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He wakes to silence, the absence of something that ought to be there like an alarm in his head.
He doesn’t even need to look to know the bed is empty. There’s something about Hinata’s presence that’s distinctive. Something warm and alive, full of sound even if he doesn’t say a single thing.
He rolls out of bed, gathering the blankets around his shoulders and walking, like a clumsy ghost, to the living room.
Hinata doesn’t notice him, curled up in the middle of the rug. The television spills blue light over him, flickering like blue candlelight.
Kageyama pulls the blankets around his shoulders a little higher, walking to the other boy and sitting. He spreads his arms and legs around Hinata’s tiny form as he does, wrapping the blanket around them both.
Hinata jumps a little, startled by the presence. But then he relaxes instantaneously into Kageyama’s arms, tugging the blanket a little tighter around them, leaning back against Kageyama’s chest.
He sticks out a hand, fumbling for the button on the remote. The noise cuts off abruptly, ‘mute’ flickering on the corner of the screen. Then Hinata tucks himself back into his makeshift cocoon, tilting his head back to see Kageyama’s expression. “Too loud?” he asks.
Kageyama shakes his head, hunching over to kiss Hinata’s neck, murmuring words against his skin. “How long were you up?”
Hinata doesn’t reply, but Kageyama doesn’t mind. He already knows the answer anyway, knows that some nights, Hinata dreams are silent and achingly empty, everyone around him gone, images blurred at the edges. Reality bleeding into the place he ought to be safe. He knows that it’s the darkness that gets to him, that his eyes search in the dark, trying to make something out of nothing.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Hinata whispers in apology. Kageyama presses his cheek to the back of his neck in forgiveness.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his words slurred with sleep. He watches Hinata’s toes wriggle out from beneath the blankets as Kageyama waits for the answer. Except the boy is quiet, unresponding, and Kageyama lifts his head, trying to see Hinata’s expression. The boy stares at the wall and for a moment, Kageyama’s worry surges. “Hinata—?”
“—Kageyama? Can I ask you something?”
He holds his breath, brow furrowed. “What? Are you okay? Do you not feel good? Should I call the doctor?”
“No. That’s not it.” He wriggles free, turning around in Kageyama’s arms with some effort, until he’s folded awkwardly in the space between Kageyama’s legs, the two of them facing each other. Times like these, Kageyama can almost believe Hinata sees him and he brushes hair out of his eyes self-consciously, rubs away sleep on his eyelashes, wills away pimples and pillow-lines on his face.
“Should I call a doctor?”
“No. I’m fine—”
“Are you sure—?”
“Kageyama, I’m fine. ” He holds Kageyama’s face, fingertips tracing over the bridge of Kageyama’s nose. He wonders what Hinata sees, if the darkness is growing behind his eyes. “I just want you to do something for me.”
His breath comes out in a rough exhale. “You sure you’re okay?”
Hinata ignores that, rolling his eyes. “Can you sing for me?”
Kageyama blinks. “Sing?” he echoes.
“Mhmm. Just a little.”
“Sing,” Kageyama echoes again. “You want me. To sing. For you.”
“For me,” he agrees.
“Why?”
“You sang before. In school. I remember.”
“Then why do you need to hear it again?”
“Because.” He smooths his thumb over Kageyama’s brow, before leaning forward to press a light kiss against it, right at the tip of his finger holding its place. “Please?” he says, and the corners of his lips curl hopefully.
Kageyama is quiet, thinking.
Hinata is patient.
Sort of.
“I can feel your brow scrunching. Are you making a face at me?”
“I’m not,” Kageyama denies, but he pulls Hinata’s wandering hands down by the wrists anyway, settling his restless fingers in his lap. He clears his throat. “Are you sure you want me?”, to which Hinata vehemently nods.
Surprise.
“I don’t even know any songs.”
“Make one up.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Hrm.” Hinata searches for Kageyama’s arms, pulling them around him and sliding his own around Kageyama’s waist, until they’re nestled together. “Just sing something.”
“Can I hum?”
“Mmmm….I guess so. If you really have to—”
“I’m humming.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Hinata scoots down, snuggling up closer as he settles, his hair tickling Kageyama’s throat.
The tv flashes dark for a second, then flares up again, casting sharp shadows in the corners of the room.
“Whenever you’re ready—”
“Oh shut up.”
Hinata laughs, running his hands up under the back of Kageyama’s shirt and pressing his forehead against his chest.
Kageyama closes his eyes, clearing his throat a second time. He’s sung before, in school and stuff, like when they had graduation ceremonies and the entire class practiced a song. But this was different. There were no hundred other voices for him to blame his mistakes on, no music to cover up his errors. And it was Hinata.
So he starts slow. Too low at first, he can’t even hear himself. But then he pauses, takes a soft breath, and sings a fumbling line, the words muddled when his lips don’t move properly.
