Work Text:
It’s the end of April when Yahaba’s world falls apart.
He couldn’t sleep properly for weeks because all he could see on the inside of his eyelids were pictures of his highly respected senpais trying not to cry after losing the match with Karasuno. Guilt was eating him away as he laid in the dark analyzing again and again every mistake that was made. Some of those nights, the skin under his eyes feels scraped from all the crying and his lungs are on the verge of collapsing.
There was one particularly haunting scene that made his stomach turn every time, no matter how often his mind replayed it against his will.
That day, Oikawa invested his last atom of strength into maintaining his image of a perfect and cheerful captain. He wiped the tears of his underclassmen, calling them ugly criers who’ll never get girlfriends, and assured them they were all amazing on the court. Yahaba knew right away that was an act, but he couldn’t bear to look into the pain of his friends when he couldn’t even handle his own.
After everyone had already finished changing and went home without a word, Yahaba finally locked himself in the bathroom and let out the tears he’d been suppressing. He bit his hand to stop himself from making loud noises, just in case someone walks in, and it was inarguably the lowest point of his entire life. He fell to his knees onto the cold tiles and cried. All alone, in complete silence.
That’s when he heard erratic footsteps, and not long after, someone punching the wall with so much force that he almost felt the fist on his own throat. At first he figured it was just Kyoutani, who was no stranger to such aggressive displays, but then he heard a voice calling from just outside the bathroom.
“Hey, Shittykawa, your knuckles are bleeding!” Iwaizumi yelled and ran over. Yahaba froze and so did the flow of his tears.
“It’s over, Hajime.”
Oikawa’s voice is barely audible, he is obviously crying and Yahaba feels his chest finally exploding at that sound. Their captain, who was laughing on the court just minutes ago, fell to the floor just like Yahaba.
Yahaba hears Iwaizumi squatting down too and by the sound of rustling fabric, they’re hugging.
“Don’t you dare blame this on yourself,” Iwaizumi’s voice now cracked too “Nothing’s over yet, Tooru. I mean, high school is, but you already got scouted for that university you always wanted to go to, and you’re still the most inspirational, hard-working, brilliant volleyball player I know.”
Oikawa’s loud sobs are muffled by Iwaizumi’s chest and Yahaba can hear him stroking the captain’s hair as they both cry. Yahaba feels even more unworthy of being Oikawa’s replacement when his first thought is:
“I wish I had someone like Iwaizumi-senpai now.”
It’s one of the many constant reminders that he will never be able to fill Oikawa’s shoes, which is the hidden primary cause of his anxiety.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi were a perfect setter-ace duo because of their long friendship (which everyone knew was more than that, but nobody ever said out loud, except as a joke) and deep understanding of each other, on and off the court. That’s something he and Kyoutani would never be able to develop.
At first Watari joked about it being “Oikawa’s curse”, that all setters had to fall for their aces, but as time went by, it became less and less funny to Yahaba. He wasn’t sure when or how or WHY his burning hate for Kyoutani crossed the thin line separating it from love, but he knew it could cloud his judgment in volleyball too. After every practice, whenever he stole a glance at Kyoutani’s broad shoulders or accidentally met eyes, it became clearer that the anger he directed towards Kyoutani actually stemmed from his feelings for him.
It became a defense mechanism – if he convinced himself that he hated Kyoutani’s guts, his romantic feelings would naturally die. Though he still felt his stupid crush growing instead of disappearing, he was dead set on denying his feelings in hopes that that makes them less real.
And just like everything else in his life, that wall shielding him from his own heart came crashing down the day he saw Kyoutani ringing on his doorbell.
“What the fuck are you – ”
“Shut up shithead, you didn’t come to school for a whole week so our homeroom teacher made me bring you my class notes. And check up on you, or whatever. Since we’re in the same club.”
Yahaba took a thin notebook from Kyoutani’s extended hand with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Thanks. If that’s all you wanted, you can leave now.”
Kyoutani swiftly stopped the door from being shut in his face and his slightly shy expression from before immediately transformed into his usual frown. “What’s wrong with you, huh? I come all the way here and you slam the door on me?!”
