Chapter Text
Nishinoya tossed and turned coldly, his body aching and exothermic. It sucked and, quite frankly, the entire ordeal sucked. He hated being sick about as much as he hated the idea of no volleyball or...dare he say it: letting the team down. C’mon! He had no time for a fever and a sore throat and watery eyes and...whatever the heck his cough was.
He was supposed to have the team’s back. Supposed to be the invincible, inevitable safeguard behind them at all times, on the court or off of it. Noya was their libero for crying out loud.
Their guardian deity, or at least he was supposed to be.
At first, giving in to the fact that he wasn’t quite feeling how he was supposed to wasn’t the easiest, to say the least.
Not that it was easy for him to admit things he didn’t want to be real, anyway. But still, Noya couldn’t even admit the negative side of reality to himself, so why admit it out loud to his friends or coach? Right. He didn’t.
The problem was solved before it even began. He wouldn’t get benched for the duration of practice and no one would suspect a thing if it was never verbalized. Plus, his asset was the fact that he hadn’t had any restful sleep the night before; so, blaming his sluggish receives and more quiet demeanor on the fact that ‘he was tired’ would be easy.
Right?
“Nishinoya-chan, you’re being really quiet today,” Asahi commented as he secured his shoes haphazardly, triple-knotting them just to be sure. He had been casting sidelong glances at Karasuno’s libero for some time, ever since the bouncy second-year hadn’t sprinted up and vaulted over his shoulders like a gymnast.
Gravity had never truly been a real concept for him. It was beyond his comprehension, most of them agreed. Tsukishima cast the scapegoat on aliens: ‘he’s an alien, obviously.’ But that couldn’t be right, Yamaguchi established, since Oikawa had that one covered.
“Yeah? Well that’s because,” he panicked, how had they figured it out so fast? Wait, no, it’s alright. His cover wasn’t blown yet, he just needed to cover it up just as he planned, “I was planning a sneak attack!”
With much effort, he then vaulted over Asahi’s shoulders, barely clearing the jump and landing with a wobbly little roll. Stars exploded in his eyes and noggin, prompting a spike in the dull headache. He wouldn’t let it show.
“Rolling Thunder!!!!” Hinata bounced in, grinning wildly. Noya winced slightly at the volume, but smiled big and offered a thumbs up.
“Of course! I was just about to announce my signature move...but you beat me to it! No fair, my good and faithful kouhai!” His own voice sent pain through his own ears and poured onto his brain, but smiling was deceitful. His smile was his greatest asset. Praise the volleyball deities. He had this one in the bag.
Sorta.
Volleyball practice went on as usual, with minimal punishment laps (one of Ukai’s good days finally came, and to be quite frank: those never came often) and the team was particularly on their game. Everyone’s serves hit where they were supposed to, but weren’t too hard to dig up.
However, most that normally took minimal effort drained the life out of him. A few of them he even missed all together. With those, he would smother with: “I’m sorry coach, send me another one!” and a bow, or something along those lines. Forgetting about the stupid ‘tired’ excuse, he merely worked harder to get through the practice. Then, he’d be able to sleep the entire ordeal off.
Finally, Ukai called for a short team meeting. Noya swayed on his feet and blanked out for the bulk of it, wishing more than anything to just be able to leave. They broke it out with their chant, but all he did was raise his hand and mouth it. The echoes of their voices were enough to kill his head again.
Please can I go home now?
“Hey, are you alright?”
“Yeah, Asahi-san. I’m just tired,” Noya said. Wait, he did use the excuse.
The older furrowed his brow, “You’re never tired, Noya-chan.”
“Only when I’m hungry, I guess,” Asahi had already called his bluff, but they were to part ways soon, so that would be the relief. He would merely have to stall the ace for a few hundred yards or so.
And, Holy Angels of volleyball food sounded so repulsive, though. Like seriously, it sounded terrible.
“Well, I could buy you something if you’re really hungry.”
“No, it’s alright, really. I’ll be able to get some food when I get home. Thanks, though.”
Nishinoya wanted to quicken his step and get out of there, and silently wished for the Earth to open wide and swallow him up as quickly as seriously possible.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Asahi rubbed his neck slightly, unable to hide the nerves that, for some reason, accumulated. Beginning as a hunch, then upgrading to more of a lump in his throat, it then pooled in Karasuno’s Ace’s stomach. Unwarranted thoughts creeped into his mind. The what-ifs started churning.
What if it’s something I did.
What if he’s angry with me.
What if I finally got too overbearing, or something.
What if he heard something that isn’t true and is something someone just...made up or something.
What if...
“Seriously, I’m fine, Asahi-san! I swear it!” Asahi snapped out of his daze. Noya’s tone came across as more of a yell than a reassurance of fine-ness.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!” He paused, bowed, and peeled off at the fork they always parted ways at. Stride: longer. Turnover: quicker.
“Wait, wait. You didn’t—I didn’t mean to,” Nishinoya paused, wanting to yell and sprint after him, as fast as his legs could take him. But...he couldn’t. Just talking and keeping up with Asahi’s big steps and convincing himself AND Asahi that he was fine—which he clearly wasn’t—took a whole lot out of him, “hurt you…”
Too much, in fact, for him to just be tired.