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“Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Kageyama doesn’t need to turn around to know Hinata is standing behind him. He knows his voice as well as he knows his own.
He knows the way the end of Hinata’s words always go up like he’s asking a question. He knows the way Hinata shifts on his feet because he’s not quite sure enough of himself to stand tall.
Kageyama can hear it now.
Hear Hinata shuffling back and forth.
Hear him breathe.
He’s probably wearing that faded purple t-shirt he got in eighth grade. He hasn’t grown much since then. The sleeves are a little tight around his arms and the waist hugs him around his stomach. A couple of his ribs poke through. He used to say they were abs, but he and Kageyama both know he’s too scrawny for that. He's like a baby bird—all bones the size of twigs and voice as loud as a chirp.
Kageyama used to tell him that.
“Careful, Hinata,” he’d say when Hinata stood too close to the edge. “Baby birds can’t fly.”
Hinata would scowl, but clamor back anyway. He didn’t like the end of the roof as much as Kageyama didn’t like his hovering over it.
“Baby birds learn to fly,” Hinata would reply. He’d make wings with his arms, then circle around Kageyama. “I will, too.”
Kageyama would shake his head. He always shook his head at Hinata. “You’re an idiot. If you fall off the ledge, the only place you’ll fly is into a body bag.”
The words tasted like acid. He didn’t like the thought. He didn’t like joking about something happening to Hinata.
Kageyama blinks himself back to reality. The buildings twinkle. Red lit cars drone by on the street, but Kageyama is so far up they look like toys. The city is still at night. His legs dangle over the edge, and the wind pushes back his hair. It’s cold against his cheeks. “Haven’t seen you either,” he says.
He still doesn’t turn around. He doesn't want Hinata to know he’s crying.
Hinata shuffles on his feet again. The gears are turning in his head. Kageyama can feel it. “I, uh...I haven’t been up here in a while,” he says.
Kageyama nods. “I haven’t either. Not since….” He shakes his head. His eyes are heavy.
Moonlight streams across the rooftop and paints the garden in slivers of grey. It glints off the metal door. Kageyama can feel it grow across his face, and he knows it grows across Hinata’s, too.
Hinata sits down behind him. Kageyama watches his shadow. Hinata isn’t far away, but he’s far enough that Kageyama doesn’t feel crowded.
Hinata’s sitting away from the edge like Kageyama always wanted him to, and Kageyama isn’t sure if it’s because Hinata is scared of falling, or if it’s because Hinata doesn’t want to upset Kageyama.
Either way, it’s better like that. Kageyama doesn’t want to see anyone right now.
“I miss it up here,” Hinata says after a few moments. Kageyama stares at his shadow. He’s wringing his hands together.
A car honks below. Kageyama hears shouting, then tires screeching. It doesn’t bother him from up here. “Why are you here, anyway?” he asks, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as accusatory as it does.
Hinata sits with the question. He rolls the answer around in his mouth. “I saw you come up here,” he says.
“And?”
“And I know you’ve never liked to be alone.”
Kageyama scoffs. “Do you even know me?”
“You pretend you do,” Hinata says. “Pretend you like to be alone. But I know you don’t.”
Kageyama pulls his knees to his chest and glances up. The stars are covered in a film of fog tonight. “And how do you know that?”
Hinata shrugs. It looks bigger as a shadow. “No one likes to be alone.”
Kageyama looks back down. The street is empty now. The lights from the corner shop spill across the pavement. “I think you should go to sleep, Hinata. There’s school tomorrow.”
Hinata sighs. “What’s the point of being sixteen if you can’t have fun?”
“You’re sixteen now?”
Hinata sighs. “You know we’re the same age,” he says. He’s almost whining. “Actually, I’m older.”
Kageyama feels himself smirk. He swallows it down and frowns instead. “Just hard to believe sometimes.”
“I thought I was gonna outgrow your jokes. Guess not.”
“You’re never gonna outgrow anything.” He pauses to hear Hinata sigh, then asks, “You wearing the purple shirt?”
Hinata’s quiet for a moment. “How’d you know?”
“I know you.”
“I know you, too.”
“Oh, really?”
“Better than anyone.” Hinata stands up, and his shadow steals Kageyama’s moonlight for a second. “Goodnight, Kageyama,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“One, you definitely don’t know me better than anyone.” The words hurt. Kageyama misses the person who knows him the best. His frown deepens. “And two, we leave for school at different times.”
