Chapter Text
Kageyama Tobio - handsome, toned, fit, and recently unemployed - was staring into his mirror, smiling widely in a manner quite out-of-character for someone so recently out of their minimum-wage job at their neighborhood restaurant. Tobio, though talented in a variety of things, unfortunately lacked the certain skill-sets that working at a diner would require. Skill-sets such as politely smiling and not yelling at customers were too arduous and tiring for Tobio to bother attempting. Furthermore, Tobio was unsure as to how customers weren’t dropping dead on spot from the low hygiene levels maintained in the greasy hole in the wall his boss liked to call an ‘eatery’. Tobio knew he didn’t imagine the head line cook aggressively picking his nose as he layered a sandwich for the poor unsuspecting bastard customer who didn’t know any better.
Following that one boogery revelation, Tobio soon realised that he would rather starve than work another day in that revolting excuse for a restaurant. Which was likely what was going to happen. Tobio starving, that is. He was poor, you see. Yet Tobio could not find it in himself to be anything besides extremely grateful for his newfound liberty, as he was incredibly sure that he was drastically lowering his immunity with each passing day in that makeshift swamp. So Tobio, now feeling healthier and trimmer than he had in many a month, was happily smiling to himself as he got ready to meet his friends. It was a party at Kei’s house, and Tobio was beside himself with excitement at the prospect of sharing his good news.
One quick shower later, Tobio was marching into Kei’s apartment. Nothing could slow him down, not even the thought of his impending starvation and continued impoverishment. Tobio made his way towards the sofa his closest friends had easily taken over, a cacophony of voices and laughter getting louder the closer he got, and announced his presence with a “I quit my job.”
“But Tobio,'' Shouyou began uncertainly, lifting his head off of his boyfriend’s lap to give Tobio his full attention. “Aren’t you poor?”
“That’s correct.” Tobio agreed. “I have already begun researching water-based diets.”
Kei tittered from beside Shouyou, “Why don’t you try finding another job? Surely there is a peasant or two out there willing to accommodate his Majesty?”
Tobio scowled. “We’ve known each other nearly six years now. Would it kill you to be somewhat nice to me?” Kei shrugged languidly, likely flattered at the insinuation that he was nothing short of a smarmy asshole.
“I didn’t know you were poor, Kageyama.” said Iwaizumi Hajime, Hinata’s new boyfriend and an unceasing reminder of Tobio’s failed love life. Iwaizumi-san’s best friend had broken Tobio’s heart, you see. Well. Broken; pummeled to the ground; stepped on forcefully and squashed into a paste he seasoned the fruits of his own flourishing romantic endeavors with; all of the above, really. But Tobio didn’t hold it against Iwaizumi-san. After all, you don’t really choose your friends, Tobio sighed to himself, watching as Kei and Tadashi squabbled drunkenly over more space on the narrow couch. Shoulders drooping at the sight, Tobio felt ensconced in a gentle warmth, his mouth slightly quirking upwards in quiet happiness. Any serenity immediately evaporated though, as Shouyou laughed cheerfully and said “Not only is he poor, he’s ugly too.”
Before Tobio could unceremoniously strangle the noisy midget, Iwaizumi-san cut in with a, “Speaking of ugly, Kageyama, I should warn you-”
Tobio never heard the rest of the sentence, but he didn’t need to, as the commotion by the entrance filled in the blanks for him.
For there he was. Beautiful. Strong. Untouchable. So far out of Kageyama’s reach, it felt as if they lived on two different planets. Tobio’s revolved around him. It had since Tobio first laid eyes on him when he was fifteen and Tobio was thirteen. He was fifteen, but still so powerful. Fifteen, but with eyes that spoke of intelligence and wisdom well beyond his years. Fifteen but still so fucking beautiful. And once again, Tobio was thirteen, and Tobio had never seen anything like it, had never felt anything like the roaring in his veins, the pounding in his ears, the burning behind his eyes, as he refused to look away, refused to blink lest this celestial being suddenly disappeared from right before him.
But, this time, the celestial being wasn’t alone. This time he had a darling, little angel on his arm. Blonde, lithe, coquettish, and with the most charming, carefree grin painting his face as he laughed politely at something Bokuto loudly announced. Tobio's eyes unwillingly moved upwards once again, helplessly watching as Oikawa Tooru smiled happily down at this likely boyfriend, wrapping one of those arms Tobio dreamed of being caged within, around the boy’s narrow waist. Tobio, for lack of a better word, made a hasty dash for the nearest exit.
