Work Text:
It was eight in the morning, a Saturday of the beginning of February, and Kageyama was doing his usual jog. His steady steps on the ground and his breath were the only audible sounds (besides some bird tweets and the wind whistling through the naked branches) in the park where he just arrived and which symbolized half of his running. The sky was clear, but it was still freezing; he was thus wearing leggings under his shorts, as well as a bicolor sport sweat, all of it topped by a black scarf tightened around his neck.
He jogged like this every day, alternating paths and hours. As he didn’t have class on Saturday, he allowed himself to go further in order to run between five and ten kilometers; and that day, motivated by a practice match he had next week, he had decided to run to this park known to be pleasing for joggers and to come back on what he estimated to be one and a half hour.
He was jogging without music, his eyes looking straight ahead of him, caught in his thoughts. Who were going to be next year’s new players in Karasuno? Maybe there would be a setter among them? He would then have to teach him, and how to do that, he who never paid attention to his underclassmen in middle school – was the model he had received.
Yes, sometimes he wondered how things were going to be, if he would be able to give his place to an underclassman that would be better than him just like Sugawara did. No, definitely, he wasn’t attracted to the bench. And what if, what if this for now virtual underclassman asked him to teach him how to serve? Would he accept to share what he had learned on his own? Well, half of his own, by watching Oikawa? He still remembered this night at Kitagawa Daiichi, when he had asked and-
“Hey, Tobio-chan!” suddenly exclaimed a voice, this voice, only a few centimeters from him.
He turned around shocked, getting the impression that his thoughts just came out of his skull to materialize the object in front of him. That weirdness, that improbable chance, that supernatural coincidence led him to an unfortunate reflex: he gave a shriek of panic and ran away.
He didn’t go that far. His erratic thoughts, completely turned to Oikawa and barely worded –was he really here, was it a hallucination, what was happening- distracted him from his run and blinded him, he tripped on the dirt road which was crisscrossed by roots. He dived forward, hands held out in hope to damp his fall; his palms scraped on the ground, and he fell over.
No time to think about his hands, nor the shame of falling, his first move was to touch his ankle. During his fall he had felt a sudden pain that had rose to all the length of his leg; and now, fearing the worst (meaning a sprain), he was sliding his fingers under his shoe to palpate the tender skin of his ankle. He immediately took them back with a jolt of pain.
“What’s your problem?” Oikawa’s voice said.
He lifted his head with a glare. His former upperclassman was calmly jogging toward him, more or less dressed just like him, leggings under his shorts and a bicolor jacket. He stopped in front of him –never stop running! Kageyama mentally said to himself- and looked at him from above with a patronizing expression.
“You know, people are generally running after me,” Oikawa said, “not away.”
Tobio rolled his eyes, he had others things to think of. What if he had sprained his ankle? He tried to rate the pain. How intense was it? How many weeks before being able to play again, officially? How many days before being able to play again, unofficially?
“I just wanted to greet my underclassman because of my remarkable manners, so why did you begin running like crazy, I’m asking? It’s impolite, and even clearly disrespectful. I want you to apologize, Tobio-chan.”
“Sorry,” Kageyama mumbled, wondering if he could take off his shoe, and how much pain it may cause.
“And it’s boring that you’re always at my feet,” Oikawa added, putting a hand on his hip. “Stand up to talk to someone. Don’t you know anything about social codes?”
Tobio sighed and finally looked up at him. He had three options: not to stand up, because he was unable to put weight on his ankle; try anyway, and fall again under Oikawa’s mocking eyes; or ask for help, but it was beyond his pride.
“I can’t.” He morosely answered.
“Why is that?” Oikawa asked, seeming at the edge of contempt.
“Because I fell and I sprained my ankle,” Kageyama said between his teeth.
“Sprained your ankle?” his upperclassman repeated with a blank voice. “How?”
“Like that, crack.”
“What do you mean, crack? Did it crack?”
“I don’t know!” Kageyama angrily replied. “I was falling!”
Oikawa folded his arms, and Tobio felt a little feeling of despair seeing his hands disappear instead of reaching toward him for him to stand up and recover some dignity.
“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa began with a moralizing tone. “Did you learn nothing from me?”
“Not much.”
His upperclassman made a “tsk” sound.
“I meant that you have to maintain your health. I’m talking about that.”
He showed his knee in a vague gesture.