“I don’t mean for school. I’ll see you here.” Hinata’s footsteps drift toward the door. “Tomorrow.”
Kageyama doesn’t know why he goes back the next night. He has a big paper due, and it’s cold outside.
He sits over the edge with his arms wrapped around his chest and his hands buried in the sleeves of his jacket. The building across the street sleeps, except for one lonely window. Orange glow bleeds through silk curtains and reflects against the night sky.
He hears sirens a couple streets away, and the sound still makes him feel like he’d been sucker-punched. It reminds him of that day. The last day the world felt real. The last day the world was still spinning.
Since then, everything has just felt… stopped. Suspended in time like the city at dusk.
Hinata isn’t here yet, which doesn’t surprise Kageyama in the slightest. He’d be worried if Hinata was here on time.
He doesn’t like things out of the ordinary. He likes a routine. He likes control. He likes the known.
Hinata is the opposite, and maybe that’s a good thing for Kageyama. Maybe he can learn something from Hinata.
Hinata finds adventure in the obscure. He finds solace in divinity. He accepts the unknown. He accepts that sometimes there’s just nothing you can do.
Kageyama heard that for a while after… after that day.
“There’s nothing you can do, Kageyama.”
“He’s gone.”
He’s gone.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s gone. Sometimes it feels like Kageyama will come home, and he’ll be right there, waiting. Right there, with that stupid smirk on his face.
The smirk that won’t leave Kageyama’s head. The smirk that he swears is forever engraved on the back of his eyelids. The smirk that turns into a smile that turns into a laugh when Kageyama dreams.
Kageyama doesn’t know why he goes back to the rooftop that night, but he thinks it might be to forget. To forget that something’s wrong, if only for a minute.
Hinata’s always made him feel that way. He’s always made Kageyama feel safe. He’s tiny, but his heart is as big as his spirit and sometimes Kageyama swears he’s made of gold.
“Miss me?” Hinata asks from behind him.
Kageyama hadn’t even heard the door open. He grins. “Always.” He doesn’t turn around yet. “Purple shirt?” he asks.
“Yeah. How do you do that?”
Kageyama glances up at the stars. They’re clear tonight. “For fuck’s sake, do some laundry, Hinata.”
Hinata huffs. “It’s comfy.”
“It’s a hundred years old.”
Hinata sits down behind Kageyama. “You’re a hundred years old,” he mutters.
“Last night you said you were older than me,” Kageyama says. He swings his legs back and forth. The heels of his shoes bounce off the brick. “Does that mean you’re a hundred and one?”
Hinata doesn’t reply for a moment, so Kageyama looks up at the moon. It’s a crescent tonight, just a shard of what it should be. The clouds are murky and grey.
“Can I see your face?”
Kageyama’s forehead creases. “Why?”
“‘Cause I like it.”
Hinata, ever blunt.
Kageyama slides back so he’s far enough from the edge, then turns around. Hinata’s eyes catch his. They’re just as brown as Kageyama remembers, and they glisten in the moon the same way a window glistens in the sun—golden like candlelight.
“Happy?” Kageyama asks.
Hinata nods. His lips quirk into a smile, and the air of a dimple presses into his cheek. “Very.” His hair isn’t as fiery red as when he was younger, but Kageyama almost likes it more now. Likes the way it’s dulled into a muddy copper.
He remembers how red it was when he first met Hinata.
It was years ago, after Hinata had moved in across the hall. He and his mother had knocked on Kageyama’s door with a pan of brownies. Hinata was behind his mother’s legs, poking out from around her waist.
“How was school?” Kageyama asks.
Hinata raises his eyebrows. “Why do you wanna talk about school? Is it that awkward between us?”
“No.”
Hinata shrugs. “School was fine. What about you?”
‘Lonely,’ Kageyama wants to say.
“It was fine. I went, then wanted to leave. Same old, same old.”
He wants to say, ‘I miss him.’
He wants to say, ‘I need him.’
He wants to say, ‘I wish he were here right now. I wish he were here instead of you.’
Hinata’s eyes are caught on something in the distance. Kageyama follows his gaze over the rooftops and to the sky. “You like planes now?” Kageyama asks. The blinking tail light looks like the brightest star. It soars across the moon.
Hinata shrugs. “Not planes. I just like flying.”
