Archive of Our Own ^beta

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fictober prompts day 1: “i need you.”

Kageyama scowled at his uniform shirt, his fingers trying—and failing—to undo the top button without ripping it apart. It was obvious at this point that one of the threads had come loose and was caught around the first button, and the longer he tried to untangle it, the more frustrated he became.

“You havin’ trouble there, Kageyama?” Sugawara-senpai teased after a few moments, smiling with teeth. “Do you need some help?”

His face felt uncomfortably and embarrassingly warm. His upperclassman had arrived at the same time that he did, and he was already dressed for practice.

“No, I’m… um. It’s just stuck. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

The amused tone in Sugawara’s voice only served in embarrassing Kageyama further.

“Uh, yeah. S’fine.”

“Alrighty.” This time, it was the captain who spoke. “See you in a bit, then.”

Kageyama grunted in response, still focusing on this damned stupid button, and the clubroom door slid shut. Only seconds later, it slid back open, revealing a few second-years.

“Oh my god, Chikara, you will never let me live that down, will you?” Noya snapped as he walked inside.

Tanaka was chortling. “Nope, and I won’t, either.”

“You are not helping, Ryuu.”

There. Almost… I almost got it…

His fingernail caught on the thread that was giving him so much trouble. He just about had the button free when a hand clapped down hard on his back—so hard he jumped in alarm, releasing his shirt with a startled gasp.

“What’s with that face, Kageyama?” Tanaka asked. “Practicin’ your death stare before Hinata gets here, are ya?”

His hands twitched, eyes widening. He’d… he’d been so close, and now…

“Hey,” came Ennoshita’s voice. “Leave him alone and get dressed for practice.”

“Oh, so you’ll come to his defense immediately, but you’ll pick on me mercilessly,” Noya said.

“Hush, I was…”

Kageyama tuned them out without even meaning to. He stared down at his uniform in shock, his frustration beginning anew. Maybe it was already a lost cause. Maybe he was just going to have to swallow his pride, rip the tangled threads, and count the days until someone noticed that his uniform was torn.

“—geyama. Kageyama. Kageyama.”

Kageyama’s snapped out of his thoughts, blinking. His upperclassmen were looking at him in confusion, now, and he was no longer the only first-year in the clubroom.

“Jeesh,” Hinata said, all puffed-up cheeks and squinted eyes. “I asked if you needed help.”

Not for the first time, warmth spilled over Kageyama’s cheekbones. Instinctively, he hissed, “No, I don’t need help, idiot.”

“Oh, please,” Hinata said with a good-natured eye roll. “Suga-san already said you were having issues with your shirt, and since you’re still wearing it, I’m guessing that hasn’t changed.”

“I don’t—”

“Well, he was messing with it when we came in,” Ennoshita said. “Is it stuck?”

“No, it’s not s—”

Suddenly Hinata stood on his tip-toes. “Here, I’ll fix it.”

And he was being tugged forward with small hands, and nimble fingers worked at the top button that was giving Kageyama such a hard time.

Which only made Kageyama’s scowl deepen. “I already tried —”

“Shh, hold still, just gimme second.” His nose crinkled in concentration. “Natsu’s always tangling up her necklaces and anything with buttons. I swear I’m always waking up to, ‘Nii-chan, Nii-chan, I need you!’ I’m honestly… oh, there. All done.”

And then Hinata released him, looking up at him with his sunniest, proudest smile. Kageyama blinked, looking back at those small fingers, and then at that smile which he so often wore on the court. Hinata rocked back on his heels and turned toward his bag.

It was such a little detail. The way he stood on his tip-toes, the way his fingers brushed against his chest as they untangled so easily those threads that made a fool of Kageyama. It was fleeting, but they’d been so close that his hair scratched against the bottom of Kageyama’s chin.

His stomach did something funny.

“Pfft, Hinata compared you to a six-year-old,” Tanaka said abruptly, swinging his head back as his body shook with laughter. “Good one, kouhai!”

And the moment was gone.

“For the love of—are you fricking kidding me?” Kageyama snapped. “Oi, come here, you tiny dumbass!”

Hinata was already climbing into his practice shirt. “Hey! A ‘thank you’ would’ve been just fine!”

“Shut up!”

“For someone who takes special care of his fingers, you’d think you could’ve fixed it on your own!”

“I said shut up! ”

Hinata dodged his next three strikes with a squeak.

The second-years just kept laughing.

Chapter Text

fictober prompts day 2: “you have no proof.”

Hinata stormed into the sleeping quarters of the inn, barely hearing the door click shut behind him before he slammed down on his knees, not even bothering to stifle his sob. And once the first one came, the next few followed in quick succession, and it wasn’t long before he was weeping into his hands.

It wasn’t a big deal. He knew this. He knew it wasn’t, and yet he couldn’t stop the tears.

Because he wasn’t as good of a player as the others. He lacked the skills that everyone else had, and it was evident to everyone on the court. Things were different than the Tokyo training camp, and it felt like he’d improved immensely, but it… it didn’t…

It didn’t even matter.

None of it was working.

He scrubbed at his face aggressively. He tried to inhale, but choked on his breath at the last second, overwhelmed and so, very frustrated with himself.

He loved this sport so much. He gave one-hundred-twenty percent, and yet it wasn’t enough. His best wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough, would never be enough in the eyes of the volleyball world.

And no matter how much he talked himself up, no matter how much the second- and third-years told him not to get too discouraged, no matter how much effort and spirit he put into practice…

He still sucked. The gap between him and all his rivals only seemed to grow larger. To stretch and deepen until he could barely see the other side. He was on a team filled with powerful offensive and defensive players, and where did he stand? He wasn’t the shortest, sure, but only by an inch. And Noya-san’s talent and skill more than made up for his lack of height.

His body trembled on the tatami mat. In an hour or two, this would be where the team slept before they practiced the following day. Hinata had made the excuse that he needed to grab something from his bag before the team ate and came to this very room, but it wasn’t entirely true. All he’d wanted was some time alone because the stress was starting to overwhelm him.

And he thought it’d been enough, that he’d at least have a few more minutes.

Until the door slid open.

A few more stray tears traced the curves of Hinata’s cheeks as his whole body stiffened, eyes widening in horror. He didn’t turn around to face the person, but he didn’t have to.

“Hinata,” came Kageyama’s voice, quiet but so easily recognizable. “Are… are you… crying?”

“No,” Hinata said instantly but remained facing away from him.

“Liar. You are, too.”

“I am not. You have no proof.”

“I heard you.”

Crap. Hinata’s hands curled into fists and he finally whirled around, glaring at Kageyama with tear-glossed, red-webbed eyes. “What do you want, anyway? I know I messed up in practice today. You don’t have to tell me again.”

Kageyama fell quiet, narrowing his eyes. Studying. Calculating. Hinata sat breathing heavily and sniffling on the floor for a few moments, and then averted his gaze away from Kageyama in favor of his white-knuckled hands.

He wasn’t expecting to be caught mid-breakdown, and now he was unprepared. His heart clenched and thudded against his ribcage, anxiety sloshing sickeningly in his stomach.

Of all people to walk in him, it had to be Kageyama.

“Um.” The floor creaked as Kageyama shifted from foot to foot, as if uneasy. “What’s… wrong?”

His throat constricted. Hinata wiped at his face again, eyes stinging, cheeks sticky. “You don’t have to pretend you care. It’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine.”

I always am.

The door slid shut. The sound was followed by footsteps. Hinata counted them: one, two, three. Then Kageyama’s hand came to rest on his shoulder—a gesture that made Hinata’s breath catch in his throat—before his other arm slid over the expanse of Hinata’s chest.

It took a moment, two moments, three moments to register. His heart and stomach flopped simultaneously the second it clicked in his brain, eyes popping even further, body growing stiller.

Kageyama—his awkward, emotionally-constipated, King-of-the-Court teammate—was hugging him.

Him. Hinata.

Kageyama. Kageyama, of all people. Hugging. Hinata.

The shock was so numbing that his tears dried on his cheeks. Slowly, slowly, Hinata’s quaking hand moved to brush over Kageyama’s, as if to make sure it was really there. Kageyama twitched at the contact but remained where he was.

“Listen,” he breathed, leaning forward to rest his cheek against Hinata’s hair. His chest pressed against Hinata’s shoulder blades. “I’m… I’m not… good ... at… stuff like this. But… you’re important. So, uh. So I care.” A pause. “Dumbass.”

The familiar insult—though presently it lacked the heat to be considered an insult—elicited a small, choked chuckle from Hinata. The noise seemed to startle Kageyama, but still, he didn’t pull away.

As awkward and as surprising as the contact was, Hinata wasn’t sure if he wanted Kageyama to pull away.

Hinata drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves a little. Then another, just for good measure. A sniffle echoed. 

“Sorry,” Hinata said hoarsely, although he wasn’t sure why. Out of embarrassment, maybe. “Did, um. Did you need something? From here?”

A pause. Kageyama cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, uh. Sugawara-senpai sent me.”

“...he did?”

He hummed. “He said that, um. You seemed off.”

“Oh.”

After a few moments, Kageyama cleared his throat again and released him, stepping back with a cough. Mumbled something about getting back to the team.

Hinata nodded. His heart raced even when they rejoined the group.

Chapter Text

fictober day 03: “i’ve waited for this.”

Sweat beaded down Hinata’s forehead. They were on the second set of a practice game, and the more he played, the more excited he became. After all, there was nothing more thrilling than volleyball. 

He stood, panting and apprehensive, eyes trained on Asahi-san as he tossed the ball up in the air to serve. He always played on the opposite team as Hinata, it seemed, and he knew that Asahi-san’s serves were rapidly becoming as powerful as his spikes.

One of these days I’ll be able to receive those.

But for now, it was left to Daichi. Hinata watched as the ball arced over the net, and Daichi made receiving look so easy as it connected seamlessly with forearms, giving Kageyama the opening he needed to make a good toss.

He saw the spark in Kageyama’s eyes and knew, automatically, instinctively, what it meant. 

Yes! I’ve waited for this.

His body was already moving before the ball even touched Kageyama’s fingers, and the sting in his palm confirmed what he’d already anticipated, scoring a point before the other team could even move.

He was so intoxicated on the feeling of the sting in his palm, so drunk on the satisfaction of so quickly scoring a point, that he forgot he hadn’t landed his jump yet. It only took half a second for his feet to hit the floor, but he was so distracted that it threw him off balance, and his eyes popped wide as he realized he was going to fall.

He was going to fall, and oh man, it was probably going to hurt. Just because he was used to falling and getting banged up on the court didn’t mean he enjoyed it. 

“Hey! Watch out!”

The world tilted sideways, but then it stopped. Correction: someone stopped him.

A strong arm snaked across the small of his back, one hand hooking around his hip. Hinata stumbled back and the person’s grip only tightened, steadying him as effortlessly as he caught him.

“Don’t you dare get hurt on me,” Kageyama told him with narrowed eyes. “We’re at match point. Pay attention.”

Hinata heard the words, but he wasn’t really listening. His brain focused, instead, on the warmth of Kageyama’s hand on his hip, and the way his wrist slid across his spine as he released him. Pink dusted over his cheeks as the moment replayed in his head, again and again, until Kageyama called over his shoulder, “Oi! Hinata! I said pay attention!”

Hinata stilled. “R...right!”

He got into position. It was Kinoshita-san’s turn to serve, who played on their side of the net. Still, his face felt hotter and hotter by the second, and he barely even heard the whistle blow. 

Across the court, Noya-san grinned at him and gave him an exaggerated wink. Hinata groaned internally.

Stupid Kageyama.

Chapter Text

fictober day 04: “fine, i give up.”

Kageyama took a bite of his meat bun, shifting his bag onto the opposite shoulder. Although practice had ended for the evening, his brain was still stuck on determining different strategies in volleyball. Or at least, he’d been forcing himself to think about that. 

In reality, his thoughts wanted to wander, and the only way to keep his roaming mind under control was through volleyball. The overenthusiastic, grinning little spiker next to him didn’t make it very easy.

“—and then he was all, ‘KAPOW!’ and ‘WHOOSH!’ And I was like, bam! Gah!”

“Oh my god, you’re such a first-grader,” Tanaka-senpai said from on Hinata’s other side, chuckling. “Words, Hinata.”

“How else should I describe it?” Hinata sounded like he was smiling so wide it was painful. “Today was great. We had such a good match. It was all whammmm and cha-bang! ”

“Ugh. Fine, I give up,” Tanaka-senpai relented, but kept laughing like he wasn’t bothered at all by Hinata’s ridiculous sound effects. He clapped a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “Please don’t ever change, kouhai.”

Kageyama took another bite of his meat bun. Chewed slowly. Side-eyed his teammates, and nearly choked when he saw Hinata really was smiling as wide as he thought. Showing teeth. Looking all the more like a ray of sunshine as he jumped up in the air while he walked, limbs splayed out like a human starfish.

Kageyama had to take a step to the right to make sure he didn’t get hit in the cheek. “Oi, hey. Watch it.”

Hinata didn’t stop walking, but he did lower his arms. Turned his attention toward Kageyama and flashed him a smile that somehow seemed brighter and sunnier than before. “Oh, sorry, Kageyama. My bad. I’m just excited.”

His heart floundered in his chest like it was some kind of stupid fish. Kageyama averted his gaze. “It’s, uh. S’fine.”

Hinata’s smile was not distracting. It wasn’t. Not at all. And it wasn’t clouding his thoughts. That’d be insane. He was thinking about volleyball, after all.

A few feet in front of him, from his place by Tsukishima, Yamaguchi glanced back at him, almost lazily. Their eyes met for just a brief moment—no longer than a fraction of a second—and then Yamaguchi raised his brows with a half-smirk, as if to taunt, Are you blushing?

He made a point of cramming the rest of his food in his mouth so he would have an excuse to stay quiet. Looked anywhere but at the person in front of him, and definitely not at the grinning person between him and Tanaka-senpai.

Blushing over Hinata’s ridiculously, stupidly happy smile.

As if.

Chapter Text

fictober day 05: “i’m not saying i told you so…”

Thin ribbons of lightning illuminated the sky when Kageyama opened his door, panting as he rushed Hinata inside so he could close it. They stood shivering and breathless for several moments, before Kageyama gasped out, “Stay here. I’ll… I’ll grab some towels…”

Hinata nodded, teeth already chattering. Kageyama toed out of his waterlogged shoes and fought his way out of his equally waterlogged socks before heading to the bathroom to make good on his promise to come back with towels.

They hadn’t expected the storm to hit so fast, nor so hard. Hence why Hinata ended up here—even Kageyama wasn’t sadistic enough to make him bike all the way home in weather like this. Kageyama’s house was closer, so naturally, that was where they ended up. 

He flicked on the light on his way back, so when he saw Hinata again, his whole face was illuminated. That meant he saw the blue tint of his lips, the paleness of his skin.

“Here.” He frowned as he shoved the towel into Hinata’s trembling hands. “Hurry up and dry off. You’ll get sick.”

“That m-might b-be unav-avoidable,” Hinata stuttered with a quivering smile. “We’re s-s-soaked.”

Kageyama patted the curves of his face with his towel before moving onto his hair. “Just borrow some of my clothes for now. We’ll throw what we’re wearing into the wash.”

He dabbed at the visible skin of his goosebump-covered arms, making his way down. He’d made it to his feet when he realized Hinata was staring, his towel draped over his head like a veil.

“What?”

“You’re j-joking, right?” 

His gaze hardened. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Your c-clothes are not going to fit me.”

A moment of silence ensued. Kageyama studied Hinata’s tremoring, small frame for a second before toweling at his hair again. “What other choice do we have? Besides, it’s not forever. Just until your clothes are dry.”

“Fine,” Hinata said after a time. “But you c-can’t laugh at me.”

Kageyama grunted, not exactly agreeing—it was hard to take him seriously when he was shivering and stuttering like that—neither disagreeing. They managed to get upstairs without any interruptions from his parents—who might or might not be home, he wasn’t sure—and then Kageyama was picking out clothes for himself and searching for his oldest pair for Hinata.

He managed to find something from middle school that he’d yet to get rid of, tossing it at Hinata, who politely declined the option to shower. They stayed facing away from each other while they changed, and after a few minutes, he went downstairs with his hamper to start a load of laundry.

The storm didn’t seem like it was going to let up anytime soon. But at least, in a few hours, Hinata would have his clothes back.

He opened his mouth to say as much when he returned to his bedroom, but when his eyes landed on Hinata, the words died in his throat.

Because Hinata, still toweling at his hair, was basically swallowed whole by Kageyama’s sweatshirt. Sleeves bunched up at his elbows, with the hem coming down to his knees, and his sweatpants cuffed at the end more times than Kageyama thought possible, Hinata looked so small in Kageyma’s clothes.

“I’m not saying I told you so…” Hinata hedged, looking at the floor with his cheeks dusted pink. “...but I did say you couldn’t laugh at me.”

“No, it’s…”

It was, what? Kageyama suddenly found himself at a loss for words. It was… oddly endearing? Attractive? Captivating? He didn’t know. 

“What?” Hinata persisted, quirking a brow as he finally met Kageyama’s gaze.

His hair was wild and touseled, but not in a way that was necessarily unattractive. It only added to the strange appeal, Kageyama noticed, and his face warmed at the thought.

“Never mind,” he said quickly, averting his eyes.

Hinata was his teammate. His rival. His volleyball partner. That meant that under no circumstances, in no way, shape, or form, was Kageyama allowed to let himself get distracted by something as silly as what he looked like wearing his clothes—

“Ok,” Hinata said slowly. “Thanks for, um. For letting me borrow something to wear.”

“Nn. Sure.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain tapped incessantly on the roof overhead, seeming so loud in the silence. Kageyama risked a glance up and saw the collar of his sweatshirt sliding down Hinata’s shoulder. 

This was going to be a long few hours.

Chapter Text

fictober day 06: “didn’t we already have this conversation?”