“Look, Kyoutani, I really don’t have time to deal with you right now, I thanked you for the notes but I’m asking you to, kindly, fuck off,” Yahaba sighed and he knew he was a moment away from taking all his pent-up anger out on Kyoutani, who, frankly, didn’t even deserve it this time.
“Come with me.”
“I said bye, Kyouta – ”
The blond held the door open with a strength Yahaba couldn’t rival and the look in his eyes was so intense that it almost scared Yahaba. But the weird thing was, he wasn’t angry. Neither of them were anymore. Yahaba was confused and Kyoutani was, well, resolved. He looked like he had a wicked plan and he wasn’t going to let Yahaba screw it up without putting up one hell of a fight.
“Go change into something other than that smelly pajamas, put on your shoes and come with me,” Kyoutani repeated and it was the calmest he’d ever sounded. Yahaba was even more frightened by the uncharacteristic calmness, especially since they were both yelling a moment ago, so much so that he considered the possibility of Kyoutani kidnapping him and killing him in the woods.
Yahaba growled something before going to his room to change (and fix the mess his hair became after not being combed for three days), and Kyoutani took the liberty of coming into his house. He sat on the sofa in the living room while Yahaba tried to make himself look less like a zombie as fast as possible. It had only now dawned upon him that he let his crush (or anyone, for that matter) see him with red, puffy eyes, uncombed hair, in a sweaty old pair of pajamas. He made the water even colder and splashed it on his face furiously to try and stop the blushing.
“Why the fuck did that take you an hour?” Kyoutani complained when Yahaba finally went out of his bathroom.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Yahaba stated, choosing to ignore Kyoutani’s provocation.
“You’ll see. Let’s go.”
Yahaba locked his house and on his driveway was a beat-down red car. He looked back and forth between the shitty old car and Kyoutani, seeking some kind of an explanation, and a bad feeling was starting to settle in his stomach.
“You’re not old enough to have a license and this definitely isn’t your car. I’m going back inside.”
“For fuck’s sake, it’s my dad’s car, and I have a learner’s permit. I know how to drive, so just take that stick out of your ass and get in the car,” Kyoutani ordered. Yahaba didn’t want to admit it was kind of, sort of, maybe hot, he really didn’t want to. But it was.
He hesitantly opened the door to the passenger seat and Kyoutani followed. They fastened their seatbelts and Yahaba swallowed his spit when he heard the sound of the engine starting. If he dies in a car crash with this idiot, it will be the most humiliating thing he’s ever done. It probably wouldn’t even be a proper car crash, just Kyoutani slamming into a tree because he got angry.
“You’re not going to die, asshole.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“No, but you look like a puppy that just went into the vet’s office.”
“Aw, is that your way of calling me cute?” Yahaba snickered. He realized it was the first time he’s laughed, hell, even smiled, since the Karasuno match, and also the first time he openly flirted with Kyoutani. That second realization made all his anxiety come back and he had to remember how to put his angry façade back up. But on second thought, Kyoutani was barely holding on to his.
“There’s nothing cute about being a coward,” Kyoutani replied, but his ears changed color.
“Wait, is there something in the backseat?”
Yahaba turns around to get a better look of the shape he accidentally caught in the rearview mirror. It was a brown paper bag, probably from a convenience store, but he still couldn’t tell the contents. He reached out and somehow managed to get the bag on his lap.
“Seriously, Kyoutani?” his eyes widened. “First you drive without a license, and I’m also going to guess your dad didn’t just let you borrow his car, and now this?”
Yahaba held up two big bottles of the cheap red wine and looked at Kyoutani, who wasn’t taking his eyes off the road. On one hand, that was a relief, but on the other hand, what the hell is he thinking?
“For the last time, where the hell are you even taking me?” Yahaba continued bugging him and he felt the comforting familiarity of anger come back, but not without a hint of anticipation.
“Does it matter?” Kyoutani finally answered, but still refused to look at him. “We’re going to a place I like to go when I can’t deal with people. Or myself. And we’re getting drunk. Is that enough?”