Kageyama smiles. “Baby bird.”
Hinata doesn’t bring his eyes down “Or angel.”
Kageyama frowns.
People told him that, too. After he died.
“He’s an angel now.”
Kageyama shakes his head. “I like bird better.”
Hinata shivers. His cheeks are turning red.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“You’re just wearing a t-shirt.”
“I’m okay.”
Kageyama pulls off his jacket and sighs. He tosses it at Hinata. “Put it on, dumbass.”
“I—”
“Put it on. I’m not cold.”
He is, but Hinata won’t take it if he knows Kageyama’s cold. Hinata slips on the jacket. It’s big on him, the sleeves reaching past his fingers. It looks better on him anyway. He wraps his arms around his chest. “Thanks.”
Kageyama shrugs. “I’m gonna fail my English paper ‘cause of you,” he says. “I haven’t even started and it’s due tomorrow.”
Hinata’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to distract you, I—”
“It’s all right. I don’t really like English anyway.”
“I could help you,” Hinata says. “I’m good at English.”
“I know you are.” He looks down at his hands and realizes he’s been digging crescents into his palms with his nails. “I have an English tutor. Had an English tutor.” He meets Hinata’s eyes. They’re so big. So golden.
Hinata frowns. “Had?”
Kageyama tears away his stare. He’s getting that heavy feeling in his eyes again. “You know anything about The Great Gatsby?”
“No. But SparkNotes exists for a reason, right?”
For the first time in a while, Kageyama does his homework on the roof. For the first time in a while, Kageyama doesn’t feel quite so alone.
“No, you idiot, if you hit the ‘O’ you get ten points.”
“What about pedestrians? How many points do I get if I knock off that old lady’s hat?”
Kageyama stops mid-throw. He squeezes the rock, then grins at Hinata. “Twenty if you make her scream.”
Hinata laughs and drops the stone. It bounces off the concrete. He sits down and pulls his knees to his chest. He’s closer the edge than he was last week, but not by much. Kageyama sits down in front of him.
He glances at the graffiti they were trying to hit. It scrawls out ONE LIFE in big blue letters on the building across the street.
He toys with the rock in his hand. He isn’t sure how many nights he and Hinata had met on the roof. Seven or eight, probably.
Hinata wears the same thing every day—the purple t-shirt and a pair of whitewash jeans. Kageyama stopped pestering him about it. Hinata’s stubborn, and Kageyama kind of likes the shirt. It was the love of his life’s favorite color.
“Hinata?” Kageyama asks. “The night you saw me come up here, why’d you… why’d you follow me?”
“I don't know,” Hinata says. He picks at a spot on his jeans. “I think it’s ‘cause I missed you.” He glances up at Kageyama, and his eyes flash pale in the moonlight.
“You missed me?”
Hinata nods.
“I missed you, too.” He runs his thumb across the rock. “I’m sorry I haven’t… I’ve just been…” he feels tears welling in his eyes, and he looks to the side. His vision blurs. “I just… I lost someone, and I….”
“Kageyama,” Hinata says. He looks serious. Kageyama hasn’t seen Hinata look serious in a long time. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”
Kageyama nods because he doesn’t think he can speak. He hates when his vice sounds wobbly. Weak. He hates admitting that things will never be the same way again. He hates losing control.
“Hey,” Hinata says. His eyes are boring into Kageyama’s cheeks. “Kageyama, lay down.”
Kageyama frowns. “Why?”
Hinata leans back. “Just do it.”
Kageyama does. He lets a tear slip from his eye and slide down his cheek. Hinata can’t see it if they’re both laying down.
The stars create a canopy overhead. It’s late, later than when they’re usually on the roof, and all the lights in the building across the street are off. It’s like the time there was a power outage and the whole city went dark.
“You see it?” Hinata asks.
The wind blows across the roof. Kageyama crosses his arms over his chest.“See what?”
“The Big Dipper.”
“No.”
“Look, those four stars there. They make up the spoon.”
Kageyama glances at Hinata and tries to follow his gaze. He sees a lot of stars. None look like a spoon. “Yeah… still don’t see it.”
“It’s just—” he huffs. “How can you not see it? Don’t you like science?”
Kageyama shrugs. “It’s all right, I guess, I—”
He hears a shuffle, a sigh, then Hinata is standing over him with a frown on his face. He sits down next to Kageyama—on the side furthest from the edge—and points up. “There,” he says. He outlines it. “How do you not see it.”
