Archive of Our Own

Wind wailed through the dreary end of autumn streets, blowing and battering anything that wasn’t steadily secured to the nearest heavy object. Leaves and flyers soared, twirling like graceful butterflies through the sky. Although, the sky was rather murky on that particular evening, leaving the pieces of paper’s achievements to be much more underwhelming to the casual pedestrian. 

Luckily for the stray pieces of colourful paper, Hinata Shouyou was no casual pedestrian. He frequently admired the swirls of wind that lifted the otherwise discarded pieces of paper off the ground and paraded them in a waltz among the clouds. Unluckily for Shouyou,  he was also the perfect height to be slugged by said novice flyers. 

It had become almost customary for a massage parlor ad or something of the sort to smack him right in the face on his way back from volleyball practice. He didn’t necessarily mind, although it wasn’t ideal to get walloped by stray pieces of thick, plasticized card whenever there was a little wind about, he wouldn’t really have it any other way. It had become routine, and on lucky days he even got restaurant coupons jammed into his kisser.  

This evening however, he didn’t get a parlor ad, nor a coupon. Rather than the vibrant, busy paper Shouyou was used to being blinded with, he was greeted by a black and white, plain flyer - notably typed out in Times New Roman. It screamed highschool essay formatting, and those were times that Shouyou did not need reminding of. Such dull and unusually plain design made this particular flyer stick out like a sore thumb, but it was still so ... dull. But it’s unusualness made Shouyou curious, which made him concede that the flyer did do what it was intended for - to rail in the eyes of the intended audience. 

Just as Shouyou started reading, a bellowing honk filled the area. Shouyou’s head whipped up and realised he had walked through a red light. Oops, perhaps the flyer was too good at its job. 

Embarrassed, Shouyou scampered across the remaining road and ran straight toward his apartment complex while scrunching the offending ad in his front jean pocket. The wind was in his favour that evening and pushed him along the increasingly tattered pavement. He hopped over the usual potholes and avoided the cracks as he neared the six-story building that he’s called home since the end of highschool. 

As he neared the entrance, his hand slid into his right back pocket on instinct to jank out his keys. He stepped into the dimly lit, faux-retro lobby and headed straight for the elevator. He clicked the up button which sent out a command to the loud, jolting lift to commence in her descent. The rickety elevator needed a revamp at best, and probably should have been closed for service back in the nineties, but today had been leg day and Shouyou could not be bothered. 

Shouyou swung the keyring around his finger as he waited for the creaking carriage of doom to arrive. A few swings went by before the tell-tale ping went off, promptly followed by the slow squeak of old door opening. Shouyou swiftly embarked and took a deep breath in as the door slowly sealed him inside. Ascending in lifts had always made Shouyou nervous, he was told it was rather irrational but one story about an elevator malfunction was enough to convince Shouyou that it was not. He was trapped in a big metal box that went up god-knows how high and the only thing keeping him from becoming squashed person sauce was thick wires and hope that a benevolent being didn’t have a bad day. 

He clicked the button to his floor and tapped the small censor on his keychain to the pad below the yellow lit, circular floor buttons. A wobbly going up resounded in the chamber as the gears kicked in. Since it always took a minute to get to his floor, Shouyou decided to pull out the balled-up flyer that had so elegantly twacked him with its glorious Times New Roman font. 

The title jumped out at him with its emboldened looking for partially nude models . That was very… upfront. As the initial, minor shock subsided, he continued to read onwards. Artist looking for models , that’s reasonable. It’s like those nude modeling gigs but with more clothes. +18 and preferably male . It’s starting to read more like a dating ad, or something more sketchy. Maybe the artist guy is lonely. Call xxx-xxx-xxxx if interested. Is that all? Shouyou just stared at the loose paper in his hand. Bare bones, essay style writing, and Shouyou was to believe that this was made by an artist?

Ping . Shouyou disembarked and walked to his room with an amused smile on his face. He swirled his jingling keys around his finger one last time before going to unlock his door. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about the flyer. He might just call the number emblazoned in bold on the paper scrunched up in his hand. One can never know - it might actually be an artist just looking for a model for their next grand project. And if that meant money for just standing and sitting, Shouyou wasn’t going to be coy.

Volleyball was his passion but at the moment, it didn’t pay all the bills. He did make money off competing but he needed to do a vast array of odd-jobs to fill in the monetary gaps. Sometimes he worked at his highschool coaches’ convenience store; sometimes he helped out at the local moving company with van loading; he did deliveries for stores when they needed an extra hand; and probably the oddest job he did was helping out with lighting panels for a porno. Do not ask how he got the offer, he just took it and it was honestly quite decent pay. Although, it would have probably been the most awkward experience in his life. Especially since he recognised the male actor that was performing that day.

After he flung his shoes off his feet and double checked the door was locked, he flopped down on the beat-up couch in the centre of the main living space. A huff deflated him into a wet puddle that was soaked up by the sofa as he reached out for the tv remote. With a press of a button, the tv turned on with the volume already at a low hum, broadcasting some overplayed sitcom rerun. The aching in Shouyou’s calves hit him in full force - leg day was the worst. 

As he further gelatinized, he pulled out his phone out of his left back pocket. The screen automatically turned on, momentarily stunning Shouyou’s eyes with the unadjusted brightness. It was 7:48 PM. Shouyou supposed it wasn’t too late to give the sketchy number a call. Although artists stereotypically have weird sleeping schedules, eight in the evening was early enough right? 

He clicked the call app and went to the keypad to type in the number. Hopefully this person isn’t a starving artist, although - with that formatting, Shouyou wouldn’t be surprised. Well, assuming this person is an artist in the first place. The number was in and all Shouyou had to do was call. 

So he did, he wasn’t one for hesitation. Even if phone calls, at their very concept, didn’t sit right with Shouyou, he was curious. And curiosity hasn’t killed this cat just yet. 

The phone rang once, and was almost immediately answered by a: “I swear to anything holy, if this is another prank call, I am ready to hunt you down.” 

Shouyou sat silently in a state of “almost shat himself”, before a fit of laughter hit him. The gruff sounding voice, sounding very peeved, let out a very deep exhale before yelling: “I am too old and very much do not have the time for this shit. I’m hanging u-”

“No wait!” Shouyou managed to breathe out between giggles. “Sorry, I am calling for the job. It’s just- I was not expecting to hear that.” Shouyou was able to weather the storm of his rambunctious laughter and train his voice back to a sense of normal. “I am assuming your flyer gets a lot of prank calls then?”

A few seconds of silence hit the line before another steady breath was heard over the crackly line. “You are actually the first person to seriously call me about the offer, the flyer has been out for a few days and I’ve only gotten bible-bashers yelling at me about the sanctity of procreation and young kids daring each other to call the number.” The man sighs again, this time with a lot more frustration and a ton worth of tired resignation. 

“I mean- your ad does look quite dodgy. I called this number half-expecting some secret pornographic agency to pick up” Shouyou explained, still with a hint of civility lifting his voice. 

An indignant, almost scandalised squawk comes through the line, throwing Shouyou into another round of tittering. “Why would anyone think that?” the artist asked, clearly very disturbed by the mere notion. 

“Your ad is very… vague . Because it’s so bare bones, i.e. there’s no name; no other contact information; the ever prevalent +18 and ‘preferably male’; no location or anything; for fuck sake, the font is Times New Roman. Who designed this for you?” Shouyou bluntly laid out, because to him, this was all just too funny. “Did you not make the connection when you got angry puritans calling you?”