“No way.”

“Nope.”

“It’s true. It’s gotta be.”

“You’ve met those two, right?”

“Yes, I have, and that’s why I’m saying this: they are totally perfect for each other.”

“Please. They bite each other’s heads off every single day.”

“Maybe they’re in denial.”

Daichi’s brow twitched. Oh my god. Not Suga, too…

“If you’re so sure, then why don’t you just ask them? ”

“Are you kidding? No way would they admit it to my face.”

“I’m telling you, they’re in denial~”

Ok. This was getting out of hand.

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” Daichi cut in, giving his fellow teammates a frosty look. “Stop gossiping about Hinata’s and Kageyama’s love life. They could walk in here at any minute, you know.”

The club room quieted then, but out of respect for their club members’ privacy or out of fear of his wrath as the captain, Daichi wasn’t sure. He slid on his practice shirt before leaning down to zip up his bag.

“I still think it’s easy money,” Suga said, and when Daichi looked back at him, he flashed a toothy smile, all innocence.

“What’s easy money?”

Daichi looked at the entrance to the club room. As he’d warned them, Hinata and Kageyama had shown up for practice, and just in time, too. Maybe it’d put an end to this nonsense.

“Nothing,” Noya sang, before facing the two with a smile identical to Suga’s. “You’re usually the first ones here. What’s up?”

“Oh, we were studying together with Yachi,” Hinata said.

“Together, eh~?”

Daichi tossed Noya the coldest look he could muster over his shoulder.

“How else are we going to get better?” Kageyama deadpanned with a quirked brow.

“Besides, we learn better together anyway,” Hinata said easily, and then set his bag down to fish out his practice clothes. “Right, Kageyama?”

“Mm. Guess so. Now hurry and get dressed so we can get to practice.”

“Wha—?! I’ll get done faster than you!”

“You will not.”

“Will, too.”

“Will not—”

Daichi rolled his eyes, not even bothering to stop the bickering before he left the club room. Suga passed him on his way out, giving him a meaningful look that made Daichi stifle a groan.

This team is going to send me to an early grave.

Chapter Text

fictober day 07: “that could have gone better.”

“We’re so lost.”

“No, we’re not.”

“We are, too!”

“Well, you know what? The only reason we got into this is because of your stupidity!”

“Yeah, well…!” Hinata puffed up his cheeks. “Well…! Shut up! We… we just need to find the others!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, dumbass,” Kageyama snapped back with an icy glare.

Honestly. Things couldn’t get any worse. The two of them were stuck in a crowd where people spawned at every corner, and he couldn’t find any of their teammates, anywhere. Even their tallest players evaded his vision.

They were supposed to go to some city festival, as a team, to represent the club, to represent Karasuno as a school. Now that they were actually here, he realized up-close just how many people were in their prefecture alone. 

Kageyama knew that if he hadn’t gone with Hinata, he probably wouldn’t have gotten lost. He’d gone with him to make sure Hinata wouldn’t get lost. But it was obvious to him now that Hinata would have gotten lost either way.

He should’ve known. This had happened before when the two of them were racing each other and ended up meeting Ushiwaka on the street. He scowled as he gazed around, weaving through the people as carefully and as painlessly as he could.

His scowl deepened when he got shoved by a passerby, though trying to find the source proved to be useless. In a sea of moving people, it was hard to tell left from right, let alone identify who pushed whom.

“Ka...geyama! Kageyama, wait!”

Hinata’s voice sounded farther behind him than before. He paused to turn around and look, which only served in him getting shoved again, this time in the opposite direction. He barely had time to recover—this place was packed full, and people were pushing. Pushing. Tugging. Shoving. Like they were chasing time, chasing their own schedules.

“Hinata?” he called over his shoulder. “Hinata? Where’d you go?”

“I’m… ack! I’m right here!”

He wasn't. He wasn't anywhere. “I can’t see you!”

No response. Kageyama looked around in furious desperation, trying to spot a splash of orange. His heart thundered uncomfortably in his chest, pounding in his ears, stealing his breath. Sure, he was annoyed that he and Hinata had gotten lost, but at least he hadn’t been alone.

The longer he stood still, the more that people bumped into him. They were outside but never before had he felt so trapped, so claustrophobic. Everyone around him seemed to close in on him, creating a living wall that only continued to close in on itself.

“Kageyama,” Hinata’s voice cried out, this time closer to him. “Oh—oh my gosh, there you are!”

Something clammy and small wrapped around his wrist, sliding down his palm and hooking through his fingers. Kageyama instinctively tried to pull away, thinking it was some stranger accidentally running into him again, but he froze when Hinata’s wide, frightened eyes looked up at him.

“Don’t… don’t do that,” Hinata went on when he remained silent, suddenly too anxious to speak. “I thought… I don’t want to lose the only teammate I have with me!” 

Kageyama opened his mouth to respond, but no sound emerged. The uncomfortable, panicking feeling in his chest spiked when he was pushed to the right, almost causing Hinata to lose his grip.

“C’mon, let’s… let’s at least get out of the crowd.”

His lungs tightened like hands balling into fists. Hinata tugged on his hand—a familiar, welcomed feeling compared to the unwanted shoving from all the strangers around him—and gradually, gradually, the two found their way out.

Which seemed even more complicated than trying to find their team. Both Hinata and Kageyama sucked at directions, but eventually, the crowd of people gave way to open space, although once they were free, Kageyama still couldn’t figure out how to get his lungs to function properly.

“That could have gone better,” Hinata said breathlessly when they’d put a significant amount of distance between them and the mob of people. “Ugh, that was insane.”

He knew—he knew, somewhere in the depths of his mind—that Hinata had grabbed his hand. He’d even tried to pull away from him when it happened. And yet, when Hinata attempted to retract his own hand from Kageyama’s, Kageyama was surprised. Surprised that he found himself squeezing just a little bit tighter so Hinata couldn’t let go.

He should’ve been embarrassed. Humiliated. At any other time, he would’ve broken away from Hinata’s grasp and yelled at him. Blamed him again for getting them lost. Shook him until his brain rattled. 

Right now, though, he couldn’t even breathe, and they were out of the crowd, but his skin still burned like people were brushing up against him; everything around him spun in a dizzying circle, and—

“Kageyama?” This time, Hinata’s voice was softer. Concerned. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I…” He swallowed past the burning dryness in his throat. “I th-thought…”

I didn’t want you to leave me, either.

I didn’t want… I thought…

You weren't there.

I thought—

One moment they’d been arguing pointlessly, and the next, Hinata was gone.

The idea of being by himself in a crowd this massive made him think of other times he’d been so obviously, devastatingly isolated despite being around so many people, and it was crippling.

“Hey,” Hinata repeated. “Hey, it’s alright—”

Kageyama shook his head, legs feeling weak. Hinata followed him to the ground when they finally failed him, and Kageyama gasped out, “Y-you… you were… gone…”

“I’m right here,” Hinata said in that same soft voice, this time with reassurance. “I wasn’t gonna let you go until we were out…”

His hand acted on its own, squeezing Hinata’s fingers again. He squeezed them because they were a reminder—because they were solid evidence to back up Hinata’s words. He wasn’t alone. Kageyama wasn’t alone. Hinata was right in front of him.

“Try to take a deep breath,” Hinata said. “Like me, ok? Like you’re smelling something good.”

He demonstrated and continued to do so until Kageyama copied him, until he drew in breath after breath without choking; and it was only when the tremors in his body started to calm that he noticed he was shaking. 

He breathed. Breathed. Breathed. Under Hinata's guidance, it seemed so easy. His heart wasn’t so overwhelmingly loud in his ears, now.

“...good,” Hinata praised after a while. “I’m gonna check my phone. See if anyone called or if we can get ahold of anyone now that we’re out of that mess, you know?”

He nodded numbly, noticing now that Hinata didn’t try to pull away again. Instead, their fingers remained laced together, and fished out his phone out of his pocket with his free hand. Even after the crippling anxiety had dulled to something manageable, Kageyama didn’t want to let go.

It was… it was strange. He’d never been one to initiate physical contact—it wasn’t like his parents showed an excessive amount of physical affection, and even if they had, he couldn’t imagine himself enjoying it.

But… but being exposed to it now—having a hand to hold in his own, something to squeeze for comfort when he couldn’t verbally convey what he was feeling on the inside—made him realize that he craved more of it.

Just… just for now. Just for these few moments. Told himself that to save his fumbling pride.

Hinata pressed his cell to his ear as Kageyama stared down at their hands. Even when someone picked up and Hinata began talking, he didn’t pull away.

Kageyama didn’t pull away, either.

Chapter Text

fictober day 08: “this is it, isn’t it?”

Hinata wondered if Kageyama could feel his heart beating.

The morning breeze tickled his fever-flushed skin as they stepped out of the gym, chasing away that thought before Hinata could give it a voice. He shivered, clutching tighter at the back of Kageyama’s practice shirt.

“You still cold?” 

Kageyama’s voice drifted over the two of them with lazy ease, almost like a cloud.

“Mm-hm.”

“Tsk. This is why you don’t come to school when you’re sick, dumbass.”

Hinata hummed again, sluggish but apologetic. Pressed against Kageyama’s back, he felt like a child, but he didn’t have the strength to stand on his own, nor did he want to go face the captain’s wrath, should he disobey his orders.

Go straight to the infirmary. And stay there until someone comes to pick you up.

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” Kageyama went on in that same tone. The words were harsh, but he didn’t raise his voice above a whisper. “How did you even get to school? How did you not fall off your bike?”

“M’sorry.”

“Did you really think you could play volleyball with a fever?”

Another hum. Then Kageyama walked in silence, and Hinata thought about his heartbeat again. How it thumped, thumped, thumped in his chest, which was pressed against Kageyama’s shoulder blades. 

He didn’t really remember closing his eyes. All he remembered was the rhythmic sound of Kageyama’s footsteps. The whisper of his breathing. It was almost like a song in his ears: Smooth. Soothing. Hypnotic.

“...of it. Damn,” came Kageyama’s voice, pulling Hinata out of his not-quite slumber. “She must not be here yet. This is it, isn’t it? The infirmary?”

A flicking sound. Hinata blinked several times, but the brightness of the room was harsh. Unpleasant. He squeezed his eyes shut with a quiet moan of dismay, lacking the energy to rub them.

“What? Do you need to…? Here, there’s a bed for you to lay down,” Kageyama said, shuffling slightly.

Then he shifted Hinata’s weight, kneeling, and Hinata shivered when the warmth of his teammate disappeared. Expelled something similar to a whine—if he’d been feeling well, he might’ve been ashamed of the noise, but right now it was too cold to feel any such thing.

“What is it?” Kageyama repeated grumpily.

“You were… warm,” Hinata mumbled, and when he tried opening his eyes again to see where Kageyama had gone, it sent the world into an endless spinning loop. The sudden dizziness made his stomach churn. “Ka’y’ma…?”

“Idiot, I’m right here.” Hands pushed at his chest, gentle but firm. “Jeez, here, get under the covers if you’re so cold. And don’t try to get up—you’ll get better faster if you just rest.”

More shuffling noises. His hand moved around blindly to find the aforementioned blankets, only to realize that Kageyama was guiding him to them. His fingers brushed against something smooth. Skin.

“Your hands ’re soft,” he murmured. “Izzit cos… cos you take good care of your nails?”

Kageyama’s hand twitched underneath his. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Hinata hummed again, opening his eyes again. A blurry figure that must have been Kageyama loomed over him.

“Thank you, for…” He inhaled slowly. Drowsily. “...for takin’ me here.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t’ve had to if you stayed home like any sane person with a fever would have.”

“M’sorry. I… wanted to see you. Play… play volleyball with you.”

A pause. “Dumbass. You could’ve done that tomorrow.”

“Wasted three years already,” he mumbled. “You said so. But it… it wasn’t my fault. Had to start the club by myself. Nobody else was there.”

Kageyama pulled his hand away rapidly, and it was only then that Hinata realized he had still been holding onto it. He blinked again, trying to find him under sleep-heavy lashes. 

“I’ll… I’ll be there,” Kageyama said, his voice softer this time. Shakier. “Tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll…” He paused as his sentence got swallowed up by a yawn. Tried again: “I’ll be… there, too. T’m’rrow.”

“That means you have to get better, got it, you moron?”

“Mm-hm.” And then, around another yawn: “Kag’yama?”

“What?”

“Don’t… don’t go yet.”

“Nn. I can’t, really. The nurse isn’t here yet.”

“M’kay,” Hinata said, nodding into the pillow. “My head hurts.”

It was true. Along with the unpleasant chill that followed Kageyama’s physical absence, a dull thrum had started in his forehead, working its way back. Over his ears. Down the nape of his neck.

“Do you need me to be quieter?”

“No, I…” He took in another deep breath, fingers twitching, wanting to feel the softness of Kageyama’s hand again. There was something… oddly comforting about being carried here. Knowing he wasn’t alone with the vulnerability of his sickness. Made it easier to doze off. “I like… the sound of your voice.”

“...what?”

“Your voice,” Hinata repeated sluggishly. “I like it.”

And then he dove right into sleep like it was water, unknowingly leaving a very confused Kageyama to gape at him as if he’d spoken in another language.

Chapter Text

fictober day 09: “there’s no right side to this.”

“Toss to me,” Hinata called out. “Kageyama! Toss! Toss!”

To Kageyama, the words sounded like they came from an excited puppy trapped in a human’s body. And that was exactly what Hinata looked like as he jumped around the court, limbs splayed out, wide smile attached to his face.

Still, in all his annoying enthusiasm—which Kageyama absolutely did not find endearing, no way in hell—it had become second nature to him to obey his request. His fingers dusted against the ball, putting just the right amount of pressure to reach Hinata’s palm as he leapt in the air like a majestic bird, going from excited puppy to the infamous decoy crow that was a big part of Karasuno’s reputation.

Hinata smacked it down with breathtaking speed. Both setter and spiker released a victorious cry as Hinata landed, but on the other side of the net, Kinoshita-senpai let out a groan.

“That’s crazy fast,” he said, throwing his head back. “How does anyone keep up with you?”

Hinata grinned like he’d won a prize. “It’s mostly my setter.”

“Maybe it’s my spiker.”

It came out instinctively. The words were tugged out by that impulsive need to compete—down to the final syllable. That was the nature of their rivalry: to outdo each other in every way possible. And that meant Hinata couldn’t have the last word.

(Never mind that it was actually true—nobody he knew could rival Hinata’s insane athleticism and crazy reflexes. Nobody he knew could play decoy or spike the way Hinata could.)

(Nobody trusted Kageyama so faithfully, so completely, so shamelessly like Hinata.) 

His brows furrowed in confusion when Noya-senpai shot him a suggestive look. “What?”

“Your spiker?” Noya teased.

Tanaka-senpai gazed at Hinata with a similar expression. “Your setter?”

“Well, yeah,” Hinata said, blinking innocently. “We play on the same team.”

Kageyama blinked, too. And a second time when Noya wiggled his brows. He looked back at Hinata, who appeared just as clueless as Kageyama was. Then his gaze grew cold.

“Don’t call for the ball like that,” he reprimanded. “This may be a practice game, but you could’ve gotten shut out with all the noise you made.”

If possible, Hinata grinned even wider. “But I didn’t.”

“Thanks to his setter,” Tanaka repeated like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“No, it was thanks to Kageyama’s spiker,” Noya said with a dopey smile.

“Oh, hush, you too,” Sawamura-san said, glaring at both Tanaka and Noya. “Leave them alone.”

“But Daichiiiii,” Tanaka said. “Did you hear what they said~? ”

“I did, and I’m saying, leave them alone,” their captain said. “Suga?”

Sugawara-senpai was grinning but raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, don’t bring me into this.”

Both second-years stopped with the remarks but continued to give them funny, wiggly-brow looks when Sawamura-san wasn’t looking. When he caught Hinata’s eye, Hinata just shrugged helplessly. 

Guess there’s no right side to this, he mused with a scowl. Weirdos.

Chapter Text

fictober day 10: “it’s so quiet.”

Yamaguchi leaned back against his seat on the bus, brows furrowed. It’s so quiet.

He knew why—because the loudest members of the team were dead asleep, wiped out from the intense practice match that took place hours before. Even Tsukki was dozing next to him, leaning on his palm, music quietly pulsing through his headphones.

It didn’t surprise him. More often than not, most of the team fell asleep after exerting themselves on the court. And even then—

“Hey. Hey, Tadashi.”

The whispered words came from one of his upperclassmen—Hisashi-senpai, he noticed. He raised a brow as he met his teammate’s gaze, who was grinning mischievously and jabbing his thumb to the seat across from him: the pair behind Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi craned his neck to follow his gaze, twisting his body ever so slightly. He was tall enough that he didn’t have to move much.

Hinata and Kageyama were, in fact, asleep. But what was even more surprising—or, rather, amusing, given the fact that more than half the team liked to tease them due to their not-quite-relationship relationship—was that Hinata’s head lay pillowed on Kageyama’s chest. The back of his hand was pressed against Kageyama’s, not holding it, but oh-so-very close. Kageyama’s chin was tucked on top of Hinata’s head, resting in his hair. 

It was, in all honesty, a pretty wholesome scene.

No wonder half the guys think they’re dating.

The sound of a camera snapping drew his gaze away from the pair, catching a glimpse of a still-grinning Hisashi with his phone out.

“Hisashi-senpai,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice low so as to not disturb anyone, “you’ve gotta send me that.”

Hisashi snickered. “Oh, I will.”

Yamaguchi fought to suppress his own giggle. If Tsukki was awake, he’d call it blackmail material.

Chapter Text

fictober day 11: “i swear, it’s not always like this.”

Hinata winced as he and Kageyama made it to his bedroom. With practice, trying (and probably failing) to keep up with his studies, and all the matches they’d played over the last few weeks, tidying up his room had been put on the back-burner.

The result? It was a little messy.