“Well now we’re at different eye levels, dip shit,” Kageyama grumbles. “Where you’re pointing looks different for me.”
“Oh.” Hinata lays down. His shoulder brushes against Kageyama’s. He points back up again. “Better?”
Kageyama closes one eye and follows Hinata’s finger. He still doesn’t see the Big Dipper, but he nods anyway. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s cool.” He doesn’t want to disappoint Hinata.
Hinata smiles. The dimple comes back. “Really?” he asks.
“Yeah, really cool.”
Hinata sits up, then turns to face Kageyama and smirks. It’s shit-eating. “What if I told you that’s not the Big Dipper?”
Kageyama feels his eyebrows quirk and a blush tint his cheeks. “....it’s just a bunch of stars, isn’t it?”
Hinata giggles, nods, and falls back down. He lands on Kageyama’s arm. His eyes widen. “Sorry, sorry!” he says, shooting back up. “Did that hurt?”
Kageyama laughs and shakes his head. “Hinata, you weigh the same as a toddler,” he says, yanking Hinata back down. “It feels kinda good, actually.”
Hinata frowns. His shoulder blades push into Kageyama’s arm. “It feels good?”
“Yeah. It’s comfy. Like a pillow.”
“You should probably buy a new pillow then.”
Kageyama shakes his head. “Can you show me where the Big Dipper is now?”
Kageyama runs into Hinata’s mother on the way to the roof. She’s black clad—she always is now. There’s rain stuck to her jacket, and droplets dripping down her hair. She sticks her umbrella under her arm while she fumbles for her keys. She’s carrying flowers.
“Hello,” Kageyama says. He doesn’t mean to startle her.
She drops her keys and stumbles back. Her eyes are wide, but when they land on him, they soften. “Kageyama!” she said. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks growing hot. He glances at his shoes, then the roses. “You got flowers?” he asks.
She follows his gaze to the bouquet. Her face drops, and she pales. “No… uh… no. I was just… I just came home to drop off my… I was going to the… to visit….” Tears are welling in her eyes. They glisten in the hallway light.
“Oh,” Kageyama says. He doesn’t want her to finish her sentence. He already knows how it ends. “Right.”
She clears her throat. “Do you… do you have any… where’re you headed?”
“For a walk,” Kageyama says. “Clear my head.”
“It’s raining,” she says. “And it’s cold.”
“I know. I just wanted to get outta the house.”
She nods. “I’ll see you later, Kageyama.”
Hinata meets him on the roof. It’s the only time he’s ever been there first. He’s wearing his purple shirt and his whitewash jeans, and his red hair is so wet it’s almost brown “Glad you could finally join me,” he says, smirking.
Kageyama stands in the doorway for a moment. He watches the rain patter on the roof. “I ran into your mom.” He makes his way over to Hinata. He’s already got goosebumps from the cold.
“Oh,” Hinata says. He gets a little awkward on his feet. A little unsure. “How is she?”
Kageyama shrugs. “She’s okay. She was heading out when I saw her.”
“Where was she going?”
Kageyama shrugs again. “Doesn’t matter.” His shirt’s getting heavy with rain. “What do you wanna do?”
Hinata reaches out his hand.
Kageyama bats it away. “What're you doing?”
“May I have this dance?” Hinata says in a British accent.
“Uhh… why?”
Hinata’s face falls for a moment, and he wraps his arms around his chest. “Haven’t you always wanted to dance in the rain?” he asks sheepishly, back in his normal voice.
“I…. I haven’t really thought about it,” Kageyama replies. Raindrops drip down his cheeks. The clouds cast a grey glow on the rooftop. Skidding tires and blaring horns come from over the edge of the roof.
Hinata reaches out his hand again. “Don’t think, just do.”
Hinata leads Kageyama around the rooftop, his arms wet, his purple shirt sticking to his chest, the rain falling so fast down his face Kageyama can’t keep track. His copper hair brown with water glistens, and when he shakes it out Kageyama shields his face with his biceps so he can keep holding hands with Hinata.
They ballroom dance around the rooftop, Hinata guiding Kageyama while he stumbles along to the music of rain. The third time he trips, Kageyama mumbles, “I can’t really dance.”