“I-uh” The man on the opposite line spluttered. “It’s just-I, well. It was for security reasons but I can see how my flyer could be misconstrued. But you didn’t have to word it that way…” He said, obviously a tad miffed by Shouyou’s cheery straightforwardness. “Are you even old enough to be calling?” The disgruntled stranger asked. 

Any laughing instantaneously stopped. Age and appearances of maturity were always a weak spot for Shouyou, it always irked him. So when even a complete stranger who hadn’t even seen his apparent baby-face assumed him a minor just by the way he talked, he lost all hopes of being taken seriously. 

“Uh, are you ok?” The man inquired, concerned with the sudden silence on the other end. 

Shouyou shook his head, realising how abrupt his actions must have been for the stranger. “No- I mean yes, I just have problems with looking much younger than I actually am, and yeah. Now an old man on my phone is questioning my age based on my voice and yeah…” Shouyou went quiet, and to Shouyou’s dread, the other side of the line was too. “Aaaah, sorry I’m oversharing. God, sorry-”

“Old man?” Shouyou heard dryly stated through the phone.

“Well yeah, unless you-” Shouyou then caught his mistake, or what he believed was his mistake. “Crap! Sorry, I assumed-”

“What? NO!” The person yelled, “Yes, I identify as a dude. I was pointing at the old part! I’m in my early twenties doofus.” 

Shouyou was confused. First of all, he had called himself too old for this and no man in his twenties speaks like him. Or maybe they did? No way, “Nope, no way. You sound old. Who in their twenties says misconstrued ? There's no way in hell that we're anywhere near each other in age.”

“Oi, you are doing the same thing that I did to you! And, misconstrued isn’t an uncommon word.” The man bickered back. “Maybe you are the one who needs to mature more.”

“Hey! Aren’t artists supposed to be all balls deep in empathy? I just opened my soul to you about that!” Shouyou huffed, annoyed. “Ass hat” He mumbled, but loud enough that he knew the phone would pick it up. 

“Ass hat? Yep, definitely a child on the line.” The man said snidely.

“I guess I won’t model for you… Good luck findin-”

“FINE, fine.” The man conceded, he sounded so desperate. Shouyou smirked to himself triumphantly. Take that, he thought. “For the sake of art, let’s just call a truce.”

“Fine,” Shouyou said, with a cheeky lilt. 

Another huff from the early-twenties, old man ended that part of the conversation. A truce. Then, the crunchy rustle of paper and disorganized scratching of what Shouyou assumed were pens filled his ears. A click from the top of a pen signalled the barrage of questions that the man started firing at Shouyou: “Name?”

“Hinata Shouyou, Sir!” Shouyou sniggered. “What about you?”

A few scribbles and silence ensued. Shouyou found the lack of reply rather suspicious - if the guy doesn’t reply, Shouyou would just hang up. There’s no point in getting identity-frauded if it was avoidable. The scribbles stopped and a long, contemplative sigh was distantly picked up by the mic. “If you promise not to google me- nevermind, you’ll probably do it… If you promise not to tell the press, then I’ll tell you.” 

“Putting a lot of trust in me there, pall” Shouyou replied, “You sound extra old-man-y. Are ya famous or something?” Shouyou lightly tittered to himself. Why was this man worried about the press?

“My name is Kageyama Tobio, my pseudonym is Yama.” Was all that needed to be said.

Shouyou’s eyes sprang open wider than saucers. “Yama? As in, The Yama? The guy who paints those super cool black and white portraits? No fucking way.” No way, this guy, Kageyama , MUST be fucking with him. There’s no way. Shouyou wasn’t an art person, but even he knew who Yama was. The guy had won a bunch of big, prominent awards for his works in abnorm- abstruc… abstract! realism. Kenma had explained it to him once when Shouyou had spotted one of the paintings when they visited a museum. 

“...You aren’t even going to question it?” Kageyama asked. He sounded confused which made Shouyou confused.

“No, why?” Shouyou simply quipped back.

Another resigned sigh echoed the line. “Too trusting…” Kageyama muttered. “When are you free?”

It was two days later, midday when Shouyou walked along the fancy, dim-lit hallway of the pristine condo-block that Kageyama lived in. The floors were clean; the lobby was shiny and marble-y; and best of all, the elevator was not in a concerning, creaking state of repair. 

Shouyou had arranged to meet Kageyama in his apartment, even though Kageyama seemed incredibly bewildered by Shouyou’s suggestion. Naive was thrown around but Shouyou couldn’t be arsed to look up what that meant. Although, it sounded like an insult, but a fancy, arty, old man insult. 

Kageyama kept suggesting to meet in a coffee shop or a tea shop but Shouyou declined. His free days were few and far between, and at the moment he couldn’t afford to be swept away to a cute corner cafe. Either he had to work, or make steps towards finding work. So in his mind, he had settled on going straight into it, and so far, Kageyama hadn’t lied to him yet. There was no place for doubt that what the guy told him was false. Shouyou had even done some research - as in a quick google here and there, but it all lined up with what information he was fed.

Yama had never made a public appearance - little was known about him, apart from him working out of Japan. He had also done a few ‘anonymous’ interviews where they kept his face hidden, and from it, his hard-core fans dug and rolled in all the information they received. Apparently, he was a big milk guy and enjoyed a good pork curry once in a while. He was inspired by people’s spirit and ambition to work harder, because it drove him to push and create perfect art. And according to one blog, he had an arrogant, perfectionist demeanor on him, which matched up with the old man artist personality Shouyou had created for him.

In all honesty, Shouyou had no clue what Kageyama was going to be like. Since no one knew what he looked like, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe, he was one of those Harajuku people who had a pretty wild, but cool sense of style; or one of the more tattooed punk men that Shouyou caught himself staring at; maybe, he was more of a classic english-aristicracy artist type, who smoked a pipe while prattling on about philosophy; or maybe- Anyhow, everything was a guessing game, which made Shouyou curious, and curiosity hasn’t killed this cat just yet.

As Shouyou walked on through the hallway, it dawned on Shouyou how big this building was. It felt like he was in one of those massive hotels. Everything about it felt endless. It was so uniform and neat that it didn’t even feel real. And frankly, it was making Shouyou a tad nervous.

“825, 827… Aha! That’s it!” Shouyou celebrated. He was finally done with walking through the limitless labyrinth disguised as a condo-block. 

The door, like every other door in the building, was black with shiny silver numbers, sleekly displaying the room it represented. Shouyou, not seeing a bell, knocked on the door. He felt no need for hesitancy because Kageyama had already buzzed him up. Talking to the snobby-looking lobby manager was more nerve wracking than any door that Shouyou had come across. 

The response was immediate. A few clicking locks were turned, and some jumbled scattering notified Shouyou of the rough happenings behind the door. Clearly someone was looking through the peephole and Shouyou, being the man he is, decided to give Kageyama a quick wave. Mid wave, the door was yanked open and revealed a very tall built, yet lean man who looked down at Shouyou with, what shouyou assumed was, a disgruntled frown. 

“You said you were 175 cm,” Was the first thing that Kageyama said.

Shouyou, obviously not appreciative of the comment, instinctually replied: “Just because you are a fucking giant, doesn’t mean I am lying about my height, asshat!” 

A smug smirk carved its path across Kageyama’s face as he looked Shouyou up and down. “You rounded up… asshat.”