Ok, so it was a lot messy. His desk was cluttered with assignments he’d yet to submit to his teachers, and the floor had clothes strewn about in places that definitely weren’t his laundry hamper. A stray volleyball made itself a home in the middle of the floor. The trash bin wasn’t overflowing but it was getting there. His bed wasn’t even made.

Now’s the part where I die from embarrassment.

Hinata scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish expression. “I swear, it’s not always like this.”

“Nn. S’fine,” Kageyama said with an impassive shrug.

Hinata laughed nervously. “It’s kinda not. Um…”

He started to lean over to pick up the laundry that had been collecting into a pile on the floor, depositing what he could carry into the already overflowing hamper, and then—oh, the desk. He got distracted by the desk for several moments, fingers scrambling to organize dozens of paper before—

Crap. Right. The bed.

“Do you… want some help?” Kageyama asked, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um, no, I’m sorry, it’s just, there’s no room to study…” His gaze whisked over the room, practically spinning in circles as he rushed to create some clean space. “Sorry. Just… one sec. You can uh, you can sit.”

He gestured to the unmade bed, and Kageyama nodded mutely. Awkwardly. Hinata spent the next few minutes tidying up as swiftly as he could. It didn’t take long, and Kageyama made it easier—even if more annoying—by throwing out a few familiar insults while he picked up the room.

He grinned, proud of himself. “Great! Now we can start.”

“How are we gonna get anything done without Yachi?”

“Hey, I’ve been getting a lot better thanks to her! I can try to teach you what she’s taught me!”

“She taught me the same thing she taught you, dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I can be your refresher!”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

Hinata frowned, cheeks puffing up in mock-anger. “Kageyama! You should—gah!”

He’d somehow missed the volleyball during his speed-run clean, and now, while he wasn’t paying attention, his foot hooked on it before it rolled, throwing him off balance. The room wasn’t very large, so as he began his descent, he wasn’t going to hit the floor.

He’d land on the bed.

The bed where Kageyama was currently sitting.

It happened so fast. His hands shot out to hopefully prevent an embarrassing landing, eyes going wide in sync with Kageyama’s as he realized what was inevitably going to happen, and Kageyama started to scoot backward, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Hinata’s hands clumsily slapped down on Kageyama’s shoulders. Kageyama’s legs were half spread apart, so when Hinata’s body tilted forward, he slotted in between them like a puzzle piece falling into its correct place, his weight pressing against Kageyama’s hips.

For a moment, there should have been chaos. An argument. A string of profanities. Something. Instead, both were quiet, and Hinata noticed, belatedly, that Kageyama’s palms had found his waist, probably in an attempt to stop his fall. 

Neither moved. Hinata’s hands were stiff on Kageyama’s shoulders, fingers frozen, his heart suddenly pounding like he was in the middle of a match. The heat from Kageyama’s skin seemed to bleed through Hinata’s shirt, and then, impreventably, their gazes met.

He’d met Kageyama’s eyes a thousand times. In arguments, during practice, in matches, after matches. Yet this moment seemed different than all the rest—it was so intimate, so fragile. Like some wall of glass was built around them that would break if either of them looked away. 

And Hinata thought, Have his eyes always been so blue?

Because they were so blue. Everything about Kageyama seemed so defined, like a sword honed to perfection. The arches of his brows. The bridge of his nose. The curve of his cheekbones. The line of his jaw. 

And, of course, the sparkling midnight hue of his eyes. Something about them drew Hinata in like a magnet following the inescapable pull of a magnetic field. Closer. Closer.

“Um…” Kageyama hedged, his voice hushed. Uncertain. Those (addicting, mesmerizing, very pretty ) eyes flicked downward. Down the bridge of his nose. Over the curl of Hinata’s lips.

Hinata’s lips.

Hinata’s eyes popped even wider than before, suddenly realizing just where his hands rested, just where Kageyama’s hands rested, and just how close the two of them were. A startled noise erupted from his lips and he stumbled back, only for Kageyama to steady him again, to tighten his grip around his waist.

“S...sorry,” he mumbled, face growing hot. He looked away and released Kageyama’s shoulders, and gosh, would his heart stop that? Seriously.  “...clumsy me, right?”

The words were accompanied by a nervous chuckle. The heat from Kageyama’s hands grew more intense by the second and he waited with bated breath for Kageyama to just let him go.

Except he didn’t.

He murmured, “Clumsy you,” and closed the space between them.

And missed. He pressed his lips to the corner of Hinata’s mouth—the edge of his own lips—pulled back, and finally, finally, withdrew his hands.

Then Kageyama stood. Slid around Hinata, walking toward the door to grab his bag. The scuffle on the floor told Hinata that he’d nudged the volleyball out of the way.

Dazedly, Hinata raised his hand to press the pads of his fingers against the corner of his mouth, where Kageyama’s lips had been just a second before. His heart pounded a tattoo into his ribcage.

Now how was he supposed to study?

Chapter Text

fictober day 12: “you keep me safe”

“Kageyama! Kageyamaaaaaa!”

Kageyama blinked as a blob of orange blurred across the court. Seconds later, Hinata was cowering behind him, gripping the back of his shirt.

“Hey, get your tiny hands off me,” he snapped, trying to shake him off. “We’re gonna start the practice match soon!”

Hinata’s hand, despite Kageyama’s cold voice giving an even colder demand, remained curled into his jersey. Kageyama shot him a frosty look, but Hinata still didn’t release him. Instead, his grip seemed to tighten, cowering behind Kageyama like he sought protection in him.

His glare eased a little.  “Hey. What’s with you?”

“That guy on the other team, he’s giving me a weird look!”

He didn’t point. Didn’t gesture. Didn’t give any indication of which team member he was referencing, so when Kageyama’s eyes swept across the court, he didn’t think he’d find him in the line of volleyball players standing on the other side of the net, guys they were meant to play. But then he made eye contact with a particularly tall—almost as tall as himself—player, whose expression practically bled anger, like he wanted to use the volleyball to critically injure each and every one of the members of the Karasuno team.

Kageyama wasn’t sure if that was the guy, but he had a feeling it was. He gave the dude his coldest look—colder than the one he’d given Hinata—and frowned deeply.

Asshole.

“And you chose to hide behind me… why?” Kageyama asked Hinata without breaking eye contact with the guy.

“Because I trust you, duh,” Hinata said as if it was obvious. “You keep me safe!”

Something about the words warmed him from the inside. Made his heart do that strange thing that it only did around Hinata—quickened its pace, skipped a beat or two. Floundered around. Forgot its function. 

I trust you, too, his brain whispered. More than anyone.

Out loud: “Tch. Whatever.”

He straightened his spine. His heart squirmed in his chest again in that annoying way that he didn’t quite understand, and his cheeks felt a little warm. Despite this, he stared even harder at the other volleyball player, turning up the ice until the asshole finally looked away.

“C’mon,” Kageyama said eventually, moving his shoulders until Hinata finally got the message and let him go. “Let’s line up.”

Still, he kept Hinata tucked beside him until they reached the back of the court. By the time they reached the rest of their teammates, he realized his hand was on the small of Hinata’s back, almost protectively.

Hinata didn’t really need to be protected, and Kageyama wondered if he knew that. He’d stood up to people who towered over him. He had a fearless determination that went unrivaled, a determination that was almost frightening at times.

Yet… yet he stood behind Kageyama. Trusted him.

He pulled away slowly, wondering if anyone else had noticed. Kept those thoughts inside his head where they belonged. Teased, “Where’s the courage you had when you stood up to Ushiwaka?”

“Shut up,” Hinata said but didn’t look all that upset by his words. Didn’t take back his words from earlier.

The warmth inside Kageyama’s chest spread and crackled like fire.

Even as their team shouted in unison, “Thanks for the game!”

Chapter Text

fictober day 13: “the things you make me do…”

Kageyama's left eye twitched. Annoyance seeped through him like water into a cloth. They were supposed to be heading to practice, but Hinata had allowed himself to get distracted. Because of course he did. Because he was Hinata.

"Are you done yet?" he deadpanned. "We're going to be late for practice."

"Yeah, yeah, just a second," Hinata said distractedly. "Have you seen her face, Kageyama? Look at her lil nose. Look at her ears! So soft! Look at her—"

"Yes, I see her." Kageyama eyed the cat in Hinata's hands. It was kind of small, with light and dark grey stripes and stunning yellow-green eyes. Even though it wasn’t very big, it made Hinata's tiny hands seem even tinier. "Can we go now?"

"I can't just leave her!"

Kageyama twitched again. The things you make me do…

"Besides," Hinata went on, oblivious to Kageyama's irritation, "isn't she adorable?"

"Yeah, the cutest."

"You don't sound like you mean that!"

A sigh. "Seriously, you idiot, can we go? "

"Fine, fine," Hinata said with a good-natured roll of his eyes. Then, to the cat: "C'mon, girl! Let's go!"

Kageyama opened his mouth to retort—to threaten him, maybe, because there was absolutely no way their captain (or Takeda-sensei, or Coach Ukai!) was going to let Hinata bring a kitten into the gym—but the words dissolved in his throat when he saw Hinata’s expression.

His smile was all innocence and sunshine, eyes wide and expressive and warm. The mid-October breeze wasn't quite cold, but crisp enough to coax a rosy tint to his cheeks, which seemed to highlight his features in a way that was almost… adorable . 

Or… or maybe it was the cat. The cat, who also blinked up at him, its little whiskers twitching.

Or maybe Kageyama was losing it.

Kageyama looked back and forth, back and forth between Hinata's not-adorable expression and the not-adorable grey cat. Something warm coiled in his stomach.

"Helloooo. Are you in there? Kageyama?"

“..huh?”

A slender finger reached up to poke him in the nose. Hinata blinked up at him, still smiling. The kitten mewled. The warm feeling grew and bloomed like a flower in the spring, unfurling into something unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. 

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Tch. Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he grumbled, pointedly ignoring the weird feeling. “Dumbass Hinata.”

Chapter Text

fictober day 14: “your information was wrong.”

Hinata buried his nose into the collar of his jacket, hands tucked under his arms. It was so cold he could see his breath, cheeks tinted pink from the chill of the wind. When he’d left the house earlier, he thought he could handle the weather—thought the bike ride to school would be enough to keep him warm—but now that he was actually in front of the gym, having already locked up his bike, he knew he’d messed up.

Darn it. The cold sucks.

It didn’t help that Kageyama was rubbing it in his face.

“Seriously, dumbass, didn’t you anyone tell you it was supposed to be nasty today?” he went on with a roll of his eyes. “You’re going to freeze.”

“I thought it was supposed to be nice out later,” Hinata defended hotly. “All sunny skies!”

“Well, your information was wrong.” Kageyama leaned against the gym door as they waited on their senpai. “It’s this weekend that’s supposed to be nice, you idiot.”

“Shut up!”

Kageyama scoffed. “You’re seriously a moron.”

“You’re seriously getting on my nerves!”

“...and we’ve got to wait out here for the captain to get here, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that, stupid Kageyama!”

“I bet you’re pretty miserable, huh?”

“Stop rubbing it in,” Hinata snapped, popping his head out of his collar long enough to frown at him before retreating back in like a turtle when the icy breeze dusted against his skin. “Jeez. I get it already, ok? I’ll wear something heavier tomorrow. Get off my back.”

“I’m not on your back,” Kageyama said. “You’re too tiny to hold me.”

“Wha—?! It’s an expression!” His cheeks flushed even darker, although for a different reason this time. “Jerk. I’m not tiny.”

“You are, so.”

“Am not.”

“Mm. Sure.”

“Why, you—”

Hinata stopped when something warm slid over his head, blinking in surprise. His hands came out of their hiding place underneath his arms to touch it, eyes widening when his fingers brushed against something soft.

Earmuffs. Kageyama’s earmuffs. 

“For shit’s sake. Your nose is all red,” Kageyama said with a scowl, already unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. Then he secured it over Hinata’s shoulders, rewrapping it until Hinata was bundled enough that it was safe to come out of his jacket without feeling the bite of the wind on his nose and cheeks. “And your fingernails are blue. Don’t you know how to take care of yourself?”

“Of… of course I do…” 

The words lacked their usual bite. He was too stunned by Kageyama’s actions to continue the argument. It didn’t help that the earmuffs and scarf were already warm from Kageyama’s use, effectively distracting him from the implication of Kageyama’s words. 

His eyes popped even wider when Kageyama’s gloved hands came to rest over his own, rubbing warmth into them. He gazed up at his teammate’s face, seeing the scowl that was still present on his features, but he continued to rub at Hinata’s frozen fingers like it was some mandatory task that had to be completed before they could go on with their day.

His hands are warm…

So warm, in fact, that his knees felt a little weak. Hinata swallowed, no longer trusting himself to speak. It took a ridiculous amount of willpower not to sink to the ground.

“You really better bring something warmer tomorrow,” Kageyama said after a while. “You hear me, dumbass?”

A mute nod. 

Even when Kageyama released his fingers, the warmth lingered. Clung to his skin like water. Submerged him deep into a haze that even the captain couldn’t snap him out of, when he finally arrived. 

The cold, Hinata realized belatedly, wasn’t that bad after all.

Chapter Text

fictober day 15: “i like that in you”

Usually, morning practice was what got him through the day.

It helped scatter the stubborn cobwebs of fatigue that clung to the knowledge that it was only seven in the morning. It turned his lazily flowing blood into something untameably loud, something impossibly swift; until it thrummed in his veins and pulsed in his ears. It challenged his heart to beat faster, faster, faster to match the racing thoughts that told him to move faster, faster, faster.

Except… right now, Hinata couldn’t focus on that.

Instead, his thoughts wandered uncontrollably, centered on one grumpy, frustratingly oblivious (and, the more he thought about it, unreasonably attractive ) genius setter.

“Hey! Dumbass,” Kageyama’s voice called when he missed a perfectly spike-able toss. “What’s with you? Did the cold freeze your brain?” 

“What? No!”

Hinata landed his jump by pure muscle memory. He turned to glare heatedly into midnight blue eyes (eyes which were startlingly beautiful and oh my gosh, I like that in you, his brain whispered traitorously), his cheeks warming in a way that he hoped was unnoticeable. 

“Then stop goofing around and take this seriously,” Kageyama snapped.

Hinata grumbled under his breath, pointedly looking away because if he kept staring at Kageyama, he’d think back to fluffy earmuffs and warm scarves and even warmer hands. His skin tingled at the mere image of it all—an image that stubbornly refused to leave him be despite his best efforts.

This is all your fault, Hinata wanted to say to him. You and your stupid winter stuff that we shouldn’t have to wear when it’s fall and your stupid hands.

“Hinata?”

Hinata’s head snapped up at the voice. Suga was waving him over from across the court with a concerned expression.

Shoulders slumped, Hinata walked over to him. His gaze found the floor again, trying to distract himself with the glossiness of the wooden panels beneath his feet. “Hi, Suga-san.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Suga said. “I’m just… wondering if you’re ok? You haven’t been acting like yourself.”

Unbidden, his eyes darted toward Kageyama for a snap of a second before he looked at his hands. “Sorry. I’m… I’m fine. I’m just… distracted.”

“Distracted,” Suga echoed, more like a statement than a question that begged for an explanation. Then, after a pause: “Did you and Kageyama get into a fight?”

“Hm? Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that.”

His skin tingled again and he toyed with his fingers, trying to get it to stop. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t get the idea of Kageyama holding his hands out of his mind.

“Mm.” Suga paused again. “I didn’t think so. I saw that you had his scarf and earmuffs earlier.”

Hinata’s face felt traitorously warm again. “Uh. Yeah, it was cold, so.”

“It was nice of him to share like that,” Suga went on.

“Mm. Yeah, I guess.”

“...is that what’s bothering you?”

Yes. “Um. No.”

“No?”

Yes and I don’t understand. Please help me, Suga-san. 

“No,” Hinata confirmed with a small nod.

“You’re sure?”

Another nod.

Kageyama’s voice called out to Tanaka as he set the ball to him in one perfect, graceful arc of movement. Hinata’s gaze found Kageyama without his consent, and jeez, had his voice always been that… that nice to listen to?

“Well, if you’re sure,” Suga said, and when Hinata looked back at him, he saw that Suga had caught him staring and darn it, why wouldn’t his face cool down already?  “...and you are sure, right?”

No. Please, please help me. I'm confused. I don’t know what this means.

“Mm-hm.”

“Alright,” Suga said slowly and shuffled from foot to foot, like he was stalling time. He tucked the volleyball in his hands under his right arm. “Well, if you wanna talk about it… I’m here to listen.”

“Mm. Thanks, Suga-san.”

“No problem.”

Suga lingered for a few moments with a strange sparkle in his eyes and then left Hinata to stew helplessly in his confusion.

He didn’t catch the multiple stares from his teammates in his direction.

Nor did he see them when he remained distracted for the rest of practice.

Chapter Text

fictober day 16: “not this again.”

Kageyama sat leaning against the wall in the gym. He took a long drink of his water, downing nearly half the bottle in just a few seconds. Leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed as he took several moments to catch his breath. 

“Ugh! Not this again,” a familiar voice exclaimed in frustration. And then, after several beats of silence: “Hey! Kageyama!”

One eye peeked open hazily. Hinata was rushing toward him with energy that should’ve been questionable—but then, this was Hinata who had nearly inhuman levels of stamina—and Kageyama raised a brow.

“What?” he breathed out when Hinata reached him.

Hinata thrust toward him an unopened sports drink, panting himself and bathed in sweat. “I can’t get this open!”

Kageyama paused, still breathing heavily. Practice had been really intense today. “And?”

“And,” Hinata went on, “I need you to open it, please.”

He could’ve asked anyone on the court. Azumane and Tanaka were closer to Hinata than Kageyama was. But for some reason, Hinata bounded across the gym to ask Kageyama for help, and as much as he wanted to tease him for not being able to open a simple sports drink bottle, he couldn’t.

