained, can’t really be calculated. It’s just bigger.”

Kageyama is a little thrown, a little tight-chested, a little sore-throated. “You’re weirdly wise.” He states, and Hinata laughs, head tipping back. 

Kageyama huffs, cheeks heating, and goes back to his carton. He takes a sip, wets his lips, and then –

Soft warmth covers his mouth, the taste of sweet, slightly sour, cold milk on his tongue for the barest fraction of a second before it disappears, gone just as quickly as it appeared.

Hinata kissed him.

Hinata kissed Kageyama. He had leaned forward, and put his lips to Kageyama’s lips.

Kageyama is frozen, dumbfounded, before his cheeks erupt into flames. “Dumbass!” He shouts. “I wasn’t ready!”

Hinata is hiding his face, a bashful smile twisting the corners of his mouth. “Too late.” He chirps, even though he’s blushing.

“That’s not fair!” Kageyama feels wronged, somehow. “You didn’t give me time to prepare.”

Hinata is grinning. “You missed your chance.” He tells Kageyama, light and airy.

Kageyama knows he’s pouting, but he can’t help it. “I’ll get you back.” He tells Hinata, very seriously.

And Hinata beams. 

*

*

Hinata has a bad day.

Kageyama finds him in the bathroom, part lying against the toilet and lying on the floor. The door is open.

“No.” Hinata holds out a hand as soon as he sees him. “No, Yama, don’t come in.”

Kageyama steps inside and comes to him, kneeling and feeling his forehead.

“Kageyama, please,” Hinata keeps shaking his head, skin clammy and cold-wet. He turns to retch into the toilet, but only manages spits out salvia. He’s ash-white, and when Kageyama puts his hand on the back of Hinata’s head to stroke his hair, he can feel how small, how fragile his skull is.

“Yama, I told you.” Hinata breathes, exhausted. He’s so weak, he can hardly keep his head up. He reaches out and grasps Kageyama’s wrist with thin fingers as he throws up.

Kageyama picks up the emergency buzzer. “I’m gonna get a nurse, okay?”

Hinata just shakes his head, his grip tightening.

Kageyama lifts him with a gentle arm under his legs, the other supporting his back. Hinata leans into the touch, tucking his head beneath Kageyama’s chin.

He’s so light, it’s like carrying nothing. A kid, like carrying a kid.

Kageyama lays him down gently, and Hinata flops down, boneless. His t-shirt is a little rucked up, revealing his concave stomach. Kageyama pulls the hem of it down, because he’ll get cold.

He leans in, brushing Hinata’s hair back, and Hinata smiles up at him.

“It must be wonderful.” He grins, although it’s watery.

“What?” He frowns.

“To be healthy,” Hinata says, and there’s a crying in his voice as he closes his eyes, leaning back against the pillows.

Kageyama bends and presses his mouth to Hinata’s forehead, silent.

*

It happens again. It just keeps happening.

“Urgh!” Hinata is gripping his sides, doubled-over, and Kageyama is at his side, is stroking his face, but Hinata just pushes him away, pushes at his hands.

“I’m so sick of this.” He hisses, features screwed up in pain, “I’m so sick of it, I’m so sick of it, I’m so sick of it –”

“Shh, I’m here.” Kageyama murmurs, helpless and powerless as he watches. “I’m right here.”

Hinata rocks back and forth, face ashen, and Kageyama can only be there with him. He can’t take it away, he can’t ease the pain, he can’t do anything.

It happens after Hinata eats, anytime he tries to nibble on even the softest of foods. Kageyama can only watch as he spasms, writhing on the bed.

"I'm so sick of being sick." Hinata grips at his hair and pulls, and Kageyama takes his wrists gently, but it doesn’t make a difference.

Nothing makes a difference.

Afterwards, he’s drained. It drains him, the pain, when it comes. Kageyama has never seen anybody in so much pain.

They sit on his bed and watch movies until Hinata is listing to the side, eyes drooping, and Kageyama shuffles closer so he has something to fall back onto.

*

Kageyama meets Hinata’s family when they visit.

It turns out Kageyama has been missing them this whole time, because Kageyama always comes after school, which is coincidentally after visiting hours, and why Hinata has insisted on walking around the ward, or going outside, or doing something other than just rest, because Kageyama's not actually allowed in the ward.

“Dumbass.” Kageyama grumbles for the fifth time. “You could have said.”

Hinata just beams, all his bright teeth showing, and Kageyama pretends his cheeks aren't red.

Natsu is a smaller, female version of Hinata, and considering Hinata’s already miniature stature it should seem almost impossible, but it’s true. She grins wide when she sees Kageyama, her head tilted upwards to look at him.

Hinata’s parents are two smiling, light-haired people who immediately take Kageyama into their arms as soon as he jerks his head in greeting, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“So, you’re Kageyama.” Hinata’s mom pulls back, holding him by the shoulders, and she’s grinning.

Kageyama is blushing furiously, but he nods.  

Hinata’s parents greet him next with a soft kiss to his cheek, a stroke of his hair, and Hinata arches into the touch, beaming wide at them.

Something in Kageyama’s chest softens, and he finds himself smiling back. 

*

The credits are rolling across the screen, music a soft tinkling in the quiet of the room, and Kageyama looks across to Hinata, leaning against his pillows.

He almost expects Hinata’s eyes to be closed, because he’s soon discovered that Hinata usually doesn’t make it through a movie, but Hinata is smiling, resting back, eyes half-lidded but awake.

Kageyama leans in quickly and presses a sharp, short kiss to the corner of Hinata’s mouth, missing his lips by a full inch.

Hinata blinks when Kageyama pulls away roughly.

“Got you back.” Kageyama mutters, blushing to the roots of his hair.

“Guess we’re even.” Hinata says softly, after a second, and Kageyama nods.

“I’ll just have to beat you then.” He carries on, and Kageyama clenches his jaw against the grin that wants to overtake his face.

“You can try.” He says.

Hinata turns to him, and Kageyama’s heart jolts in his chest, a sharp, near-painful spike, but then Hinata raises his eyebrows.

“You’re on.”

*

The sun beams bright and warm in the courtyard, and Kageyama feels the heat against the nape of his neck where the skin is exposed, the collar of his t-shirt worn and thin.

“You ready?” He calls over.

Hinata has both arms out, fingers spread, ready. He’s being discharged today, his arm bandaged up with a cotton pad, and his legs are spread, knees apart, crouching.

Kageyama tosses, and Hinata catches, easy as that.

 

*

 

Bad day, looking for a way home, looking for the great escape.

Puts on a smile and breathes it in and breathes it out, he says,

bye, bye, bye to all of the noise.

 

-          Patrick Watson