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December 22nd, 2012:
Tobio packs his shoes into his bag and pulls out his sweatpants. He slides them over his cold legs, shivering a little from the draft seeping in through the thin club room walls. He slips on his sneakers next, tying them slowly and looping them around four times, like he always does. Most of the team has already filed out and headed for home, but Hinata is lagging behind. Tobio’s not even sure if he’s taken his shoes off yet. They’re both moving slowly.
He thinks he knows why.
It’s their last day of practice for a few days, not until after the holiday break. He can sense the same sad reluctance in Hinata’s movements, trying to prolong leaving the school grounds as long as possible. He’d never tell Hinata, but he’s grateful that he has someone to lag behind with, someone who’s just as mopey about having to take a few days off.
It feels like bad timing, with Spring Nationals only a few weeks away, but Tobio guesses that most of the other Nationals-bound teams have to take the holidays off as well. It’s not the worst, either, to have a few days of rest to reset your mind and focus on the fundamentals in the comfort of your own home. He’ll practice some serve jumps and sets in his backyard, ignoring the empty chair where—
“Hinata,” he says, breaking away from this train of thought. “Do you want to meet at the park tomorrow and practice receives?”
He watches Hinata spin around quickly in the corner of his eye, a flash of bright orange.
“Sure,” Hinata says slyly, and Tobio knows there’s more coming. “Only if you set to me at least twenty-five times!”
“Twenty,” Tobio counters, just to be difficult. They both know it will end up being a lot more than that.
Hinata beams.
He seems to be moving faster now, all that’s left for him to do is put on his coat and scarf, so Tobio hurriedly shrugs on his Karasuno jacket and zips up his bag. He grabs his winter coat and stretches his arms into the sleeves. His deep blue scarf comes on next and as he wraps it around his neck, he notices that Hinata is mirroring him, pulling on his own scarf as fast as he can, and Tobio realizes at some point it became an unspoken race to see who can be ready first.
His hands fumble over his coat buttons as he stares Hinata down. Hinata’s coat has a zipper — that’s cheating — so he’s the first one to be fully bundled up. He picks up his bag and heads out the door. Tobio decides to forgo the rest of his buttons and grabs his own bag, following closely on Hinata’s heels.
They never race down the stairs from the club room, as they had both agreed it would be too dangerous and Daichi would probably murder them if they got hurt racing each other, but as soon as their feet touch dirt, they’re off across the courtyard. The destination is always the same after practice — the little shelter that Hinata locks his bike under — and Tobio pushes ahead once it comes into sight, the finish line helping his legs move faster, even after a long evening of practice.
He touches Hinata’s bike first, proudly declaring his victory and adding it to their total count. Hinata fake sulks while he unlocks his bike, mumbling something that sounds like Kageyama and stupidly long legs.
Tobio watches him carefully as he spins around the bicycle lock, his gaze sticking on the deep pink of Hinata’s cheeks and the tip of his nose. The light of the tall streetlamp above them glitters in Hinata’s eyes.
He can’t stop staring. He doesn’t know why. Even worse, he feels his palms itch with the urge to place them on Hinata’s face and feel just how cold his cheeks really are, maybe press some warmth back into his skin.
He shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets instead.
“I’m gonna miss practice,” Hinata says, breaking the silence.
He pulls his bike out of the rack and slings his gym bag into the basket. He starts to roll it forward on the sidewalk and Tobio follows, walking in stride with him.
“Me too,” Tobio admits. “But we can practice every day if you want.”
He doesn’t need to look over to know what the expression on Hinata’s face looks like. He feels a little weird, being so forward, but he knows playing in the park with Hinata will be a million times better than sulking in his room and throwing the volleyball against the wall.
“I didn’t think you’d ask,” Hinata says, a little wondrously. “I thought I’d have to send you four texts before you responded and then I’d maybe convince you to come out for one day. But this is even better! Every day!” He pumps the fist not holding the handlebars of his bike in the air victoriously, the way he does after a particularly good spike.
“Oi.” Tobio scowls at him, trying to keep his face even, trying to not get caught up in Hinata’s excitement. It’s not easy, sometimes, with the way Hinata’s smile pushes deep under his ribcage and the way he waves his arms high in the air. “Keep it down or I’ll change my mind.”
They’ve almost reached the street where they part ways, where Tobio begins his journey down the dark streets leading to his house and where Hinata jumps on his bike to pedal furiously over the mountains.