“I bet you’ve never even drunk before,” Yahaba teased. “I bet you’re one of those guys who look all tough, but can’t handle their alcohol and start hugging everyone after two sips.”
“You wish,” Kyoutani huffed out a laugh. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna get drunk from smelling it and I’ll have to carry your heavy ass home.”
“Well, this is okay, I guess” Yahaba finally admitted. “I thought you were going to bury my body in the woods or something at first.”
“That’s a great idea, actually.”
They started driving uphill on a very curvy road and Yahaba was getting ready to say his last goodbyes. Their seats were vibrating from all the small stones underneath the wheels, making him clutch the door with all his might. Luckily, after only three or four minutes of that nightmare, they reached what Yahaba assumed to be the destination.
Kyoutani parked the car on top of a relatively high hill. It was high enough for them to see parts of the city beneath them, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Except for the light spring breeze, the atmosphere around them was perfectly quiet and Kyoutani sat down right at the edge of the cliff.
Yahaba took it as an invitation to sit next to him, though a lot closer than he intended to. He couldn’t put his hand down without touching Kyoutani’s, so he decided to wrap his arms around his own legs and rest his chin on his knees. They both stood like that for a moment, just looking down at the city and probably trying to untangle their limbs from their own thoughts.
“So, why’d you drag me all the way up here?” Yahaba gathers the courage to ask. “Did Oikawa put you up to this?”
Other than his best friend Watari, their terrifyingly observant ex-captain was the only person who knew about Yahaba’s little secret. He probably talked to Kyoutani after he noticed Yahaba hadn’t been coming to practice and forced him into this whole overly-cinematic scheme.
“What, no!” Kyoutani denied, and it sounded earnest. “I don’t talk to that guy, and I sure as hell wouldn’t take his orders outside of the court.”
“Well, you have trouble following them on the court too, so I guess not,” Yahaba poked. “So why then?”
“Look, we’re going to play on the same team next year too,” Kyoutani began with the exact words Yahaba knew he’d use. “I can’t have you feeling like shit and then giving me shit tosses.”
“So no “I was concerned about your well-being, because we’re friends”, huh?”
“You know we’re not,” Kyoutani answered honestly. “But I think we can be. I want to be.”
Both of them shivered at those words like they were the most sinful thing they’d heard. It’s just, it’s Kyoutani. Kyoutani Kentarou would never admit out loud that he wanted to be somebody’s friend. Even admitting he doesn’t want to punch Yahaba’s teeth out would be touching enough, considering who it’s coming from, but this was just too much.
“Okay, so we’re friends,” Yahaba offered his widest smile and passed him a bottle of wine. “To our new friendship, then.”
They both took big gulps of wine, making it an unspoken competition who could drink more without backing down or making a face. Yahaba knew he’d lose that competition, since he had never tasted red wine before, but that didn’t make Kyoutani’s gloating any less annoying.
“Now, as your friend, I should know more about you than your name, don’t you think?”
“What do you suggest?” Kyoutani raised an eyebrow.
“A simple game of Truth or Dare,” Yahaba smirked. “If you don’t want to do something, you have to take the biggest drink of this shit possible.”
Kyoutani nodded and put his game face on. “I’ll go first. Truth or dare?”
Unsurprisingly, Kyoutani chose truth for their first round, and Yahaba made sure to call him out on that. “Tell me the name of your crush.”
Without even taking it into consideration, Kyoutani drank three times the wine he did the first time. Yahaba giggled at that sight, but then he realized Kyoutani did like someone. Someone who probably wasn’t him, someone who probably isn’t even a guy. That made him want to down the bottle in one go and smash it on his head, but he soon collected himself.
“I guess you’ll pick truth too,” Kyoutani assumed, but Yahaba couldn’t really protest. “Who’s your crush?”
This was Yahaba’s chance to get drunk enough to survive this type of conversation. He followed Kyoutani’s example and got teased for being a coward again.
“No more personal questions, okay?” Yahaba protested after nearly dying from the rough taste of wine against his throat. It scratched and burned and Yahaba had to ask himself why people did this type of thing so often. It was a rush, sure, when you’re seventeen and all alone with your crush, but the rush tastes so disgusting that his stomach is already protesting.