Because Hinata’s earnest, puffed-up expression was… it was endearing. Pink dusted his cheeks, causing his face to glow under the lights of the gym.

Cute, an insane part of his brain thought. 

He sighed and stubbornly tossed that thought in the darkest corners of his mind where it belonged. “Fine. Give it.”

Hinata obeyed. Kageyama cracked it open with an ease that made Hinata’s eyes blow wide in something like admiration, and when their gazes met, Hinata praised, “You’re so cool, Kageyama.”

And then he rushed away as quickly as he’d come, and Kageyama was left sputtering and blushing in the corner of the gym. That thought from seconds ago raced back across his brain, ricocheting, creative side to practical side, until it consumed him entirely.

Why was it always the littlest things that Hinata did, that turned him into a disaster? 

“You’re awfully red, King,” Tsukishima’s stupid voice teased from several feet away. “Got a soft spot, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama snapped.

Tsukishima just laughed.

Chapter Text

fictober day 17: “i’m with you, you know that.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Kageyama said.

“I can’t believe you’re still complaining,” Hinata said. And then, after a pause: “Actually, I totally can. You’re a grump.”

He nibbled on a piece of pocky, pleasantly ignoring Kageyama’s indignant squawk and his dirty glare. He waited a few more seconds before offering one to Kageyama, who grumbled and swore under his breath but accepted it nonetheless.

They were sitting on the sofa in Hinata’s living room, scrolling through a selection of movies. It’d taken a lot of convincing, but he managed to get Kageyama over here. Now they just needed to decide on something both of them liked.

Which was a lot harder than he’d originally thought.

“Do you not like movies?” Hinata asked without looking at him.

“I don’t watch many,” Kageyama said. “I don’t have the time.”

“I know that, that’s why we’re here. ” He chewed on his pocky slowly and swallowed. “But just because you don’t watch many, does that mean you don’t like them?”

“Dumbass. I choose not to watch them for a reason.”

“Wha—? It was just a question, jeez!”

“It was a stupid question.”

“You didn’t watch them with your friends when you were younger?”

“Not really. I didn’t have friends.”

Hinata froze. The pocky stick dangled in his mouth uselessly as he turned to stare at Kageyama with dinner plate eyes. Whatever reply he had shriveled up on his tongue like a dying flower.

He knew, back in middle school, Kageyama didn’t get along well with his team. He knew that Kageyama wasn’t good with people—though, at Karasuno, he seemed to be getting better.

But… but Kageyama was still such a cool person. He was talented, creative, attractive. Sure, he and Hinata argued all the time, but he couldn’t see himself not hanging out with Kageyama.

The thought of leaving his side, of him playing on some other team, stirred up something like sadness—an ache in his chest that felt physical—and he didn’t like it.

And he'd used past tense. Weren’t… weren’t they friends? Or something close to it? They were… they were partners, right? 

“But it’s different now,” he said finally. Softly. “Right?”

Kageyama cast him a weird look. “What?”

“I’m with you,” Hinata clarified. “You know that.”

A pause followed his words. Kageyama stilled, his whole body turning into a statue. His eyes blew wide and for a moment, Hinata’s heart sank in his chest like a stone in water. The ache pulsed into something bigger. Stronger.

“...right?” he repeated in a whisper.

The fragility in his voice must’ve caught Kageyama’s attention because he immediately turned to face him with that same wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression of shock. Then, after several, painfully long beats of silence, he said, “Of course I know that, nitwit.”

Hinata expelled the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He relaxed against the sofa in relief. “Good.”

“What? You didn’t think I knew that?”

“Well,” Hinata said, fumbling. “No, I just… I was scared for a second!”

“Eh? Scared?”

“You didn’t say anything!”

“You…!” Kageyama seemed to be struggling, too. “Well, you… you just blurted random embarrassing shit out of nowhere!”

 “E...embarrassing?!”

Kageyama turned his head sharply, but not before Hinata caught the pink tint to his cheeks. “Tch. Whatever.”

For a few moments, Hinata was quiet. Part of him wanted to silently fume, but then, this was Kageyama. Arguing with him was almost second nature. It was so easy, so familiar, so them. And yet…

Yet the other part of him didn’t want to let this go.

“I’m serious, Kageyama.”

“Nn? What do you mean?”

He drew in another breath, reaching for another piece of pocky. Handed it to Kageyama, almost like a peace offering, and Kageyama accepted it after only one heartbeat of hesitation. Then, gradually, Hinata leaned into him. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, leg to leg.

Kageyama froze again, although not for long. Maybe because they were alone, or because of the conversation, but the longer Hinata remained pressed against him, the more he began to relax.

“You have friends now,” he murmured. “The whole team. And… and me.”

Kageyama didn’t say anything. But he didn’t pull away—only continued to relax, breath by breath, pulse by pulse—and that told Hinata everything.

Chapter Text

fictober day 18: “this was not part of the plan.”

Kageyama stepped a few feet back, predicting exactly where the ball would fall and where to send it. It only brushed against his fingers for a second before it flew in Hinata’s direction.

Hinata was ready for it. Had already leapt in the air, arched into position to spike. The ball slammed down and Karasuno released a victorious cheer.

“Nice one, Hinata,” Tanaka called.

“Shouyou, that was badass,” Noya added.

Hinata landed with breathtaking grace, and the grin on his face was equally stunning—three parts sunshine, two parts cheeky. Kageyama’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears and he tried to convince himself that it was just because of the game.

“Kageyama!”

“Wha—?”

For an answer, Hinata bounded toward him. Kageyama barely had time to raise his brows before Hinata leapt up again, arms threading around his neck, and—and you fricken dumbass, this was not part of the plan!

His face felt embarrassingly hot, but his traitorous hands found Hinata’s waist before he could even stop them in an attempt to steady him as they stumbled back.

“We did it!” Hinata was practically hanging on him, beaming. “We won the set, Kageyama!”

“Y-yeah, um…” 

You’re all sweaty and gross and you still manage to look amazing, what the hell? 

Out loud: “...oi, idiot, you have to let go, we’re switching sides now.”

Despite his words, Hinata lingered for just a few seconds longer. Then he released him with a grin and Kageyama realized, belatedly, that many of their teammates were staring.

Sugawara gave him a smile and a thumbs up that confused the hell out of him. Noya flashed a two-fingered peace sign. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the little shits, were smirking their heads off. 

Kageyama looked away before he could see anybody else. Idiot Hinata just kept cheering as they lined up, and Kageyama’s heart pounded faster, faster, faster into a race.

Even when they started the next set, Kageyama couldn’t get the impromptu embrace out of his mind.

Chapter Text

fictober day 19: “i feel strange”

“I dunno about this.” Hinata’s voice wavered with uncertainty. “I feel strange.”

Yachi frowned. She understood that uncertainty—she was no stranger to self-doubt, after all. Still, Hinata’s lack of confidence birthed an unpleasant ache in her heart.

“You look great,” she assured, patting his arm.

Hinata pushed his new reading glasses up on his nose with a frown of his own. “I look ridiculous.”

“You don’t ,” Yachi insisted. “They look really nice on you.”

“...yeah?”

He looked up at her across his desk, which was pushed against hers so they could study during their first break of the day. His frown eased a little, but the vulnerability in his gaze was overpowering.

“Yeah! Of course!”

His shoulders slumped forward in relief. “Thank you! I already get so much crap for being short, you know? I didn’t want to give anyone another reason to pick on me.”

The words only intensified the ache in her heart. Her fingers twitched on his arm in surprise, and her eyes widened a little bit, but she fought to recover. She gave him her best, most encouraging smile, but it felt so brittle. The idea of someone as bright and kind as Hinata being picked on or bullied sent her stomach into dizzying loops. 

“Tsukishima has glasses,” she pointed out, pulling her hand away.

Hinata laughed. “Tsukishima’s tall. And intimidating. Nobody would want to mess with him.”

His laughter was contagious enough to draw a giggle out of her. “True. He’s pretty scary.”

The door to Yachi’s classroom slid open. At first, Yachi didn’t pay attention to it—until a familiar, towering figure came into view.

“Speaking of tall,” Hinata said, but after a moment, his smile vanished and his eyes widened in horror. “Oh my gosh, Yachi, he’s going to see —”

“See what?” Kageyama asked cooly, taking a long sip of the milk drink in his hand.

Yachi watched as Hinata covered his face with his hands only to look up at Kageyama through the cracks of his fingers. It was futile, though—his hands weren’t big enough to completely block Kageyama from seeing the black-rimmed lenses, so the end pieces and temple tips were visible.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kageyama asked as he pulled up another chair. And then, after a few moments: “Are… are you wearing glasses?”

“...no,” Hinata lied.

“Hinata,” Yachi murmured sympathetically. “I promise you look fine. ”

Slowly, hesitantly, Hinata lowered his hands. Yachi caught the way he glanced briefly, nervously, at Kageyama, before his gaze dropped down to their connected desks.

“You didn’t have those in practice this morning,” Kageyama said with a frown.

“They’re… they’re reading glasses,” Hinata admitted quietly. “Just for studying and stuff. My mom picked them up last night.”

Yachi swallowed. Absorbing other people’s anxiety, she noticed, was easy for her. No matter how much she wished to ease their worries instead, it seemed she could only do the opposite.

“I… I think he looks great,” she blurted anyway. “Doesn’t he, Kageyama?”

A pause followed her words that made her stomach clench. She looked up—along with one pink-faced, anxious Hinata—and blinked in surprise when she caught Kageyama blatantly studying Hinata’s face.

Were… were Kageyama’s eyes sparkling? 

“You, uh,” Kageyama began, floundering. He averted his gaze after several moments. “You… um. Um. Yeah, great.”

“...really?” Hinata asked, face lighting up. “You think so?”

“Mm-hm.” He cleared his throat and then coughed, but it sounded forced. “We, uh. Need to study.”

“Oh, yes,” Yachi exclaimed, looking down at her notebook that had been abandoned in favor of reassuring her friend. She skimmed the page before flipping to the next one. “I don’t remember where we were…”

Either Kageyama and Hinata didn’t remember, either, or they didn’t hear her. She looked up again to see that Hinata was still beaming, and Kageyama was stealing glances at him, eyes fluttering up to his face and then down to his bag as he struggled to get out his notes.

It’s almost like they’re crushing on each other, she thought idly.

As soon as the thought registered, her eyes popped. Her hand froze, and she nearly choked on her own saliva.

“Oh my god.”

Both boys gazed back at her and asked in unison, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she squeaked. Except her mind repeated, over and over: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

They’re—

Hinata and Kageyama—

There’s no way—but the look in his eyes, the glances, the—

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

She’d have to ask Kiyoko.

Chapter Text

fictober day 20: “that’s what i’m known for.”

A hollowness sat heavy in Kageyama’s bones and he wasn’t sure where it came from and how to get it to disappear.

It wasn’t unfamiliar. Kageyama had felt it before in the past—at its shortest, for a day or two; but at its longest, for weeks at a time. It was something like sadness, but then, what was there to be sad about? Nothing bad had happened. The day, in all honesty, was fairly normal.

He’d pushed it aside during morning practice. Stuffed it into the ground. Buried it deeply, paved it over with the familiarity of anger, so no one could even try to approach to unearth it. But as the day progressed, class after class, where he could do nothing but listen to his own thoughts and the droning voices of his teachers, it wormed its way out, slipping through unseen cracks in the pavement and latching back onto him like a parasite.

A parasite that grew and grew as it fed, until it was nearly physical in its weight. Still, no one talked to him. No one came near him. This, he knew, was also normal. Outside the volleyball club, he didn’t talk to people more than necessary.

Yet… on days like this, when this parasitic hollowness made a meal out of him, the lack of social interaction became more cumbersome than comfortable. More isolating. Lonely.

Funny, how you could be surrounded by people and still feel so alone.

At lunch, he went down to the vending machine, purchased some milk, and retreated back to his homeroom to eat by himself. Debated, briefly, on whether or not to search out one of the third-years (perhaps Sugawara), just to ease the weight, but ultimately decided that it would be too awkward.

Hinata was always an option—would have probably been his first. But the idiot hadn’t shown up for practice this morning, so he assumed he wasn’t in school today. He hadn’t seem him at all during his trip to the vending machine, and it wasn’t a study day where he’d see him during breaks along with Yachi.

Kageyama frowned, more fidgeting with his food than eating it. Afternoon practice without Hinata seemed… off. Lacked the certain charm it needed, to be fun, to be exhilarating. Playing without Hinata felt like putting together a puzzle that was missing pieces.

The weight in his bones became heavier, heavier, heavier at the thought.

He forced himself to eat regardless because he knew he’d need the energy. He was no stranger to falling asleep during school hours, but the mixture of the hollowness and his boring classes made him tired, more so than usual. Without much of an appetite, though, the contents of his bento were tasteless. He couldn’t savor it the way he usually did.

And the rest of the day dragged, and by his last break, before school ended, the weight was almost unbearable. Exhausting. And he had no distraction. Practice wasn’t for another few hours, so he couldn’t use volleyball to push past the weight like he did this morning, and like he did in the past. Couldn’t throw himself into the sport until his lungs screamed, until his body ached pleasantly, until his mind had no choice but to shut off so he’d be burdened with this suffocating weight no longer.

“—oh! Found you!”

Kageyama blinked. He’d been tuning out the chatter of his peers, but the surprise from hearing a familiar voice among the rest collected his attention immediately.

Then again, Hinata had always been able to do that, ever since the day he met him.

“I didn’t see you all day, Kageyama,” Hinata said as he neared him, and slammed something on the desk with excitement—Kageyama's favorite milk box from one of the vending machines. He was smiling until their eyes met. “Are you ok?”

Kageyama wasn’t sure how he did that—give him one look and already know that something was up. Wasn’t Hinata the one who always told him how even his neutral faces looked grumpy? 

“You weren’t at practice this morning,” he decided to say, the frown still on his face.

Hinata frowned, too—though it looked more out of place on his face. “Yeah,  I know. Gah, I hated missing it! I’d already texted Daichi-san and the coach. My mom had something come up this morning, so I had to take my sister to school. But I’m here now! I brought you some milk so, truce?”

Another blink. It was something about Hinata’s tone—about his sudden presence, about knowing that he’d no longer be going to practice without him—that eased the weight in his chest a little. And with it, his scowl eased, too. 

He reached for the milk and plucked the straw from its side. Poked it in the top and took a drink. After swallowing: “You dumbass.”

Hinata, however, didn’t seem fazed by the insult. In fact, he grinned. “That’s what I’m known for, apparently.”

Kageyama hummed. Looked down at his desk while he drank his milk.

“Hey—but seriously, are you ok?” Hinata asked after a moment. Then, when Kageyama didn’t reply: “You look sad.”

The weight had eased, but it was far from gone. It still drained him of his energy. It still messed with the taste of his drink. But he wasn’t sure how to put the feeling into words—not that he was any good at that, anyway—and so he stayed quiet, accepting that he’d suffer in silence as he had the rest of the day.

Something warm hit his shoulder. Kageyama froze mid-slurp, eyes blowing wide in surprise.

Hinata’s cheek. It was Hinata’s cheek, pressed against his shoulder; and it was Hinata’s arm, sliding over his shoulders; and it was Hinata’s hair, dusting against his face. It was all of these things that Kageyama became aware of within the span of a few seconds. Hinata had slumped himself over Kageyama before he could even object, and the warmth from the contact was so unexpectedly pleasant that he didn’t even bother pulling away.

Hinata hadn’t hesitated, despite the fact that he didn’t really know what was wrong. Despite the fact that they weren’t alone in the classroom. Despite the fact that Kageyama couldn’t even try to explain if he wanted to, because the hollowness in his chest was familiar even if he didn’t even know why, because he’d dealt with it alone for so many years, because he didn’t know what it was, because he was scared to find out what it was.

“I’ll be there for practice this afternoon,” Hinata said. “I’ll hit as many of your tosses as you want.”

“Mm. ’Kay.”

Hinata stayed leaned against Kageyama for the remainder of the conversation, of the last few minutes of break, before he had to depart to his own classroom.

Still, the hollowness wasn’t gone. But Hinata’s words were like a vow, a promise, and that significantly lessened its weight, made it bearable.

He found himself looking forward to practice again. Like something missing had finally been returned to its rightful place.

Chapter Text

fictober day 21: “what did i say?”

Hinata swallowed nervously. He was sitting in a seat on a roller coaster train, with an over-the-shoulder harness secured over his upper body and a lap bar holding his knees in place. The train had many passengers—including many of his friends and teammates of the Karasuno Volleyball Club—and the person next to him? Kageyama.

He wasn’t too small for the seat, but he could still move around a little bit underneath the restraints, and although he doubted he’d fall out, it didn’t help his anxiety. 

“Here we go,” Hinata murmured, the clicking of gears on the track signaling their start. “Ohhh, man. This was a bad idea.”

“What did I say?” Kageyama snapped. “I told you not do to it, but you and Noya-san wanted to prove to that assface Tsukishima that you could handle this ride. And did you have to drag me into it?”

“I—hey! You were the one who agreed when I asked if you wanted to come!”

“To see you piss your pants.”

“Hey, Kageyama,” Tanaka called from a few seats behind them. “I’d be careful, if I were you! Don’t puke, Hinata!”

“Oh, I forgot,” Tsukishima drawled, his tone foretelling an insult. And here it came: “The shrimp’s got a weak as hell stomach. You dug your own grave sitting next to him, King.”

Hinata’s stomach rolled uncomfortably as their words floated over them. Their incline was steadily getting steeper and steeper. A ripple of anticipation spread through the train, cart by cart, person by person. 

“Tch. You’re the one who sat by Yamaguchi,” Kageyama said. And then, to Hinata: “You throw up on me and you’re dead.”

Another swallow. The breeze tickled his face, almost like a warning, as they approached the first of many drops with dramatic slowness.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, holding on to the harness with sweaty palms. “Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Kageyama deadpanned.

