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The back of Tobio’s neck has been distracting Shouyou all lesson.
He stares idly at the long expanse of skin and resists the urge to reach out. Dust motes flit through the warm afternoon sunshine, and the buzz of his classmates and teacher has long since faded into the background. Tobio bends his head to write something down, and his shirt rides down a little, and there, at the junction where his neck meet shoulder–
–Shouyou’s touching the small bruise before he even realises he’s doing it.
Tobio jerks, drops his pencil, and whips around, flushed bright red. “Oi,” he hisses, slapping Shouyou’s hand away.
Shouyou feels a rush of hot satisfaction and grins.
**
They walk to practice together, like they do on most days now.
Tobio’s hand is warm in his. There might have been a time when Shouyou was surprised by this easy affection, but he’s had almost three years to learn the nuances of Tobio’s personality.
Tobio has nice hands. They were one of the first things Shouyou noticed about the other boy. The image of Tobio’s fingers extended in one of those perfect sets, followed by that razor sharp grin, is burned into Shouyou’s mind. He has every callus and curve catalogued into his ever-growing list of Things Hinata Shouyou Finds Attractive About Kageyama Tobio.
**
Sometimes they go over to Tobio’s house after practice. It’s always quiet.
Shouyou wonders what it used to be like, when Miwa and Kazuyo-san still lived there. Tobio tells him stories sometimes, buried under the covers of his bed, their legs tangled together.
He hates saying goodbye to Tobio on these days. The image of Tobio’s lone figure seeing him off at the door sticks with him long after he gets home, to the warmth of his mother and Natsu, makes his eyes burn until he phones Tobio and chats mindlessly until one of them falls asleep.
Sometimes, he can’t help but wonder why Tobio chose him to entrust. Sometimes, the depth of his feelings overwhelms him. He wants so much: to be better; to be worthy of Tobio’s unwavering belief; to stand on his own two feet.
**
Tobio’s new haircut is distracting.
It’s not a particularly good haircut. The other boy had cut it himself, frustrated with his fringe getting too long, and the result is choppy and a little uneven.
Still, Shouyou can’t stop looking.
He watches, rapt, as Tobio explains one of the finer points of a serve to a first year. The new haircut makes it easier to see Tobio’s eyes, laser-focus split between the ball and the poor first year.
Me, look at me,something inside of Shouyou screams.
Tobio looks up, looks at him.
Shouyou’s heart stutters, and he feels his face heat.
“Gross,” Tsukishima drawls as he walks past.
**
Shouyou could kiss Tobio for hours. Days even.
They’re supposed to be studying, but Tobio’s history textbook lies forgotten on the floor and Shouyou’s maths homework is currently at the bottom of his bed by Tobio’s feet. It’s fine.
Shouyou feels breathless as he runs his fingers through silky black hair, smiling into a kiss as Tobio makes a soft sound in response. Tobio grumbles, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, large hands cradling Shouyou’s face.
Always a competition, Shouyou thinks exasperatedly.
He tugs lightly at the short hair near Tobio’s nape and the taller boy nips at him before pulling away and burying his face in Shouyou’s neck. His eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin there, and Shouyou laughs, shoving at him until he adjusts, practically lying on top of Shouyou with the shorter boy curled around him.
Tobio slips a hand under his shirt, rubbing the jut of his hip with a thumb.
It’s quiet.
Eventually, Natsu finds them asleep against each other when she comes up to call them for dinner.
**
The airport is loud and more than a little overwhelming.
Not for the first time, Shouyou wonders what he’s doing, but a squeeze to his hand draws him out of his thoughts. Tobio isn’t looking at him, chatting to his mother, but Shouyou knows studied nonchalance on Kageyama Tobio. He squeezes back, feeling a rush of affection for the other boy, smiling when blue eyes cut to him.
Two years.
Shouyou’s nervous, excited, terrified– it’s like right before a match, when the anticipation is overwhelming.
He wants this, though; needs it, even.
“Ah, Natsu-chan, I’m feeling a little tired, shall we grab a coffee? Tobio-kun, you stay here, keep Shouyou company.”
Shouyou shares a grin with Tobio at his mother’s poor attempt at subtlety. He appreciates the moment alone though. He turns to Tobio, grabs the other boy’s hands, commits the calluses and curves to memory for one last time.
“I’ll miss you,” he says, grants himself this one moment of weakness. He won’t say it again, can’t.
Tobio’s gaze is soft. “Me too.”
“You’ll keep an eye on my mum and Natsu?”
Tobio nods. “Of course.” Shouyou’s eyes burn.
You won’t forget me?
I’m sorry.
Please don’t stop believing in me.
He stares at Tobio, searching for the right words.
“I love you,” Tobio says, first.
Shouyou feels the first tear fall. Tobio is wiping it away before he can, setter fingers gentle and careful against the curve of his cheek.
“I love you too,” Shouyou chokes out.
Tobio’s answering smile is blinding. Shouyou sobs, leans up to kiss him. Tobio’s hands cradle his face like he’s something to be treasured.
“Don’t make me wait too long,” Tobio whispers.
Shouyou smiles.