“Fine, ask your boring ass question ’cause you already know I’m picking truth,” Kyoutani huffed.
“Are you only doing this for me because of volleyball?”
“No.”
Kyoutani doesn’t need to explain it further for both of their heartbeats to pick up the pace again. Yahaba still doesn’t know what to make of it, and he most definitely doesn’t want to jump to conclusions that could be fatal not only to his team, but also to this newborn friendship. But the way Kyoutani tugs slightly at his lip every time Yahaba tries to pass his flirting off as a joke, and the way his eyes sometimes just barely brush against Yahaba’s, and the consequential redness of his cheeks – it all paints a picture in Yahaba’s head that is too good to be true.
“You annoy the shit out of me,” Kyoutani suddenly continued. “As of right now, you’re not half the setter Oikawa is, and you’re too wimpy to be a captain. But you’re a good guy. And you’re smart. We may not be Oikawa and Iwaizumi-senpai, but I think we can make it.”
“So it is about volleyball after all!” Yahaba cut him off and pointed a finger.
“No, fuck off, let me finish!” Kyoutani shouted. “I could never pretend to get along with someone just because of volleyball. You know that already.”
“So what you’re trying to say here is, basically,” Yahaba interprets. “I’m a really nice guy and you’d like to get to know me and spend more time with me?”
Kyoutani smiled and took another sip of wine, because he’d rather die than confirm that. Yahaba did the same, but without taking his eyes off Kyoutani’s side profile. He noticed a small dimple in his cheek when Kyoutani smiled and that was the end of him. He could practically hear the wall being wrecked by that dimple, and it might’ve been the alcohol, but he felt a horrifying urge to kiss Kyoutani.
“It’s my turn. Truth or dare?” Kyoutani said as soon as he finished his wine. Yahaba noticed how red his face suddenly became and he could feel his own skin doing the same, although he hadn’t finished his bottle yet. Kyoutani didn’t look especially drunk, only a little spaced out, but Yahaba could definitely feel a pleasant buzz in his brain.
“Dare.”
That answer (and especially the fierce tone in which it was said) took Kyoutani by surprise, just as Yahaba predicted, and took a moment to think. Yahaba used that time to finish off his bottle and then threw it behind him, next to Kyoutani’s. The sun had already set in the meantime and now the evening wind was doing wonders for his overheated cheeks. Partly from the alcohol, partly because of his proximity to Kyoutani, Yahaba felt he was on the verge of losing his mind.
“I dare you to do your best impersonation of Oikawa,” Kyoutani decided.
Yahaba laughed at Kyoutani’s innocent choice, but decided to use it to his advantage. He sat up straight, cleared his throat theatrically and licked his lips as a sign he was about to start. Yahaba looked at him like a smug but excited puppy and Yahaba had to close his eyes for a moment to recover from that.
“Iwa-chaan, you’re so mean!” he whined in a voice that was scarily similar to Oikawa’s “You’re just jealous no girl has ever confessed to you!”
Kyoutani was practically rolling on the grass and screaming from laughter. Yahaba didn’t even know he could do such a good Oikawa impression, and for a moment he was sad he hadn’t found out before the third years retired. He knew Iwaizumi and the others would react just like Kyoutani, and he wanted to see Oikawa’s fake hurt expression. He pushed those sad thoughts out of his mind and focused on Kyoutani’s laughter.
“Come on, you do Iwaizumi!” Yahaba challenged him. Kyoutani wiped some tears from the corners of his eyes and sat back up, doing the same dramatic preparatory routine Yahaba had just performed.
“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Kyoutani deepened his voice “No wonder she dumped you, you’re nothing but a dumbass baby with a huge head.”
Now Yahaba was the one who was choking on his laughter. They both acted exactly like their senpais – now if only they could pretend to be them on the court, that would be ideal. He recalled Kyoutani’s words: “I think we can make it.” As simple as they were, those were the exact words he didn’t know he needed to hear, and for the first time, he believed them.