All the clicking and rumbling came to a stop, and Hinata closed his eyes tightly and whimpered audibly. Pathetically. 

“Oh for shit’s sake,” Kageyama said in exasperation. “Give me your damn hand if you’re that scared, dumbass.”

The abruptness of his words made Hinata’s eyes pop back open in shock. “What?”

A mistake. Gravity lolled at the train almost menacingly, and only a second or two after Hinata opened his eyes, they began their nauseatingly rapid descent.

A chorus of screams—fearful and excited alike—echoed around him. The wind snapped and whipped at his skin and something tugged at his hand.

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, holycrapholycrapholycrap—

That something pulled at it again when Hinata’s hand remained coiled tightly around his harness, his eyes bulging and frightened, his body swaying in his seat with each sharp twist and curve of the train. When that something finally coaxed his fingers to loosen, it squeezed hard and Kageyama shouted against the wind, “Hinata, oh my fricken god, it’s gonna be fine, stop screaming! ”

Hinata closed his eyes and his mouth, squeezing back what had to be Kageyama’s hand. His other arm was hooked around the harness, and his stomach flipped as they veered in multiple directions.

The ride only lasted a few minutes, probably. Hinata’s eyes remained sealed shut the entire time, his hand gripping Kageyama’s like it would make the ride stop any sooner than it actually did. He didn’t know if his body was trembling from adrenaline, fear, or the rumbling of the roller coaster—perhaps a mix of all three.

But finally, finally, the train slowed to a tolerable speed. It worked its way to a full stop around the same area where they’d begun their hellish ride, and Kageyama said, “Hey, idiot. You can open your eyes now.”

Rather than yank away, Kageyama squeezed his hand again, almost in reassurance. It was then when he actually realized the full magnitude of Kageyama’s offer, and that was what coaxed him to finally open his eyes.

Kageyama was holding his hand. Holding his hand to comfort him because Hinata had been scared.

He was holding his hand and Hinata liked it.

“You good to get up?” he asked as the operator guy came over to help people out of their seats, looking down at Hinata.

“Oh, uh. Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you dare spill your guts on me, dumbass.”

Hinata exhaled slowly, deeply. His stomach wasn’t exactly settled, but closing his eyes so he didn’t actually see all the spins and loops had helped even though he definitely felt those spins and loops.

“Mm. I won’t,” Hinata said when he was actually certain of the words. “That was… that was intense.”

“I could hear you screaming from the back,” Tsukishima’s voice said from somewhere around them.

“Shut up,” Hinata said, but the pout on his face didn’t exactly help him in a fight against Tsukishima’s teasing. With noticeably less bite: “C’mon, Kageyama. Let’s get out.”

“Only if you don’t throw up,” Kageyama said.

“I’m—Kageyama! I’m not gonna throw up!”

“I dunno, Shouyou,” Noya said. “You’re looking really pa—oh my god, Ryuu, look, they’re holding hands!”

“What?” came Tanaka’s voice. “Where?”

Hinata’s body tingled, pebbled with goosebumps, like it was in motion even after they left the train. His brain hadn’t yet adjusted after such a rush of fear and adrenaline, and so he didn’t quite catch the teasing of his teammates until he couldn’t really do anything about it. He heard it, but he didn’t really listen. Didn’t even pay attention to the fact that Noya’s exclamation had drawn the attention of many passengers leaving the ride that weren’t his teammates. 

Rather, his adrenaline-high mind focused on one thing: if it meant holding Kageyama’s hand again, he’d go on that rollercoaster ten more times.

Chapter Text

fictober day 22: “no promises.”

“Shouyou-kun, I’m gonna be sending sets to you one day.”

Kageyama’s scowl deepened as the words echoed in his head. They hadn’t even been directed at him; Miya Atsumu had eyes only for Hinata when he spoke, almost like Kageyama hadn’t been there at all.

And damn, it pissed him off.

It really, truly pissed him off. He wasn’t even angry at Hinata for attracting the attention of their opponents—that was his job as Karasuno’s decoy, after all. And Hinata, bright and captivating and warm like a piece of the sun itself, was the best decoy he’d ever seen. Hinata took his role on the court more seriously than anyone Kageyama knew. 

No, he wasn’t angry at Hinata.

He was angry at that damned Atsumu. Kageyama wasn’t even sure why his declaration had filled him with rage, but here he was, glaring at the tatami mat beneath him as if it had personally offended him.

I’m sending sets to Hinata, he thought with clenched teeth. I’m his setter. He’s my teammate. My decoy. Who the hell does that guy think he is? 

“Kageyama, you’ve got that scary look on your face again.”

As if Hinata knew Kageyama was thinking about him, he appeared in front of Kageyama, blinking innocently. Kageyama blinked back at him, the hot, all-consuming, fiery rage in his chest dying down to a mere candle flame.

“That’s just my face,” Kageyama deadpanned before looking back at the floor.

“That’s your I’m thinking too hard about something face,” Hinata corrected, plopping down in front of him with the grace of a child. “You’re not going to kill someone, are you?”

Kageyama worked his jaw. “No promises.”

Slowly, cautiously, Hinata took a step back. He realized that, in the corners of the room, his teammates were whispering amongst themselves, but sneaking glances at the two when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. It seemed Hinata was the only one brave enough to approach him.

“Not you, idiot,” Kageyama said with a roll of his eyes.

“Then who?”

Hinata said it so easily. So harmlessly. But then, it wasn’t Hinata’s fault that he’d caught the eye of a famous, nationally-known player. He probably didn’t even know the magnitude of his presence on the court. Nor did he realize just how deeply that the aftermath of today’s match bugged Kageyama.

“I’m gonna be sending you sets.”

Those words. It was such a powerful statement—the kind that made Kageyama feel like a grain of sand in the middle of a desert. And that was exactly what he was compared to his teammate: a grain of sand. Hinata was the blazing sun, and Kageyama was nothing more than a tiny spec.

Kageyama had been the one chosen for All-Japan Youth Training Camp. Kageyama was Karasuno’s prodigy starting setter. He thought he was ahead with Hinata trailing behind, but it was Hinata who was climbing new heights and carving new paths for himself that led to successful, exciting futures. 

“Wanna go for a walk with me?” Hinata asked out of nowhere. “Daichi-san told me I could go if I just stay within a block of the inn.”

Privacy. Hinata was giving him the option for privacy.

“Mm. Guess so,” Kageyama muttered in belated acceptance.

Still, in the wake of these frightening thoughts—in the wake of this unfamiliar, hot feeling in his body he couldn’t exactly label—Kageyama couldn’t really focus on what happened next. One moment, he was glaring heatedly at the floor and the next, he and Hinata were exiting the inn, the mid-January air biting at Kageyama’s cheeks.

“I’m your setter, you know.”

It tumbled out of his mouth without warning. He wasn’t sure why he was so desperate to make that fact known, to say it out loud, but it came out all the same.

“Well, duh,” Hinata said as he adjusted his scarf. “Who else would send me such amazing tosses?”

“Miya Atsumu.”

Hinata froze on the sidewalk, allowing Kageyama to get a few steps ahead before he, too, stopped and gazed back at his teammate.

Why… why was this so painful? An ache bloomed in his chest after the name was said. Speaking it aloud felt like he was finally letting something go, something to which he didn’t even realize he’d been clinging. His nose burned unpleasantly in a way that foretold tears.

One day, Hinata wouldn’t need him. Wouldn’t want him. Would refuse his talent and skills the same way his former teammates did, the same way Oikawa did.

One day, Kageyama would have to let him go, and that hurt.

Snowflakes whirled around them. They landed in Hinata’s hair, on his scarf. They were standing only a few feet apart, but Hinata felt so far away from him, and… and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Don’t be stupid,” Hinata said, and his voice sounded strange. Brittle. “You… you…”

“He said he’d set to you.”

 “I don’t care! I only want your sets!”

Something moved in his mouth, followed by his breath, lodging in his throat. Kageyama’s eyes found Hinata’s and widened when he noticed the fierce determination glistening in his teammate’s gaze.

“I don’t want his tosses,” Hinata repeated firmly. “You’re my setter, Kageyama. No one can toss like you. I don’t want anyone else.”

Kageyama swallowed past the weird knot that had formed. Inexplicable warmth swept through him despite the cold weather and away went the knot, away went the painful ache. The candle flame flickered and sparked and burned anew, reaching darkened cavities in Kageyama’s chest that he didn’t know existed.

No one can play like you, was his mind’s silent reply.

“...alright,” was what he said out loud. He swallowed again and cradled the warmth, the flame, determined to never let it go. Repeated more firmly with a nod: “Alright.”

Hinata nodded as well. “Good. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama echoed.

And they continued their walk.

Chapter Text

fictober day 23: “this time, do as i say.”

Setting up the volleyball net didn’t have to be a two-person job. Sure, two people made it faster, but Hinata was adamant he could do it by himself. He’d done it before. Sugawara had seemed grateful, too—leaving Hinata to set up the court meant he could go fetch Takeda-sensei and contact the coach, after all.

There was just… one little problem.

“I can’t believe you got yourself stuck in the net,” Kageyama said, giving Hinata an annoyed, exasperated look. “Again.”

Ok, so it wasn’t a little problem. It was kind of a big problem.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Hinata defended, trying to untangle his foot and failing. “It just—it fell, and I tried to catch it, but then it spun and I spun, and—ugh!”

His shoe caught on another part of the net and trying to yank it free only resulted in losing his balance, and he yelped as he descended toward the unforgiving gym floor.

“Oh my god, stop it,” Kageyama hissed, marching over to Hinata, who now lay in a tangled, pouting heap. “You’re making it worse.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“Well, you are, so stop.”

Hinata continued to pout, wiggling an arm in silent protest. He could get out of this on his own, thank you very much.

“You’re going to rip it,” Kageyama said. “Damn it! Stop it!”

“I’m trying to get my arm free!”

“You’re failing!”

“Shut up!”

Kageyama grunted as he crouched down to the ground, planting his hands on Hinata’s string-covered shoulders and effectively halting his movements. Hinata glared up at him in one final act of defiance before slumping toward Kageyama.

“Ok, fine. Help me,” he said, but the last part came out like an unflattering whine.

“This time, do as I say,” Kageyama shot back, “and I will.”

Hinata grumbled under his breath but remained still. The black string of the net pulled uncomfortably at his skin, and part of him itched to just cut it off, but he didn’t want to be the one held responsible for ruining their net. Yachi had just finished the posters that were supposed to help raise their funding for the club, and he knew these things weren’t cheap.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Kageyama said, gently pulling at the edge of the net to unwind it.

“Shut up.”

“A total dumbass.”

“Shut up, Kageyama.”

“At least last time you did this, the net was already standing.”

“I said, shut up.”

Kageyama did, but out of respect for Hinata’s already fumbling pride or because he just ran out of insults, Hinata wasn’t sure. He worked in silence for about a minute or so, and then, quietly: “I’m gonna turn you, ok?”

“’Kay.”

Kageyama’s hand brushed against his forearm before clasping around his bicep. Then he moved Hinata with a gentleness that surprised him, turning him so his back was pressed to Kageyama’s chest.

“Loosen up. I’m gonna work on your hands first.”

“...ok.”

Slowly, Hinata relaxed, intimately aware of the way his spine reclined against Kageyama. They were both dressed for practice, and suddenly Hinata’s t-shirt felt a little too thin and Kageyama’s body felt a little too warm.

Kageyama’s hand trailed down to Hinata’s wrist to guide Hinata’s fingers out of the net. “You didn’t get any kind of rope burn, did you?”

“...o-oh. No, I don’t think so.”

“Mm. Alright.”

Hinata’s neck and cheeks felt suspiciously warm. He breathed out slowly, watching in flustered silence as Kageyama’s hands worked. Freed his right hand and his forearm from the traitorous net, before switching to the opposite side and ordering him not to move.

And Hinata didn’t. On the inside, though, his heart thrashed about wildly, so loud it thrummed in his ears. His lungs struggled to function at a normal, inconspicuous pace. His blood roared in his veins like a beast expelling a battle cry, growing hotter, hotter, hotter underneath his skin.

It was so hard not to fidget. Especially with Kageyama this close to him.

“Ok, I’m gonna… and up…”

Hinata barely managed to cover up his surprised whimper with what he hoped was an affirmative hum. Kageyama had stood so fast, and even faster had placed his hands on Hinata’s hips to lift him from the gym floor like it was nothing.

And then his back was pressed against Kageyama’s chest again, and this time Kageyama leaned forward so Hinata’s shoulder was tucked underneath his chin to hold him still. When was the last time they’d been this close? Had… had Kageyama always been this warm?

“Can you get your shoes off?” Kageyama asked suddenly. “Might be easier to get the laces untangled if you’re able to take them off.”

“Um…” Hesitantly, Hinata shuffled, extremely conscious of the way his bare neck brushed against Kageyama’s smooth cheek. Of the way Kageyama’s silky hair tickled his jawline. “...yeah, I… I think so.”

Kageyama held him steady as he toed his way out of his shoes, one at a time. Hinata’s heart raced closer and closer to explosion with each passing second. 

Then Kageyama pulled back to help Hinata step out of the net, finally free. He didn’t seem to notice the way Hinata chose to linger by his side for a few anxious heartbeats, before sinking to the floor to reach for one of his shoes.

“Don’t make it worse this time,” Kageyama said flatly.

“Mm. Sure.”

“Don’t pull too hard, either. You might rip it.”

“I know, Kageyama.”

“When we’re done, we’ll spread it slowly and make sure there’s no more tangles.”

“Got it.”

Hinata’s skin still felt warm, like they were still touching, even though they were at least a foot apart now. And that was how their teammates found them—quietly untangling shoelaces from net string, with Hinata still in his socks and flushed all the way down his neck, and Kageyama seemingly oblivious to it all.

Chapter Text

fictober day 24: “is this supposed to impress me?”

Hinata’s expression bled amazement and pride. He studied himself in the mirror in a similar fashion that one would admire a painting, eyes glistening in a way that was hard to not find adorable.

“I don’t get it,” Kageyama said with raised brows. “Is this supposed to impress me?”

“Um, lemme think—yes,” Hinata said, turning back at him to glare at him playfully. “This is proof of the receive I pulled off yesterday!” 

“You didn’t use your face this time,” Kageyama pointed out after a thoughtful moment. “I guess that’s good.”

“You guess?” A pout pulled at Hinata’s features. “Would you rather I have a nasty bruise on my face?”

If he was being one-hundred percent truthful, Kageyama would rather he didn’t have a bruise at all. Something about seeing Hinata’s normally pale skin mottled with angry purple and blue made his stomach clench with unease. He knew that in volleyball, coming out of games—or even practice—without bruises was highly unlikely. It was just how the game worked.

But knowing this and seeing it happen to Hinata were two different things. Hinata was a lot tougher than he looked, Kageyama knew, but it didn’t change the fact that he was one of the smallest players on the team. It was kind of hard to tell himself that Hinata wasn’t fragile, but looking at that unsightly bruise that Hinata seemed so proud of… he couldn’t help but wonder how much it hurt, or if it would slow him down in the next game.

“Are you in pain?” Kageyama asked when he realized Hinata was awaiting a response.

Hinata’s pout dissolved into something more contemplative. “I’ll be fine. Doesn’t it look cool, though?”

“You look like you’re in pain,” Kageyama said.

“I’m not.”

“I bet you are.”

“Why do you care?”

Hinata said the last part as he slid his shirt back on, and there was his pout again, tugging at his lips and scrunching up his brows. Kageyama blinked, wondering why the words felt more like an accusation than a question. Wondering why they sent a spiderweb of anxiety through him, just like the sight of the bruise had.

“We’re a team, aren’t we?” Kageyama shot back after a time, frowning deeply. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

This time, it was Hinata who paused. Then, after smoothing out his shirt: “I guess it hurts a little. But it’s fine! It feels like a trophy, you know?”

Kageyama still didn’t entirely understand—he’d mastered receives in elementary school, after all—but he grunted in affirmation to show that he did, anyway. This feeling was weird. He didn’t necessarily not care before, but then, a lot of Hinata’s face-receives were a result of his own clumsiness. The one on his shoulder now—that was intentional.

Yet it still irked him. A bruise like that didn’t belong on Hinata’s small shoulder; he didn’t deserve any kind of pain, no matter the source. And it was so stupid because Kageyama himself had practiced receives with him until his arms were raw and flushed from contact with a spiked ball, but...

“You should ice it when you get home,” Kageyama decided to say. “Before you hurt yourself more. If you get hit in the shoulder again, it’s gonna be hell.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Hinata said, rolling his eyes with a good-natured smile. “Let’s lock up before captain comes back up here to chew us out.”

“Mm. ’Kay.”

“...and, uh, thanks, Kageyama.”

“What for?”

“I dunno,” Hinata said as he crossed the room. He didn’t look back at Kageyama but instead shrugged nonchalantly. “For… for caring, I guess. About me.”

Warmth fluttered through him, slow but all-consuming in its arrival. Kageyama wasn’t sure what to do about it, or what to say in reply. He wasn’t all that good with words, let alone putting his own feelings into words. So he settled for another hum and a shrug, looking away, and after a few minutes, the two were descending the stairs from the club room.

He’s always pushing himself past his limit, flitted through Kageyama’s mind. But… but nobody’s indestructible. What if he really hurts himself one of these days?

Kageyama had to stop himself from physically shaking his head to clear the thought from his mind. Hinata was a teammate. His teammate. What good was it going to do, worrying about if he got hurt? Injuries in sports were damn near unavoidable.

And… and Kageyama wasn’t soft. Why did it bother him so much? Seeing the bruise had ignited something almost… protective in him, something Kageyama didn’t know existed.

“Seriously,” he went on when they reached Hinata’s locked-up bike. “Make sure you take care of that when you get home.”

“I said I will,” Hinata said, and then, after their eyes met: “It’s honestly not that bad. I didn’t figure you’d worry so much.”