“You really intend to wear braces and be careful each time you’re making an effort? No? Then why are you getting hurt recklessly?”
“I didn’t intend to get hurt!” Kageyama said getting upset. “It’s you who scared me!”
“I just wanted to say hello!” Oikawa exaspe
ratedly replied.
“Since when do you say hello to me?”
Of course, they couldn’t talk without arguing; and in the meantime, the pain in his ankle hadn’t decreased, and it seemed that it was beginning to swell. And after all of that, it began to rain. This fact made it possible for the two setters to stay silent and to take a step back on the situation. Oikawa finally asked:
“You can go home?”
“I don’t even know if I can stand up,” Kageyama confessed, defeated.
Oikawa unfolded his arms, looked down at him for an instant, and held out his hand with a frown. Tobio reached for it with relief mixed with embarrassment, and putting his weight on his left foot, he managed to stand up.
“You’re heavy!” Oikawa whined.
“You’re heavier than me!” Tobio reacted in defense.
Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, half defiant.
“Seventy-two.”
“Sixty-six,” Kageyama proudly replied.
“Yeah, I figured you had less muscle.” Oikawa snickered.
Tobio thought for a moment of smacking him on the shoulder, but he would have lost his balance and ridiculed himself again. The rain was thicker now, and their clothes were beginning to get soaked.
“Call your parents, tell them to pick you up here,” Oikawa said, looking to the clouds.
“They’re working,” Kageyama muttered.
“What are you going to do then?”
Tobio shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know. There may be buses.”
“Do you know which bus to take and where it stops?”
“No.”
Oikawa passed a hand through his now wet hair.
“You really don’t have any solution?”
“To walk, I guess,” Tobio tried.
“You’re far from your place?”
“I would say, five kilometers?”
He planned to run ten, and was about half way through his path. So logically… Oikawa shook his head.
“Five kilometers with a sprain? Seriously, Tobio?”
He had raised his voice to be heard above the rain’s sound. The landscape was beginning to disappear, scrambled by the water drops falling dense and tight.
“Well, listen,” Oikawa sighed. “I don’t live that far. You can come and stay until someone picks you up. Otherwise you’re going to get a cold on top of your sprain.”
Kageyama opened his eyes wide. His parents had told him never to follow an unknown person –well, Oikawa wasn’t an unknown person, he was worse, a rival! They couldn’t even say two sentences in a row before it became an argument. But the way he had said it… And it wasn’t like Tobio had a choice, right?
“Thank you,” he thus mumbled embarrassed.
He tried to put his foot on the ground; until then, he only left the tip of his shoe in contact with the floor. A wince of pain crossed his features; and one more time, he thought on how he was going to say it to his team, what would the doctor say, and what-
“Uh, don’t cry,” Oikawa said.
“I’m not crying!” Kageyama shouted, looking up with fierce eyes. “It’s the rain!”
He wiped the drops rolling on his face with a furious gesture; his black strands were saturated with water and stuck to his forehead. He tried to make a step; no success.
“Need help?” Oikawa asked, watching him struggle, his chin up and his expression between enjoyment and disdain.
“No, I’m fine,” Tobio grunted, and he chose to hop on one foot.
“If you say so. It’s that way.”
Oikawa went forward, and Kageyama quickly realized he couldn’t follow him. He was doing his best to hop on his foot (which, by the way, was making water enter his shoe, and it was extremely uncomfortable), but it wasn’t efficient enough.
“Wait! Um… Eh… Oikawa-san?”
Oikawa turned around and came back to him, seeming bored. His hair, weighed down by the water, was falling in darker strands around his face. Some drops were caught in his eyelashes.
“I need help,” he wretchedly mumbled.
He was expecting Oikawa to make fun of him and his misplaced pride, but his upperclassman only showed a little condescending smile. He placed his hand on Tobio’s waist, and the latter hoped that the rain was hiding his embarrassment. He limped faster, fearing that Oikawa would reproach him of his weight once more. A few minutes later, when they arrived at what was apparently Oikawa’s house, Tobio had the feeling that his left leg was on fire after he had beard all his weight on it.
“Finally, we’re indoors!” Oikawa exclaimed after he closed the door.