“Is it my turn again now, since you technically dared me to do Iwaizumi?” Kyoutani checked after Yahaba’s laughter had turned into just a drunk grin. Yahaba nodded silently, looking somewhat through Kyoutani. He was aware they were both dancing dangerously close to the dreadful Line, and no matter how drunk he was, he wasn’t ready to take that leap yet. He knew he’d dare Kyoutani to kiss him or something stupid like that, and then all this fun would be destroyed.
“You didn’t say truth or dare,” Kyoutani reminded him after a few seconds.
“Oh, yeah, uh, truth, I guess,” Yahaba stumbled over his own words. He blamed everything on the damn wine – the warmth that seeped into his entire body whenever he gathered the courage to look at Kyoutani, the bubbly feeling in his heart evoked by Kyoutani’s voice, the unbearable desire to get closer.
“What’s your biggest fear?”
“Woah, Kyoutani, why’d you get so grim just when we were starting to have fun?” Yahaba pouted. He supposed it was a welcome distraction from his dangerous urges, but he didn’t want to talk about it in a moment like this. Like Kyoutani would understand it. It was none of his business. His defensive rage booted up again.
“It’s not living up to expectations,” he finally answered, truthfully but not quite. “You know, there are always some sort of requirements I have to meet in order to be enough and I’m afraid of letting everyone down when I don’t meet them. I’m afraid I won’t become the person I’m supposed to become and everyone will hate me for that.”
“Is that just about volleyball?”
“It’s about everything.”
“Well, you’ll become the person you are. There’s no running away from that. But fuck expectations anyway.”
“Wow, what kind of profound bullshit is that?” Yahaba laughed “It’s easy for you to say.”
“What, you don’t think Iwaizumi-san was as brilliant as Oikawa, you think you’re the only one with that burden?” Kyoutani snapped. “Just the name ’Seijou’ carries enough expectations, everyone is pressured by that!”
“That’s not what I meant, okay?” Yahaba resigned. He was desperate to take Kyoutani’s attention off himself. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“The dark.”
Yahaba’s smile stretched slowly, but he ultimately burst into laughter. The dead-serious expression on Kyoutani’s face told him he probably shouldn’t be laughing that hard if he didn’t want to get punched, but he couldn’t stop himself. This dork, who tried desperately to look like a delinquent, was afraid of the dark. That was adorable.
“Don’t laugh, I’m serious!” Kyoutani protested weakly, but he was evidently too drunk to put on an act. An honest, soft side of Kyoutani surfaced and it was not good for Yahaba’s heart. A guy who looked like he could kick his ass but actually had a heart of gold was exactly his type, and it was only a matter of time before he blurted out something like that to Kyoutani.
“You pretend to be some kind of a troublemaker, but you’re actually building up that muscle mass just so you could defeat the monster under your bed!” Yahaba continued pushing his buttons.
“I do it to beat Iwaizumi-san at arm wrestling! To prove that I’m just as strong as him!” he confessed again. Yahaba was now probably in the position to make him say anything, but he didn’t want to push his luck. It was entertaining enough as is, just watching as Kyoutani made a fool of himself.
“Oh really?” the corner of Yahaba’s mouth curled up. “I bet Iwaizumi-san could lift me up.”
“Is that a dare?”
“Yes, that’s my next dare. But I’ll warn you, I’m almost the same weight as you, and I’m also drunk.”
“Challenge accepted.”
They both stood up (getting a little dizzy in the process) and Kyoutani scanned him from head to toe in order to figure out the best approach to this. Yahaba could feel his body ignite when Kyoutani stepped right in front of him, their faces closer than they ever were. “Okay, hop on.”
“Wha- How?” Yahaba stuttered, and he even felt a drop of sweat on his forehead. If this goes on, he’s going to have a heart attack. Why couldn’t he just choose piggyback?
“Um, put your thighs in my hands and your arms, uh, around my shoulders,” Kyoutani instructed “You have to jump, literally. Just don’t knock me over.”
Yahaba finally understood his words and leaped into Kyoutani’s arms. Kyoutani had no difficulties picking him up and holding him, but they were now so close that Yahaba could feel his breath on his chin and –
“Can I kiss you?”
