Work Text:
The shades of gray were all Kageyama had ever known. Sometimes he wondered when – or if – he’d meet his soulmate and find his world an explosion of color. Usually, however, he didn’t let the thought concern him. He had volleyball. He had his teammates. Right now, that was enough.
*
The very first thing Daichi and Suga had commented on when they’d met the first years was how vibrant Hinata’s hair was. They’d had their colors for two years now, ever since they’d first laid eyes on each other, but they chuckled that no matter how long you’ve been seeing colors, there are always some that stand out more vividly than most. A single curious glance confirmed that Hinata’s hair was still the same in-between gray it had been the first time Kageyama had seen him at the match those months ago.
He remembered thinking offhandedly that he wouldn’t mind seeing the true color of Hinata’s hair. He couldn’t imagine it was anything so remarkable. When he met his soulmate in ten minutes, or two months, or five years, maybe he’d understand what they meant. Or maybe he was destined to live in a colorless world forever. He convinced himself that, of course, he’d be perfectly content either way.
*
Aside from Daichi and Suga, the rest of the team was in the same boat as him anyway. That, however, was unquestionably destined to change. To everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima was the first to see his colors. He grumbled about how cloying they were, and frowned at Hinata for distracting him with his hair. Still, there was no denying the dusting on his cheeks when he saw her waiting outside the gym for him after practice. She was firm, but gentle. She was ‘good for him’ Daichi had noted almost proudly. That didn’t stop Kageyama from noticing the way Yamaguchi always watched him go for just a few seconds to long.
*
Next to see his colors was Nishinoya. It seemed he never stopped talking about how he’d been walking down the sidewalk, ‘minding his own business’, when a single glance across the street had resulted in splashes of color flooding his vision, overwhelming him so much that he stopped dead in his tracks, and she did the same. Over and over again he told about how her smile had lit her entire face. How he’d run to her and, in true Nishinoya fashion, boldly kissed her full on the lips. Everyone was happy for him. He played with a new drive, marveling at how sharp everything looked and how he felt the colors actually improved his skill (that caught Kageyama’s attention). The other thing that caught his attention was the intense jealousy that Tanaka worked so hard to hide behind his exaggerated expression and antics.
*
It was different for Asahi, he claimed. The colors hadn’t come in a sudden burst of fireworks. They’d washed gently over his landscape and left a shining new world in their wake. She had half his size and twice the tenacity, a combination which left him reeling at times, but with a seemingly permanent happy blush coloring his cheeks. Kageyama couldn’t say exactly how it made him feel, watching his friends one by one become something more. The one thing he knew he didn’t feel was incomplete. He was just as much Kageyama without colors as he would be with them.
Their numbers continued to dwindle. Time slipped on as it does. Kageyama poured himself into the volleyball. Maybe it was the only soulmate he’d ever need. As long as he had it, his life couldn’t possibly feel empty despite being in grayscale.
*
“Do you ever wish you’d meet your soulmate?” Hinata asked out of the blue. Kageyama was so surprised at the sudden question that he didn’t answer at first. “Do you ever wish you’d have your colors?” Hinata prompted, going a different route. Kageyama shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter to me either way. I’m still me. I’m a whole person with or without a soulmate. With or without colors.” He hadn’t known the hostility was there until it showed itself.
“That’s what I think too.” Hinata agreed, ignoring the bite in Kageyama’s tone. He grinned. “We don’t need colors!” He whooped a little too loudly, earning him a few curious glances. Kageyama found himself drawn towards Hinata despite himself. It was rare to find another so nonchalant in that regard. He ignored the voice in his head that warned against forming a bond over something so tenuous.
*
They were second years when it happened. “Dumbass Hinata.” A lot had changed in their relationship, but a lot hadn’t. Kageyama was frowning at something Hinata had said and as a result wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking in the slightest.
Hinata’s warning came too late. Kageyama crashed, hard, into another body and was on the ground, momentarily dazed. He only opened his eyes when he heard Hinata’s worried voice call his name. When he did, he scrambled to a sitting position, vision suddenly assaulted by some sort of bright halo surrounding Hinata’s head. He blinked rapidly. He must have fallen harder than he though. The halo remained, however, and as his vision cleared he realized with a gasp that Hinata’s hair wasn’t the only thing that looked different. A concerned pair of eyes looked down at him, coolness flecked with warmth. When the word finally dawned on him he said it aloud. “Colors.”