“No I-” Shouyou stopped himself because, well, he had. He was only 172.2 cm and fibbing an extra 2.8 cm onto his height wasn’t the end of the world. But, he didn’t like being called on it, and somehow, this man could just magically determine height apparently. “Fine, truce…”

One more weeping look was cast by the tall, snide man, before a confirmative hum left his lips and he let Shouyou inside. 

The first thing that hit Shouyou was a strong stench that appeared to be intrenced into the very fabric of the apartment. It smelled particularly chemically and not something one should be inhaling for too long. As Shouyou tried to find something to cover his face, he caught a glimpse of the open living space further up the entrance hall and wow . The room had so much light streaming in that it almost appeared magical. It was lightly furnished with a mild industrial feel to it. Very artsy , Shouyou thought. So instead of being too worried about covering his face, he rushed to pop his shoes off to explore the place, because Kageyama had appeared to have vanished into thin air. 

His shoes were off and he made the mistake of not removing his socks, sending his skating across the glossy faux-wood floor. Luckily, there were no objects in his way, but Shouyou did not enjoy feeling so off kilter. 

Unfortunately, exploring was cut short by Kageyama who was standing by the windows, cranking them open one by one. Shouyou stood still and watched as Kageyama walked around the room, allowing the gusty winds to blow about the black curtains that framed the windows. 

“That’s better.” was all Kageyama said with a light frown. The frown didn’t look forced, it was more of a case of ‘all of his muscles were relaxed and he just had a resting grumpy face’. Well, at least that’s what Shouyou hoped it was, otherwise this session was going to be quite awkward. 

Shouyou just hummed in reply, not really knowing what the comment was about. He just shuffled around in his spot, looking around himself. It felt a little like a quiet stand-off between Kageyama and him - who was going to be the first to move? As silence filled the room, Shouyou could sense his ‘just say anything to make this less awkward’ instinct kicked in. And he didn’t even think to stop it. “So, why does your house stink?”

Kageyama just flinched, then moved his ever deeping glare to Shouyou. Next was an over-dramatic eye roll, before he huffed: “Well kid . I am a painter, and I use turpentine to thin my paints in the sketching process. That liquid, turpentine, kind of stinks as you put it.” He said rather condescendingly. “That’s why I opened the windows. I’ll add oblivious to the list.”

“I- It’s not my fault I’m not a fancy painter like you are! I don’t know this stuff…” Shouyou retorted, his fierce attitude slowly dying off into a childish mumble toward the end. He should have probably looked up basic art stuff while he went on an information excavation on Yama. 

“I suppose not…” Kageyama muttered as he looked Shouyou up and down with his intense, slate-blue eyes. “You’re still short,” He mumbled, less of an insult and more observational. It still ticked Shouyou off though. “and I wasn’t expecting you to be ginger. Are you full Japanese?” He inquired, curiosity laced in his voice. 

A little stunned, Shouyou took a pause before answering. “Uh, as far as I know, I’m fully Japanese? Like my sister and mom are both ginger and have the same hair thickness… Maybe the pheno...thingy popped in our genetic pool at some point.” Shouyou had never really been asked about it, and by the way Kageyama looked at him so curiously , he felt inclined to give him an answer. Even if he- “Never thought about it, really.”

The answer apparently satiated Kageyama, since he just nodded and headed to his open plan kitchen. The fridge clicked as he grabbed a carton of something. “Would you like something to drink?” He asked. Shouyou just shrugged and gave a quick why not in return. Kageyama put down the carton on the marble worktop and grabbed two glasses to place beside the juice. He then motioned Shouyou over. “You should be more cautious about drinking in someone else’s house.” He directed at Shouyou while Shouyou walked over past the more casual part of the living space. Shouyou was clearly confused by that comment. What does he mean by that? “Don’t pull that face, you are too unaware. Or at the very least naive about all this.” Kageyama said very pointedly. 

It’s that word again . “What do you mean naive? Does it mean stupid or something?” Shouyou reacted, he could tell when he was being patronised. And this was one of those moments.

Kageyama slow-blinked while he poured the juice. “It means being ignorant on the account of little life experience. Like for example, stranger danger. Which you are blatantly ignoring right now.” He said rather harshly, but there appeared to be concern in his tone. “I swear, I was curious to know what type of person would just waltz into my house without even meeting me first… What if that misinterpretation you had of my flyer was right? Wouldn’t you have just hopped on over into my lair? You are basically trapped here.” 

Now it was Shouyou’s turn to slow-blink. “Dude, first of all- you are probably right about the stranger danger thing… HOWEVER, I have killer instincts and the only red-flag you set off for me was that you sounded like an old man. So, I have no reason to be all stranger danger cautious around you. And you just gave me a lecture like an old man , so I double don’t need to be worried.” Shouyou beamed as he reached for the full glass of what appeared to be mango juice. He brought it straight to his lips and made eye-contact with Kageyama. “Or should I be scared?” He said with a challenging taunt.

A kinda amused, kinda kids these days huff left Kageyama’s nose before he poured his own cup. He brought the very mango-y juice to his lips and just shook his head as he went over what Shouyou had just said to him. “No, you don’t need to be scared. Although, don’t be too surprised if I step on you by accident, shrimp.” 

“Oi, say that again.” Shouyou threatened with Kageyama’s own glass-were in hand. Kageyama kept drinking while maintaining eye-contact, Shouyou just laughed to himself as he looked at the glass in his hand. “Imma truce myself, I don’t have all day to be honest. You said you needed pictures?”

“Hmm” Kageyama hummed in agreement. “I need some action shots, I looked you up and spotted you on the JVA website. Your jumps are pretty impressive. Especially with your stat-” 

“Finish that line, and I am un-trucing.” Shouyou mock-threatened. Seems like Shouyou wasn’t the only one doing research on his new work partner, and that made Shouyou quite pleased with himself. 

Large, paint-stained hands shot up in surrender. “Fair enough… I just need a few pictures of you in some volley-ball stances.” He then started walking towards a dark door after abandoning his glass on the counter. Shouyou just followed suit, not really knowing where his dishwasher was. 

They walked into the room, which was completely white, spare the floors which were exposed concrete, and stood around. Kageyama stood with intent of course, looking for a good angle and spot for Shouyou to stand in, while Shouyou just, well, stood there. 

Two big hands landed up on Shouyou’s shoulders, guiding him to a spot in the centre of the room, then handing him a volleyball. Then the room filled with the sounds of clattering, and shifting. Large light boxes on stilts were shifted and maneuvered until Kageyama was satisfied. Then he pulled out smaller, stronger lights and brought them more to the sides of Shouyou. Kageyama then looked over his efforts and frowned, his hand pulling back his hair in frustration, revealing a surprising undercut underneath his black hair. Deciding it was not quite right, so it had to be completely changed. Ah, there’s the perfectionist in him popping out , Shouyou thought. Another minute of shifting took place before he was actually satisfied. 

That’s when Kageyama’s rather scrutinising gaze landed on Shouyou again. “Well, lighting has been sorted. It’s now up to you to not be too bad at posing for this to work.” Kageyama said, arrogantly . 

“Hmm, don’t blame the tools mister artist. It’s not gonna be my fault if you can’t keep up with my impressive jumps.” Shouyou snided right back. “Oh, also, didn’t the flyer mention half-nude models or something? Want me to remove my shirt?” Shouyou asked as he dropped the ball and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, ready to pull it up whenever he got the go-ahead.