“W-Wait, what?”
“That’s how Oikawa and Iwaizumi did it, once…”
“Were you spying on them?!” Yahaba gasped.
“Please answer my question, you’re too heavy.”
Without bothering to talk any more, Yahaba got to be the one to close the painful gap between them. Kyoutani’s lips were slightly rough, but in a way Yahaba liked, and they both tasted like awful wine, but they were too happy to care. Kyoutani’s hands traveled up Yahaba’s thighs and Yahaba pulled him in even closer. He applied more pressure to Kyoutani’s lips, trying to feel as much of him as possible, as if to convince himself this is really happening.
Before he got the chance to overthink, Yahaba bit into Kyoutani’s lower lip ever so slightly, and earned a satisfied hum against his lips. Kyoutani tilted his head to the side to get a different angle, and then carefully licked the edge on Yahaba’s lips. Yahaba took the hint and parted his lips just enough for Kyoutani’s tongue to settle in and explore.
The kiss was overflowing with the passion they’ve both been concealing for so long, but at the same time, it was unexpectedly gentle. They were eager to be as close as possible, to get used to each other, and yet pure love was dripping from their lips, making even a sloppy, drunk kiss feel like a dream come true. Because it was, for both of them, and the ecstasy of finally losing the battle against your heart that you never wanted to win nested between their lips.
Kyoutani was the first one to pull away, cautiously, and then put Yahaba down like he was the most fragile thing he’d ever held.
“I want to continue this,” he said between sharp breaths. “But my arms got a little sore.”
Yahaba smiled with all his warmth and didn’t even let Kyoutani catch up on his breathing before kissing him again. This time, he was cupping Kyoutani’s jaw with equal parts force and tenderness, and Kyoutani’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. It was much more natural (though it lacked the dramatic effect) and they finally processed the fact that it was happening to concentrate properly.
Yahaba could feel something like a stubble underneath his fingertips as he tried to put all his emotions into one kiss. A whole year of pining, frustration, tension, and denial, all compressed into a touch of the lips. They didn’t talk about it, and not even Yahaba’s mind could think about anything else right now. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that happy.
But he pulled away.
“Is this happening just because we’re drunk?” he asked.
“Does it feel like that?”
“No,” Yahaba replied, “It feels like you really, really like me.”
“Shut up,” Kyoutani grinned. “I bet you liked me first.”
“What makes you think I like you at all?”
They both laugh again, and Yahaba thinks, no, he knows, they can make it.
“You ready to finally return to school, shitface?”
“Well, it helps that I have my personal driver now and don’t have to take the train with all the peasants” Yahaba smirked and kissed Kyoutani’s cheek.
“I’ll strangle you if you become any more like Oikawa,” Kyoutani threatens, but Yahaba’s kiss burns a hole in his cheek.
He can’t contain himself anymore, not with all the memories of yesterday refusing to leave him alone. He kisses Yahaba, on the lips this time. Yahaba happily complies and even smiles against Kyoutani’s lips, which drives him crazy. He knows they shouldn’t be doing this in the school’s parking lot, but he just can’t bring himself to deny Yahaba’s soft lips.
“This tastes so much better when we don’t drink that shitty wine of yours,” Yahaba was the first to comment.
“We’re gonna be late, and someone will definitely catch us, and you’re starting to get on my nerves.”
“If you’re going to talk to me like that, I think I’ll need a nickname for you, like Iwa-chan. Kyou-chan?” Yahaba kept teasing.
“If you ever say that again you’re single,” Kyoutani warns him.
“And am I not? You never said anything about dating. I just assumed this was a new team-building strategy,” Yahaba played coy and Kyoutani couldn’t help but smile.
“Just go to class, idiot.”
“Shigeru,” Yahaba said as he opened the car door.
“Huh?”
“If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you can call me Shigeru.”
“O-okay,” Kyoutani nods.
“Bye-bye, Kyou-chan!” Yahaba pecked him before hopping off to class and waving like a child.
“Bye, Yahaba,” he shouted across the parking lot and tried to tame his heart before he reached his classroom.