“Tobio!” Kuroo cheered on seeing him slink up to the kitchen, and poured Tobio a drink. “Could take out a horse, just the way you like it.” He offered Tobio the barely distilled alcohol, illegal in several countries around the world, and Tobio felt immense gratitude.
Tobio took a heavy slug, nearly emptying its contents in one sharp movement. Kuroo didn’t attempt to hide his full-body shudder as he turned over his shoulder and hollered into the apartment.
“Babe, your friend’s testing the prowess of his immunity in our kitchen again.”
Kei moseyed into the kitchen and poured himself a drink, the regular kind, and eying the glass tightly clenched within Tobio’s palm in distaste. “Tetsu,” He turned to give Kuroo the stink eye. “I thought we agreed to get rid of this shit.”
“Baby, don’t be like that,” Kuroo sidled up to Tsukishima. “I figured we could use it to poison our enemies in the event that Kageyama-kun died before he could fully work his way through it.”
Kei leaned into Kuroo’s warmth despite himself, and sighed forlornly.
“Besides,” Kuroo continued victoriously, wrapping a strong arm around Kei’s shoulder, “He looks like he needs it.”
“Don’t think this is over,” Kei glared evilly at his unflinching boyfriend. “Just you wait till tonight, you’ll wish you had done what I told you to.”
Kei smiled smarmily and ran a long, sharp finger down the length of Kuroo's chest. Tobio cringed, suddenly unbelievably nauseous, but Kuroo seemed to be into it, jaw agape and pupils already dilated with an intensity that made Tobio wonder whether afternoon tea with Oikawa and his boyfriend would be better than this sideshow rendition of hell he was currently being waylaid by.
And as if summoned by Satan himself, Oikawa meandered past the kitchen, his cute boyfriend’s tiny, delicate hand clutched within his own strong, large one. Tobio’s heart clenched with long-forgotten insecurity as he stared at his own large, thick fingers. Unable to stem his now spiraling thoughts, Tobio effortlessly tuned out the sounds of Kei and Kuroo’s flirty bickering, busy lost in a time eight years ago.
Middle-school Tobio was gawky, with limbs that were too long for his body, with hair that framed his face as if it were a wig on a sweaty bowling ball, and with all the personality of a porcupine that had been stepped on. Middle-school Tobio, also had the biggest, fattest crush in the whole wide world. Tobio knew that there would never be a chance in frigid hell for him and Oikawa. There would never be a reality, outside of Tobio’s dreams of course, where Oikawa looked at Tobio with the same admiration, trust, and love that Tobio looked at him with every shitty day. And soon, Tobio wouldn’t even get to do that much, wouldn’t be able to simply look , because Oikawa and Iwaizumi-san, and the rest of the third years, were graduating, while Tobio would be left behind.
Tobio understood that life was what you made of it. He understood that just as in volleyball, if he didn’t give it his all, he would have nobody else to blame for the outcome but himself. So, one day after practice, Tobio asked to speak to Oikawa in private. The older boy looked at him as if Tobio were the filthy crud beneath his shoe, but it wasn’t anything new, so Tobio squared his shoulders and obstinately stared Oikawa down. Oikawa, smartly realizing his annoying teammate wasn’t going anywhere, sighed and groaned and fussed and made a loud hue and cry of the matter, a dramatic exit that nobody missed, as Tobio awkwardly trotted out of the gym after him, wondering just what the flamboyant asshole might do when he finally heard just what it was that Tobio wanted to tell him. Whatever it was though, Tobio had the utmost faith that it would hurt, that it would sear through him and tear his heart to shreds. And Tobio was right.
“I like you, Oikawa-san.” Tobio wrung his hands, cheeks red, refusing to meet Oikawa’s eyes, as the older boy froze in place. A couple of tense, silent moments later, Tobio snuck a glance upwards, and as soon as he met Oikawa’s eyes, the older boy groaned, and caught his own face in his hands in exasperation. Tobio’s eyes shot back down immediately, uncooperatively brimming with tears that Tobio wouldn’t allow to fall, because he knew this was coming, didn't he?