Hinata doesn’t seem phased by his threat at all. They reach the corner, and he rolls his bike to a stop.
“I think you’re just being nice because it’s your birthday.”
Tobio freezes.
“How did you know it was my birthday?”
Hinata grins up at him. “You don’t remember? I asked everyone’s birthdays when we first joined the club. Yours is easy to remember because it’s almost exactly half a year after mine!”
“Why would I remember that?” Tobio asks, but there’s no bite behind it. There’s something about Hinata remembering his birthday that makes him feel slightly warm, even against the harsh December cold. The wind whips across his face and he swears he can’t feel it.
“Anyway,” Hinata says. “I got you something.”
“W-what?” Tobio splutters, and he’s not even sure it’s really December anymore because it feels like a hot summer day underneath his coat. It feels like Hinata pushed the hands of the clock backwards, all the way back to August.
He studies Hinata’s small smile as he unzips his bag and rifles around in it for a minute. Tobio knows how messy the inside of that thing is, so he’s not surprised at how long it takes Hinata to find whatever he’s looking for. He finally pulls it out with a triumphant “Aha!” and pushes a small, wrapped gift into Tobio’s chest.
Tobio pulls his hands out of his coat pockets and takes the gift out of Hinata’s fingers.
“Should I—” He clears his throat nervously. “Should I open it now?”
“Yep!”
Tobio begins to pull at the wrapping paper — he can barely make it out in the dark but he’s pretty sure it’s covered in tiny brown kittens — and wills his fingers to stop trembling. It’s just a stupid birthday present, he tells himself. From Hinata, of all people.
He’s never gotten a birthday present from a friend. He almost wants to tell that to Hinata, to explain away his surprise and the flush that is certainly creeping over his cheeks, but his tongue is heavy and gets stuck in his mouth when he briefly flits his eyes up to Hinata’s face and sees the look of pure joy and excitement spreading across his features.
He’s not sure why, but it makes sense to Tobio that Hinata would be the type of person to love giving other people gifts. Hinata seems to love a lot of things.
The wrapping paper falls away and Tobio stuffs it gently into his pocket with one hand. The other holds Hinata’s gift — a small, light blue vabo-chan keychain. It matches perfectly with his bag.
He’s hit with a flash of memory, of carrying around a pink vabo-chan plushie the size of his head. He wonders where it’s gone. It had been a birthday present to Miwa from their grandfather, but she passed it down to Tobio when she got too old for stuffed plushies and he used to sleep with it on the end of his bed every night.
He nearly says something, nearly tells Hinata how much this present means to him without outright saying it, because he knows that Hinata will understand exactly what he’s trying to say, but he doesn’t even know where he would start. Another time, he thinks.
“It’s cute,” Tobio says instead, and slings his bag around his shoulder until it comes to rest on his stomach. He clips the keychain onto the metal ring at the end of the strap.
“I thought so too!” Hinata says. “I got it at the Inter-High qualifier. I thought you’d like it.”
He trails off, his voice getting quiet and his face scrunching up, like he's realizing what he said, like he's realizing he admitted to seeing a keychain at a tournament months and months ago — before they were barely even really teammates and certainly not close to friends — and thinking that one will be great for Kageyama.
Tobio doesn’t really know what to think.
“Thanks,” he finally says, nodding at Hinata awkwardly. Hinata nods back, a smile playing delicately on his lips.
Tobio almost returns the smile. “I should probably get home,” he says, not really sure what else to say.
“See you tomorrow?” Hinata asks, and Tobio feels a little offended that Hinata would think he might have changed his mind so quickly.
“Duh,” Tobio says. “You better be on your A-game.”
Hinata starts to wheel his bike forwards, heading towards the looming mountains in the distance.
“Always!” he yells back, his laugh cutting through the air and ringing clear in Tobio’s ears. “Happy Birthday!”
It feels like August again.
Tobio turns and heads for home. On the way back, he glances down at the keychain swinging lazily on his bag more times than he can count.
December 22nd, 2014:
The doorbell rings, loud and clear, echoing off the walls of his empty house. Tobio starts down the stairs, wondering who would possibly be at his house at nine o’clock at night. He wonders maybe if Miwa’s come home a few days early, but she probably would just use her key instead of ringing the doorbell.
He opens the door to orange hair and a toothy smile. Figures.
“Happy Birthday, Kageyama!” Hinata yells. “Again!”