Kageyama stood in silence, kind of wide-eyed, like he was shocked by what Shouyou had said. It said that in the flyer, didn’t it? “Y-yeah, yes, of course.” He murmured, sounding a little ruffled with his eyes fixed to the floor. His stance became rather closed off, almost as if he had forgotten the contents of his own flyer.

Not being too fussed about modesty, being a permanent resident in sports-team locker rooms made sure of that, Shouyou just shrugged and went straight to stripping. He was just wearing a plain white t-shirt that was just a smidge too tight around the shoulders, but Shouyou just ignored it’s wrinkle offences and wore it anyway. As the material got to his head, it got a little stuck around his hair. Even though he had trimmed his mane down into a rather manageable style, it still sometimes impeded on the removing clothes process. Which to Shouyou was quite annoying because it always prompted him to start hopping with a half pulled off shirt around his face, and unfortunately Kageyama had to witness that dance today. 

A sharp intake of breath was heard from the other side of the room, prompting Shouyou to give his shirt a last pull. Once his head was out, he saw Kageyama quickly avert his gaze. The artist then decided that he had something lodged in his throat and started coughing to the side. Shouyou may be naive but he had been too gay for too long to ignore the lingering looks he got at bars - and that was the look that he had gotten from Kageyama. 

“Like what you see, mister photographer?” Shouyou said with a teasing smirk.

The fake coughing suddenly became very real. Kageyama was almost gasping before he worriedly looked back at Shouyou. “WHAT? No, you-I… uh I just was not expecting you to be so-”

“Sexy?”

“BUILT!” Kageyama practically yelled. His face was fully flushed and Shouyou smirked. 

“You going to take pictures now?” Shouyou said, his eyes softening as he slowly trailed his hands over his sweatpant-clothed thighs, bending down to grab the abandoned volleyball of course. But Shouyou also knew his actions had a bit more of a bite to them, especially for Kageyama - if the flustered clattering from the other side of the room was anything to go by. “Though you did this often? Most of your paintings are partially nude… or do you just have an active imagination?” Shouyou chided as he shifted himself into the usual low stance. Looking over at Kageyama, who was obviously trying to frown his flush away, Shouyou raised his eyebrow, still incredibly delighted by the new dynamic the situation had shifted in. Teasing tall, haughty men who flustered easily was becoming Shouyou’s new favourite pass-time. “So, how do you want me?”

The apparent ‘frown away the blush’ technique failed as soon as Shouyou tossed a teasing innuendo to Kageyama’s side of the room. Another coughing fit hit and an expensive looking camera was almost a victim of Kageyama’s perturbed clumsiness. “Just jump.” He said with as much composure as possible.

“I’ll just volley a few times,” Shouyou announced before tossing the ball upwards. He didn’t put a whole load of force into his jump, like he usually does in the gymnasium, but he still made sure to put on a good show - he was praised for his jumps after all. As the ball left his fingertips, he then realised the ceiling wasn’t as high as he thought. Shit . The ball bounced and came flying right back into Shouyou’s face. Next thing Shouyou knew, all the air was knocked out of his lungs and his ass made contact with the ground. Searing pain rushed through his stocky frame as he gasped for the breath he just lost. That was incredibly embarrassing and fucking painful. “Ouch, that’s not gonna be pretty tomorrow.” Shouyou hissed. He tried to stretch his back but the stinging pain still had him cringing.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Kageyama was stuck in a state of worry and fierce amusement - but he knew not to say anything, or Shouyou would come for him. He let out a breath for composure, then walked over with his camera in hand. “You alright?” He muttered with concern. 

“Hmm, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ve done worse. But it doesn’t make it less embarrassing.” Shouyou let out a strained laugh. “Especially for this to happen right after I flirtatiously teased you. Oof” Another wave of pain hit as he sat straight.

“... Well, at least I got a good few shots.” Kageyama said as he set his camera to its photo-viewing mode. And to Shouyou’s surprise, the shots were indeed good . The first few were of him pushing off, showing the rippling and moving of his leg muscles, the roll of his feet as the force of jumping moved his body in the instinctively trained way. 

His face, however, looked- “I look constipated.” Shouyou blurted out.

A heavy sigh left Kageyama. “You look determined, focussed even. NOT constipated .” Kageyama may be the artist, but Shouyou didn’t trust his artistic vision for this matter. It appeared that opinion showed on Shouyou face, because Kageyama rolled his eyes before saying gruffly: “It doesn’t matter because it’s the pictures afterwards that I was most interested in.” A quick few clicks and then they got to the shot Kageyama was talking about. 

Shouyou was in mid jump, the ball still in the seeming guidance of Shouyou’s hand. His form was impeccable, and his muscles were active, but most of all, Shouyou could actually see the determination Kageyama was talking about. His eyebrows were tense and his eyes were set on the ball, ready for anything that would hit him. Obviously not everything, but in that snapshot, the humiliating slap in the face would never have been possible. Like a bird, with its eyes on its prey. Ready to swoop down. “Looks like I’m a natural, huh?” Shouyou said with a dopey smile on his face. 

At least his sore ass was worth something in the end. 

“So, why am I here again? If you don’t mind me asking?” Shouyou asked, confused as to why he had to come back again only a few days after the photos were taken. Actually, why he had to come back at all. Kageyama had his pictures, he had the perfect shot, why did Shouyou need to be there?

All Shouyou got as reply was a raised eyebrow and a ‘do i really need to explain this to you’ look shot back at him. And yes, Kageyama did have to explain this to him, because he doesn’t know how art works at all, he was a classic sports-nerd afterall. 

See, when he entered the house, he’d been dragged straight back into the white photo room, but this time there were tables and paints everywhere. It was the complete opposite of how Shouyou had remembered the room - incredibly messy and colourful. Worst of all, it stank like that turpantan (?) stuff that Kageyama aired out last time. Then, he was pushed onto a stool on the exact spot that he had jumped last time, giving Shouyou cringe worthy flashbacks of falling flat on his ass. 

And now, well, Shouyou was still just sitting on that stool while Kageyama painted. No, sketched, with paint… Apparently. Not that Kageyama would explain anything to Shouyou. But then again, this was easy pay, he just had to sit and be still. Or as still as Shouyou could be. The pay he had received last time was pretty sweet, Shouyou wouldn’t lie, and if he got paid that again. That would be pretty great. But Shouyou still wanted to know what the hell he was doing sitting on his ass while he got paid to pose last time. 

“Just tell me Kageyama. Pleeeeeeease.” Shouyou slurred out, hoping he could annoy the artist into spilling any resemblance of a bean. 

A deep sigh and an annoyed from was chucked Shouyou’s way, and to Shouyou’s delight, Kageyama had conceded. “Fine… Right now, I’m sketching out and basically creating a monochromatic ‘underpainting’ in layman's terms to test out composition with turpentine-thinned oil paint…” Shouyou shot him a confused look which caused Kageyama to sigh even deeper. “I’m mixing the stinky liquid with my paint to basically sketch out the photo onto the canvas.” 

“Ah, ok… but why am I here?” Shouyou inquired, again.

“Because, it’s better to have the life reference along with the picture there so I can adjust my composition at any time.” Kageyama stated flatly.

“Better, huh? So not necessary ?” Shouyou teased. “You missed me!” 

“No, that’s not- We aren’t doing this again. Because last time, you landed up with your ass on the ground.” Kageyama grumbled, clearly trying to dissuade Shouyou from whatever flirtatious path he wanted to walk down. “Dumbass Shrimp.” He mumbled for good measure. 

“Hmmm, sounds like we have a tsundere on our hands” Shouyou retorted smugly.