“I know.” Hinata laughs and looks down. His dimple comes back. It’s like a perfect divot in his cheek. “But it’s okay. Not everything has to be so serious.” He’s not nearly as strong as Kageyama, but he tugs him closer anyway. He wraps his arm around Kageyama’s back. “Ready for a dip?” he asks.
“No. I don’t wanna die.”
Hinata shakes his head. “You’re no fun.”
Kageyama pulls back, yanks Hinata forward, and drops him into a dip. Hinata erupts into laughter, and nearly headbutts Kageyama when he shoots back up. “There,” Kageyama says. “Happy?”
“Always.”
Kageyama pinches HInata’s shirt. It’s soaking. “Why do you always wear this shirt?” he asks.
Hinata shrugs. “I don’t have a choice.”
Kageyama nods. He knows.
Kageyama raises his eyebrows when he makes it to the roof that night. There’s a tent pitched in the center, near the garden. It’s dark in the city, but Kageyama sees a light pour through the tent’s mesh windows.
“Hinata?” he asks, starting his way to the tent. “That’s you, right?” He clutches his blanket closer.
Hinata unzips the door, then pokes out his head. “Kageyama,” he says. “Ready?”
Kageyama crouches down. “You…brought a tent? Just to sleep on the roof?”
“You said you never camped before, so I wanted to...I thought you’d wanna try it out. I have marshmallows, chocolate, and gram crackers.”
“What about a fire?”
“You can’t get everything, Kageyama,” Hinata says, smiling so Kageyama knows he isn’t serious. He leans back. “Come in.”
Kageyama hands Hinata his blanket, then crawls through the opening. The tent isn’t big, but Hinata built himself a bed with green crocodile sheets and black seahorse pillows. His flashlight is sitting on top of his blankets, facing the wall and casting an orange glow on the tent. Half of Hinata’s face is covered in shadows, and the other half is bathed in light.
Kageyama lays his blanket next to Hinata’s, then lays down. “This is so cool,” he says. “Thanks, Hinata.”
“We should really go camping one day. Like, in the forest.” He’s on his stomach, his chin resting in his hands. He glances at Kageyama.
Sometimes Kageyama forgets how beautiful his eyes are. “Yeah,” Kageyama says. “That sounds fun.”
Hinata nods. He trains his stare on Kageyama’s blanket. “I want to go closer to the edge. Tomorrow.”
Kageyama’s heart stops. “Why? Why would you wanna do that? It’s not safe.”
“I’ll be okay. You do it all the time.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, Hinata.”
“I won’t.” Hinata meets his eyes. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me.” He smiles. “Get that stupid look off your face, I’m fine.”
Kageyama hadn’t realized he’d been gawking. He closes his mouth and narrows his eyes. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Don’t. Baby birds gotta learn to fly sometime.”
Kageyama sighs. “Can I be there at least?”
“I thought that was implied.”
“Hinata,” Kageyama says. He makes a bird with his fingers and puts it in front of the flashlight. It grows into a phoenix on the tent wall. “It’s you.”
Hinata’s laugh is like the best song in the world. It’s all the light, all the joy. It makes the pain in Kageyama’s heart disappear. Hinata makes a shadow dog. He positions it next to Kageyama’s bird, then barks. “And it’s you.” He brushes the dog’s head against the bird’s. “Look. Best friends.”
Kageyama feels the tears well in his eyes too late to stop them. The shadow animals grow blurry. Hinata grows blurry. The laughter in Kageyama’s throat is budding into a sob. “Hinata,” he whispers. “Can you turn off the light?”
Hinata frowns, and worry grows on his face. Kageyama knows it’s worry because he’s seen it a million times. Seen the way lines crease on Hinata’s forehead. Seen the way his lips purse, his eyes glisten. He knows everything about Hinata.
Hinata flips off the light, and the tent is engulfed in darkness. Kageyama lets the tears fall. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying.
No.
No, he knows.
It’s about him. It’s always about him, and Kageyama’s so tired of crying.
He doesn’t know why he’s crying this time. He doesn’t know what started it because Hinata is the only thing that’s been keeping him a float since that day. He’s the only thing that’s shown him there’s still some light.
“Kageyama?” Hinata asks after a few moments of silence. “You okay?”
Kageyama nods, then realizes Hinata can’t see him. “Fine,” he whispers. His voice sounds watery.
“No, you’re not. Like I said, I know you.” There’s a rustling sound and Kageyama watches Hinata’s silhouette move. He sounds a little closer the next time he speaks. “Is it about the person you lost?”