“Hinata,” Tobio says, a little breathless from the surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Hinata barges inside, pushing a small white box into Tobio’s arms. “I know you said you didn’t want a party, but I figured you could use some compan—” He stops and looks around, listening for a moment. “Hey, is anyone else even home?”
Tobio shrugs and watches Hinata’s face fall.
“No. My parents are out of town and Miwa isn’t coming back until Christmas.”
“Oh,” Hinata says and Tobio doesn’t like the look on his face.
“What’s in the box?” he asks, trying to change the subject. Thankfully, Hinata’s face brightens at the question.
“It’s chocolate cake! I bought it at that bakery near school. I couldn’t remember if you liked chocolate, but it’s supposed to be really good.”
“I like chocolate,” Tobio says.
He can picture Hinata walking into the bakery, talking to the girl behind the counter for ten minutes until he finally asks about the best things they have available and then proceeds to buy everything she mentions. He reckons Hinata has a few more white boxes waiting on his countertop at home.
Tobio grabs two plates and two forks. He’s too lazy to find a knife, so he opens the box and splits the cake rather unevenly with one of the forks. He puts the bigger piece on Hinata’s plate and hands it to him. Hinata accepts the plate and smiles. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
The cake is delicious.
Tobio finishes his slice in probably less than a minute, Hinata right behind him.
“This was really good,” he says. “Thanks, Hinata.”
He wonders if Hinata is going to stay, now that the cake’s gone. Tobio had resigned himself to a night of watching film alone and going to sleep early, but it’s not like they have school tomorrow. He thinks he wouldn’t mind if Hinata stayed a while longer.
“You’re welcome!” responds Hinata, flashing him a thumbs up and moving to collect their plates.
Tobio watches him as he cleans the plates off in the sink, wondering exactly when Hinata got so comfortable in his house. He tries to think about the best way to ask Hinata to stay.
“Do you want to play a game?” Hinata asks, cutting Tobio’s internal dilemma short. He places the washed dishes in the drying rack and turns back around to face him. “I brought a deck of cards!”
“Sure.”
They agree on Slapjack, which Tobio has never played before but Hinata assures him he’ll like. Tobio shoos him into the living room and they sprawl out on the large rug in the middle of the floor. He tries to listen to the rules, gives up halfway, and asks Hinata to just tell him what the most important part of the game is.
“You literally just slap the Jack cards, okay? Before I do. Then you get the pile, and whoever ends up with all 52 cards first, wins.”
Tobio nods and watches Hinata divide up the deck.
He’s a little frustrated at first, as Hinata wins pile after pile. He’s clearly played millions of times before and Tobio — who rarely plays card games — has a hard time discerning the Jacks. He gets the hang of it eventually, and finally starts having fun when he steals five piles in a row away from Hinata. He likes the slapping aspect of the game; he likes grabbing a big pile away from Hinata and grinning maniacally at him as his hand of cards gets bigger and Hinata’s smile gets smaller.
Their last game gets heated. When Tobio slaps the winning pile, Hinata growls — truly growls — at him, scoops up a handful of cards, and throws them at Tobio. He tries to block them but a whole bunch knock him in the face and suddenly he’s laughing and picking up his own handful of cards to throw back at Hinata. They toss them back and forth at each other, their laughter filling up the living room, until Hinata gives up on the cards and launches himself at Tobio, tackling him to the ground.
They jostle with each other, the cards completely forgotten. They wrestle for a few minutes until Hinata pushes Tobio’s back up against the bottom of the couch. Tobio takes the opportunity to sit, stretching his legs out over the rug and straightening his back against the couch. Hinata’s head falls down into Tobio’s lap.
“I win,” Hinata says, his voice rumbling against Tobio’s stomach.
There’s a strip of bare skin from where his shirt got rucked up during their wrestling match, and Tobio can feel Hinata’s breath puffing softly against his skin. He shivers.
“In what world?”
“This one,” Hinata says. “You stopped fighting first. And I pinned you against the couch.”
Tobio lets out a quiet noise of disagreement.
Hinata laughs and turns on his side, pushing his nose into Tobio’s shirt. He watches Hinata’s face as he closes his eyes and buries deeper into Tobio’s stomach, letting out a little contented sigh as he does.
Cute, Tobio thinks.
There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, he wants to ask Hinata why he came here, so late at night, on Tobio’s birthday. Wants to ask what that means, what his head in Tobio’s lap means, why they’ve been looking at each other longer than usual, what Hinata thinks the future holds.