It was there, in the modern little hallway, that they fully realized how much they were drenched. They were literally dripping, and not a single inch of their clothes was dry. Oikawa quickly took off his shoes:
“Try to take off yours,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”
He disappeared in a corridor, leaving behind him a wobbling Tobio. Kageyama let himself fall on the floor to sit down and easily took off his first shoe. About the second… He loosened the shoelaces as much as he could, forced a little on the heel, and finally took it off gritting his teeth. While he was at it, he removed his sock and rolled up the legging’s edge to see his ankle. Blue and swollen. Nothing good.
Oikawa finally came back with dry clothes, in this case his turquoise and white gymnasium clothes, white jogging and turquoise T-shirt; as if he needed to show Tobio that he was in a rival school. That was what Kageyama was saying to himself, a bit disappointed, when Oikawa handed him a stack of folded clothes:
“It may be a bit loose, since as you underlined it, I’m broader,” Oikawa stated with a smirk, “But it should fit you.”
“Thank you,” was all Kageyama found to answer, a bit shocked that his upperclassman was being considerate.
Oikawa held him with both hands to help him this time, and dragged him further, in a bathroom:
“Well, I’ll leave you here. If you need help just call me, we’ll see your ankle after.”
He closed the door, leaving Tobio there, who was feeling guilty to have left drops of water on his way because of his still wet hair, and who didn’t fully understand what he was doing in Oikawa’s bathroom. He took off his drenched clothes, didn’t really know what to do with them aside from hanging them to dry, from the socks to the scarf; and he looked at what Oikawa had prepared for him.
A black T-shirt with a pattern that Kageyama difficultly identified as coming from Star Wars, jogging bottoms of the same color, and grey underwear (that he took with the fingertips only). He felt relieved to see Oikawa didn’t choose to dress him like a parrot. He opened the door, used the wall to support himself and tried to find the living room.
Oikawa was there, sitting on the couch and on his phone. When he heard Tobio enter, he lifted his head and contemplated him in his clothes for a while. Then he put his phone aside and waved for Tobio to come sit next to him.
“There’s no one here?” Tobio nervously asked, supporting himself on the armrest to prevent from putting his foot on the floor.
“My mother comes back at eleven.” Oikawa stated. “It’s a good thing; I don’t know how to cook.”
Something clicked in Tobio’s head: so… He was invited to eat? At Oikawa’s home? With Oikawa himself and his mother? He began to feel apprehension and stayed silent, looking at the carpet. In what did he embark on?
He looked around him. It was a large and luminous room; a corner sofa and an armchair around a coffee table, facing a television between two bookcases; in a corner, a box with toys inside, maybe for his nephew, Tobio thought. There were some trophies with the books from the bookcase, their appearances suggested volleyball.
Kageyama slightly turned his head. A long table and eight chairs, a buffet decorated by trinkets, something looking like a fireplace (possibly closed), all of it enlightened by a large windowpane. He thought he saw a garden behind.
“What about that ankle?” Oikawa said. “Seems to be swollen. Move over and straighten your leg.”
He was showing the sofa’s angle. Tobio looked at him stupidly. Oikawa thought he was a doctor now? And he was at someone’s place, he wasn’t going to put his feet on the couch, he wasn’t raised like that, more at Oikawa’s place, and-
“You’re moving, or what?”
He obeyed, not wanting to upset his host. Stretching his leg was more comfortable than keeping his foot half lifted. Oikawa leaned a little to look, and Tobio wanted to ask him to stop staring at his ankle, at the same time wondering what he was going to say.
“We’ll put something cold on it.” Oikawa decided, then stood up and disappeared again.
Kageyama heard a door open in a nearby room, probably the kitchen; and Oikawa came back soon after with an ice pack that he threw to him. Tobio caught it and stretched forward to put it on his ankle.
“Well then? You’re not flexible enough?” Oikawa joked, still standing up looking at him.
“I’m flexible!” Tobio replied frowning.
“Not what I see. Give it to me.”
He took the ice pack from his hands, and half sitting on the coffee table, delicately applied it on the swollen ankle. Tobio stayed still looking at the long pale and thin fingers touching the blued skin –and forgot to feel the pain.
“What do you say we watch a movie?”
“Well, uh, if you want to,” Kageyama stuttered still confused.
He watched Oikawa pick a movie on a shelf, put it in the VCR and put on the television, then come back to sit next to him. While choosing the language and muting the advertisements:
“It’s the first time I saw you run in that park.”
“I went further than usual,” Kageyama replied. “We have a practice match on Tuesday, so I thought I would be more prepared.”