“You saw them too?” He noticed the girl kneeling beside him for the first time. His eyes widened. There could be no other explanation. This was it. She was his soulmate. There were many emotions he should have been feeling if his friends’ stories were any indication, but the only one he did feel he couldn’t place. He looked quickly back to Hinata. He couldn’t place that expression either. For once the boy was silent.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She was murmuring, eyes beginning to well with tears. “I had hoped – ” She stopped.
“Uh. It’s okay.” Kageyama sat up all the way, rubbing his head more out of nervous habit than any real pain he felt.
“I guess you’re my soulmate,” She went on in a shaking voice, “But there’s something you need to know.”
Uncertainty began to gnaw at Kageyama’s middle. Was he not what she was expecting? Was he okay with that? Was all of his big talk about not needing a soulmate coming back to bite him?
“You see…” She glanced around before turning her gaze back to him, deciding to continue. “I’m really sorry, but… there’s already someone I love.” Kageyama wasn’t sure if he had forgotten to breathe, or if he’d forgotten how. “I hoped I’d be one of those people who never really met my soulmate. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.” She seemed sincere enough. “I – uh – here.” She finally stuttered, pulling a tattered envelope from her bag and shoving it into Kageyama’s stunned grasp. “I hope you have a beautiful life, Kageyama.” She whispered as she stood. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “If you ever need me for anything… well, it’s all in the letter. I really am sorry.” She insisted softly before abruptly turning and slipping into the crowd.
Kageyama still hadn’t said a word. He met Hinata’s wide-eyed gaze. She hadn’t even told him her name.
“What was that?” Hinata finally breathed, breaking the spell that had made Kageyama mute.
“That was my soulmate.” He said softly. “And I guess it’s a good thing I said I didn’t need her, because it doesn’t look like she’s coming back.”
*
Kageyama had read the letter countless times. Countless emotions had winged their way through him, but the one that remained, to his consternation, was relief. He should be heartbroken. Despairing. Infuriated. Everyone was treating him like stained glass, however, he didn’t feel like breaking.
The colors took more getting used to than anything. “Tsukishima was right,” He muttered to Hinata after practice one day. “Your hair is infuriatingly distracting.”
“What are they like?” Hinata had blurted in return, ignoring the statement entirely. “The colors?” He was almost pleading. He was the only one who took Kageyama’s assurance that he was perfectly all right seriously.
“I don’t know.” Kageyama replied, irritated. He was still barely accustomed to them himself. Describing them was out of the question. Hinata gave a resigned nod.
“Kageyama?” Hinata’s plaintive golden gaze met Kageyama’s as he spoke up once more. In spite of his hair, Hinata’s eyes were a rather pleasant color, though Kageyama would never give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “I need to tell you something.” Hinata paused, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t told anyone this. No one knows besides my parents.” Kageyama quirked an eyebrow, curious. “I just feel like you deserve to know. Because of… what happened. I, well, haven’t told you the whole truth, I guess.” Beads of sweat cropped up on his forehead. “I don’t have my colors now.” Kageyama nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes, wondering what Hinata could possibly be getting at. “But… I did.”
The realization struck in an instant. “Hinata, I-”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Hinata pleaded. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be the one getting all those looks you’re getting. I don’t want their pity. I don’t need it.” Kageyama only nodded, watching Hinata’s brow knit slightly. “I was five when I got them.” He finally continued. “We were at the mall. I barely remember. My mom says I was waving at all these other little kids I saw, and then suddenly I got quiet. She says I told her when we got home that I thought I was dying. When she realized I had my colors she was hugging me really tight. She was crying. I didn’t understand why.
“Then one morning when I was eight, I woke up and everything was gray again. That was the second time my mom cried in front of me. I missed the colors at first. Now I barely remember them.”
“Why…” Kageyama murmured. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
Hinata shrugged. “We’re kind of the same, you and me.” He said softly. “Everyone else has their colors and their soulmates… I – I’m just glad I’ve got you, Kageyama.”
Kageyama felt his frown soften in spite of himself. “Yeah, well… I’m glad I’ve got you, too. Dumbass Hinata.”