He bites his lip, before the words come spilling out of him.
Hinata’s breathing gets even softer and Tobio realizes that he’s fallen asleep while Tobio was sitting here, desperately holding in all the questions that he’s too afraid to learn the answer to.
He thinks his feelings used to sit deep in the bottom of his stomach, a flutter escaping up to his chest here and there when Hinata smiled at him or stood a little too close. But now, they simmer right under his skin, threatening to reach a boil. He’s pretty sure they sometimes bubble to the surface in the way he can’t help but smile when Hinata says something funny or when he flies through the air. Tobio knows they’ll boil over eventually. It’s an inevitability, just like Hinata getting on a plane to—Tobio clenches his fist and focuses his gaze on Hinata’s face.
He had seemed extra energetic today at practice — their last before the holidays, as always — and it seems to have finally caught up with him. Tobio checks the clock on the wall. 11:35 p.m., much too late for Hinata to make his trek over the mountains. He hopes he’s okay with sleeping at Tobio’s.
Tobio watches the rhythmic flutter of Hinata’s eyelashes, his eyes catching on the smooth curve of his mouth and the way his hair shines under the bright lights of his living room. He places his hand in Hinata’s hair, sweeping it off his forehead. He sits there for a while, twirling strands of Hinata’s hair through his fingers and trying to count how many different shades of orange and gold he sees.
Eventually his legs and back get sore from sitting in his position on the floor and he feels his own eyelids beginning to droop.
He raps his knuckles gently against Hinata’s head to wake him up.
“Felt s’ nice,” Hinata says, still half asleep.
“C’mon,” Tobio says, willing himself to ignore the fact that Hinata might have known, on some level, that Tobio was playing with his hair. “Let’s go to bed.”
Hinata stands up slowly and reaches down for Tobio’s hand, pulling him up after him. Tobio ushers him towards the stairs. He places his hand on Hinata’s back to guide him and his skin feels warm under his t-shirt. They lean on each other as they climb the stairs. Tobio’s too tired to keep a normal distance between them, and Hinata seems to be too.
He had his hand in Hinata’s hair for the last thirty minutes. He thinks it’s fine if they touch shoulders.
Tobio uses the same reasoning as he pushes Hinata into his bed. It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before, but things have seemed different lately, and the thought would have scared him if he wasn’t so tired and if Hinata’s head on his shoulder as they walked up the stairs hadn’t felt like it belonged.
Tobio still tastes chocolate cake in his mouth.
He wonders if he should brush his teeth, but his mind is made up for him when Hinata reaches up and pulls him down into his bed. He lands with a soft thud and Hinata wraps his arms around his stomach and presses his forehead into Tobio’s back.
It feels nice. Tobio’s heart stutters in his chest.
“Happy Birthday, Kageyama,” he says, his voice muffled against Tobio’s t-shirt.
“Thanks, Hinata.” Tobio rearranges himself on the pillow and feels Hinata press in closer. “For the cake. And for..ah..coming over and everything.”
He can feel Hinata smile against his back.
It wasn’t much — just an evening of cake and silly card games — but Tobio thinks this might have been his best birthday yet. One of Hinata’s legs wraps around his own and he feels even more confident about the matter.
He wonders where he’ll be on his next birthday.
His head begins to feel foggy and he curls up, pulling his blanket tight around his torso. Tobio swears Hinata is pressed close enough against his back that he can feel the gentle beating of his heart.
“Good night, Hinata,” he whispers, although he’s sure he’s already asleep.
He feels himself falling asleep too. The last thing he remembers thinking is that he hopes Hinata will still be here in the morning.
December 22nd, 2016:
Tobio finally makes it back to his apartment at 10 p.m. and quickly stumbles into bed, exhausted from the long day of practice and birthday celebrations.
His phone buzzes at exactly 10:21 p.m. Tobio smiles when he sees the photo that pops up on the screen. He answers the call.
“Hi Hinata,” he says.
“Hi!”
“Shouldn’t you be practicing?” He’s teasing.
“Give me a break, Kageyama.” Hinata laughs and Tobio does not flinch at the sound. It feels like getting punched, every time Hinata’s laugh rings out over the phone, too loud and much too far away, all at once. “I’ll still be able to beat you even if I take a few minutes out of my day to call you on your birthday.”
Tobio hmphs at that.