A light clatter echoed through the room as Kageyama sat with a confused frown in front of his canvas. “What does that even mean?” 

“My friend Kenma taught me that word. It’s like a person who hides their feelings by saying the opposite of what they mean. Like you calling me a dumbass shrimp, even though I am average height AND pretty smart, because you are trying to deflect.” A big, proud smile appeared on Shouyou’s face after his explanation. 

“What, n-”

“Hush, Kageyama. Let me live.” Shouyou said, indulging in dramatics as he faux-wept over the stool. He then snuck a glance over to Kageyama who was going back to his old-man ways. “If you roll your eyes too much, they’ll fall out of your skull, old man.”

A glare shot itself into Shouyou’s peripheral, causing him to heartily laugh. Yup, he’s a tsundere alright , Shouyou thought with much delight. Kageyama grumbled behind his canvas and continued to smear the smelly paint to create his underlayer. His accidental confirmation of Shouyou’s name-calling made Shouyou cackle even harder. The cackling led to Shouyou’s body swinging, which in turn made the stool wobble. Nope, not again . 

“So, you want me to stand or something?” Shouyou asked, since he was there as more of a fleshy, alive mannequin reference, than to keep Kageyama company. Although, the thought that Kageyama was actually using this as an excuse to have Shouyou over made him feel funny. Hopefully his unabashed flirting and assumptions proved him right. Confidence is key afterall!

“Finally, something sensible comes out of your mouth.” He said, clearly teasing a little back. Or that was what Shouyou wanted to see anyway.

“Hey, if you wanted to-” Shouyou did a fancy cough, clearing his voice to poorly mimic an aristocrat of some sort. “Engage in sophisticated conversation, I would have been delighted to do so, Sir Yama.”

An amused huff escaped Kageyama’s lips. “Nope, you ruined it.” 

“Hey, come on! I tried” Shouyou whined as he got up. 

“Did you though, it wasn’t even close.” Kageyama said, deadpan.

Shouyou felt the sudden urge to be petty as he crossed his arms. “Well, it seems that you no longer need a model’s assistance-”

“No- Fine…” Kageyama rolled his eyes again, for the umpthiemph time that day. “Truce.”

“Hah, that’s what I thought. No mocking my accents because they are GREAT , and height is still off the table too-”

“That’s quite a shor-”

“What did I just say mister.” Shouyou threatened. “I will… Uh, not come back here again! Okay, who am I kidding.” 

Kageyama hummed. “Seems like we are both ...Tsunderes in our own right, huh?” 

“Yeah… So how do you want me this time, Kageyama?” A loud snap resounded from Kageyama’s side of the room, then a clatter, and then a long frustrated groan. “Was that… your paint bru-”

“Don’t ask, and I- why did you say that… again. ” The flush frown technique was back again in full force. Now Shouyou was giggling hysterically while the back of his mind was very impressed by the blatant brush crushing old-man Kageyama somehow did. How much force does one need to crush a proper paint brush? That’s something he might ask Kenma later, if he ever stops streaming of course.

“I think it’ll become a trademark of our conversations. I say something outrageous while you blush in agreement,” Shouyou smirked, leaving Kageyama with the aftermath of trying to vent his furious blush away. “I mean, you did call me se-”

“BUILT. I said, you were built.” Kageyama bit out. He sharply inhaled before saying: “Anyway, if you don't mind, could you stand on that stool and maybe hoick up your trousers. Just up to the mid thigh.” 

As Shouyou folded his trousers, his devious smirk came back to play as he thought of new ways to tease the bashful painter. “Hmm, so last time wasn’t enough for you? Need to get a good look at my body as a whole, don’t ya?”

“Hinata. Quiet.” Which Shouyou did, with a furious blush on his face. The tone in which Kageyama had said his name was absolutely sinful. It could make even the most hardened of people in life blush like a doe-eyed shoujo protagonist. Low and gruff, and just the right amount of command to it, and to top it all off… wasn’t that the first time he had used his name in active conversation? Either way, Shouyou’s heart was pounding in his chest, while the blood in his body made him acutely aware that it was flowing through him.

Whatever this was, Shouyou was confused. Because he had only met this man twice, and he was already getting hot and bothered. Not that he didn’t find people attractive right away, because he did. He was in the sports world, muscular men and women were all around him, and he was quite happy with that. But when it came to actually being interested , more than a few chats were needed. 

Now, Shouyou had hooked up with people in his past, but it had never felt right. It was fun , yes, but to him it felt a little empty. Maybe it was the way he was raised, the whole you must savour sex and your body , blabla and all of that stuff. It’s annoying how stuff like that affects how you see certain aspects in your life.

 And honestly, he had started being more interested in committed relationships, but never had the time. The time to talk to someone, to build the relationship to that level, because his life goal was so close. He was so close to being on the national team, and finally living up to his idol. Yet, here Shouyou was - starting to outright flirt with someone, which wasn’t super uncommon, after a few days of knowing them… at work? How ethical was all of this even. Wasn’t Kageyama his boss? Wait a minute… Or maybe Shouyou had just unlocked a voice kink and that was the end of it. 

Anyway, there was no denying that Kageyama was attractive to Shouyou. And Shouyou was having fun, and he was also engaging in banter that wasn’t one sided. Kageyama didn’t find Shouyou annoying… yet . Which made Shouyou happy, and it allowed him to say the dumb things that popped up in his mind. Maybe it was the artist in Kageyama that just let Shouyou do his own Shouyou-ish thing. Like for example, how he was standing with his trousers folded half way up his legs like a kid in a pond while debating the hotness of someone’s voice. 

“I didn’t mean to actually shut you up… I thoug-” Ah, Kageyama sounded worried. 

“Oh no problem! Was just having an internal monologue about how hot your voice wa-” Shouyou began to trail off as even he was getting embarrassed by his own words. 

“Is that so? Might have to call you Hinata again, just to shut you up.” Kageyama said, sounding dead-pan, but Shouyou could hear that smirking lilt from a mile away.

“Ha ha, very funny. Keep painting old man. The blood flow to my legs is slowly cutting off.” Shouyou said in mock-mockery. 

“Hmmm, suddenly I’ve gotten the artistic urge to spend a really long time on the legs.” 

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me. Hinata ” 

“...Truce.”

Shouyou burst through Kageyama’s door like it was his second home. He headed straight for the no-longer-white white room that had become Kageyama’s new living space over the course of the new painting. A small pile of bowls had started to pile up near the door; paint tubes and pallets had been artfully discarded across the front of the room where the artist resided; glasses and cups all clearly labelled clearly to not be accidentally dipped in or consumed created a bigger and bigger maze everytime Shouyou visited. It was absolute chaos and Shouyou loved it.

“Oi, Kageyama! How’s the uh, blending going?” Shouyou asked, voice wobbly with the parkour he was partaking in. 

“Hmm, I can’t seem to get the right depth of grey into your legs.” Kageyama flippintally said, then suddenly his voice dropped and he looked over to Shouyou. “Perhaps, more modeling could help?” Shit, he’s been practicing.

“How many times did you say that in front of a mirror until you thought it was slick? Four, five… eight?” Shouyou quipped back, trying to hide the fact that a dumb line like that actually kind of worked on him. 

“Only three this time. But I do actually need some help with the legs, something feels off about the value… maybe, it’s the saturation.” Kageyama pundered out loud.