Kageyama feels more tears spill down his cheeks. “Doesn’t matter.”
“I think sometimes it’s important to talk about it,” Hinata says. “It makes it a little better.”
“If I talk about it, then I admit it happened.” Kageyama wrings his hands together. “I don’t wanna say goodbye yet.” He glances at Hinata, even though he can barely see him. “I can’t.”
“You’re not saying goodbye. You’re remembering. You’re making them live again.”
“Him,” Kageyama says. “Making him live again.”
“Was he your friend?” Hinata asks.
Kageyama nods. “My best friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“No.”
“You loved him,” Hinata says. “You were in love with him.”
Kageyama nods again. He pulls his blanket closer. “Not just in love. I wanted to marry him someday.”
Hinata’s quiet for a moment. Kageyama can hear him thinking. “Was he handsome?” he asks eventually.
“Yeah. Yeah, really handsome.” His cheeks are burning now. He tastes salt on his lips. He closes his eyes, and he sees the love of his life. The smirk. The smirk he can never get to go away.
“Just ‘cause he’s not here doesn’t mean he’s gone,” Hinata says.
Kageyama opens his eyes. “Yeah, it does.”
“You know why I like flying?” Hinata asks. He doesn’t wait for a response. “I like flying because you can see everything from up there. You can watch over everything. I think that’s what dead people see.”
“That’s just what people say to make you feel better, Hinata.”
“How would they know? They’re not dead. It’s, like… if you’re standing on the edge of the roof, the person who’s dead is flying right in front of you. Keeping you safe.”
“Then where were they when—” he cuts himself off.
“You don’t know what’s on the other side, Kageyama. You don’t know if angels exist. You don’t know if the dead are all around us. But know he’s not gone. Even if he’s just living in your heart.”
Kageyama clears his throat. “That’s corny.”
Hinata shrugs. Kageyama feels his shoulder against his. “It’s what I believe.”
Kageyama’s holding Hinata’s hand so tight he hopes it doesn’t break. Hinata's a silhouette in the shadow of the sun. He walks along the edge of the roof without any fear.
The sky is orange like Hinata’s hair and purple like his faded shirt. He’s not smiling all the way—he’s too focused for that—but the ghost of the dimple is pressed against his cheek.
“Please don’t fall, Hinata,” Kageyama whispers, and pulls him just a little bit closer. Holds him just a little bit tighter.
“It’s nice up here,” Hinata says. The wind blows through his hair. Cars honk below. ‘“It’s like nothing matters anymore. Nothing matters but you, me, and the roof.”
Kageyama nods. “I know.”
“Is that why you came here after he died?” Hinata asks.
“I think it’s a good place to clear your head.”
“Kageyama?”
Kageyama hums. He squeezes Hinata’s hand.
“If I died today, what would you do?”
“Sit here and hope you’d come back.”
Hinata reaches the end of the ledge. “You don't have to worry about that,” he says. “I’ll always be with you.” He grabs Kageyama’s forearm, then uses him as a crutch to get down.“Can we make the s’mores tonight?” he asks, glancing at the tent. It’s still there. They want to sleep in it for the rest of the week.
“I’ll watch you make them, then I’ll eat them.”
“That’s good enough.” He starts his way to the tent, then turns around. His eyes look golden in the sunlight.“Do you think the grief was worth the love?” he asks.
Kageyama searches his face. Traces the ends of his red hair. Outlines the etch of his dimple. Listens to the sound of his breathing. “Always,” he says, and he doesn’t even hesitate.
Kageyama does his homework on the roof for the second time that night. He’s sitting next to Hinata, his knees drawn to his chest, his notebook on his lap. At the top of the page he writes FUTURE ASPIRATIONS.
Hinata glances over as he pulls his blanket up to his chin. It’s warmer inside the tent than it is outside, but Hinata’s only wearing a t-shirt. “What’s that for?”
“English,” says Kageyama. He chews on the end of his pencil.
“Don’t do that.” Hinata bats his arm. “It’s bad for your teeth.”
Kageyama ignores him. “I don’t have any future aspirations. I don’t know what I wanna be.”
Hinata leans his head on Kageyama’s shoulder. “Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be like that. Maybe it doesn’t have to be about jobs and money.”
“What do you mean?’ Kageyama asks.