“And I am going to practice soon. Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”
It’s easy, Tobio thinks, that Tokyo and Rio are exactly twelve hours apart. He never has to do any math to figure out what time it is for Hinata. They’re always staring at the same clock.
“I can’t because some guy is calling me from halfway across the world. Probably costing me a hell of a lot of money, too.”
“Happy Birthday, Grumpy-yama,” Hinata says. “You’ve finally joined the rest of us in your twenties.”
“Thanks, Hinata.” Tobio puts the phone on speaker and places it on his pillow. He pulls his covers up around him and waits for Hinata to say something.
“How did you celebrate?”
“Hoshiumi and Ushijima took me out for dinner. They were gonna invite everyone, but I told them I just wanted something quiet. Then we just walked around and talked, I guess. I just got home.”
“That sounds nice,” Hinata says.
There’s something in his voice that Tobio can’t quite make out. He wonders if Hinata ever gets homesick.
“Yeah, it was fun,” Tobio says. “Not as fun as play—” He stops, remembers that he’s not supposed to say things like that out loud, not when Hinata is something like 11,000 miles away for the near future.
“As what?” Hinata asks, his voice soft and wondering. Tobio slowly runs his hands over his bed, nerves getting the better of him.
“Never mind.” He clenches his comforter in his fist. “What practice do you have today?”
“Indoor!” chirps Hinata. Tobio’s thankful that he doesn’t push any harder on getting the words out of Tobio. Hinata probably guessed what he was gonna say, anyway. “No beach today. I have to work later this afternoon.”
“Cool,” Tobio says. “How is indoor going, anyway?”
“It’s pretty good. Everyone is really nice, and they talk to me a lot and help me with my Portuguese. Practice isn’t very long though, and no one ever wants to practice afterwards. Well, there’s one kid that does sometimes, but he usually has to pick his little sister up from school.”
“A setter?” Tobio asks.
“Ah, no,” answers Hinata. “That makes it hard too. We always argue over who gets to practice spiking. But I have been practicing my setting more. In indoor, I mean, obviously I have to a lot for beach.”
He’s rambling. Tobio smiles to himself.
“So, we usually switch off. Setting can be kinda fun though, way more than I thought in high school. I kinda get what you’re always on about, now.”
Tobio laughs. “I’ve been telling you it’s the best since the beginning.”
“Okay, well you weren’t always the best at explaining why.” He can hear the smile in Hinata’s voice. “You usually just kinda growled something about control and touching the ball.”
Tobio pauses and curls his body up under the covers.
“You just didn’t listen to any words that weren’t spike or jump.”
Hinata laughs. “That’s fair. I’m a pretty well-rounded guy now, though. Just wait and see.”
Tobio doesn’t want to wait, but he knows he has to.
“Oh!” Hinata says, breaking Tobio out of his circle of thoughts. “Keep an eye on your mailbox. You should be getting something soon.”
He feels his chest tighten.
“Hinata,” he says, the pain in his chest spreading out to his ribs like a drop of watercolor paint on rough paper. “You really didn’t have to send me anything.”
“It’s not much,” Hinata assures him. “Plus, I had to practice sending something from Correios, so I know how to do it for Natsu’s birthday.”
Tobio doesn’t recognize the word but assumes he means the post office. He’s a little jealous that Hinata is learning a whole new language. For a second he entertains the idea of trying to pick one up himself, but quickly stops when he remembers his struggles with English in high school.
“Thanks,” Tobio says. “I’m sure it’s really nice.” He’s glad Hinata can’t see the flush of his cheeks over the phone.
He asks Hinata more about his indoor team and they talk until Tobio starts to yawn in the middle of sentences.
“You should sleep,” Hinata says. “And I should get ready for practice.”
“Yeah,” Tobio agrees, his voice trailing off sleepily. “Thanks for calling, Hinata. It really means—” He stops, the words catching in his throat.
“I know,” Hinata says. They never were the best at saying things out loud, but Tobio thinks they are pretty good at getting at what the other is thinking. He knows Hinata understands, even if they’re in different hemispheres.
“See ya,” Tobio says, reaching over to grab his phone off the pillow.
“See ya.”
Tobio presses the red button to end the call. Hinata’s voice echoes in his head as he falls asleep.
Tobio almost cries when he gets the package a few days later — a long letter in Hinata’s unmistakable handwriting and a bright blue tie-dye shirt with the Confederação Brasileira de Voleibol logo stamped across the front.