Kageyama’s cheeks flushed impossibly warm and he scowled. “Well, who’s going to play volleyball with me if you get hurt?”

“The rest of your team, dummy.”

“The rest of the team can’t replace you. ”

“...you mean that?”

The abrupt change in Hinata’s tone startled Kageyama enough for him to look back up at him, a familiar insult climbing up his throat, sitting on his tongue, ready for expulsion. But then he caught a glimpse of Hinata’s suddenly glimmering eyes, and any sort of response dissolved instantly.

Hinata… was Hinata going to cry? He was just fine a second ago! Had he said something wrong? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, how was Kageyama supposed to backpedal from this?

“Wha—of course, you dumbass,” tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. “Nobody’s—nobody’s like you. ”

What the hell am I saying?

“You’re seriously the greatest, Kageyama,” Hinata gushed without warning and beamed up at him with that same look of glossy tenderness and admiration.

Then he hopped on his bike and nudged the kickstand up with his foot before he began pedaling away, calling over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Bakageyama! Don’t be late!”

And Kageyama stood on the sidewalk, confused and slightly dazed, wondering what just happened.

Chapter Text

fictober day 25: “do you know what time it is?”

Hinata blinked blearily, trying to distinguish what it was, exactly, that pulled him from slumber. He rolled over, at first thinking that it was the odd, tingling sensation that snaked up and down his right arm. Then he wondered if it was the loud honking of the train in the distance. Maybe… maybe Natsu was awake?

“Natsu,” he mumbled sleepily, rubbing an eye with the hand that wasn’t tingling. “Do you know what time it is? Did you have a...”

A hissing, shuddering scratch of breath. A rustle of fabric. Hinata blinked again, and it slowly came to his attention that he was not in his own bed. Rather, he was on a futon on the floor, and this… this was not his room.

He wasn’t home. That meant whoever made that noise wasn’t his little sister.

“Wait.” His voice was louder this time but still clogged with sleep. “Ka...Kageyama?”

He pushed himself up and ignored the funny sensation trailing up his arm that followed. Darkness oozed all around them, and it would probably take a while for his eyes to adjust, but bits and pieces of the night slowly recollected into one bigger picture until his fatigue-webbed mind realized that he’d spent the night at Kageyama’s.

“Kageyama?” he repeated softly when he received no answer. “Are… are you awake?”

Hinata strained his ears, listening. More rustling followed, but slower this time. Softer. A quivering inhale.

“Ka—”

“No, shut up,” Kageyama hissed finally. “Go back to sleep, dumbass.”

Except something was wrong with his voice. It was… brittle, almost. Fearful. Hasty to get Hinata to stop talking.

Hinata chose to ignore the insult in favor of the unpleasant feeling that brewed in his chest upon hearing his teammate speak. He blinked into the darkness of the room, barely able to make out the outline of a lump on Kageyama’s bed. A human-sized lump.

“Are… are you ok?” he chose to ask, because he wasn’t used to hearing that tone, not from Kageyama. A frown pulled at his lips. “What’s wrong?”

Another wheeze of a breath, fizzling out. Kageyama didn’t respond verbally.

Hinata’s frown deepened. “Dummy. I know you’re awake.”

“I said shut up.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

Another stubborn silence ensued. Hinata pressed down on his half-asleep arm and then began curling and uncurling his hand. The funny sensation needled its way down to his fingertips until some feeling came back into them.

“...did I wake you up?” Kageyama asked all of a sudden.

Hinata shrugged and then remembered that it was probably too dark for Kageyama to see. So, out loud: “It’s not a big deal.”

Kageyama went quiet, and that only caused the unpleasant feeling in his chest to grow. It doubled and then tripled in size, and the bigger it became, the more cemented Hinata was in believing that he definitely didn’t like it.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asked eventually, because it seemed like the only logical choice. Sometimes that was why Natsu came into his room in the early hours of the morning, seeking comfort from him over their mother.

Again, Kageyama didn’t respond, and if it weren’t for the weird, strangely vulnerable lilt in his voice that Hinata had heard earlier, he would’ve probably thrown something at him in frustration. A pillow, maybe.

Instead, he waited in silence, but Kageyama didn’t break it. Seconds ticked by, and the thin thread that was Hinata’s patience only grew thinner, thinner, thinner (unpleasant feeling growing stronger, stronger, stronger) until something close to a sniffle erupted between them, and it snapped completely.

He pushed himself off the futon, into a standing position. Took a clumsy, blind step toward Kageyama’s bed and then another until he stumbled into its frame.

“Wha—?! What’re you doing?” Kageyama said, and his voice was weird again. Afraid. Fragile. Nasally, almost, which meant…

“...are you crying?”

“I—I am not!”

Hinata frowned again, unconvinced. Kageyama huffed and noisily rolled over, shuffling like he was trying to increase the distance between them.

“It’s… it’s ok if you are,” Hinata persisted, voice soft. Careful. He wasn’t sure what Kageyama needed, but it always helped his sister to speak gently, and he knew whenever he had nightmares, he longed to hear someone else’s voice, too. “I won’t… I won’t laugh at you.”

“Just—just go back to sleep,” Kageyama said thickly. “I’m fine.”

Frustration seeped into him, as unwanted and unwelcome as the feeling now consuming his chest. “I can’t just lay down and go back to sleep if I know you’re crying.”

“Do it anyway.”

“You’re so fricken stubborn,” Hinata said, refusing to obey Kageyama’s demand and instead decided to crawl onto Kageyama’s bed. “Jeesh. Scoot over, will you?”

“I said—Hinata, what the hell?!”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“ You’re being an idiot.”

Except Kageyama sniffled again after he said the words, and that only served in proving Hinata’s point.

“I’m not moving until you stop crying,” Hinata said after a moment, making himself comfortable by Kageyama’s side.

“I’m not crying,” Kageyama said.

“Right. And I hate volleyball.”

Kageyama stiffened abruptly. Went so still that, for a moment, Hinata couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Then, in a terrifyingly young voice that pricked right through Hinata’s skin: “...you do?”

“Of course not!” Hinata sat up in the bed, but Kageyama still wasn’t facing him. “It was a joke, Kageyama. I didn’t…”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Kageyama started sobbing.

Hinata’s eyes popped wide, mouth dropping open, body scrambling to move without giving his brain a chance to catch up. He smushed his forehead up against the space between Kageyama’s shoulder blades, arms threading around his waist, and squeezed.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, even though it definitely didn’t feel alright, not with the way Kageyama cried. “It’s alright…”

It was awkward, given their height difference. Kageyama still seemed so rigid, despite the comforting intention behind Hinata’s embrace, but he couldn’t bear the thought of pulling away. Not when Kageyama needed someone.

So he stayed pressed up against Kageyama’s spine, squeezing tight as Kageyama’s body trembled with each heaving sob. He screwed his eyes shut just so he wouldn’t start crying because oh man, he was close.

After an aching eternity—or, in all honestly, what could have been a few minutes—Kageyama’s tears slowed into sniffles, into shuddering hiccups, and then, finally, into tremulous breaths.

Still, Kageyama said nothing. Hinata almost jerked when a shaking hand came to rest over both of his, half-expecting Kageyama to push him away, but he was surprised when Kageyama’s fingers tightened around his own.

Hinata breathed out slowly, allowing one stray tear to fall. Pressed his cheek into Kageyama’s shoulder, hoping that somehow, someway, his presence could ward off whatever haunted Kageyama enough to warrant such a violent reaction.

“S…sorry,” Kageyama whispered eventually, finally, his voice hoarse and thick after his crying spell.

“Mm.” Hinata shook his head slowly, his hair brushing against the thin fabric of Kageyama’s sleep shirt. “Don’t be.”

Once more, Kageyama remained silent. Hinata wasn’t sure how long they lay together, with Kageyama only releasing his hand to reach toward his nightstand to grab a handful of tissues. He didn’t remember how much time passed—could’ve been hours, or only minutes—but between one breath and the next, he slipped into a soft doze, sinking deeper and deeper into sleep on Kageyama’s bed.

“I love you.”

He wasn’t sure which one of them said it.

Chapter Text

fictober day 26: “i’m sure this has never worked, ever.”

“So… just to clarify,” Kageyama said slowly, looking him up and down, “...you don’t have the keys.”

Hinata winced, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Uh, yeah. Or, erm, no. I don’t have the keys.”

“And where, exactly, did you leave the keys?”

“Um,” Hinata began, fumbling. He toyed with his fingers, picking at his nails nervously. “The, um… the club room?”

“The club room that we have to use the keys to unlock?”

“...yeah.”

Kageyama drew in a deep breath through his nose and then released it slowly. “Captain is going to kill us.”

“Captain is going to kill me,” Hinata corrected and moaned dramatically as the realization truly hit him. “Kageyama, Captain is going to kill me… do you think Takeda-sensei has a spare?”

“He might, but we’d have to wait until he gets here. It’s five-thirty in the morning.”

Hinata groaned again. Great. This was just his luck. How did the keys even manage to get locked inside the club room? He thought back to last night’s practice and vaguely remembered locking the door from the inside before closing it. At that moment, he thought he’d put the key in his uniform pocket—but now he knew the truth. The ugly, heart-wrenching truth.

“Man, he’s never going to trust me again,” he said, sinking down the ground. “I wish I could—oh my god, wait, that’s it!”

Kageyama gave him a funny look. “What’s it?”

Hinata was already sliding his bag off his shoulder. “Do you have any paper clips?”

“Paper clips?”

“Yeah, paper clips.”

“Why do you need paper clips?”

“To pick the lock, dummy,” Hinata said, frowning as he searched through his bag. 

The early morning light wasn’t really a lot, so he already knew he’d have to rely on touch to find what he was looking for. But if he—

“Are you insane? ” Kageyama hissed, his voice significantly lower than before, like they were sharing some rare secret. “Picking a lock? To the school? If you cause any damage, we’re going to be—”

“Not to the school, just the club room,” Hinata said, and then added, “I won’t break it. Trust me, I’ve—oh! One down, one to go! Kageyama, do you have a paper clip?”

“I don’t fricken know! And how do you know you won’t break it?!”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “Kageyama, hello, I ride a bike everywhere. How many times do you think I’ve forgotten my key to my lock? Or my house key? Do you have a paper clip or not?”

Kageyama looked at him in open disbelief, not answering for a good five seconds. Hinata frowned, one hand curled around the paper clip he’d found attaching assignments together in his own bag, and the other extended, palm facing the sky, as he awaited Kageyama’s response.

“Fine, fine, I’ll look, dumbass,” he answered finally and slid his bag off his shoulder the same way Hinata had. “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”

“I’m sure it has, ” Hinata said, frown deepening into more of a pout. “Seriously, I’ve done it a thousand times. I’m sure my sister could do it, and she’s six.”

“You taught your little sister how to pick a lock?! ”

“Well, not yet, but who else is going to teach her?”

“You’re insane,” Kageyama grumbled but stayed hunched over his bag regardless as he continued his search.

After another minute or so, Kageyama presented Hinata with the very object that could very well save him from their upperclassman’s wrath. He spent the next few minutes tweaking the paper clips into the shapes he needed, even going as far as searching for a rock to do what his nimble fingers couldn’t.

“Perfect,” he said when he was done, showing the two now-mangled paper clips to Kageyama with a proud smile. “Captain can’t kill me if he doesn’t know I locked us out.”

“I still don’t think this is going to work,” Kageyama said.

Except it did, he proved later. Hinata looked back at Kageyama, wiggling his brows and smiling mischievously as he pushed the previously-locked club room door open.

“Holy shit,” Kageyama whispered, now in awe. “It worked.”

“I said I could do it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I—you—what the hell?” Kageyama sputtered. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I told you, I’ve—”

Hinata cut himself off when their gazes met, the smile on his face faltering when he saw the expression on Kageyama’s face. His eyes were blown wide in amazement, mouth agape, and under the light of the rising sun, Kageyama’s face seemed to glow, cheeks dusted pink and eyes sparkling and—and now he was smiling, and—and that smile…

Goodness, that smile.

Kageyama’s smiles used to be borderline frightening. They always sent chills down Hinata’s spine, always making him tense in preparation for whatever was to come. But this one—this one was rare, like a glimmering gem finally unearthed after weeks of digging, and it was tiny but mesmerizing, pulling at his lips ever so slightly and successfully stealing Hinata’s breath.

He’d never seen such a smile grace Kageyama’s face before. It was… it was kind of adorable.

“I, uh…” Suddenly words failed him. His brain felt like a computer that was in the middle of a malfunction, short-circuiting and blue-screened. “Um…”

Abruptly, just as the expression had appeared, it fled. Kageyama coughed and straightened his spine, face redder than before, like he was ashamed of showing such admiration. He brushed past Hinata and walked into the club room as if nothing had happened. 

Still, Hinata was rendered speechless, wondering how he’d managed to elicit such a look from Kageyama, and also wondering if he’d ever do it again.

If Daichi didn’t kill him… that look in the sunrise from Kageyama—that tiny, rare gem of a smile—certainly would.

Chapter Text

fictober day 27: “you could have died!”

“Sky tree! Sky tree! Sky tree!”

Kageyama tucked his chin into the collar of his windbreaker as Tanaka and Noya chanted together, even going as far as throwing an arm around Hinata so he would join, too. Tokyo was such an enormous city, but it felt as though his upperclassmen could attract the attention of every last inhabitant with their voices alone.

It’d be cool to see the sky tree, though, flitted through his mind as he stared up ahead. We didn’t get to see it last time.

“I can’t wait to see Kenma again,” Hinata babbled on, the words tinged with laughter as he swayed back and forth underneath Tanaka’s arm. His words dragged Kageyama’s eyes back to him. “He’s got a new game, I can’t wait to see it!”

“Right now we have to get back to Daichi,” Azumane stressed. “That’s what we need to do first. Yes.”

“We’re going, we’re going.” Noya’s voice drifted past them like a lazy cloud. “Asahi, you’re no fun!”

“Wha—?! I am plenty fun!”

“That’s what guys who are no fun say,” Tanaka said with a shit-eating grin.

“I am fun,” Azumane repeated. “Right, Hinata?”

Hinata flashed that sunny smile that always made Kageyama have to look away so he wouldn’t linger for too long. “Of course, Asahi-san!”

Azumane’s gaze softened, shoulders releasing some tension. He smiled back, and Kageyama’s eyes went back to the road in front of them. He slowed to a stop as they neared a curb, watching as the cross-walk light turned red.

“Oh, look!” came Hinata’s excited, bubbly voice again. “There they are! Across the street, look!”

“Wait, Shouyou—”

“Hinata, don’t, the light—”

Time slowed as Kageyama turned his attention back to the little, loud ball of energy he called his teammate. His eyes popped wide when he saw Hinata shrugging off Tanaka’s arm, stepping forward with an amount of enthusiasm and force that foretold a jump.

And several things happened at once:

One, their other teammates called out with equal expressions of horror. Two, their captain spotted them from across the street, along with Sugawara and a few other second-years. Three, the lights for vehicular traffic turned green. Four, Hinata leapt straight into the lane of traffic, which had just begun to accelerate through the intersection.

And five, Kageyama’s hand shot out and he pulled as hard as he could without even thinking about it.

The driver of the vehicle that seemingly blurred past them both hadn’t even noticed. Hinata’s body crashed back against Kageyama’s, his spine colliding with Kageyama’s chest, his head basically smacking Kageyama’s collarbone. Kageyama’s arm slid over his stomach, hooking on his hip as they both stumbled backward.

“Are you crazy? ” Kageyama blurted as everything truly hit him, tightening his grip out of pure instinct because Hinata had been so close to getting hit by a fricken car. “Pay attention! You could have died! ”

Hinata said nothing, and Kageyama couldn’t see his face from the way they were standing. Couldn’t figure out why his lungs couldn’t get enough air all of a sudden. His heart thundered in his chest like it was warning him of an oncoming storm.

“Are you ok, Hinata?” came Azumane’s fretful voice. “You should look before crossing—you could’ve...”

Hinata’s hair brushed against Kageyama’s neck as he turned his head to look up at Azumane, who was right behind them. Noya and Tanaka came up as well, expressing similar concerns, but Hinata stayed where he was, pressed flush against Kageyama’s body.

“I’m… I’m fine,” Hinata said eventually, and then, without warning, started to relax in Kageyama’s arms for reasons Kageyama didn’t understand. “Sorry. Thanks for stopping me, Kageyama. Guess I got a little excited, yeah?”

And he looked up with that bright smile of his—the smile that made his heart do strange things that also escaped his understanding—showing teeth, cheeks tinged with color.

“You can let me go now, though,” he added when Kageyama gaped at him like a fish.

When the pedestrian light turned green and a third of their teammates came to check on them, Kageyama did just that.

Pointedly ignored the little part of his brain that whispered not to let Hinata go. 

Chapter Text

fictober day 28: “i don’t have to explain myself.”

Hinata seethed.

He seethed and trembled and glared hot knives into the gym floor, so full of disbelief and rage that it darkened his vision.

“How dare you,” he spat in a tremoring voice, flaming eyes darting upward, as if the heat in his gaze was enough to melt the person standing on the other side of the net. “How dare you do something like that. Why would you hurt him? To get him out of the game? How is that fair?”

The object of his anger merely stood with an impassive expression, looking so unbothered that it made Hinata want to march over to his side of the net and make him bleed.

“I don’t have to explain myself,” the guy said in an equally unbothered voice, “but it was an accident. You know, accidents happen in sports all the time. People get hurt in sports all the time. I spiked and he got in the way. You should know the risks by now, yeah? You’re a spiker, too.”

 Except it wasn’t an accident. The team they were facing now—they played suspiciously, almost… dirty. Hinata wasn’t exactly the smartest person on the team, but he knew observing was a key component in volleyball. Playing while unaware of your surroundings led to simple mistakes—past experience told him so. 