*
“It’s… It’s like…” Kageyama huffed a breath between his lips, scowling as he tried to find the best way to describe the color of Hinata’s hair. “You know… when you’re sitting around a camp fire, and you hold out your hands and you can feel the heat on them, and maybe it’s a little too warm, but it still feels kind of nice?” Hinata nodded. “Well… that’s what color your hair is. Orange.” He tested the word on his lips, one of many he’d added to his vocabulary in the past month.
Hinata nodded eagerly. “Yeah… that makes sense!” His smile was wide. “You’re good at this, Kageyama!” He’d been begging Kageyama to describe his hair for a week now, and Kageyama had finally given in, more to shut him up than anything else.
*
“That girls’ eyes.” Hinata piped up one day, gesturing not-so-subtly to a girl who’d just passed by their table. “What color are they?”
Kageyama sighed and took a few moments to think before answering. “Green. Like… when you’re sitting on the grass, and you run your hand over it, and it’s cool and sort of tickles your palm. That’s what it looks like.” Hinata’s smile was a satisfied one.
*
“Kageyama.” Once Hinata had his attention he pointed to a wild flower bobbing its head in the slight breeze. “What color is that flower?” By now it had become an almost pleasant habit for Kageyama to describe the colors to Hinata. He felt he owed him that much.
“Blue. Like when you’re standing at the edge of a lake, and the water’s lapping over your toes. It’s cool and refreshing. Sort of calming.”
Hinata nudged his shoulder companionably. “Thanks, Kageyama.”
*
“Hey, that fish.” Hinata pointed to the new fish darting around its tank in their science classroom. “What color is it?” He looked up at Kageyama expectantly.
“Yellow.” Kageyama said softly. “Like when you’re standing outside on the first warm day of spring, and you turn your face up and feel the sun on your skin, but there’s also a breeze blowing across your cheeks.” Like your smile. The one you’re giving me right now. He added silently.
*
They’d always been referred to as the ‘matched set.’ Together, they were unstoppable, or very nearly so. Now Kageyama often thought, bitterly, that they were more accurately the ‘mismatched set,’ neither having their soulmate, though Kageyama was still the only one to know that Hinata’s situation was much more permanent than the others imagined. The pitying looks and sideways whispers were more than either could stand. It only served to drive them closer together.
Hinata had become Kageyama’s anchor, though he’d never admit it to the boy in a thousand years. He was the one person he could count on to be there. At first, it didn’t extend beyond the court. Kageyama tossed and Hinata was there. Simple as that. Gradually, so much so that he didn’t realize until it was far too late, he began to rely on his rambunctious but strangely comforting presence even outside of the gym. In a world driven by soulmates and twosomes, Hinata was the one thing keeping him sane. The one person he could count on with any degree of certainty not to forsake him.
*
It was a tradition for third years to give the second button on their blazer – the button closest to their heart – to their soulmate. If they hadn’t met their soulmate yet, the sentimental ones tucked it carefully away in hopes that they could present it to them when the time came. Kageyama stared at his for a long moment before tugging it off, careful not to make the hole too big. The next day he clenched it tight in his hand, cheeks flaming as he approached Hinata.
“What’s this?” Hinata held out his upturned palm to receive whatever it was Kageyama had closed in his fist. When the solid metal, warmed from its contact with Kageyama’s skin, fell with its pleasant weight into his hand, he looked up at Kageyama with wide eyes.
“Look.” He said gruffly. “Wherever my soulmate is, I hope she’s happy with the one she loves. I don’t need her, as long as I have you.”
“Kageyama!” Hinata’s deepened voice was nearly crackling with emotion, tears welling up in his wide golden eyes that Kageyama still found rather pleasant. “You know… I never would’ve made it without you.” He said it with the utmost sincerity. “In volleyball. You took what little skill I had and made me something more. You hated me at first.” He said it with a small smirk. “Sometimes I think you still do.” He laughed in such a way that Kageyama knew he knew that was farthest from the truth. “But you stuck with me.” He went on. “You… shared your colors with me. And I’m grateful.”
“Yeah, well.” Kageyama blinked a few times and cleared his throat, cursing the obnoxious prickling at the backs of his eyes. “My talent would have been worthless if you hadn’t taught me how to use it for others instead of myself. I hated you… because you showed me there was a side of myself that I didn’t want to acknowledge. And you know better than anyone that I didn’t think I needed my colors. You showed me that they’re only meaningless if you don’t have someone to share them with.”