Then he stops, embarrassed. “Are you sure about this? Hinata. Are you even listen—”
Hinata responds with a kiss, pressed against Kageyama’s collarbone.
He grimaces, mostly at himself and his own embarrassment. Awkwardly shifting, he starts again, screwing his own eyes shut as if that’ll make it hard to hear himself and his cracking voice.
thought I could leave every piece of you right here
still wide awake
oh the sun burned it on clear
how I still love you
The lyrics come back to him as he sings, a soft piano playing in the back of his head like from some other room. And when Hinata doesn’t protest, when he watches Hinata’s expression change, the lines in his brow disappear, his sightless eyes bright, Kageyama grows a little braver.
He takes a breath and sings, sings a little softer, just for the boy in his arms, for the smallest space around them, private and safe.
oh my my my what you do to me
like lightning when I’m swimming in the sea
from the very first time we loved
from the very first time we touched
He pauses again, watching Hinata carefully.
“I forget how the rest goes. Is that—” good enough? he wants to ask, but he hesitates, wondering if that’s too harsh, if his rough voice betrays his self-consciousness.
Hinata is quiet, but his eyes trace something in the sky that Kageyama doesn’t see, before they find Kageyama’s face. He feels chilled fingers trace up his cheek and he captures Hinata’s hand in his, running his lips over the boy’s palm.
“Hinata?”
“Kageyama, I love you,” Hinata says, suddenly.
It’s enough to catch Kageyama off-guard, eyes widening for a second. “What?”
Hinata frowns, the moment lost. “I love you, I said. There is no what.”
“I heard—I mean—what?”
“What what?”
“What sort of response is that, I mean?”
“I can’t say I love you?”
“You can—!” He catches himself too slow. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Kageyama pretends not to notice Hinata’s smirk. “You’re making fun of me,” he grumbles, and he puts up a mild fight when Hinata claps his hands on either side of his face, peppering his face with sloppy kisses. “Mmmgprh—get offa me—”
“No.” Hinata smooches Kageyama’s forehead, then plants one right over his left eye. “Make. Me,” he says, between kisses. Kageyama’s nose, the corner of his lips. He flinches as Hinata suddenly presses his lips to his throat, this time with just a nip of teeth that makes Kageyama’s retort hitch.
“Th-that’s playing dirty!” he snaps and Hinata laughs into his hair, ruffling it through his fingers. “Don’t ask me to sing and then make fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Hinata says adamantly.
He presses his chin against his chest in embarrassment and claims the blankets.
Hinata protests at that, shivering in the open air. “Let me in,” he demands, tugging the blankets back.
He doesn’t respond.
“Kageyama!”
He pretends not to hear.
“ Kageyama— !” Hinata’s voice cracks over the word, and Kageyama’s eyes widen, once he notices the expression Hinata’s wearing, his eyes open and wide, searching the darkness.
“I’m s-sorry,” he sputters, already reaching for Hinata, already murmuring his name, assurances that he’s still here, that he’ll never leave.
“You can’t—”
“I know.”
“I’m not crying—”
“I know.”
“I’m being s-stupid.”
“You always are,” Kageyama says gently, and Hinata’s snort of laughter is watery. But he doesn’t speak, not for a long while, his slender fingers curling in Kageyama’s shirt, his sniffing slowly receding as the television flickers around them. Kageyama can wait.
“It’ll be okay,” he promises, running his fingers over Hinata’s eyelashes, smoothing away tears that haven’t fallen. His other hand rubs circles on the small of Hinata’s back, the boy’s bones too prominent beneath his fingers. He feels his chest ache, but he swallows past the lump in his throat, bending his head to whisper softly in Hinata’s ear. “I’m here. I love you.”
“I hate this. I hate it,” Hinata murmurs, his fingers fisting in Kageyama’s shirt.
“I won’t leave.”
“But—”
“I won’t .”
“No, I just—I can’t see. I can’t even look in the mirror anymore. I can’t see my own hands. And I just...” Hinata releases his grip, smoothing out the wrinkles with his fingertips. His voice becomes soft. “I just want to see you.”
Oh.
Hinata squirms, hiding his face under shadows. That makes Kageyama squirm too, flustered for some reason because Hinata is.
“Kageyama?” He speaks slowly, “I think I can hear your heart beating really fast.”
“D-don’t say that sorta thing—” he pushes Hinata away, but the boy laughs and buries himself in deeper, entrenched in blankets and Kageyama’s arms.
“Treasure me then,” Hinata says, sniffing again. “You have to spoil me.”
“Didn’t I just sing for you?”
“More.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You just said you won’t leave me.”
“Yeah, I’ll just stand here and you can take care of yourself.”
“Boooo. Kageyama the grinch.”
“Still not gonna.”
“What if I say please? Please? Kageyama?”
“I’m not going to give in that easy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Watch me.”
Without speaking, Hinata fumbles about for Kageyama’s face, pressing a kiss to his lips once he’s found them. “Are you sure ?” he asks again, drawing out the word, his eyes glowing, not focused on Kageyama’s face but searching, listening.