He saw the nasty looks some of the players sent their way. He saw the jealousy in their eyes when Nishinoya received, or when Kageyama made a set, or when Tanaka sent a wicked cut shot their way. Sure, Hinata was jealous of their skills, too, but that only pushed him to practice more, to improve, to show that he could do cool things on the court just like his teammates and opponents.

That jealousy didn’t make him want to hurt people.

“Hey,” came a familiar, calm voice, followed by a hand on his shoulder. “Shimizu and Yacchan went with Kageyama to the infirmary to make sure nothing’s broken. I’m sure he’ll be fine, Hinata.”

Hinata turned livid eyes toward his upperclassman. “Suga-san, he—he aimed that spike to hurt Kageyama—he did it on purpose! ”

“You’re making things up,” said the douchebag player on the other side of the net. “I told you, it was an accident.”

“Are you even sorry?! ”

Suga’s voice dropped low. Soft. “It happened really fast, Hinata. Regardless of whether the spike was sent with malicious intent, we don’t have much proof. We just need to trust that Kageyama’s going to be alright.”

Hinata continued to seethe, unable to let it go despite Suga’s words. Had Suga seen it? If he had, wasn’t he angry, too? Hinata’s gaze shifted desperately from Suga to some of his other teammates: Tanaka, who looked incredibly pissed; Asahi, who seemed anxious and concerned; Noya, who stared venomously at the other side of the court; and Daichi, whose expression bled an eerie calmness that confused the heck out of Hinata.

They… they had seen, right? Right? It wasn’t just him?

“Hinata,” Daichi said suddenly, walking up to him. “Are… are you alright?”

No. No, he wasn’t alright—he was outrageously pissed, and the fact that this… this douchebag was going to get away with what he did to Kageyama only made it worse. Made his eyes burn with tears and his hands curl into fists so tight that it hurt.

“I didn’t see what happened fully,” Noya said in an uncharacteristically, deadly-calm voice, “but this team is giving me bad vibes, so I don't think it was an accident. We need to kick their asses.”

“Agreed,” Tanaka said. “For our kouhai—he’s depending on us!”

The image of Kageyama’s body crumpling down to the floor, curling in on itself, burned unbidden in Hinata’s mind. He’d tried to receive the spike, but it wasn’t aimed to be received. Hinata couldn’t even tell if it was supposed to gain the opposing team a point. It seemed like it had been aimed to hurt, and that had been achieved.

He’d never seen Kageyama go down so fast. Never saw him look so pained, so achingly vulnerable. He knew Kageyama—even bleeding, he’d argue to stay on the court. His pride wouldn’t let him step away. But that powerful spike hit him so hard in the ribs, he dropped like a stone. 

“Hinata?” Suga’s voice drew him back to the court. “Are you ok? We can have Kazuhita sub for you, if… if you want to go to the infirmary to be with Kageyama.”

Something in his chest twitched. Twitched and spasmed before it broke free of its restraints and began its descent into his stomach, into his legs, into the floor beneath his feet. Part of him did want to be with Kageyama, to see for himself that he wasn’t completely debilitated by the blow. 

But Kageyama wouldn’t want that. No, he’d want Hinata on the court, fighting for every last point.

“I’ll stay,” Hinata said with haunted conviction. “I’ll go see him when the match is over. We’ve just got the second half of this set left.”

The opposing team was now huddled around their coach, talking in whispers. Hinata couldn’t hear them, but as Daichi and Suga nodded and signaled for Coach Ukai to notify the referee, his eyes caught the gaze of the douchebag who’d hurt Kageyama once more.

The jerk had the nerve to grin. “Let’s finish this, shall we?”

Hinata gave him the dirtiest look he could muster. “Yeah, I’m ready to wipe the fricken floor with you.”

The dude’s grin faltered, and the match resumed.

Usually, something like anger made it hard to focus. It messed with the mind, easily breaking concentration. Rage turned the court into something slippery, birthing plenty of room for mistakes that wouldn’t have been made otherwise.

Right now, Hinata’s anger only served as his fuel.

Without Kageyama, their special quick wasn’t possible. But Hinata still had his speed and stamina and the tricks that he’d learned at the Tokyo training camp as a weapon. Every step was accompanied by the mental image of Kageyama crumpling again, and every block, every receive, every jump, every spike was powered by rage he hadn’t felt in a long time.

How dare you.

He scored two points in a row in quick succession.

How dare you hurt him.

Played decoy so Asahi could spike right into the open space on the left side of the court. Three.

How dare you hurt Kageyama, you sick, twisted jerk.

Pulled a feint. Four.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

On the fifth point, the opposing coach called a time-out, probably in an attempt to slow Hinata’s momentum. But he couldn’t be slowed. Couldn’t be stopped. Wasn’t going to stop, not unless they took him down as violently as they’d done his friend.

And he needed the game to end so he could go make sure Kageyama was alright.

Time in. Hinata breathed heavily, sweat trickling down his temple, eyes alight with something hungry, something besides winning. They’d hurt Kageyama, his partner, his setter, his friend—they’d hurt him and Hinata wanted them to pay. 

The game resumed, and Hinata called for the ball one final time. It smacked against his hand and hit the floor. The whistle blew once. Twice, longer this time. The game was finally over, and the team on the other side of the net looked so shocked and so envious when Hinata gazed at them once more.

He landed his jump by muscle memory. Bored gaping holes into the skull of the jerk who had sent Kageyama to the infirmary, lifting his chin high.

“I fricken told you,” he said, and before the teams could recover from the heat of the game—before they could line up as they did after every game—Hinata turned around and bolted out of the gym. His legs were aching and tired but he ran, ran, ran anyway. Found that last bit of desperation and leeched onto it, used it as a new source of fuel when the anger shifted into anxiety. Because Kageyama had been struck somewhere in his chest, had dropped to the ground with wide, agony-filled eyes and an ashen face.

Crack went Kageyama’s rib.

Crack went Hinata’s heart.

Chapter Text

fictober day 29: "why are whispering?"

Shouyou skids up to the door of the nurse’s station, slamming on the brakes before he walks in so they won’t throw him out for causing a disturbance. He pushes open the door carefully, like there might be someone behind it.  

There’s a flurry of activity to his left: the nurse is taking care of someone with a nosebleed, and an assistant is standing by her side, together with Nosebleed’s teammate. Shouyou looks around the room, his attention falling unerringly on a pallet-bed at the far end of the room. It’s very low to the floor, and on it is a small figure. Way smaller than Kageyama seems when he’s up and about.

It can’t be Kageyama, it shouldn’t be Kageyama. But it’s the only bed in the room! Maybe he went to hospital…? Shouyou doesn’t like to think of Kageyama needing a hospital, but that crack he heard… Something pierces his heart again, the way it did when he first heard that awful sound.   

He advances through the room, everyone else ignoring him, eyes fixed on the pallet-bed. The figure on it is draped in a white sheet, almost disappearing into the soft mattress. When Shouyou reaches it, his stomach clenches. It is Kageyama, but the only recognizable thing about him is his black hair. His face is still startlingly ash-grey, like he’s not getting enough oxygen? But his lips aren’t blue… But his cheeks are sunken in…

“Bakayama?”  

Kageyama’s eyes flick open and his gaze shifts to Shouyou, but he’s statue-still, frozen in place. It sends an unpleasant vwoomp down Shouyou’s arms to realize that Kageyama is probably in so much pain that he’s scared to move at all in case he makes it worse.

“Hey, Bakayama,” he whispers, leaning in close so Kageyama can see him without having to move his head. “What did they say?”  

Kageyama takes a breath to speak, and his face tightens with pain. “Hosp…” The breath huffs out of him and he turns his head to the side. His long, pale hands clench into fists on top of the sheet as he inhales again. “X-ray.”  

“When?” Shouyou drops to his knees by the low bed, and his hand ventures across the mattress to wrap around Kageyama’s clenched fist. Crap, his hand’s freezing.  

“Takeda-sensei’s car… as soon as the match is over…”

Kageyama’s voice is worryingly thready. Now Shouyou’s closer, he can see Kageyama’s forehead is sheened with sweat. His hair’s sticking to his face. That’s gotta be uncomfortable.

Shouyou reaches out and pushes Kageyama’s damp hair off his forehead. Kageyama’s forehead is cool and clammy to the touch.

Warning bells sound in Shouyou’s mind. Is he okay? Is this some kind of shock?  

“I’ll go grab your stuff,” he announces, letting go of Kageyama and bolting up from his kneeling position. The sooner they get going, the better, and if he grabs his and Kageyama’s stuff, it’ll save time.  

By the time he gets back, Takeda-sensei is there and thanking the nurse for taking care of Kageyama.

“Walk slowly with him to the car,” the nurse says, “and move him as little as possible. Sudden movements can be dangerous.”  

Just getting Kageyama upright is terrible, so bad that Shouyou dreads making him walk or taking him to the car. He watches Kageyama’s jaw tighten as he and Takeda-sensei take his arms and shoulders and ease him to a sitting position: sweat breaks out afresh on his face and he’s panting hard and shallowly through clenched teeth.

“Easy does it,” Takeda-sensei says softly.

Shouyou can’t speak at all, breathing in tandem with Kageyama, trying to find a rhythm that’s comfortable for him. He knows it’s dumb, but it feels like if he breathes along with him, maybe he can breathe for him, help him breathe, help him hurt less. He’s hyperfocused on the in and out of Kageyama’s breathing, like watching the ball in midair, when there’s nothing else, just you and the ball, just him and Kageyama’s inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.  

Kageyama’s breath hitches when they get him upright, and he stands there for a moment, panting hard, breathing still shallow, air hissing through his clenched teeth. Shouyou finds himself clutching at his arm hard enough to bruise, and consciously relaxes his hold.

Inhale, exhale. 

Kageyama takes a step forward, and grabs for Shouyou—his hand wraps around Shouyou’s forearm and it’s his turn to grip hard enough to bruise. A pained whimper is forced out of him, fingers digging into Shouyou’s arm, and all Shouyou can do is cover Kageyama’s clutching hand with his own and murmur, “Shh, shh, easy,” hearing Takeda-sensei saying much the same thing on his other side.

Inhale, exhale.   

Kageyama keeps up his hold on Shouyou’s arm as he braces himself and takes the next step, fingers loosening before they tighten again and he chokes back a groan. Shouyou’s heart aches to hear that groan, to feel that grip and know that it’s Kageyama’s hand clutching him to relieve his agony, that it’s Kageyama who’s suffering like this, but he stays upright and keeps a cheerful expression on his face.

He can’t help how his hand tightens around Kageyama’s, though, or how he rubs Kageyama’s fingers with his own, hoping to soothe. Or his breathing. Inhale, with Kageyama, exhale, along with him. It’s silly to feel like it’ll help, but he can’t stop himself.  

Step by slow step, they make it out of the infirmary, and Shouyou looks down the corridor in horror. He’s never thought of any corridor as long – it’s just a corridor – but it’s at least a hundred steps to the door, and the thought of a hundred jolts that way, Kageyama’s hand tightening on his a hundred more times…

He looks to Takeda-sensei for help. “Do you think they might have a wheelchair in the infirmary, or somewhere in the school?” he asks. “Even a regular chair, and we could carry it?”  

By now Kageyama’s walking half-bent over, head bowed, hair hanging down over his face as he breathes shallowly. As they stand there, his head droops gradually down to rest on Shouyou’s shoulder.

Takeda-sensei looks from Kageyama to the door, and nods once, decisively. “Keep him upright. I’ll be right back.”  

They stand there together just outside the doorway, Kageyama’s head on Shouyou’s shoulder. It’s easier to breathe along with him like this. Shouyou keeps his arm rock-steady for Kageyama to lean on, steadily rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. They wait and Shouyou slips into a state that’s almost trancelike: there’s nothing but inhale, exhale, and the warm weight of Kageyama’s head against his shoulder, and the balance of them standing there like that, and Kageyama’s fingers gripping his arm and Shouyou’s thumb rubbing back and forth on the back of Kageyama’s hand. That’s all there is, just them, and Kageyama isn’t speaking but Shouyou isn’t worried, he knows talking hurts him, and he doesn’t have to say a word anyway, just breathe. He has to subdue his instinct to rock back and forth, because it would hurt Kageyama. He does want to comfort him, but he doesn’t want to hurt him! So he just keeps rubbing his hand, and stifles the urge to rock or move him in any way.  

It seems like a long time before Takeda-sensei’s quick steps echo through the hall, accompanied by the high-pitched sound of a squeaky wheel.

“There was one in the school nurse’s office,” he announces, smiling. “Okay, Kageyama-kun, easy now…” He brings the wheelchair up behind Kageyama’s knees and they ease him slowly down into it, Shouyou gripping his arm and shoulder like a lifeline and Kageyama gripping back just as hard. He huffs out a shallow, exhausted breath once he’s settled in the wheelchair, his death-grip on Shouyou’s and Takeda-sensei’s arms easing, and Shouyou feels himself relax a little.   

It’s a relief to push the chair, knowing Kageyama’s safe and relatively comfortable. Shouyou does the pushing, extra careful to avoid any irregularities in the floor or the parking lot (and thank goodness they have the chair, sensei’s car is at the end of the lot). After the ordeal of the walk and the chair, it’s comparatively easy to get Kageyama into the front seat, lowering him in carefully with a strong grip on his hands. Shouyou bends over and clicks the seatbelt shut across his waist, settling it carefully so it doesn’t put any strain on Kageyama’s chest.

“Put your arm inside the seatbelt if it hurts,” he murmurs as Takeda-sensei goes around the car to the driver’s seat.  

“…thanks,” whispers Kageyama.  

Hearing Kageyama so fragile makes Shouyou’s heart feel like it’s ripping apart. “Just be careful,” he whispers to him. “We’ll be at the hospital soon.”  

The car ride is a blur. All Shouyou can remember is holding onto Kageyama’s shoulders from the back seat to try and offer some sort of comfort, and Kageyama’s head drooping sideways to press his cheek against Shouyou’s hand – and that makes Shouyou’s chest squeeze, because Kageyama would never be this affectionate, this vulnerable, unless he was hurting more than he could endure.  

Soon Kageyama’s whisked away for X-rays and treatment, Takeda-sensei is talking to the receptionist, and Shouyou’s left waiting in the corridor, texting updates to Noyassan to give the rest of the team. He really should be texting Daichi-san, but Noya will tell him, and Noya’s he’s tough! he’ll be fine! You’ll see! are helping bolster his flagging spirits.

Whenever he blinks, all he can see is Kageyama being hit in mid-air and falling. He can still feel Kageyama’s cold, clammy forehead, still hear his thready voice thanking them – thanking them for nothing, for what anyone would do – still feel his shallow, careful breathing. He should have done more than beat that damned team. He should have pounded that guy who hurt Kageyama into the floor. Well. Maybe he would have needed Tanaka-san to help. But still.   

Takeda-sensei brings him some pocky and a soft drink from a vending machine. He thanks him politely, realizing that he’s ravenous. As he eats, all he can think of is Coach Ukai admonishing them, Go home and eat a proper meal! and Kageyama drinking milk from the school vending machine. By now, he’d probably be sleeping on Kageyama’s shoulder in the bus. He won’t sleep now, though. He’s going to wait for news.

He’s going to wait… for news… from the doctors…  

He finds his head drooping sideways, and his eyes drift shut.  

“Hinata-kun. They’re ready to let us in now.”  

Shouyou jerks awake in his seat, almost falling over. Recollection comes back instantly: the hospital, the match, Kageyama. “Coming, sensei!”  

He follows Takeda-sensei into the room. Kageyama’s sitting on a gurney, arms at his sides, staring fixedly ahead with glassy eyes. His cheeks are sunken and he still looks exhausted – not match-exhausted, sick-exhausted – but he’s breathing better now, and that scary grey pallor is gone from his face.

The doctor, a big lady with glasses like Takeda-sensei’s, starts to speak to their teacher, and Shouyou’s torn between listening to her and checking for himself that Kageyama’s okay.  

He goes up to the gurney and offers Kageyama a tentative smile. In return, Kageyama stares at him glassy-eyed and gives him that bared-teeth rictus he terrorizes the Karasuno team with when he’s trying to pretend everything’s okay. It would be better if he was scowling. Shouyou can’t help a giggle.   

“Whatta you laughin’ at, dumbass,” Kageyama slurs, still sporting that rictus grin like he’s forgotten to change his expression settings. Man, he’s out of it.  

Shouyou smiles, the tightness in his chest easing. It’s nice to see Kageyama not in pain. “Glad you’re feeling better,” Shouyou whispers, patting his knee.  

Kageyama’s grin morphs into a scowl. “…’f you laugh at me… I’ll kick your ass,” he whispers. At least he’s not too out of it to respect their sensei’s and the doctor’s presence.  

“Yeah, yeah. Like you could kick a kitten right now,” Shouyou dismisses.  

“I wouldn’t,” Kageyama whispers, turning big eyes on Shouyou. They’re still glassy, but now he’s tearing up, like he’s… about to cry? “I wouldn’t kick a kitten.” He sniffs. “I like kittens.”  

Shouyou should laugh – he knows he should laugh – but instead, he just wants to give Kageyama a big hug. “Okay,” he reassures him, curling one hand around his shoulder and squeezing gently. “It’s okay. Let’s listen to what the doctor’s saying.”  

She’s just finishing up saying something to Takeda-sensei. “…was in extreme pain because the broken rib had shifted and was in danger of puncturing the lung. You did well to limit his movement before you got here.”  

“It was Hinata-kun who came up with the idea of getting a wheelchair." Takeda-sensei smiles at Shouyou. “He’s the one who kept him from getting hurt any further.”

Shouyou blushes and looks down, but he can’t help smiling and feeling warm inside. He protected Kageyama. It feels like winning.  

“Hinata-kun’s really smart!” Kageyama announces loudly. “And fast! An’ he jumps really high!” he gestures. “This high. High,” he repeats with emphasis.