Hinata takes the pencil from him. He writes MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY on the first line. “See? That’s what I wanna do most in life.” He hands back the pencil. “Now you try.”
Kageyama doesn’t need a moment to think. He writes SMILE below Hinata’s.
Hinata frowns.
“What?” Kageyama says. “Not good enough?” He tosses the pencil at Hinata. “Fine. Your turn.”
“I have one for you.” He leans over the page so Kageyama can’t see what he’s writing. His hair smells like coconut. When he pulls back, Kageyama sees LOVE AGAIN in big, bold letters.
“I have one,” Kageyama says. “Will you write it down for me?”
Hinata nods.
“Remember.”
Hinata scribbles it down. Then adds, CARRY HIS MEMORY. HE LIVES IN YOU.
Kageyama bites back the knot in his throat. He takes the pencil.
FLY.
Kageyama watches a plane blink in the distance. The stars are as clear as they were the first night Kageyama sat out here. The building across the street is dark. So is the corner store. Kageyama’s eyes trace the graffiti.
ONE LIFE
He’s there before Hinata that night. The tent is gone. It’s too cold to sleep outside now.
His legs dangle over the edge. He swings them back and forth. He thinks about what Hinata told him. That made the dead are never really gone.
He doesn’t know if he believes in fate, but he hopes it’s true. He can’t stand the thought of him being gone.
Kageyama doesn’t hear the door close, but he knows Hinata is standing behind him now. He’s doing that thing where he shifts back and forth.
“You nervous?” Kageyama asks, standing up. He turns to face Hinata.
“A little.”
“Why’s that?”
Hinata gestures to the polaroid camera sitting next to Kageyama. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
Kageyama shakes his head. “No, I—”
“Come on, Kageyama. You know it is.” His eyes don’t sparkle tonight.
“But, I—” He swallows hard. “Can I just hug you?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to break.
Hinata nods. He’s wearing that same purple t-shirt. Those same whitewash jeans. That same smirk that Kageyama can’t get out of his head. “Always.”
Kageyama barrels into Hinata’s chest. He wraps his arms around him so tight he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let go. He’s taller than Hinata, so he hunches over him and buries his face in Hinata’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna say goodbye yet.” He balls his fists into Hinata’s shirt.
Hinata runs his hand through Kageyama’s hair. “You’re ready, Kageyama. Love again.”
Kageyama shakes his head. “Why’d you have to fall?” he whispers. “Why’d you have to go so close to the edge?”
“It’s okay.” He pulls back and puts his hand over Kageyama’s heart. “I’m here,” he says. Then he points at the sky. At the stars. “And there. When you miss me, just look at the Big Dipper.”
Kageyama grabs Hinata closer.“Why’d you have to die? I was gonna marry you one day.”
Hinata carts his fingers through Kageyama’s hair again. “You’ll find someone else. He’ll make you happy.”
“You make me happy.” The tears are all-consuming now. All he can see is Hinata’s hair. It’s as red as the day he met him.
Hinata breaks away from the hug. He picks up the polaroid camera and hands it to Kageyama. “Take a picture of me,” he says.
Kageyama wipes under his eyes. “Why?” he asks. His voice is wet. Thick with all the things he’s lost.
“To remember me.”
“I’m never gonna forget you. I promised you the day it happened.”
That day.
“Just take the picture,” Hinata says.
“Okay.”
Hinata poses with that smirk on his face. His dimple dips like a break in the clouds. Moonlight streams across his face.
Kageyama snaps the photo, and when he pulls the camera back, Hinata is gone. He died in that purple shirt and those whitewash jeans, and he’d stay that way forever in Kageyama’s heart.
“Fly, Hinata,” Kageyama whispers. “I’ll see you again.”
He makes his way from the roof and through the hallway. He stops outside of Hinata’s door. Apartment 10K.
There’s a rose petal on the mat. It’s wilted and black now, but it’s soft between Kageyama’s fingers. He shoves it in his pocket.
He makes his way through his house, through the kitchen and the living room. His mom’s stopped waiting up for him. The house is dark. When he makes it to his bedroom, he grabs his desk chair and pulls it to the window. The stars are gleaming tonight.
He leans over and grabs the crocodile blanket off his bed. It was Hinata’s favorite. He wraps it around himself.
A plane twinkles outside.
“Goodnight, Hinata,” Kageyama whispers.