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Kageyama thinks he hates the color blue.
His eyes, memories, and you— enveloped in this hazy blue. It is not the blue of the skies painted with the clouds and birds. Nor is it the gentle streams of freshwater running between the forested fields.
It was his cold, pale lips.
Hinata laid in his arms, Kageyama’s numb hands gripped at his sides.
He had never seen the sun so silent. There was no beauty in this fatal sunrise, there was only the deafening storms and disarray of fallen trees. The orange, yellows, pinks, purples masked by a suffocating blue.
“Hinata,” he breathed out.
Hinata’s lips were slightly parted but made no move to respond.
“...‘nata,” his words were now muffled as he enclosed himself into Hinata’s broken body, his lips by his neck.
Why won’t you answer me?
The morning buzz was settling and the only sounds that can be heard were the desperate murmurs from Kageyama. They were outside the school gym, gathered closely around Hinata’s body. The captain was silent. Sugawara and Tanaka were nearby, eyes set on the surreal scene before them.
Kageyama still could not bring himself to lift his head from the crook of Hinata’s cold neck. He wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him awake. In fact, every inch of his body wanted to scream, he wanted to be told lies of how Hinata will be okay— to be reassured that his worries were fruitless.
Yes, Kageyama knows he hates the color blue.
He did not want the color blue to exist; Hinata should be any other color on the rainbow but that. The reds of the ice-cold watermelon nearby, his vibrant hair ruffling along the breeze as he flew in the air to spike; it was a yellow afternoon, the greens surrounding them as they practiced-
Just.
Anything and everything but blue.
Of course, it was the biting winds on the day of his funeral that was nothing but reminiscent of Kageyama’s heart. That day was a blur of fond words and goodbyes, of dirt, of his unmoving body. He was sure that he was stuck in a daze.
Perhaps even a nightmare.
Why won’t you wake up?
His fists were tightly clenched. Each breath shorter with every inhale and exhale. The ground was beginning to spin.
We have a match soon.
I need you to wake up.
Please, please, please, please, please.
A gentle hand on his shoulder jolted him from his collapsing mind.
“Kageyama,” Sugawara softly said, “we’re heading back. Let’s go.”
“But- Hinata, we can’t leave him behind,” Kageyama mumbled back, rooted in his spot. His eyes never leaving the freshly covered grave.
“He’s okay now, don’t worry,” his hand still placed on Kageyama’s stiff shoulders, “he’s resting well.”
“But-“
Sugawara lips tightened before he grabbed Kageyama into a crushing hug.
“I’m sorry, Kageyama. I’m so sorry.”
Kageyama was sure he felt something wet and warm running down his shoulder.
But why?
Hinata was just within reach.
He’s okay.
I just need to kick this idiot awake.
The muted orange and pinks from the sunset as he was held in this tight embrace both comforted and confused him. The rest of the Karasuno team was waiting nearby. His head was running with questions at a million miles a minute, wondering what was wrong with Hinata. It was a messy burst of denial, uncertainty, pain. And yet, he could not cry.
It took him a few years down the road to finally realize: Hinata was not okay.
The abrupt change in his life: Olympics, fame, being sought after by many, volleyball and just more volleyball. It was good. Too good to be true. And it was a hectic schedule, he barely had time or energy to think about anything. His thoughts did often stray and end up on Hinata, but it was still without tears. Perhaps his very emotions and heart were beyond broken to even feel anything.
The flickering images of the orange-haired boy— frozen in age, he could never imagine him older.
Why can’t I feel anything when I still see you so clearly in my mind?
So he instead wondered about many other things. If he would have made true his promise and stood by and against him on the court as they conquered the world. Kageyama liked to think that they would have; he liked to think they’d have been partners and rivals until the very end.
By the time he was much older and taller, he was towering over Hinata’s grave once again. The bouquet of flowers gripped in his slightly shaky hand. The blues, pinks, reds, whites. All mixed to express emotions he couldn’t a few years back.
Kageyama now doesn’t mind the color blue.
It was the color of the many oceans and many skies he had seen as he travelled around the world. It was the color of late-night talks of volleyball during their school training camps, Hinata by his side and Kageyama drifting in and out of sleep. It was the blues in their fights, although it now seemed childish; he cherished every second of them.
No, he could not hate the color blue. Hinata was blue, orange, and all colors within and around it.
And he knew he would never meet a partner and friend like him again. Someone who pushed and pulled him like a relentless current, to be stronger, to understand friendship, and how it feels to be accepted unconditionally.
Kageyama bent down and laid the flowers gently against Hinata’s headstone. He rested his hand against the stone and softly whispered his greetings.
The smell of petrichor hung comfortably in the air. In the distance, the sounds of birds singing its subtle song could be heard, while the cool breeze hugged him and rumpled the fallen leaves.
And for the first time since his death, Kageyama cried.
He could feel the heat of his own tears overflow and coat his face. The protruding sadness and the “what if’s" that softened through the years, was still a ghost of itself in his heart. And today, Kageyama was finally able to feel these accumulated miseries and nostalgia as his eyes tenderly wavered over Hinata’s name engraved on the stone:
Ah, I’m sorry for crying, Shouyou.
I promise I’m doing okay now.
His fingers ran along the carved name, feelings its rough edges. His soft sobbing, cooling his face from the gentle breeze, was never-ending. The wet blue masking his sight was welcoming; he was not broken, his heart just took its time to feel human again. To admit he missed him. And to accept that their dreams would be lived out only by Kageyama.
But that did not matter to him, every step he took was for them both. Hinata was by him all the way to the top.
I promise we will fly and reach the stars.
Together.
And that was a promise he’d never break
until his very end.