“Well, luckily for you. I know what those words mean now, so let Mister Hinata help.” And with that, Shouyou did, once he crossed the treacherous pile of drying pallets spread across the ground, and the six different cups of turpentine, and that one massive bottle of linseed oil. 

Once he had metaphorically climbed the mountain, he looked over Kageyama’s shoulder to see the painting. It was the first time he actually got to see the painting and… “Wow, holy shit. That’s me!” Shouyou yelped. 

Kageyama hummed in amusement, but then settled back into his trade-mark frown. “So, the leg…”

So Shouyou looked, and well, he wasn’t a professional painter. He had only become curious, and a little frustrated about his lack of knowledge of the art world. So now he knew a bunch of stuff that he would probably never use again once this was ov- Shouyou, you agreed to ignore the O word . But Shouyou stared, and stared to the point he felt like he was just watching the paint dry. Which approximately takes between two to twelve days . 

Perhaps- “Have you considered using a warmer grey? Like one that matches the flaming orangeness of the eye. To make it more... harmonious.” God, he sounded pretentious. 

Kageyama sat in silence, mulling over Shouyou’s sage advice. “I think you may be onto something. The greyness of the grey already gives the painting the contrast I need for the wow-effect, now I just need to focus on harmony… Did I just say ‘wow-effect’?” 

“Yep, you did, and I said harmonious. It was nice knowing you, but the world is ending. I must flee.” And with that, Shouyou turned around ready to hop over the maze of art utensils.

“Hmm, while you try and professional gymnast flip out of my artistic mess, how’s your volleyball going?” Kageyama absently asked as he swirled the paint on the canvas.

Shouyou suddenly perked up, he loved it when people asked about his passion. Especially when Kageyama did so. It made Shouyou feel special and listened to, and of course, he gets to spread the word of Volleyball to more willing initiates. “Super well!” And after that short answer, all the memories from the previous practice session flowed into his mind. “Kageyama! There were scouts there today! For the NATIONAL TEAM! And, guess what? They talked to ME, and ASKED me about if I might be interested in playing? FOR THEM?” The burst of pure happiness vented themselves out in Shouyou’s wild movements and incredibly enthusiastic retelling of this evening's practice. “I said ‘SUPER YES’ which I don’t think is an answer, but I do NOT CARE!” Shouyou practically yelled, but he knew Kageyama wouldn’t mind. 

Silence filled the room until a clatter was heard from across the room, then almost instantaneously, Shouyou was lifted up off his feet in a sweeping hug. “That great, Hinata!” Was gruffed out next to Shouyou’s ear as he was twirled in a carousel embrace. After a few turns, Shouyou was lowered to ground level, but kept in the comfort of the artist’s arms. Not knowing what to do with the overwhelmingly positive congratulations, Shouyou simply looked up into Kageyama’s shining, prideful eyes with a bashful smile. 

As the energy dwindled down, they both felt caught in each other's gaze. The energy which was used for a prideful swing around had shifted into the unspoken tension that had sat between them from the beginning. The tension that had been rising like those dreaded elevators that Shouyou despised, slowly snail pacing past every floor, building that gut wriggling anticipation. He was almost at his destination.

The air was thickening, perhaps from the tension, Shouyou wasn’t sure - although, the two slowly leaning closer and closer to each other probably did not help the carbon dioxide content in the air between them. Their breaths fluttered against each other’s faces, almost caressing, preening for them to come closer. Shouyou felt positively consumed by the man before him - he was so close to the sharp, stern curves of the face he admired so much. So close to the steely eyes who analysed, dissected and reimagined every ripple of Shouyou’s body, and Shouyou wanted to get closer.  

As the rest of the room faded out of Shouyou’s periphery, and his world seemed to be consumed by the strange, endearing old-man before him, Kageyama decided to open his mouth. Oh how Shouyou wished that it wasn’t words filling the space between them. “W-when do you leave?” Kageyama asked, a whisper.

Snap . Shouyou’s worst nightmare had come true. His whole body was in freefall as the elevator passed all the floors it had slowly climbed up at record speed. Except the only ground Shouyou had the pleasure of hitting was the bottom of his heart. “Uh-I start training, um n-next week… ” Keep breathing Shouyou, your bones haven’t shattered just yet. “I get to go to Tokyo! Cool huh?” That’s it, get up and brush it off. Even if it fucking hurts . 

The soft edges of pride that had painted Kageyama’s expression quickly dulled into the muscleless frown that he usually sported. Shouyou just hoped that he was misunderstanding something. Maybe the stunning man before him was just being the infamously dubbed tsundere. But right now, Shouyou wasn’t sure he could figure it out. Because all the negative, doubtful thoughts he learned to fight with his fake it, until you make it attitude were coming back with a full army on their side. He cursed his need for verbal affirmation, and double cursed his fear of asking at that moment. Because ‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ was the only question being answered in vivid detail. 

“Tokyo, huh?” Deafening silence. Almost an eternity. “Well good luck, I’m happy for you. And don’t worry about coming back, I was just about finished anyway.”

Looks like there was a last floor the lift could still crash through.

Practice, practice. Day in, day out, that was all Shouyou did. Now that he was in Tokyo, that was what was expected of him. No one noticed his overworking, because well, he was in the national team. He was at his dream spot. He had worked for years for this moment. Of course he would be volleying and practicing serves until sunrise. 

That was what was expected, and no one knew him well enough to call him out. Or maybe they wanted him to work harder. He was short after all. A dumbass shri- no, he can’t think about him right now. Shouyou has to practice. 

Shouyou grabbed another ball from the crate to passionately toss across the room.Venting his frustrations and sadness, it had become a habit of Shouyou’s, and not one he was particularly proud of. He was indulging to the point that he was getting calloused callouses.

Shouyou shifted his feet, ready for a toss. He jumped up with practiced precision, closing his eyes as not to remember. Remember when he haughtily slammed a ball in his face while trying to impress a certain someone. He opened his eyes at the apex of the jump, then slammed the ball over the net. 

Next thing Shouyou knew, a whole load of balls were rolling and re-scattering themselves all over the place due to the impromptu arrival of the flying orb. It was probably high time for Shouyou to pick up the fifty-odd other volleyballs sprinkled across the other side of the net.

With a heavy sigh, Shouyou walked over to clear up his mess, only to be met with an accompanying clatter of footsteps. Shouyou looked to the entrance of the hall to see a fellow teammate of his saunter over.

Alright, not everyone was per say ignoring Shouyou’s intense regime. “Ya work your ass off to get into this team, and now yer going to kill yourself before our first official match?” Atsumu snidely commented as he grabbed a ball that Shouyou had previously punted to the other side of the hall. Shouyou had known Atsumu since his highschool days and was never a big fan of his attitude. And now it just reminded Shouyou of him, if he was cockier and less adorably emotionally stunted. 

An intense eye roll came over Shouyou. “Hmm, I bet you wouldn’t mind that, would you? Your focus has always been such a fickle little thing.” Shouyou retaliated back, he couldn’t be bothered with anything at the moment.

“Gotten a sharp tongue, huh? You’ve learned some big words since we last talked. Met someone with half a brain?” Atsume observed, much to Shouyou’s dismay. Why does everything always go back to him. It’s been weeks, why do all Shouyou’s thoughts flock to him?

A silence, a deafening silence. Just like that fateful day, not that it ended any differently to the other sessions. Once his heart was splattered across the ground, it was business as usual. Except it wasn’t, it was all quiet, and stagnant. And when Shouyou left, he didn’t even say goodbye. Words felt like sandpaper in Shouyou’s throat and he just wanted to flee. No more pain. No more cheeky smiles. No more stinky turpentine. No more Kageyama.