“This is all just a bad dream, isn’t it. Or it’s just Iwa-chan’s idea of a joke, he set you up for this. Right?” When Tobio looked up this time, the handsome, passionate boy who Tobio had fallen pitifully in love with, was staring at Tobio with a hard, unmoving glimmer in his eyes, hostility dripping off the frown painting his face, and daring Tobio to deny it. Daring Tobio to lie and pretend that he felt nothing, an easy cop out for both of them. But Tobio was overcome with how much he felt, saturated with emotions he couldn’t name, crushed beneath the weight of them and denying that was- it was bullshit . And Tobio was churlish, and unpleasant, and argumentative- but he was honest.
So Tobio stood taller, and raised his chin defiantly, tears silently streaking down his pudgy, red face despite himself. “No.” Tobio’s voice cracked. He clenched his fists. “I won’t lie.”
Oikawa opened his mouth to say something, no doubt vile and dripping in venom, if the waspish sulk of his lips were anything to go by. So, Tobio cut him off while he could.
“Don’t worry.” He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his fists. “I don’t expect Oikawa-san to feel the same way.” Tobio smiled a sad, deprecating little twist of the mouth. “You can pretend this was all a dream if you would like. But I’ve never felt something so real in all my life.”
“In all your thirteen years, huh,” Oikawa said dispassionately, arms crossed. Tobio felt a spike of irritation.
“I don’t need to be any older than thirteen to know what love feels like!” Tobio recognised the familiar plume of anger building within him, and he clung to it, desperate to replace his grief in its place. “You don’t need to like the way I feel, but don’t tell me I don’t know how I feel! I like Oikawa-san. I want to date Oikawa-san. I want to know what Oikawa-san likes and what he doesn-”
“You’re not ready, Tobio,” Oikawa cut him off gruffly. “Let it go. It's never going to happen.” He said with a finality, and Tobio’s lower lip trembled. And as Oikawa turned the corner back into the gym, Tobio felt the last bloom of hope that he protected with all his might, be firmly squashed beneath the dirty heel of Oikawa’s boot.
And now here Tobio was, eight years later, definitely old enough to know what love is, and feeling the same crippling grief in all its obnoxious intensity, as he did all those years ago, as if it happened yesterday. Tobio glowered at nothing, unbearably pissed off that the unruffled asshole could saunter about living his charmed life with his adorable boyfriend, while Tobio was drinking the chemical equivalent of rat poison, alone at a party, feeling like this , and wanting something he’ll never have. Tobio scowled at night, frustration seeping into every crevice within him.
“That’s a very good impression of a baboon, Tobio. Can you do any others?”
Fucking great, Tobio’s scowl deepened. Now he was hearing the idiot’s voice in head, insidiously creeping in before he could intercept it and banish it from the sanctity of his mind. That stupid, annoying, soft, aggravating voice.
“I guess not,” The voice hummed disturbingly close to Tobio. “‘Lonely Baboon’ seems to be the pinnacle of your scanty talents.”
Tobio’s head snapped up so fast he nearly splintered his neck in two, unheeding of the pain as for a while, Tobio just stared and Oikawa, surprisingly silent, stared back. Tobio’s blue eyes frantically flicked around Oikawa’s porcelain face, mapping out the dip of his blunt nose, the gentle curve of his lips, the firm line of his jaw, and finally halting at his brown eyes. The same intelligence as always shone from within, and Tobio having never been privy to the thoughts couldn’t guess for the life of him what they were seeing now. Most likely a sweaty Tobio, who reeked of desperation, glass gripped within a tight fist and visibly on edge just by Oikawa’s mere presence. Tobio frowned at the thought, at the idea that nothing had changed in eight crappy years.
“Better a baboon than a preening peacock.” Tobio sniffed.
Oikawa stared at him for a second, then two, eyes wide, and then his shoulders shook with laughter, eyes crinkling in mirth.
“I said lonely baboon, my dim-witted Tobio-chan.” Oikawa said, smiling easily, happily, obliviously, as Tobio struggled not to collapse at the notion that he was Oikawa’s anything.
Before Tobio could respond, or even begin to decipher the teasing glint in Oikawa’s eyes, one that had never been directed at Tobio before, a loud, familiar, high-pitched squawk interrupted them.
“Guys, we’re playing Never Have I Ever over here!”
And almost as if by magic, two minutes later, Tobio was seated awkwardly between Kuroo and Shouyou, somberly nursing what was left of his drink. Tobio could only be grateful that his head was buzzing and his vision was blurring, the liquor finally taking its toll on his senses.