He was feeling better, a little more at ease now; the cold was working and numbing his sore ankle. Oikawa shrugged and briefly looked at him.
“You won’t play that match. Lucky that you didn’t get injured last month before Nationals. By the way, how was it?”
He had said it with a quiet voice, and Kageyama feared to say something wrong. After all, they had to beat Oikawa’s team to go to Nationals, and it must not please him to think about it again.
“It was fine,” he thus cautiously said. “The gymnasium was huge but the lighting wasn’t good, I was dazzled at the beginning. We played a great match against Inarizaki.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“You saw it?”
“Uh, I mean,” Oikawa suddenly exclaimed seeming guilty, “the team watched it in the computer room. I wasn’t in class, but I found a website to see the match. But I didn’t watch until the end,” he proudly concluded, as if he was glad to spare this favor to Tobio.
Kageyama didn’t answer, only nodded. He was mentally replaying the game, all the actions he did, wondering if he had been worthy of Oikawa. Yeah, he had saved a ball from the other side of the net, blocked the ace all by himself, and the toss to Tanaka was beautiful… He judged that yes, it was fine, he didn’t make too many mistakes.
“Ah, it’s starting!” Oikawa exclaimed to distract him from his thoughts.
He visibly was blaming himself for letting this info slip and focused more than necessary on the beginning of the movie. Time was passing slowly from Kageyama’s point of view; he was looking at the screen trying to understand what he was watching, but couldn’t focus, always interrupted in his thoughts by Oikawa’s comments on the movie. And with no way to stop him.
“Remember what happens here, it’s going to be important at the end. Now, it’s because of –no, you’ll see later. Well, I don’t know if you’re going to understand (Kageyama was thinking the same), you should watch the movie twice…”
He stopped, fascinated by the screen, and pursued a little later:
“Don’t look at me, I always cry at this moment.”
Tobio obeyed, but still peeked at him while watching the weepy scene: his eyes, indeed, were blurry. Oikawa saw him and threw a cushion at him:
“I said don’t look!”
“It’s you who chose the movie,” Tobio replied, rolling his eyes.
Oikawa took another cushion, but instead of throwing it again, held it against his chest.
“Why isn’t there any sound?” Tobio finally asked during another incomprehensible scene.
“Because there isn’t any sound in space,” Oikawa explained.
The movie continued, about maize, spaceships and planets, to which Tobio was only giving moderate interest, to be honest. On the contrary, Oikawa was getting enthusiastic:
“You understand, now? It’s all connected from the beginning! It’s well done, huh?”
“…Probably, yes.”
His upperclassman threw him a glare oozing “Tch, ignorant”, then turned away to enjoy the end of the movie in peace. They were at the final scene when they heard keys in the door’s lock, and Tobio straightened, suddenly nervous to be found here, in Oikawa’s family’s living-room by his mother herself.
The sound of steps was coming closer, and finally she appeared at the living-room’s door:
“Tooru, you- oh, hello!”
She had the same warm chocolate eyes, around which her smile made small wrinkles appear. Her hair was short and brown, and she was a beautiful woman to whom Tobio gave around fifty years old.
“You didn’t tell me you invited a friend,” she said, looking at Oikawa, but she didn’t seem angry but rather satisfied.
“He’s not a friend,” Oikawa mumbled, with bad faith after having been caught like this.
“A boyfriend then?” her mother dared smiling widely.
“Certainly not!” his son reacted. “Tobio got injured, we weren’t far, and as his mother couldn’t come to pick him up, so I proposed him to come here!”
“Tobio?”
Her mother pensively repeated the name, and then looked directly at Kageyama with mischievous eyes.
“Kageyama Tobio?”
“Uh, yes,” Tobio shyly nodded.
“Tooru talks a lot about you!” she happily exclaimed. “I’m glad to finally be able to put a face to that name! Well, I already saw you at Kitagawa Daiichi, of course, and on some pictures but –you’ve grown!”
“Mom!” Oikawa became impatient, absolutely outraged and badly hiding his embarrassment. “Stop it!”
She stepped forward, contemplated the ankle for an instant which still had the icepack on, now a bit melted.
“Your mom will pick you up here?” she asked. “Do you want me to call her?”
“Ah, I already sent her a message,” Tobio answered. “She can come to pick me up at 5PM –I’m sorry for intruding…”
She swept his apologies with a hand gesture and smiled; her gaze was sparkling.
