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There's a fat, darkening bruise on Hinata's right shoulder that hasn't faded for weeks. He can't remember what he even did to cause it—there haven't been any nasty falls during practice or from his bike lately, and certainly not any incidents that should have caused this. Its greens and yellows mix and ooze together on the canvas of his skin like running paint.
Kageyama has a bruise, too, just like it. It's on the back of his left hand, which makes Hinata wonder if this has something to do with this tattoos, since they're appearing where the other has theirs. Hinata's never heard of anything like this. He can't really figure out how their tattoos could be causing it, but it's the only explanation that makes sense.
Their tattoos are still as vibrant as ever, swords still a glimmering grey and the colors of their shields so deep they seem so absorb light. (Hinata takes pride in how pretty their tattoos are. He thinks Kageyama does, too, considering how often he catches Kageyama's eyes lingering on Hinata's tattoo.) Everything seems fine, which makes it all the stranger.
They're in their second year, now, but it feels as though no time at all has passed. They certainly haven't changed much at all—well, maybe they have. Kageyama's happier, more comfortable teaching and guiding the new first-years. Hinata's chest tickles whenever he notices. He takes a sense of pride in how much Kageyama's grown alongside him.
Hinata is different, as well. He's more composed, more able, more prepared to be the ace he's dreamed of being for years of upon years. The ever-present spring to his step hasn't changed, but on the court, he's become something fierce. Something feared across the nation.
Still, they're the same. Hinata is still as much of a dumbass, and Kageyama is still as much of a jerk. Hinata almost hopes that it’ll never change. Those layers of affection to every "dumbass" Kageyama yells his way makes his tattoo tingle like it's about to burst from his skin and come to life.
Their anniversary is coming up, and the thought burns deep in his chest like the kindling of his tattoo whenever Kageyama smiles at him. A year together with Kageyama. A year of constantly being pushed, pushing back even harder, until they've practically reached the summit.
They won Nationals, last year. Hinata bawled into Kageyama's sleeve until the fabric was soaked. Kageyama just held him. On the bus ride home, Hinata’s mind explored every little crevice engraved in the feeling of the wall always standing before him crumble, heard the bricks collapse and felt the dust breeze into his face.
That was a special feeling, one he still treasures to this day. The strange thing, though, is that it feels eerily similar to the way he's felt around Kageyama as of late. It's not quite the same, but that sense of elation, of freedom sprawling through his heart like meadows upon meadows beneath the sun—that's what it's evolved to. Saying it's like spring would be the best way to put it: like the flowers are sprouting from his chest and blooming.
Hinata wonders what this field of flowers is supposed to mean. It's different from the heat his tattoo radiates when he's embarrassed or particularly enamored with Kageyama. It’s more of a gentle breeze on a day when the sun is beating down through his skin, the calm beauty of snow dancing before his eyes at the beginning of winter, when the snow is still shy and uncertain.
Whatever it is, Hinata holds it dearly in the core of his chest, and lets the peace drip throughout him.
/ * \
Unceremoniously, Kageyama asks him out on a date on the weekend of their anniversary. It's actually on the Thursday of that week, but they can't because of practice that day, so they acquiesce to get together on Sunday, instead.
It's nothing fancy—it's just him going over to Kageyama's house, something he's done probably hundreds of times now. Even so, every time, there's that tiny tingle of his tattoo that sends sparks of excitement throughout him. This time is no different: Hinata's hand almost trembles with the force of it.
Hinata accepts, and Kageyama's lips quirk into a smile.
Kageyama is sweet with these sorts of things. Their half-year anniversary came with a bountiful amount of tamago gohan, honorarily made by Kageyama's mother. The way Kageyama blushed when Hinata teased Kageyama about it was adorable, and the skin around Hinata's tattoo burned red-hot, too.
When Hinata arrives, Kageyama is sitting on the stone steps and almost asleep in the spring-summer sunset. Hinata flicks his forehead, and Kageyama startles. "I can't believe you would fall asleep knowing you're about to see me," Hinata teases. "Worst boyfriend ever."
"I bought some of your favorite pork buns," Kageyama tells him, unhurried.
Hinata perks up. "Nevermind," he says quickly. "Forgiven."
Kageyama smirks at him. It's unfairly cute.
Kageyama lets Hinata into his house, the smell of the pork buns wafting through the air. Hinata practically drools as he runs into the kitchen, almost forgetting to mutter a quick pardon the intrusion and to set his bag down. Kageyama's mother watches him scarf the food down. Hinata catches a hint of a smile on her face.
The pork buns, predictably, do not live a long life. Kageyama’s gone upstairs to do whatever it is Kageyama does, probably setting up the movie or game for tonight, when Kageyama’s mother approaches him.