Shouyou stares, and so do the doctor and Takeda-sensei.

“And he’s smart.” His voice lowers and he droops. “He’s r’lly… awesome,” he mumbles, subsiding. “Just don’t tell ‘m,” he mumbles. “Don’ want him to think he’s too good f’r me.”  

The doctor chuckles. “He was in agonizing pain, so we gave him some pretty powerful drugs. He’s going to be… a bit outspoken. It’s not his fault, don’t punish him, sensei.”  

“Oh, I’m just glad he’s feeling better,” says Takeda-sensei. “He’s not in danger now, is he? The rib’s been set?”  

“It has,” says the doctor, “but he’s going to have to stay on painkillers for at least two weeks. The greatest danger with rib fractures is that it hurts to take a deep breath, and that can lead to pneumonia. He’ll need to take normal breaths, and it’s extremely painful to do that unless he’s on pain medication. Icing the fracture can help for the next few days. Sleeping upright on a chair or futon can also help, as sleeping lying down tends to be more painful…”  

Shouyou listens to this monologue, absorbing what’s being said, but he can’t help his sinking heart. It’s not just that Bakageyama is going to be in pain for ages, but… “Didn’t you tell me your parents were out of town till the end of the month?” he whispers.  

“Yeah,” Kageyama whispers back. “But I c’n… take care of myself.”  

“You can’t even walk in a straight line right now,” Shouyou huffs. “Sensei,” he says loudly. “Can Kageyama take care of himself all alone, or would it be better to have someone with him?”  

Both senseis look at him, then the doctor speaks first. “I wouldn’t recommend he be alone for at least the first week,” she says. “Don’t underestimate how much help he’s going to need with everyday tasks.”  

“Are your parents out of town again, Kageyama-kun?” Takeda-sensei asks worriedly.  

Kageyama blinks, as if he’s being asked an impossible question. “Sensei,” he says, as if he’s only just noticed that Takeda’s in the room. Then he attempts to bow, and almost pitches forward off the gurney.  

“Drat!” Shouyou darts in and grabs him around the shoulders, stopping his momentum as he slumps forward. Kageyama groans in pain at the sudden movement, and Shouyou flinches. “I’m sorry, baka,” he says, “but if you’d fallen on the floor it’d have hurt even more!” He turns his head toward Takeda-sensei, still supporting Kageyama. “Yes, they are. I can take him to my place if you’d be so kind as to stop by his place to collect his stuff.”  

“Don’ need…”  

“Don’t interrupt,” Shouyou commands. “I’ll call my mom and tell her. She loves having you over.”  

“Of course I can drive you,” Takeda-sensei smiles. “We need to pick up your prescriptions too, Kageyama-kun.”  

Kageyama flaps his hand with all the strength of a newborn kitten. “Feel fine now. Sorry ‘bout earlier.” He blinks, focusing glazed eyes on Shouyou. “How’d you do? Th’ match?”  

“Pounded them into the ground,” Shouyou gloats. “I’ll tell you all about it when you’re more alert.”  

“I’m plenty alert!” Kageyama folds his arms and pouts like Natsu. “Don’t call me not alert. I’m alert. Payin’ attention. Yeah.” His head droops forward. In addition to the pout, his eyebrows knit in what is probably supposed to be a scary scowl.  

“…sheet with care instructions.” The doctor hands the sheet to Takeda-sensei, along with another piece of paper which must be Kageyama’s prescription. “Make sure he doesn’t skip his doses to avoid complications.”  

Takeda-sensei comes closer and they help Kageyama off the gurney, a nurse holding the wheelchair at the ready. When he’s standing, Kageyama stops and fixes Shouyou with a dopey smile. “Knew you’d win the match. You’re awesome.”  

Shouyou finds himself blushing. “Uh, yeah. Get in the chair now.”  

“But… you won without me.” His eyes widen, filling with tears. “You don’ need me anymore.”  

“What? Of course we need you.”  

“Not the team,” Kageyama insists, as the nurse coaxes him down into the chair. He looks up at Shouyou when he’s seated. “You. You… don’ need me anymore, Hinata.”

And crap, Kageyama starts to cry!   

Shouyou blushes scarlet, feeling like the doctor and the nurse and Takeda-sensei are radioactive pillars around him, he’s so hyper-aware of their presence. “Of course I need you, baka. I’ll always…” He can feel the back of his neck burning. “Kageyama, can we talk about this later?”  

Kageyama sniffs. “Don’ leave me.”  

Shouyou grabs his hand. “I’m right here.” Kageyama holds Shouyou’s hand back happily, slumping into the chair with a dopey smile. Sensing that the crisis is averted, the nurse starts to push the chair into the corridor. Takeda-sensei hangs back, speaking to the doctor. Well, one witness is less mortifying than three.  

“I mean…” Kageyama clings to Shouyou’s hand as he walks alongside the chair. “Don’ leave me later.”  

“I won’t. You’re coming to my house, remember?”   

“Nuh.” Kageyama shakes his head. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight slant in through the windows as they approach the outer doors leading to the parking lot. “I mean don’ leave me ever.”  

Bwaaaaaaaah swoops through Shouyou and he blinks rapidly, not sure why his chest decided to do that. “Okay. Okay."

He squeezes Kageyama’s hand, desperate to shut him up. He looks sideways at the male nurse pushing the chair, who winks at him. His face burns. 

“Stay,” Kageyama repeats, aiming puppy eyes at Shouyou. The nurse smiles. 

“Shh,” Shouyou hisses, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’m staying.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” Shouyou whispers back, squeezing his hand. 

“You better,” Kageyama pouts, sounding like Natsu again.  

“I will.” Shouyou finds his eyes darting right and left, like he’s saying something people aren’t supposed to hear. That’s ridiculous! He’s just comforting out-of-his-mind-Yama! He’s not saying anything secret!  

“You will…?” Kageyama looks up at Shouyou. “Why are we whispering?” 

Shouyou leans close, his nose brushing Kageyama’s hair, to whisper in his ear. “Because it’s a secret.” 

“Okay.” When Shouyou straightens up again, Kageyama’s eyes are a deep cobalt blue in the shafts of sunlight, shimmering with tears. Drat, why’s he crying again? “You… even when we,” Kageyama’s whispering too now. “Even when we grow up and go pro? You won’t leave me?” 

Shouyou blinks. Hopped up on drugs, barely knowing his own name, Kageyama said “when we go pro?” Kageyama believes in him that much? His stomach goes swoing and he blinks at Kageyama. What were they even saying? “Uh…” 

But he’s taken too long to respond, and Kageyama sniffles. Drat but he sounds like Natsu. “You’re gonna leave me,” he sniffs. 

“No, no, baka,” Shouyou says hurriedly, leaning close. “I’m not gonna leave you.” 

“Not even when we get older?” 

“Not even when we get older,” Shouyou whispers. 

“Okay.” Kageyama nods and looks down at his lap before looking back up at Shouyou. “Never leave me?”  

The automatic doors to the hospital slide open and the nurse pushes the chair out. Shouyou can hear footsteps approaching behind them. “Sure,” he blurts hurriedly. “Sure, never.”  

But Kageyama, curse him and damn him, just keeps looking up at him with those big wet eyes. “Never ever?”  

“Never ever,” Shouyou promises and presses his hand to Kageyama’s cheek to shut him up just as Takeda-sensei exits the doors and overtakes them, heading for the car. Well, it works in that Kageyama stops talking, except he leans sideways to rest his nose and mouth against their joined hands.

Shouyou shrugs mentally. Doing embarrassing things is better than saying embarrassing things.  

He walks alongside Kageyama as they make their way to the car, Takeda-sensei leading the way. He doesn’t mind Kageyama’s cheek against his hand. It’s kind of sweet, actually, having Kageyama be clingy like Natsu. Makes his chest go vwoosh. He’s going to have to make plans to take care of Bakageyama – find out when his meds are due and make sure he takes them, adjust the futon for him to sleep with his upper body elevated, get on his case about taking a normal breath, oh, and ice his ribs when he gets home…  

He’s so lost in plans, he doesn’t notice that he keeps holding Kageyama’s hand all the way to the car. If he had a crystal ball to see the future, he would have seen a lot of teammates joking about how Kageyama has his own personal nursemaid who checks on him obsessively between drills and sets. But he can’t, so he just sits in the back seat, his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, Kageyama’s cheek pressed against his hand, said boy babbling all the way home about staying with Hinata forever.

Chapter Text

fictober day 30: "don't ruin this."

“Man, I wish I was tall.”

Hinata said the words with a pout, plopping down next to Kageyama with all the grace of a little kid. Kageyama frowned around a bite of chicken but didn’t get a chance to speak before Hinata continued.

Here we go again.

“Like, seriously, just imagine how amazing it’d be if I was as tall as Tsukishima. I could be unstoppable. I could be—”

Kageyama chewed slowly. Swallowed. Hinata continued with his speech—one that Kageyama had heard, no doubt, over a hundred times—and Kageyama took another bite of his chicken. Shoveled some rice into his mouth. Swallowed again.

“—and, oh, hey. Kageyama? Kageyaamaaaa, are you even listening to me?”

“You don’t need to be taller,” he said with a shrug, casually picking at the contents of his bento.

“Oh, of course you’d say that. You’re tall.”

“Idiot. I mean, you’re fine the way you are.”

“I am not,” Hinata said instantly with a pout that was, alright, maybe the tiniest bit adorable. The teeniest, tiniest bit. “Have you seen how many people can just tower over me, and they don’t even have to try? It’s not fair.”

Have you seen how many people you’ve stopped in their tracks, and you don’t even have to try?

Those words stayed in the safety of his own head. But what came out was: “Nn. Doesn’t mean you have to be taller.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fast and all that.” Hinata waved a hand dismissively. “But you hear what everyone tells me. Spirit doesn’t make up for lack of height.”

Maybe if he didn’t know Hinata, he would’ve thought the same. Maybe if they weren’t friends—partners—Kageyama would’ve agreed with those words. But Hinata had proved him wrong the first time he met him, and that was all he needed. He poked at his rice but paused before going for another bite.

Because Hinata leaned into him all of a sudden, slouching against his shoulder with an unflattering groan, and repeated dramatically, “It’s not fair, Kageyama.”

“Your height is fine.”

“It’s not,” Hinata stressed. “I’m always going to be short and everyone else is tall and—”

“Noya-san is shorter than you.”

“Noya-san is talented,” he went on, and a glance down showed Kageyama that he was still pouting. “And he’s got so much skill. Everyone can count on him.”

If only Hinata knew. If only he knew how talented and skillful he was, not just on the court but, it seemed, everywhere else as well. Sure, they both struggled in school, but Hinata picked things up so fast. He learned so quickly. And his personality could be mirrored by no one.

If only Hinata knew how irreplaceable he was. If only Kageyama could tell him.

“Your height is fine,” Kageyama repeated, softer this time, although he couldn’t figure out why his breath was suddenly taken from him. “You’re invincible, remember?”

He plucked up a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth just to give his body something to do. They only had so much time in their lunch break to eat, after all.

“But that doesn’t make me tall, Kageyama.”

Alright, this was getting on his nerves. He barely had time to swallow before he shot Hinata a menacing look. “Would you just drop it?”

“No,” Hinata moaned out, unfazed. “I don’t want to be short forever.”

“You need to eat your lunch. Calories are important.”

“I need to be tall.”

“No, you don’t. You’re cute the way you are.”

“But I—what?”

Kageyama chewed his chicken. “What?”

All traces of upset in Hinata’s expression vanished, replaced by confusion and wide-eyed wonder. Kageyama quirked a brow in silent prompting, and Hinata asked, “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re f’ne the w’y you are,” Kageyama said with his mouth full.

“No. No, that’s not what you said.” 

Hinata’s voice dropped low, still bug-eyed. Slowly, slowly, pink dusted over his cheeks, and his nose, and his neck, until everything was touched with color. Kageyama blinked at him, and blinked again. And one final time, before his words finally caught up with him, and—

Shit. Don’t ruin this. Don’t ruin this. Don’t ruin this.

“You called me—”

“Shut up,” Kageyama grumbled, face aflame as he went about finishing off the contents of his bento, angrily and grumpily. “Just. Shut up.”

“You think I’m… cute,” Hinata echoed anyway, like he couldn’t fathom it. Like the very idea of it was surreal to him. And then again, as if testing the word: “...cute.”

Oh, someone please kill him. Maybe if he ate fast enough, he’d choke and that would save him from this embarrassment.

Later, at practice, Kageyama figured (read: foolishly hoped) Hinata would have forgotten all about it. School could serve as a big distraction at times, and if he knew Hinata, his brain would probably be filled with all things volleyball at this point.

Except Tsukishima—the bastard—had managed to get in a jibe about Hinata’s height during one of their warmups, and Hinata responded somewhat proudly, “Shut up! Kageyama said he thinks I’m cute.”

Many eyes shifted toward him, all brow-furrowed confusion and slow teasing and sparkled amusement. And once again, pulse by pulse, inch by inch, second by second, heat crawled into his face. He struggled to come up with an argument for that. 

Someone please, please kill me.

Chapter Text

fictober day 31: “take me with you.”

It started because he could hear Tsukishima’s music through his headphones a few feet away. Hinata recognized the tune—his leg bounced along in sync with each beat, with each note, so soft and so crisp. 

He didn’t listen to music as often as Tsukishima seemed to, but he did love it. And he knew this song, and what else was he supposed to do while they waited for the bus to pick them up from this practice match? Everyone was quiet and the sun had vanished behind the horizon, and with it went its warmth.

So moving around only felt logical. It would help keep him warm while he just stood with his team. Usually, Takeda-sensei would drive them to and from practice matches in a bus, but this time, they had to share one, and were left waiting on the basketball team to come since their games ended around the same time. Takeda-sensei had left a little before the volleyball team's game ended to make sure that the bus-sharing plan hadn’t fallen through now that both teams were finished.

When he started humming and swinging his hips back and forth, Kageyama shot him a confused, forever-grumpy look. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Hinata said, not pausing in his movements. “I’m dancing.”

“To what?” came Noya’s voice on the other side of him.

“Am I the only one who hears Tsukishima’s music?”

A pause ensued as those around him began listening. Tsukishima, of course, seemed completely oblivious—lost in his own thoughts, consumed by what was playing in his headphones.

“Ah,” Noya said finally, his hips moving in time with Hinata’s. “I don’t know this song, but I’m down for a dance party.”

Tanaka nodded his head along with the beat. “Yeah! Me too!”

Hinata beamed and laughed, shoulders swaying now. He created a chorus of movement between himself, Noya, Tanaka, and even Suga. Yachi and Asahi joined in, too—reluctant and shy, but still moving—and that cracked a smile from Kiyoko. Yamaguchi shot Tsukishima an amused, almost secretive look (which Tsukishima either pointedly ignored or simply didn’t notice, given how loud his music was). 

“You guys,” their captain said, but his words were tinged with laughter. “This team, I swear.”

“Oh, c’mon, Daichi,” Suga said, bumping Daichi’s hip with one of his own. “Join the fun. Are you ashamed you’ll dance like an old man?”

(Coach Ukai snorted, here. Ennoshita had to smother a snicker.)

“Wha—I am not!”

“Then join the funnnn,” Kinoshita echoed, throwing an arm around Narita. “Peer pressure!”

“Kageyama, you too,” Hinata exclaimed louder than he meant to. “The song’s almost over!”

“No,” Kageyama said flatly.

“Oh, please?”

“No way in hell.”

Hinata laughed, undeterred, and shimmied his way from Noya and Tanaka to Kageyama, grinning the whole way. Kageyama took a step back, his expression still clean of emotion other than his trademark grumpiness.

Still, Hinata continued to dance. His legs moved and his hips rocked and his arms swayed back and forth, back and forth. The song was reaching its finish, he could tell. But the majority of their team kept the rhythm going, all moving in their own ways until the final note struck and Hinata jutted out one hip with a wide smile.

The hooting laughter and round of applause that came next seemed to startle Tsukishima into finally taking off his headphones. He gave them all his most annoyed, unimpressed look, but it was the sound that came next that Hinata hadn’t been expecting.

Kageyama snorted.

He snorted and choked on his own laughter, covering his mouth and facing away from Hinata. Hinata blinked, the smile never fading but confusion setting in as he drew in the way Kageyama’s shoulders shook.

“Kageyama?” Hinata said, now a little breathless from all the movement. “Kageyama, what’s…?”

“You—you’re so f-fricken… ridiculous,” Kageyama gasped out, nearly doubling over from laughing so hard. “You just—you stuck your hip out and—”

The cycle overtook Kageyama anew, and in the bright moonlight and faded twinkling of the stars, Hinata saw the way his smile stretched so wide and so unbothered in a way that he’d never seen before. It was a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, causing them to crinkle in the most endearing way.

Had… had Hinata ever heard Kageyama laugh like this? He wasn’t sure, but it was so unbelievably, incomparably mellow. Comfortable. An echo of the sky above them, where Kageyama was as breathtaking as the moon while everyone else became faded stars. It warmed Hinata like no blanket could, in a way that completely and unexpectedly swept him off his feet.

And Hinata’s response, although belated, was to laugh, too. Because if Kageyama was going somewhere like this—past his usual irritability and grouchiness and into somewhere warm and unexplored but undeniably worth exploring—of course Hinata’s first instinct was to follow.

Take me with you, his mind seemed to scream. I’m coming, too. I’ll go wherever you go.

And so he laughed, and he grinned, until his cheeks were flooded with heat and his face hurt from smiling so much. His arms raised over his head, stretching to the sky because this moment felt like something he should celebrate.

If you’re laughing, so will I.

If you’re smiling, so will I.

And when twinkling lights in the distance told them Takeda had successfully returned with a bus, and their laughter quieted down, it still echoed deep within the confines of Hinata’s mind, over and over.

Because Kageyama’s beautifully unrestrained, genuine laughter was a sound he never wanted to forget.