“And why did you give him your pajamas, Tooru?”
“Those aren’t my pajamas!” Oikawa blushed.
“My clothes are drying in the bathroom,” Tobio said feeling once again completely stupid. “It was raining, so Oikawa-san (she’s also named Oikawa-san, he realized too late) lent me these.”
She nodded, looked at them both and disappeared in the kitchen with a delighted expression. Oikawa put his head in his hands, desperate:
“She’s going to tell everyone,” he sighed. “And imagine a lot of things.”
“Sorry,” Kageyama said again.
“I’ll try to explain to her,” he said getting up and switching the TV off, where the end credits were now scrolling. “Don’t move.”
“I can’t move,” Tobio made him notice.
He remained alone in the living-room and had no idea of what to think. He was blaming himself for putting Oikawa into trouble like this, but at the same time it was interesting to see him with a different angle, he who had only seen him through volleyball. His thoughts were interrupted by voices coming from the kitchen:
“I’m glad you welcomed him here,” Oikawa’s mother was saying. “That’s good; it’s what you had to do. And it’s been a while since I’ve been waiting to meet him… I didn’t know he was living near.”
“I didn’t know either,” Oikawa answered. “I ran into him in the park while I was jogging. And we’re still better here than in the hospital.”
They continued in a too low voice for Tobio to be able to hear. A few minutes later, Oikawa reappeared in the living-room and said:
“We’re going to eat in the kitchen; do you need help standing up?”
Kageyama didn’t immediately answer; he first removed the ice pack from his ankle and swept his legs off the couch for his feet to touch the floor. He couldn’t restrain a face of pain when he felt twinges, and Oikawa came to help him one more time.
The kitchen was large and warm; a table and four chairs were placed on its center, and that’s where the two setters sat. While glancing around him, Tobio saw pictures hung on the wall and tried to identify them. Oikawa’s mother caught him and began to show them, presenting his family to Tobio with a proud smile.
“This one was taken in Tokyo ten years ago, that’s my husband, my children and me, when our daughter was still living here! There, it’s her now, with her husband and their son Takeru…”
“Yes, I already met him,” Tobio mechanically said remembering Oikawa’s nephew.
“Oooh, really?”
Her eyes lightened. Oikawa, for his part, was distractingly looking at the pictures.
“He’s nice, isn’t it? Very mature for his age. Oh, and! Here! You must know him; it’s Hajime with Tooru, when they were little…”
Iwaizumi, Tobio easily identified in one of the two little faces smiling to the camera with a few teeth less. Naming him seemed to give Oikawa’s mother an idea:
“Tooru, why don’t you ask Hajime to come here with you for the afternoon?”
A bubble of hope grew in Tobio’s chest. Iwaizumi… was Iwaizumi. Mature, protecting, impressive, and good at volleyball, the type that all his underclassmen admired. He suddenly caught Oikawa’s glare on him, and wondered what his face had betrayed.
“No, he’s busy,” he brutally said.
He enclosed himself in a stubborn silence that Kageyama didn’t understand; he was probably too possessive towards his Iwa-chan to tolerate the idea that others could admire him. He thus talked with Oikawa’s mother, who was visibly curious about him, while she was making the food.
They ate in the kitchen, and the conversation started again at dessert. Tobio was lead to talk about his studies (he wasn’t proud of that), volleyball (he walked on eggshells), his family, what he wanted to do later (no idea) and if he has a girlfriend (there, Oikawa giggled, finally lightening up again).
“Tooru has a lot of volleyball videos in his room,” his mother suddenly stated. “I’m sure he would be happy to show them to you –isn’t it, Tooru?”
Oikawa frowned:
“But it’s in my room upstairs, and Tobio’s ankle…”
“It’s fine!” Tobio exclaimed, all enthusiastic at the simple word “volleyball”. “Uh, I mean, I think it should be fine?”
“See,” Oikawa’s mother smiled, throwing an insisting look at his son.
Oikawa pouted and finally agreed. He cleared the table, sat again, waited and played on his phone for a while –until his mother left the room to watch a serial drama or something like that. Then he stood up, held out a helping hand to Tobio and supported him to the first floor. Kageyama noticed all that waiting, as if he hasn’t wanted to be seen helping him, and didn’t know what to think. But no need to think, his entire mind was occupied with the thought that he was going to watch volleyball.