“Whatever happened between you and that person, don’t let it be your downfall. You need to be set worthy afterall… We have a game in two days, don’t let me catch you at practice tomorrow. Rest, or else.”

“Bu-”

“Rest, OR ELSE.” 

“Alright…” Truce, Shouyou thought to himself.

The bright lights of the arena shone down on Shouyou like the sun, smiling down on him, cheering him on from above. He was finally here, on the field next to his team with JAPAN emblazoned on their shirts. He was ready to give his heart and soul to this game, and every game to come. Well, whatever he had been able to reassemble of his heart anyway. 

He had taken the forcefully recommended day break and it had done him wonders. He was rejuvenated, or something like that. Like a newly born chick, ready to fly the nest - no wrong metaphor. Anyhow, he was ready to take on whatever this match was ready to throw at him. 

Today, they were playing a friendly match against Canada, a show of sportsmanship, he presumed. Either way, he was pumped and couldn’t wait for the intense back and forth to commence. The Canadian team was doing pretty well for itself recently so it will be quite an exciting match. Now that Atsumu had gotten his childish tendencies under control, Shouyou will hopefully be receiving some powerful sets. 

The first serve was gifted to the visitors, meaning Canada had the chance to show their skills. The ball was stricken and created a beautiful curve - a beautiful omen for the game to come. The ball flew from fingertips to palms, occasionally slamming into the ground with tremendous force. It was the fantastical dance that Shouyou loved to live in - reading the other side, reading each other, then hitting the ball at the exact, perfect moment.

Shouyou jumped, he flew as the ball was set his way. Everything was always so magical from up above. He was a giant with the farest view in the land. He could see everything, and everything he saw - even a pair of familiar stern looking teal-eyes. He would have faltered, but right now, nothing could stop his high. The smash was successful, giving their side another point. And so the game continued.

The game ended with a five point difference and a bunch of panting, sweaty men. After friendly handshakes were exchanged, they headed to the changing rooms. The usual post-game banter murmured throughout the room as Shouyou walked up to his locker. 

“Hinata, you've got fan mail,” Atsumu informed in his ‘constant state of haughtiness’ tone. And from the colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand, it appeared to be so. Who would send Shouyou flowers? “Look’s like ya also got some tickets to an art gallery. Ain’t that too high-brow for you?” 

“Fuck you, give me that.” Shouyou said with an amused shake to the head. YAMA, Monochrome Gallery exhibition . Right, Shouyou almost forgot that Ka- he was an artist. Did he give Shouyou the tickets? “Who gave you these?” Shouyou asked tentatively. Curiosity had yet to kill this cat , Shouyou mused.

“Some dark haired, dangly dude. Got a right scowl to him as well.” Definitely Kageyama . But why hadn’t he given the tickets to Shouyou personally? Needlessly avoidant, but maybe necessary. “Yer frown is suggestin’ something is bothering you. Out with it.”

“Uh the thing from two days ago…” Shouyou mumbled while fidgeting with the tickets. The more he thought about the prospect of seeing him again, the more nervousness sank into his heart. He was still on the bottom floor after all.

“Hm, want me to go with you? There’s two tickets after all.” Atsumu suggested, very kindly - and stunningly out of character . Shouyou just nodded with a bashful smile on his face. He could do this, he can. Fake it ‘till you make it mission a-go! “Alright, let's hop on over after we’ve washed up.” Those words were followed by an encouraging shoulder pat and a rare reassuring smile. 

Maybe Shouyou should take this opportunity for closure. Kageyama clearly wanted to see him, maybe Shouyou could yell ‘What’s your deal old man?!’ like in one of those American shows. Or perhaps he could get a reason for everything ending so quietly . There was no kicking and fussing, there were just words. Words that could probably be explained away to misunderstanding, and if it was just that, Shouyou begged, nay, pleaded that Kageyama would tell him that.

Wishful thinking never got one far but, maybe this once, Shouyou will let his brain get swept away in all the what-ifs. As long as they give him enough false hope to enter that elevator once more. The button is glowing on the keypad in the lobby, summoning an elevator to go up. The mechanisms are grinding to bring the carriage down for its slow descent. 

Don’t let Shouyou become an unfortunate statistical miracle.

The museum was massive but the adverts for Kageyama’s exhibition were even bigger. Or it felt so anyway. Big banners filled with grey proudly announced Kageyama’s works being present. It was loud and unabashed which was not quite how Shouyou saw the artist. A little snobby he was, but not gaudy, and that’s what the impressive signs impressed. 

Even the flyers that were caught in the wind were loud. No more Times New Roman with dodgy word choice and lack of address. It was all there and screaming for people to visit. Shouyou thought it didn’t do him justice, or maybe too much justice? Maybe this was normal, but Shouyou couldn’t attach the old man Kageyama to the pretentious anonymous artist facade the world gave him.

Anyhow, Shouyou had to now walk into the building. Luckily he had Atsumu by his side, who probably fit the bill for a pretentious artist more than Kageyama did. Kageyama was too him for all of this. They walked in and got their tickets checked before being guided to the elevators that took them to the top floor. 

Ping . Everyone waiting around embarked, stepping into the metal prison. It was a one way lift to the exhibition floor, to Shouyou’s unending guttural nervousness. The robot voice gently announced their departure as the gravity under Shouyou’s feet shifted. Oh how he loathed elevators.

The slight creaking on the mechanisms wracked through Shouyou’s brain as he counted the floors they passed. Five more floors to go, four, three… Lift rides always felt needlessly long, but this one trumped them all. Shouyou’s stomach dropped as every floor passed. He was getting closer and closer to the feelings he had been avoiding with his beloved sport. The feelings he wished he hadn’t even let depart. It has been weeks, and maybe it should have been months.

Shouyou knew how this was going to end - he was going to arrive, be greeted and that is all. Maybe he might pinch some appetizers, and probably guzzle seven champagne flutes, but then he is heading straight to his apartment. Was it cliche? Incredibly! Realistic? Check! And Shouyou was losing the strength to wish for anything more. 

You have reached your destination . Shouyou froze, he couldn’t go in there. All his nerves hit him at once. Where did all the happy endings he had prayed for go? Did they just abandon him in his time of need? They probably did, ironic how negative thoughts are seen as the cowardly one’s and yet, they always stick around. 

A firm grip enveloped Shouyou’s shoulder as the person he walked into the museum with dragged him out of the elevator. Shouyou looked up to see Atsumu incredibly pissed, but also concerned? “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and gangly dude, but sort your shit. You are practically paralysed, and not in a funny way either.” He whisper-yelled. Shouyou, taken aback, wasn't sure how to vocalise a response and resorted to just staring at him. “Where’s the unbeatable giant that I trained to set for, huh?”

Wide eyed was the only way Shouyou could describe himself. He could practically feel his face expanding to those words.  Could he really do this? Yes, he could. He practically strolled into Kageyama’s house without a fret, how was this different? This was Kageyama’s gallery where no one knew who either of them were. He was in the Japanse national Volleyball team for fuck’s sake. He could fucking do this.

“Seems you’ve fired yourself up. Go get ‘em.” Atsumu said with a tender smile and Shouyou couldn’t have wished for a better teammate. So he did, he went to go get ‘em.

First he had to go find Kageyama. Now that was probably going to be the most trivially hard task to accomplish. Shouyou was practically the needle in the metaphorical haystack. He was in a sea of people admiring the art - the grand paintings depicting a whole range of beautifully pensive subjects in monochrome scale with that one colour that symbolises who they are. 