“Never have I ever..” Shoyou paused to think, and then smiled mischievously, eyes shining in excitement, “been so absolutely overwhelmed by emotion and love that I cried during sex.” There was a pause and then a dissatisfied growl, only interrupted by Kuroo’s “That was oddly specific.” Then, Iwaizumi-san took a chug, cheeks bright pink and glaring at Shouyou who cooed back unrepentantly.
Tadashi, who gets mean when he’s drunk, said “I’d cry too Shouyou, if I was dating you.”
Tobio easily zoned out the enraged cries and drunken laughter and tipsily thought instead of brown, glinting eyes and teasing smiles and- “It’s your turn, Tobio-kun!”
Tobio blearily glanced up to see that the entire group’s attention was now bestowed upon him.
“Never have I ever wanted to play a game less than this I do right now.” Tobio slurred, apparently catering to many when only half the room took a chug.
“Few things, worse than this.” Kei agreed snottily.
Shouyou huffed testily, “What do you jerks want to play then?”
Tadashi, even meaner now after more unauthorized gulps from an abandoned can lying by him, leered menacingly at Tobio. “Tobio-kun probably wants to play seven minutes in heaven.”
Shouyou snickered, “Who’s he going to make out with, himself?” and proceeded to look extremely unapologetic, even as Iwaizumi-san pinched his arm scoldingly. Tobio’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, knowing Oikawa and his darling boyfriend were listening to this enfeebling of his manhood.
“Maybe if everyone’s free will was involved,” Kei said grimly, and Tobio had never wanted to run his friends over with a bus more than he did in that instant.
“But this is a party, and all our dear Kageyama-kun has to do is spin a bottle!” Tobio got up to leave, before he could follow through on his urge to step on Kei and Shoyou’s faces and growled out an “I’m leaving.”
He stalked angrily towards the front door, but a tiny, orange menace intercepted him, and stood between him and his freedom, arms akimbo. “Tobio,” he whined, caramel eyes widened in fervour, but Tobio was a mere second away from razing the poor boy to the ground and trampling over him to make his escape.
Sensing this, the red-head hurriedly added,“What do you want to play, Kageyama-kun?”
Tobio paused to think about this, mind buzzing, and came to a decision.
“Volleyball.” He hiccuped. Tobio wondered if he was just drunk or if he really heard Oikawa’s tinkling laugh from somewhere behind him.
Kei openly laughed. “I’m willing,” He accepted, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But only if we’re all as hammered as our dear Tobio-kun, here.”
“If we were all as drunk as Tobio, the game would end before it even began,” Oikawa said to good-humoured laughter, and entirely taking Tobio by surprise, as he swiveled to look at him, teetering precariously on a foot till Shouyou mercifully latched on to him and anchored him down.
Tobio narrowed his eyes. “I can beat you,” Tobio declared regally, “With one arm tied behind my back and twice as drunk as I am.” Iwaizumi-san laughed. “That’s right Kageyama, you tell him.”
Oikawa stood up and got so far into Tobio’s personal space, Tobio thought he could count each individual, dark eyelash, but Tobio refused to flinch or look away. Tobio thought Oikawa might be a little drunk himself.
“Alright Tobio. One arm behind our backs, and I’ll take three shots to get on your level. Loser does whatever the winner demands. What do you say?” He stuck his hand out.
“Deal,” Tobio grabbed his hand fiercely, drunkenly grateful at the opportunity to hold Oikawa Tooru’s hand at least once in his sorry life. Shouyou, perhaps foreseeing Tobio latching on to Oikawa’s hand for all of eternity, or at least until one of them had to use the bathroom, dragged Oikawa away to ‘ get you smashed ’ and the party followed, apparently excited at the prospect of drunk volleyball.
Drunk volleyball went as well as one might expect, with a generous dose of vomit here and confused heckling there. Eventually the two teams reached a standstill as their inebriated captains argued the legitimacy of the last ball out-of-bounds call. Since they were all reasonable adult men, they came to the most reasonable, adult conclusion, which was to settle the dispute with a good-old brawny arm-wrestling match. Tobio, gladly excusing himself from the testosterone induced madness, went to grab some water, relaxing only as the coolness slid down his parched throat. The yells behind Tobio got just the slightest bit louder, and Tobio turned around, earnestly concerned for the lives of his teammates. But, having the gift of great timing, Tobio promptly walked right into a red-faced, sweaty, incredibly drunk Oikawa.
