Work Text:
2016.
Logically, he knows he hasn’t been here before, but it’s like his heart is too stubborn to listen. Every path they take and he thinks softly to himself Oh. So that’s it.
That's the tree Hinata eats lunch under, that's the dented trash can he ran into playing soccer in the quad, that's the bench where Hinata called him once, drunk.
There are string of pictures hanging up above his desk back in his own room, a few hundred miles away: literal snapshots of Hinata’s life that Tobio looks at and tries to piece together, that he sees and somehow imagines a full image. His brain filling in blind spots with fantasy. He wants so desperately sometimes to know Hinata's life inside and out.
But he doesn’t say anything, his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t say anything because it’s enough to try taking it all in, and it’s enough to have Hinata right there with him, fingers warm against his. The real thing.
“This way. And stay quiet,” Hinata says for the hundredth time, whispering in the dark.
“I know already,” Tobio murmurs back and he’s rewarding with a squeeze of a hand that makes his whole arm tingle.
They jog along in silence, Tobio's bag pressed tight against his side so it won’t make any noise. Then Hinata throws up his other hand and Tobio nearly runs right into him. “Hide hide!” He shoves Tobio down without warning and with a stifled yelp, he disappears into bushes, his arms scratched by little branches and leaves.
“Oi! What are you do—”
“Shhh.” They are hunched together, Hinata's shoulder not far from Tobio's cheek. It is all he can do to keep from leaning in a little closer and pressing his lips against something exposed. Someone walks by along the path. Tobio contents himself with looking at the way Hinata looks in the half-light, really just an outline of familiar features: lashes, nose, cheek. Then Hinata moves off, keeping himself against the wall as he sneaks up to a window where a little trickle of light is coming through the shutters. Tobio holds his breath.
Hinata raps his nail against the glass, only a few taps at a time, but growing more and more insistently until a shadow falls over it and it is pried open with the crumbling sound of cracking paint and creaking joints.
“Hinata?” Tobio can’t make out a face from where he is, but the voice it belongs to is unfamiliar and unsurprised. He cannot help the flicker of jealousy—how lovely would that be, to have Hinata Shouyou climb through his window after curfew?—but he stifles it with practice. “Did you forget curfew again?"
"Not again. Open it wider, I gotta get in."
"You’re gonna get me in trouble!"
"Shhh, just open up!” Hinata’s already started climbing and anxiously Tobio stands too, making the boy jump.
“Holy shit, who’s that?"
Hinata gets his leg over the sill, then he twists and disappears with a thud and after a moment, there’s his familiar voice calling Tobio's name in the dark. “Hurry. Can you get up?"
Tobio doesn’t speak, merely slides to the window and passes Hinata his bag. It disappears into the room and then he’s gripping the sill and making a little hop, his foot sliding on the wall before he gets some purchase and launches himself up.
"Hey! Hinata, your shoes!"
"We’re not staying long. Thanks Kudou, I owe you one!” And then Hinata’s already leading the way towards the door, this time with Tobio's bag over his shoulder. He finds Tobio's hand as if it is only natural; just before they slip out the door, Tobio looks back over his shoulder to see Kudou’s face dropping slack in revelation. The jealousy abates.
Then they’re out into the hallway and Hinata’s bubbling with laughter, trotting down the hall, leading Tobio up three flights of stairs and out onto a floor identical to the ones before. He catches a glimpse of a community board near the kitchen, a flash of orange hair and a bright smile recognizable even in the dark. He wants to stop and see, to get an idea of the bigger picture of Hinata's life without Tobio in it, but instead he twines their fingers together a little tighter—in case they see anyone else he wants to leave this mark too. He cannot stop thinking about the look on Kudou's face and it makes him grin.
He follows Hinata to a room at the very end, where the boy fumbles with his keys noisily before slotting one into the lock and pushing the door open with a grandiose gesture.
Tobio enters as Hinata shuts the door behind them and he tries not to think about how this is achingly familiar and frighteningly new.
Hinata’s clothes hanging in the closet, his shoes stacked at the door. There are posters on the wall that Tobio recognizes from high school and some he doesn’t. On the desk, there’s a small laptop set up and humming, the screen still stuck on a paused video with homework papers lying forgotten under it. There are not as many pictures as in Tobio's room—he has never been good at remembering to take pictures, and even worse at printing them out to send—but there is one that is almost difficult to look at, the way it makes his heart seize up in his chest, his whole body feel flush. The glow from the monitor softens the angles and sharpens the shadows, and when Kageyama turns back to the door, fingers still pushing back the curtain gently to try and see the view Hinata sees every day—one Hinata shares with him every day too, he supposes—he finds the other boy watching him.
Hinata’s head is tilted, bird-like and curious.
“What do you think?” he asks. “It’s small, but at least you’re saving money, right?"
Tobio watches Hinata set his bag down by the door.
"And the air conditioning is free, but good thing it’s summer too. I don’t have any extra blankets."
He starts to sit on the bed, waiting for a nod from Hinata before he settles.
"Are you tired? You can sleep if you want.”
Reminded of it, Tobio yawns, and immediately wishes he hadn't. It makes him remember the deadline upon them, how all weekends end eventually.
"Come here," he says, asks, commands, and Hinata laughs, coming over to sit with him on the bed, tucking his legs under him, knees brushing, shoulders bumping. Somehow, their hands find each other again and their fingers slot into place and when Hinata scoots a little closer, tucking his head under Tobio's chin, and he can’t help but sigh and soften.
Midnight calls on the phone and scattered video chats on weekends. Text messages and small snapchats. Small envelopes with little polaroids and letters. It closes the distance up between them, but nothing replaces this. Reaching out and reaching. Like knowing your way around a house even with the lights off, memory winning against time, like coming home.