Oikawa’s room was clean. A bed, some closets, a little table with a laptop. He let Tobio sit on the sheets, searched for a while in a locker and took out of it a rather astronomical quantity of CDs; he put it in stacks near Tobio and went to put on his laptop.
Kageyama took some of them to see what it was. They were recordings in CD pockets, on which were marked the games in handwriting. Tobio expected to see high leveled games, world level or at least national, and was to say the least, surprised to see that all of these recordings were in fact games from their middle school or high school tournaments.
“It’s for the strategies,” Oikawa quietly said while entering a password, and who remarked Kageyama’s stunned expression. “For next games.”
“Does it really help you?” Tobio asked, wondering if he should –there again- imitate him.
“It’s thanks to this that I found out about your signs,” Oikawa proudly answered.
Kageyama thoughtfully nodded while looking though the CDs. Shiratorizawa vs Kitagawa Daiichi. Shiratorizawa vs Ôgiminami. Kitagawa Daiichi vs Chidoriyama. Karasuno vs Date Kogyo.
“Is there one you want to see in particular?” Oikawa asked in a casual tone.
He sat next to him, laptop on his legs, and took some CDs to see what there was.
“I think we aren’t going to watch this one,” he said with a little smile, putting a disc aside.
Tobio had the time to read the game: Kôsen Gakuen vs Kitagawa Daiichi. The final game, in middle school, where nobody hit his toss. This gesture surprised him; he thought that Oikawa would have been pleased to make him watch it, only to make fun of him.
“You don’t have Kitagawa Daiichi vs Yukigaoka?”
“Why?”
“It was Hinata’s team when I first met him.”
“Don’t wanna,” Oikawa cut him. “And by the way, I don’t have all the games. Only those which matter or could be useful.”
One again, he was sulking. He systematically put aside the games he had lost, Tobio noticed, reading a few times “Shiratorizawa” on the CDs. He had just found the recording of their first official game, Karasuno vs Aoba, the one Aoba had won. To watch it wasn’t going to be pleasant for Kageyama, but it would probably put Oikawa in a good mood.
“This one?” he thus asked.
He expected it, but Oikawa immediately accepted with a satisfied face which, strangely, made Tobio a bit happier. Obviously, he wasn’t going to upset him while he was welcomed with so much consideration. Oikawa put the CD in his laptop; on the screen appeared the picture of Sendai’s gymnasium and the two teams, one in black, the second in white.
There again, Tobio realized that Oikawa was impossible with all his comments.
“Nobody had seen my dump shot coming!”
“And mine less again,” Tobio replied.
“And that serve, there! I’m even better since then, you know?”
He pursued his babbling, happy to be seen on screen at his best.
“There, look, you’re going to fall. There it is. Oikawa-san is always the best. Now you’re out. Well, you’re going to come back after, of course.”
Tobio wondered in these comments what could be useful – he had been there, he remembered the game! And getting weary from the futile remarks, he mumbled in his teeth:
“Remind me never to come to the movie theater with you.”
“But why would we go to the movie theater together, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa asked with a mocking smile.
“Nothing, I don’t want it anyway,” Kageyama quickly replied before getting his words misunderstood.
He focused on the screen to avoid Oikawa’s piercing gaze. No, of course, what was he thinking? They weren’t friends, Oikawa only offered him to stay because he was injured, and they would only meet on the court after that; no reason for them to see each other besides volleyball. Even if it wasn’t that unpleasant, Tobio thought against himself.
“And everyone just dreams to go to the movie theater with me,” Oikawa grumbled, wanting to have the last word.
They remained focused on the recording, still enlivened by Oikawa’s comments. That said, he was fair-play, and it even happened that he said:
“See, there, you’re going to do a service ace.”
Tobio wondered how many times he had already re-watched the game; he seemed to know it by heart. Oikawa, though, remained silent for the last point, and missed his most beautiful occasion to mock Tobio. On the contrary, he proposed to see the return match, “but not the end, I don’t like it.”
So Kageyama underwent another hour and a half of comments about Mad Dog-chan, Kindaichi’s quicks, and how he should be grateful to Oikawa for his clever advice and that thanks to those he won the game. Tobio noticed the way he smiled and stuck out his chest while watching his serves (after all, they were sitting side by side) but he didn’t find anything arrogant in it.