Of course he’s defeated, Kageyama doesn’t even need to think about it, but he refuses to respond out of stubbornness. Instead, he snakes his arms around Hinata’s waist—”K-Kageyama?”—and pushes himself to his feet in one motion. His knees pop and Hinata squawks in surprise, latching all four limbs around Kageyama in panic.
“What the—Don’t do that so suddenly!”
“Do what?” he asks, playing innocent. He hoists Hinata up again, carrying him back into their bedroom, leaving the tv on in the empty room. “Spoil you, right? I’m just putting you to bed.”
“I changed my mind! You’re scary!”
“Scary?” Kageyama echoes, unimpressed. He kneels on the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. “I’m just taking care of you, like a good boyfriend.”
Hinata’s nose wrinkles, but he clamps his mouth shut, unable to protest. He yelps again as he’s suddenly dumped on the bed, “Th-that’s not treasurin—” he complains, but Kageyama shuts him up quickly.
He kisses him hard, holding himself up on one hand, the other pressed against Hinata’s chest. Hinata’s heart beats fraily against his fingers, hammering against his ribs, and when Kageyama pulls back, they’re both breathless.
“Sheesh—” Hinata gathers himself and starts to speak, but Kageyama cuts him off.
“You’re perfect to me, you know. Like, beautiful.”
Hinata blinks. “I’m a guy—”
“That doesn’t matter.” Even in the dim light, Hinata glows. His lips are chapped and broken, marked and bruised where Hinata always chews his lip, but his eyes shine, even darker than they used to be.
Hinata pouts. “Don’t call me that.”
“Cute, then.”
“That’s not any better. Call me handsome.”
“Adorable,” Kageyama grins instead, and he kisses Hinata again and again, until Hinata’s a laughing mess, his hair disheveled from his fussing.
“If I’m adorable then what are you?”
“Handsome,” Kageyama replies, and Hinata snorts.
“I get to be the judge of that.” He holds his hands out and Kageyama complies, resting all of his weight on Hinata’s slender frame, letting the other boy play with his hair. “Mmm...lemme think.”
Hinata hums to himself, his fingers finding Kageyama’s face once more, the way he always does. His thumb traces Kageyama’s lips, his fingertips following Kageyama’s jaw, stopping at the corner of his eyes, gently running them over his eyelids.
“What color are your eyes now?” He sounds sad, almost childlike, his voice belonging to a boy younger and more afraid.
Even Kageyama knows there is no real answer, but he gives one just the same. His voice is as gentle as he can make it, softened by sleep. “The same as before. You know.”
“Maybe one day I’ll forget.” This is said distantly, in a voice that doesn’t belong to Hinata at all.
Hinata is quiet for a moment and Kageyama props himself up to study his face. Their bedroom is dim without the television light, but the moon gives a softness to Hinata’s features and makes his eyes light up. Kageyama wonders the way he always does what Hinata is thinking. He wonders what it would be like if the positions were reversed. He wants to think that he would be brave, but looking at Hinata now, warm pleasure welling up inside his chest at every familiar expression and gesture, he knows he would not. He is uneasy at the thought of never seeing Hinata smile again, never seeing him cry, never picking him out of a crowd and feeling his heart respond.
“It doesn’t matter to me if you forget what I look like.”
“It matters to me,” Hinata says, stubborn.
Kageyama sighs softly, cupping Hinata’s cheek against his palm, marveling privately as he always does, at another way they seem to simply fit together. “I know,” he admits softly, not wanting to acknowledge this weakness they both share. A vulnerability they bring out in each other.
Hinata presses his cheek against Kageyama’s palm, soft skin scraping calluses and blisters and not minding at all. “That might be the worst thing. After not knowing what Natsu will look like grown up.”
“She’ll tell you herself.”
A soft laugh that starts in Hinata’s chest. Kageyama lays himself down to feel it better, ear pressed against ribs, a tender cage for a frightened bird. “She probably would. She’d be sure I knew.”
“I’ll just tell you what I look like. Gorgeous,” Kageyama suggests, his voice muffled against Hinata’s chest. Humor is not easy for him, so he searches for truth. He thinks about the boy in his arms. “Perfect. Amazing. Angelic.”
“Angelic,” Hinata echoes, the last of the fear washed away with the laughter bubbling in his voice. “Imagine if I were actually in love with an angel. Their kisses would probably be amazing,” he muses, and he laughs again at Kageyama’s disgruntled snort. “Alright, alright.” He brushes aside Kageyama’s hair, making him rise with a little tug of his fingers. “Kiss me then. Like an angel would.”
He does, or at least in his best impression, and Hinata’s pleased hum against his lips makes it seem as if he does well enough.
“Take care of you?” Kageyama asks, even as he pushes himself up to comply.
Hinata hums in agreement, wrapping his arms around Kageyama’s neck and holding him in place.