One was of a mother who’s fingers upon her baby bump were a dark peacock blue. She stood as if the canvas was not the confines of her world, smiling down with maternal kindness, a kindness she was determined to show the child. Every brush stroke, every shade of grey built up the painting to centre the mother’s visage and her beautiful experience of life. 

Next was a painting of a kid scribbling away at his work, his tongue out as far as he possibly could. His hair was a deep green, swirling around his head. Shouyou couldn’t help but smile at the boy in the painting. Until he heard a yell from down near the fences around it, that’s where he spotted the little boy with his mother. The lady, who was with her son was also carrying a young baby in her arms - cheerfully indulging in her son’s excitement of seeing his own face up among the other masterpieces.

Shouyou couldn’t help but notice the familiarity between the young boy and Kageyama, the dark hair and the cute stern brow that never ceased to dissipate no matter how overjoyed he seemed to be. Maybe, just maybe… So Shouyou decided to look nearby, because if he was right, that small family was probably Kageyama’s extended family. Maybe a cousin, a sister and a nephew. Well, that’s what he hoped at least.

So his eyes went scouring, searching for an above average height giant sticking out of the crowd like a grumpy thumb. Unfortunately surprisingly to Shouyou, this gallery appeared to attract a lot of tall people, and not to mention that dark hair wasn’t the most rare thing in the world. What was worse was that undercuts were also pretty common. Maybe if he searched for blue, he might see.

His eyes darted across the massive hall, begging for him to pick something up. Someone, anyone. His stomach started to clench, he wanted to give up. The air around his felt thick and tight, he needed to breathe. He was looking everywhere and nowhere was where he landed up. 

Everything spun, and Shouyou knew he had to sit. Maybe if he just rested at a wall, took a breather, he might be more successful. So he did, not before grabbing a champagne flute. He quickly found an empty wall, slid down it, and bottoms up. It wasn’t the best champagne ever but it did the trick for now. 

He breathed in, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. Breathed out, trying to regain control of his pent up nerves. In again, then out. Shouyou repeated the cycle as he allowed his eyes to lazily wander around the room. Kageyama was an artistic genius, there was no denying that, but when it came to this - Shouyou could only hope he was just being an old doofus. 

Shouyou started his visual excursion on the right side of the room, slowly noting the different colours that highlighted an aspect of every canvas. That’s when Shouyou realised that the whole display was arranged in the colours of the rainbow, or in an order that followed the colour wheel anyhow. It started with a purple, then the mother and her son. Next was a yellow and then…Black, a tall black haired doofus.

Shouyou shot up and headed in the direction of the artist. It started out as a gentle stroll, then a rushed march, then progressed to a light jog, finally culminating into the sprint of his life. People be damned was Shouyou’s attitude while he pushed through the crowd. ‘Excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’ streamed out of Shouyou's mouth like it was his only vocabulary. He was almost there. So he kept pushing, until he finally slammed face first into someone’s chest. 

It was hard and quite defined, and what was more striking was the familiar voice attached to it. “Hi.” Was all the chest in front of him could mumble out. Shouyou would’ve been more intrigued with the vocal vibrations through Kageyama’s body if he wasn’t pissing himself in the prospect of seeing him.

“H-hey.” Yup, this has become very cliche, but it was the only thing Shouyou knew to say that would send all of this spiralling. But he had to try harder, he was there already, so bad thoughts be damned.

His eyes shot up in a moment of confidence, only to be met by Kageyama’s sharp eyes. They looked tired, worn out, scared, but simultaneously so very relieved. Shouyou felt the need to give the man before him comfort, to give him a hug, mainly to kiss him but they were far from being in that position just yet. So instead, Shouyou’s hand reached out, cupping Kageyama’s face.

Kageyama leaned into it, relieving something in him. “I missed you so much Hinata.” He mumbled as he grabbed Shouyou’s wrist. Then Shouyou felt something soft against his wrist’s pulse point. A kiss, followed by another ginger kiss, then another, and another. Every touch brought Shouyou up higher. The pure elation Shouyou felt pulsed through his body with every heartbeat - spreading from his heart to the very end of his toes. With every kiss, Shouyou was closer and closer to just jumping on Kageyama.  “Why did you go?” He asked with a whisper.

 That- that was not fair. “You silly old man, you never told me I could stay.” Shouyou pushed out before his emotions got the better of him. Great, now he was right about the misunderstandings as well. 

Next thing Shouyou knew, he was swiftly pulled into Kageyama’s embrace. His ear pressed up against that hard chest again, but this time it was pounding beyond belief. Kageyama’s heart tapped like a rabbit’s, so thin and rapid. Shouyou wasn’t in the right place to laugh too much, because his heart was beating just the same. Shallow and fast beats of stress but mostly happiness, elation even. Finally he was face to face with Kageyama again and he hoped that Kageyama felt the same about him. 

Kageyama’s arms slowly tightened around Shouyou, enveloping him into Kageyama’s hug - he was so close that he could feel Kageyama’s every breath. A hand then snuck itself into Shouyou’s hair, its fingers twirling themselves throughout the short curls. “I am a silly man, aren’t I?” Kageyama muttered against Shouyou’s crown, self deprecating chuckle in toe.

“That you are, old man.” Shouyou chuckled. Relief struck Shouyou’s body as he fully leaned into Kageyama. “You are such an idiot. A fucking idiot. Do you know how sad I was? I thought you didn- That I was wrong and somehow and-” Hot tears trickled down Shouyou’s cheek, he hadn’t realised how wound up he had really been. Releasing your emotions means all of them come out to play, huh?

Another full body squeeze and then a hand glided across Shouyou's cheek, guiding him to look up. Oh god, he’s handsome , was all that Shouyou could think as the familiar isolation of vision happened. All Shouyou could see was Kageyama, and damn anyone who would stop this from happening. Even if it was Kageyama himself. 

Lips gingerly touched, sending a warm spark through Shouyou’s body. They could have done this ages ago, but Shouyou didn’t mind the wait. Another kiss and they shared a little heat again. The heat converted into a light buzz in Shouyou’s gut, one that just hummed tones of happiness. No fireworks, no fires, just gentle waves of glee. Just small pecks could make Shouyou melt forever.

Hands gently caressed as more small kisses were exchanged. Every touch was a gentle spark adding to the small candle-like warmth. Kisses became chuckles and chuckles turned into light, relieved laughter. Chuckles and kisses flowed between them in such a natural way. “Yeah, I was a fucking idiot as you so elequantly put it.” Kageyama said with the slightest smile to his lips. 

Shouyou decided that if a smile could kill, it would be Kageyama’s. It was so subtle but so heart-warmingly powerful, Shouyou didn’t know what to do with himself. “Ah, you are killing me, Kageyama. You are such a fucking idiot.” Shouyou breathed out. “Big ass old idiot. Idiot, idiot-”

“Alright, I get it.” Kageyama chuckled. Did level 100 exist? Shouyou wasn’t sure but the elevator trip Shouyou’s heart was on sure thought it did. Or maybe Shouyou was already at his destination. Already taking the first steps into his new world.

“You want to truce?” Shouyou jokingly mumbled against Kageyama’s lips. 

Another chuckle escaped Kageyama’s lips, before he whispered: “Truce, on condition of putting up with an idiot like me.”

A silence, a beautiful, tension filled silence. “Then, truce.”