(The first time he wears it to practice, Hoshiumi immediately asks if it’s from Hinata.
“Tell him I want one too!” he demands, after Tobio tells him it is.
“I will,” Tobio assures him.
“I’ll take a purple one,” says Ushijima.)
December 22nd, 2018:
It’s cold. It’s usually cold on Tobio’s birthday, but it seems even worse than normal this year. He pulls his light green scarf tighter around his neck and buries his nose into it. It used to be Hinata’s, but it doesn’t smell like him anymore. Tobio wonders if he could convince Hinata to wear it for a few days before he leaves, just so it will.
Where the hell is he, anyway?
As if summoned by Tobio’s quiet rage, Hinata bounces around the corner and runs right into Tobio’s chest.
“Oi,” he says. “Watch where you’re going,” and then he wraps his arms around Hinata’s body and pulls him in tighter.
“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
Hinata is smiling up at him. He brings his arms up around him and presses a kiss to Tobio’s chin.
“Happy Birthday, Tobio,” he whispers against Tobio’s skin.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently grabs Hinata’s chin and tilts his face upwards, bringing their lips together for a slow kiss. He feels warm all over and is briefly reminded of another birthday with Hinata, the first one, the one that felt like summer. When they break apart, Tobio chuckles to himself at the thought. He was in deep from the very beginning.
“What are you laughing about?” Hinata’s peering up at him curiously. His deep brown eyes are shiny in the moonlight. They draw the truth out of Tobio in an instant.
“I was just thinking about—” He stops to brush some hair out of Hinata’s eyes. “I was just thinking about my 16th birthday. When you gave me that keychain.”
“You remember that?” Hinata asks, incredulously.
Tobio scoffs. “That wasn’t that long ago, Hinata. And yes, I remember it. It’s pretty hard to forget when the keychain is on the bag I use every day.”
“Oh,” Hinata says. “True.”
He grabs Tobio’s hand and sticks it in his pocket as they begin to walk down the street. His hand is immediately warmer in Hinata’s strong grip.
“What’s the plan tonight?” Tobio asks.
Hinata looks at him a little sheepishly. “I actually don’t have one. I figured we could walk around and explore and do anything you wanted. Have you been around this part of Tokyo much?”
“No,” answers Tobio. He hasn’t been around any part much. He only really explores the city when Hinata comes to visit and forces him out of his apartment.
“Okay!” Hinata says, squeezing Tobio’s hand. “We’ll find something super cool to do around here then.”
(“I don’t care what we do for my birthday,” Tobio had told Hinata over the phone, a few weeks ago. “As long as it’s with you.”
“Ah, Kageyama,” Hinata had said back. “You say the sweetest things.”
Tobio had tried to scrub the blush from his cheeks with his fingers, even though he knew Hinata couldn’t see him. He didn’t mean to say these things. They just slipped out.)
They turn the corner onto a busier street, this one awash in bright blues and purples from the neon of nearby signs. Hinata tugs on his hand excitedly when they come across a shop that sells nothing but brightly colored and patterned socks.
“Look, Kageyama!” Hinata says, pointing at a pair in the window. “So cute! Want to go in?”
Tobio nods and follows him inside. They browse the store — Tobio is pretty sure Hinata has something to say about every single pair of socks. He tells Tobio he’ll buy him a pair of whatever he wants. Tobio selects a pair of simple, dark green ones off the rack. If Hinata is disappointed in his boring selection, he doesn’t show it.
“Very practical!” he announces, instead.
Hinata deliberates for a few minutes, then eventually picks out a dark blue pair with small cartoon lions on them and brings them both up to the counter to pay. Tobio stands behind him quietly, poking through the chocolates and caramels next to the counter.
“I’ll take two of whatever he’s looking at, too,” Hinata tells the cashier. Tobio picks out two caramels and tosses them on the counter.
“You kinda look like those lions,” Tobio tells him, as they exit the store. Hinata thwacks him with the socks. “Especially third year, when you let your hair grow out. I was half-expecting you to roar at me.”
That earns Tobio another hit with the socks, this time on the back of his head.
“Shou,” he pouts. “You can’t hit me with socks on my birthday.”
He watches carefully as Hinata’s eyes soften at the use of his name, letting his guard down. And the guilt trip works like a charm, every time. Tobio lunges quickly and grabs the socks right out of Hinata’s hands. It’s his turn to thwack Hinata, and he does, right across the chest. Before Hinata can retaliate, he turns and runs down the street, stuffing the socks into his pockets so he doesn’t drop them. He can hear Hinata yelling from behind him, but he’s wearing better shoes for running than Hinata’s dark brown loafers, so it takes him a few blocks to catch up.