“Well, Tobio-chan,” his life-long crush slurred down at Tobio, staring at him with what seemed to be undiluted affection and Tobio found it harder to breathe, now pressed up against Oikawa’s lithe, toned body. The only thing grounding Tobio was the sharp pinch of the kitchen counter jutting into his lower back from where Oikawa had him pushed up against it. Tobio’s lids drooped coquettishly lower without his permission, cheeks burning both in humiliation and excitement. Confusion, which should have been the most logical biological response, seemed to be absent when Tobio most needed it.
“Looks like you have me drunk and defenseless, just the way you want me.” Oikawa said, in what Tobio hoped was irony. Tobio’s nose scrunched up in disgust, the moment now ruined. “Get away from me.” Tobio demanded.
“I’m sorry, officer, I’d already be on my way, but your baton’s obstructing my path,” The smarmy, disgusting asshole had the audacity to laugh, a knee pointedly grinding into a now heavenly ascended Tobio’s half-chub. While Tobio would have loved to have leaned back, and get lost in the idea that this was meant for him, the belief that they were meant to be together here in this cramped corner of Kei’s kitchen and ensconced in Oikawa’s repellent notion of flirting, Tobio knew better. Thankfully, he had but one brain cell that spent its days unceasingly looping the memory of Oikawa’s rejection in a dark, damp corner of Tobio’s mind, who also agreed with him.
Tobio clenched his thighs together, halting Oikawa’s in its insistent track.
“You have a boyfriend, pervert,” Tobio hissed, eyes blazing with an unsurprising bout of anger and hurt at the reminder. Oikawa, the piece of shit that he was, simply sighed, further easing himself into Tobio’s personal space, so much so that their noses were gently touching.
“Tobio,” He said so softly, nuzzling against Tobio’s face so affectionately that Tobio lost his breath all over again.
“You remember it too, don’t you?”
And before Tobio’s unsung hero of a brain cell could even begin to parse through that, soft warm lips were on his. Tobio gasped into the kiss, eyes closing against his own will, and ethics and dignity. Tobio’s lips were tingling, and if he at all sobered down after their sets of drunk volleyball, Tobio felt inebriated all over again, overwhelmed by all the feeling coursing through him. Oikawa didn’t seem to be doing much better, their chaste slide of lips seeming enough to do the trick for Oikawa’s own baton, which was insistently making its presence known near Tobio’s hip.
Tobio slowly opened his mouth, ready to take this virginal bullshit to the next level and hoping that there was volleyball in hell, where he was certainly heading after this, when he felt something shockingly wet fall on the tip of his nose, and then make its damp way down his chin. Tobio froze, his soft lips making a wet noise as they detached from Oikawa’s own, and his heart clenched.
Oikawa was gently smiling down at him, eyes watery and a humbling stream of tears haltingly flowing down the smooth planes of his face.
“Oikawa-san,” Tobio spoke quietly into the silence between them, wide eyes soft, running a hand down to wipe away the dampness. “You’re crying.”
“This doesn’t feel like the first time we’ve done this.” Oikawa admitted, still stroking the sides of Tobio’s face.
“I think I’ve been apologizing for eight years. It still isn’t enough.”
Tobio’s whole, entire body seized, his poor brain cell finally decapitated and passed away, a rotting carcass all that was left. Tobio felt his own tears add to the mix disappearing into the line of his shirt, but Tobio couldn’t understand why he was feeling this distraught, this broken up. Tobio opened his mouth, not sure what he was about to say, but was interrupted by a sharp gasp to their right. The last thing that both Tooru and Tobio saw was Tooru’s boyfriend venomously, murderously glaring at them, before they both gasped awake, on opposite sides of Tokyo.
Tooru lay panting in bed, his previously seething boyfriend now guilelessly lying beside him. He glanced to his right, at the deep red rose in the vase on his table, mocking him as a blackened petal detached itself and gently drifted down. There were only three left. Tooru spent the next fifteen minutes willing down both the images of a pink-faced, wide-eyed, pliant Tobio and the obtrusive unwavering presence that was his own bastard dick. If Tooru could berate it without terrifying his peacefully sleeping boyfriend, he would.
On the other side of the city, Tobio also lay exhausted and utterly furious, as not only was he so incredibly horny and alone , he was fairly certain he had a shift at the diner today. So much for liberty, Tobio thought despairingly.
It still isn’t enough
, a whisper of Oikawa’s voice flitted through the wasteland that was Tobio’s brain and he furiously ripped off his sheets and furiously hopped out so he could furiously go jerk off in the shower.