Chapter Text
Kageyama had come to realise his habit of telling himself things.
Many, many things.
All sorts of things. Things that made him feel better, things that helped him cope, things that let him avoid admitting things, to himself or to anybody else. As he said—or thought, if you would—many, many things.
He knew, very well, that some matters were set in stone. Full stop. And that no matter how many times he told himself otherwise, they still would not restyle themselves, but with hope came power, and power was a perilous yet pacifying thing. To some. To Kageyama, it was a feeble thing. It made him feel sick to the stomach.
Kageyama brushed off the feeling gnawing at his insides. Tried to. Kindaichi. Kunimi. Oikawa-san. Iwaizumi-san.
His ex-friends.
No, ex-teammates.
He clenched his jaw. Admitting your fears was one thing, overcoming them was another. Power. He almost sneered at the word. Power. Something kings had. A king. Something he didn't want to be.
He couldn't help it. Nothing could be done. He was unable to forget, to shake it off. The constant feeling of something abhorrent, piling up in the pit of his stomach, filling up his lungs. Enrapturing. That one moment played itself over and over again in his head, that one moment where he had glimpsed over his shoulder and... nobody was there.
Kageyama sucked in a long, quivering breath. Threw a wistful glance in his teammates' direction. Exhaled.
The laughter dancing in the air bothered him. Selfish? He could have laughed. He didn't care how damn selfish it was.
Hinata was always easier to get along with than Kageyama, and Kageyama knew this, but the redhead infuriated him in more ways than one. Sure, Kageyama was envious of Hinata's reflexes and natural athleticism, but that wasn't where it stopped. Kageyama could only dream of being half as extroversive or as bubbly as him. Hinata was small in size, but Kageyama couldn't begin to fathom the way his presence was like a really, really bright light. A light that—no matter where it was—lit up the entire room. He was great and warm and welcoming.
Not in height, but it almost seemed as though nothing hid Hinata's heart. No skin, no bones, no muscles.
Kageyama knew he was the opposite.
But he didn't want to be.
He wanted to make friends too.
And then there was Yamaguchi, sweet and smiley, though a bit of a pushover. Sometimes. Nishinoya-san, a bit of a handful but sociable. Tanaka-san, a little loud sometimes, but a friendly guy.
And then there was Kageyama. A stupid, stupid somebody who didn't know the first thing about befriending others.
Kageyama wondered, would he have had friends if he had been nicer to his ex-teammates?
He didn't realise he was staring at the four boys until Tanaka-san asked him if he was plotting their murder—according to him, Kageyama's expression screamed psychopath, which offended Kageyama—before throwing a volleyball at Nishinoya-san. Kageyama said nothing, looked away. He threw up a ball for himself, ran forwards, leapt.
He hit it with everything he had.
Apparently too much.
Fuck.
Kageyama watched as the ball hit the wall on the other side, watched it bounce to a stop.
He was tired.
Was that a first?
Maybe.
By now, it was leaking late into the evening and everybody was doing their own thing. But... Kageyama wanted to be doing his own thing... with somebody else.
All around him, his teammates were talking, laughing, training together. He glanced over at Daichi-san and Suga-san. Watched them laugh at a blushing Asahi-san. Kageyama shifted his gaze to Ennoshita-san, Kinoshita-san, Narita-san. Working on their serves together. And then, he looked at the other four.
No. He didn't. He was about to.
But he didn't want to.
'My, my, what's this?'
Kageyama could have killed the owner of that pestering voice.
'Is the King's chauffeur not picking him up tonight? Oh, or perhaps, the royal cook is making dinner with winnimere instead of caciovallo?'
Winncavolli-what?
Kageyama didn't so much as turn to glance at Tsukishima. He, instead, walked over to pick up the volleyball. 'I'm not in the mood,' was all he said.
'Yeah,' Kageyama despised the way he could hear the smirk lingering in Tsukishima's tone. 'Which is exactly why I'm asking what the matter is. His highness would never mess up a serve. Not that bad. Gosh, it's far too much a commoner thing to do!'
'Tsukishima, can you fuck off?'
Tsukishima did not fuck off.
He wilfully strolled over to Kageyama, annoying relaxed. Kageyama reluctantly turned to look up at him, really not wanting to deal with this today. This idiotic-but-not-actually-idiotic idiot with his stupid glasses and stupid eyes and stupid blonde hair. Ugh. Kageyama loathed every inch of this guy.
'If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you were a little jealous,' Kageyama narrowed his eyes as a gibelike smirk spread across Tsukishima's lips. 'Perhaps somebody would like some friends?' a heavy pause, filled to the brim with mockery. 'How precious.'
Tsukishima—in Kageyama's eyes—was a pain in the ass. He liked to have the last say, he liked to have the last laugh, and this was no matter what. And, much to Kageyama's dismay, Tsukishima appeared to have gladly taken up the task of making Kageyama's life a living hell. It was working, too.
But in other ways, Kageyama sort of liked some things about Tsukishima. Emphasis on the some. Or at least, Kageyama always felt the need to emphasise it. But, everything he liked was cancelled out by something he didn't. Take Tsukishima's nature as an example. He was never loud or obnoxious—not quite literally—but his smartass remarks were almost worse than that. Not almost. They were.
Tsukishima didn't have a strong presence in the room, but Kageyama found that he did manage to keep thoughts lingering in your head. Tsukishima wasn't always up in your face, but he was quick to humiliate anybody, given the chance.
'I... I have friends,' Kageyama shoved past Tsukishima, who barked out one of his humourless, I'm-making-fun-of-you laughs. 'Ugh, just leave me alone.'
'Wait, a tip for his majesty, if he wouldn't mind.'
'Can you fuck—?'
'I don't think watching other people socialise is going to help you make friends,' Tsukishima shrugged, turning to walk off. Kageyama could practically see the smug look on his face. He wasn't happy about it. 'But, I mean, what's the point? You're already sort of a lost cause, aren't you?'
Kageyama glowered at the back of Tsukishima's head, wishing greatly that lasers would shoot out if he glared hard enough. Imagining Tsukishima's head exploding did calm him, just a little. He whirled around on his heel and sedately—yet, effortfully—walked out the gym. He ignored Daichi-san's 'you heading out already, Kageyama?!' and continued to the clubroom.
Fuck you, Tsukishima. Damn you, Tsukishima. I hope you die, Tsukishima.
He sat down, agitatedly yanking his shoes off. Above all, there was one thing he resented most about Tsukishima.
The way he was always right. Damn that know-it-all bastard.
Four maddening words rang through the air.
'Sleep well, your majesty!'
Kageyama grumbled at Tsukishima's faint call.
'Piss off!'