“I hope this isn’t intrusive,” she starts, leaning against the counter across from him. “But I just wanted to let you know that you’ve really done a lot for Tobio. He’s been so much happier since he found you, you know. Thank you for being there for him—I appreciate it, and so does he.He cares for you beyond words. I haven't seen him this enamored with something since he first discovered volleyball,” she chuckles.
Hinata blushes so hard he could be convinced his cheeks are on fire. “Ah—thank you very much," he stammers. "That, uhm, it—it means a lot to hear. Thank you," he says again.
Kageyama's mother waves a hand. "Dispense with the formalities already, dear. You're part of the family. I care for you just as much as Tobio does, and don't you forget that."
Hinata nods, hard. Kageyama's mother smiles softly at him and excuses herself, like she knows she's just dropped a bomb on Hinata. Enamored. Kageyama is enamored with Hinata? It took Hinata a minute to remember what that meant—he had to sift through his vocab lessons with Yachi—and all, but, oh, gosh. Kageyama—loves him?
Is that what Hinata feels for him, too, then? Is that the feeling of flowers blooming in his heart, of the stems bending in the wind, all gentle and sweet? Is that what the rainbow of color his heart bleeds whenever Kageyama is near means?
Oh, gosh. He's in love with Kageyama. The flowers in Hinata's heart rustle as though in confirmation. Hinata wonders if Kageyama has a garden in his heart, too, one that speaks to him in colors and sensations like this. Something tells Hinata that he does.
Hinata's heart thumps, steadily and harshly in his ears. Kageyama climbs back downstairs to find him.
"What the hell is up with your face?" Kageyama asks. "You're not choking, are you?"
"You—" Hinata stutters, words all foreign and strange in his mouth, getting clogged in his throat. "Kageyama, do you love me?"
Kageyama blinks once, twice, before color explodes on his face. "Dumbass, you—you can't ask that out of nowhere! Where did that even come from?"
"Do you?" Hinata repeats, ear-splittingly shrill. His shoulder is burning, for some reason, but Hinata can't be bothered to pay any attention to that right now.
Kageyama coughs, stares down at his feet. He bites his lip, and Hinata stares at the way his lips mold to his teeth. "Yes, stupid. I’ve—loved you for a while now.” He rubs at his left hand like it hurts.
"Oh," Hinata breathes, soft and soundless. His heart is trickling with color, spreading this pure contentment throughout his body. "I love you, too. I mean, I only just realized it, but—"
Kageyama snorts, hard. "Of course you did."
"Rude!" Hinata cries. "I've been feeling it for a while, okay? I just didn't know it was—love, you know, I thought... I don't know. I've only ever felt like this around you, stupid. How was I supposed to figure out it was love?"
"The same way I did, idiot," Kageyama says, but he's smiling so hard he can't fight it.
Hinata is about to retort, something that'll totally ruin Kageyama's argument, but that's when he notices it. On Kageyama's left hand, there's a tiny, little flower petal, a deep scarlet that reminds Hinata of the sunset in summer.
"Kageyama," he says, haltingly, eyes glued to Kageyama's hand. Kageyama looks down to see what Hinata's transfixed on. His mouth drops open, and he glances over at Hinata's left hand as though to see if their other tattoo is still there; it is.
"Pull up your sleeve," Kageyama tells him, and Hinata does. On the center of his shoulder are bright yellow pistils, almost as blinding as the sun.
"Aren't those the things on the insides of flowers?" Hinata asks. Kageyama nods, slowly. "I thought people were only supposed to have one tattoo."
"So did I."
"Well, then, I guess we're special!" Hinata beams at Kageyama. "Look, my new tattoo is so much prettier than yours—"
"Stupid, one's not any prettier than the other—"
"They so are! You're just jealous 'cause you don't want to admit my tattoo's prettier than yours. It's okay, Kageyama, you know—"
"I love you," Kageyama says, as though to shut Hinata up. It works. Hinata's shoulder tattoo quivers as he hears Kageyama say it. He wants to hear Kageyama say it forever.
"Say it again," Hinata tells him.
"I love you," Kageyama repeats, as though he's confirming it. The smile on his face is radiant, and Hinata wants to just photograph it and keep it stark in his memory.
"I love you, too," Hinata murmurs, and his throat wells up with emotion as he feels those flowers in his heart sway.
/ * \
Yachi notices their tattoos the next day at practice, as does everyone else. "You know," she says, looking at them together. "Those remind me of tsubaki! You've probably seen them around—ah, not that I'm certain or anything. But they have that shade of petals and pistils, and they're supposed to represent love and passion, which, uhm—oh, gosh, that was presumptuous of me. I'm sorry—"
Hinata stares at Kageyama; Kageyama stares back. Something blooms in Hinata's heart. He thinks he can feel it blossom in Kageyama's, too, as his tattoos pulse with life.