Oikawa cut the recording before the end, like he said, and they began to search for another game to watch, both animated by the same passion, watch volleyball, admire the best actions, and find how to progress. They hadn’t decided, unconsciously giving each other the CDs, when someone knocked at the door:
“Can I come in?” Oikawa’s mother’s voice asked.
“Yes,” her son answered.
She opened the door and looked inside, smiling when she saw them sitting on the bed, the laptop between them, and dozens of CDs everywhere.
“I wondered if you wanted to eat something,” she kindly said.
Oikawa glanced at Tobio, who returned him an uncertain look, unsure if it was polite to say yes. He didn’t really go to other’s houses, less again in people of his age’s houses, besides Hinata once, and Hinata was the type to steal food from the kitchen – and get caught by his little sister straight after.
“Yes, please,” Oikawa said.
He waited for her to disappear before he returned to searching a game they could watch, when Tobio said once again in a low voice, a bit shyly:
“I’m sorry for intruding.”
“That’s nothing,” Oikawa answered, shrugging. “Looks like my mother likes you.”
He had said it with a neutral tone, without lifting his eyes from the screen. Tobio didn’t dare to approve, fearing to seem pretentious, and agreed to the first proposition of recording that Oikawa made; some Seijoh victory over a really weaker team, but “funny to watch”.
Oikawa’s mother reappeared with a tray, on which were placed cakes, bread and juices. She nicely smiled to Tobio who was thanking her and left as she didn’t wanted to disrupt them.
They were in the middle of the match that Oikawa had chosen (and which was, indeed, so unbalanced that they could find a form of comedy in it) when they heard the doorbell ring, and Oikawa’s mother said that they should come downstairs because Tobio’s mother was here.
Kageyama frowned; he didn’t think his mother would come in, rather that she would wait in her car and he would just join her there. The two feminine voices were mingled with polite willingness downstairs, one thanking, the second ensuring it was a pleasure.
Oikawa put his CDs back rather precariously, his laptop aside and helped Kageyama to get downstairs. Tobio’s mother turned back, contemplated her son and his ankle with a worry look; then Kageyama clearly saw her gaze slide and rest on Oikawa.
“Ah, so you’re Oikawa Tooru,” she said with a great smile recognizing him. “Tobio talks a lot about you.”
There was like a déjà-vu impression. It was Tobio’s turn to blush and Tooru’s to stay somehow stunned. His mother giggled, recognizing her own words from the morning.
“Thank you for everything,” Kageyama’s mother said, holding out an arm to support his son.
“It’s nothing!” Oikawa’s mother exclaimed, then, turning to Kageyama: “If you’re running by here one of those days, come say hello, Tobio!”
“Ah, uh, yes,” he stammered as an answer, without daring to look at the face Oikawa was making.
“Then we’re going,” his mother said. “I’ll come tomorrow after work to give back the clothes – I’ll wash them tonight.”
Kageyama felt a bit disappointed. Did he really hope coming back here to give them back himself to Oikawa? He couldn’t restrain a frustrated pout. He said goodbye, then with his mother’s help, went to the hallway and put on his still wet shoes, getting ready to leave the house.
“Oh, wait!” Oikawa’s mother exclaimed. “His dry clothes, Tooru, in the bathroom!”
Oikawa sighed, seeming a bit upset. He went to pick them up, came back a few seconds later with a stack of folded sport clothes. Bicolor sweat, legging, shorts, T-shirt.
Tobio went into the car and his mother started it. They passed in front of the house, and Oikawa was in the threshold with his mother vaguely waving toward them. Without knowing exactly why, Tobio answered him. He felt a bit euphoric even if he was injured, knew it was because he had watched volleyball – and had been reconciled, well he thought so, with Oikawa-san.
His phone vibrated a few times. He took it out, curious to know who was harassing him and the expeditor’s name drew him an unusual smile.
From: Oikawa.
“Oops, I forgot to give your scarf back.
“I’ll give it to you one of those days
“To you, I mean, unfortunately I’m not home tomorrow to give it to your mom
Kageyama wasn’t the smartest, but he could easily imagine that Oikawa could give the scarf to his mother, who would then give it to his own; but he omitted to make him notice. Things were better this way. A last message was added to the others:
“You sure you don’t want to go to the movies with me?”
Tobio was still smiling when he tapped out an answer.
“Maybe yes, after all”.