When he does, he practically tackles Tobio from behind.
“Oof,” Tobio says, as the force of Hinata’s body running into him almost knocks him off the sidewalk. “Watch it.”
Hinata doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches up with one hand and cups Tobio’s chin, bringing it down for a kiss. Tobio — frozen in surprise for only a quick second — brings his hands to Hinata’s face and deepens the kiss. He starts to feel a bit hazy when Hinata’s tongue pushes against his lips. Hinata makes a small noise and Tobio’s suddenly wondering if he could convince Hinata to turn around and go back to his apartment now, because he really wants to put his hands places other than Hinata’s face and he really wants to—
He feels a tug on his pockets and he reluctantly breaks apart from the kiss, feeling his hands go cold as he takes them off Hinata’s face and steps backward. Hinata is triumphantly holding up the socks. Tobio’s head is suddenly clear.
“You little—”
Hinata takes off down the street this time.
When Tobio catches him, he pulls Hinata into his arms, so he won’t get away. He’s warm under his coat from all the running and Hinata’s body pressed close against his own is another wall of warmth, but he doesn’t care. Hinata’s laughing and Tobio feels like he’s holding the entire sun in his arms.
“That was fun,” Hinata huffs out between laughs and catching his breath and Tobio pulls him closer in response, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair. His eyes catch on something above Hinata’s head.
“Hinata,” he says, suddenly. “Chocolate cake.”
Behind them is a small bakery, surprisingly still open for it being late in the evening, and large slices of chocolate cake sit low in the window. Hinata’s eyes go wide when he turns and sees them.
“Let’s get a slice!”
They order one to share and sit down across from each other in the bakery’s small, rickety chairs.
One bite of the cake and Tobio feels like he’s four years younger, sitting in his parents’ kitchen, silently and hopelessly in love with his best friend. He’s glad he’s not so quiet anymore.
Hinata tells him about his journey here while they eat, recounting everything from his experience on the train to how his key got stuck in the lock of Tobio’s apartment while he was dropping off his bag.
“Sorry,” Tobio says. “It’s started sticking really bad. I should have warned you. Or I could have met you there after dinner.”
Hinata waves his hands. “It’s okay. I wanted you to have as much time with Miwa as possible before I stole you away.”
They finish up the cake and clean up their dishes, thanking the woman behind the counter as they leave.
“That was really good,” Tobio says as they exit the bakery, rubbing his hand across his stomach. “I’m pretty tired though. Do you want to go home?”
Hinata nods and follows Tobio down the street as he heads back in the direction of his apartment. When they reach it, Tobio makes a point of showing Hinata how to fiddle with the lock and they step in from the cold, pulling off their jackets and scarves and hanging them on Tobio’s coat rack. Hinata’s cheeks are so, so pink and Tobio runs his hands over them without thinking. Hinata giggles at his touch.
“Your hands are so cold, Tobio.”
Tobio moves his hands away and herds Hinata over to the couch. The fabric sinks gently underneath them as they sit. Tobio tugs Hinata down towards his lap and he complies, resting the back of his head on the front of Tobio’s thighs. His messy hair splays out, bright against the dark fabric of Tobio’s pants.
He smiles up at Tobio, blindingly. His cheeks are still pink.
“I know it wasn’t much, but was this your best birthday so far?” Hinata bites his lip and stops, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “Better than playing cards in your living room during our third year?”
Tobio thinks about his hands in Hinata’s hair and the way he had curled up against him in his bed, the way they had woken up tangled together and neither of them had jumped apart, the unspoken thing between them settling heavy over their heads. Tobio thinks about how he had almost kissed Hinata that morning, with his sleep-messy hair and his eyes brightened by the sun pouring in through the window shades.
“That was pretty good.” Tobio moves to run his fingers through Hinata’s hair. He bends down slowly and presses a quick kiss against the tip of his nose. “But this is better.”
Hinata sits up and catches the back of Tobio’s head, slotting their lips together and kissing him hard, like they’ve been apart for years. Tobio’s head swims. His fingertips tangle in the ends of Hinata’s hair.
“Happy Birthday, Tobio,” Hinata whispers against his lips. “Happy Birthday.”
Tobio hums and kisses him harder.