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Kunimi never thought anything would come of it. Kageyama and Kindaichi are just too different for any sort of romance to work out. Both on and off the court, they are like oil and water, and that is even before Kageyama turned into the villain of this sordid little love story.
Yet it happens anyway, and now they are all miserable.
Why Kunimi falls in love with someone as clueless as Kindaichi is anyone’s guess. Usually, clueless people are the bane of his existence, but Kindaichi is not that so much as he is naïve. He doesn’t see the path he walks with Kageyama is strewn with landmines because he doesn’t know better and probably doesn’t want to. Kunimi wishes he could share in that obliviousness as he watches his best friend self-destruct.
The first time their relationship implodes is hardly a surprise to Kunimi, even if the other two are reeling.
Something changes in Kageyama late in their second year of middle school and spills over into third year. He goes from dimwit to dictator in record speed. Kageyama wants control over everything. Over the plays. Over the team. Over Kindaichi. And nothing is fast enough, high enough, or good enough. Even the team captain can’t figure out how to make it stop. Kunimi can deal with Kageyama shouting at him, because sometimes he purposefully holds back and kind of gets why it would make someone who plays at full tilt like Kageyama angry. He can even deal with making the benchwarmer first years cry.
But finding Kindaichi, who is supposed to be Kageyama’s boyfriend, crying in the bathroom after practice is unforgiveable.
“Why does he hate me? What did I do?” Kindaichi sobs into his knees as he huddles in one of the stalls.
Kunimi’s heart feels like it is being ripped out of his chest as he sees the self-doubt ooze out of Kindaichi. There is no one he cares about more than this oblivious boy with stupid hair and poor taste in dating. He wants to tell Kindaichi exactly why things are the way they are, but he doesn’t because Kindaichi isn’t ready to hear it yet. He still loves Kageyama, will never love Kunimi like that, and it would ruin the friendship that Kunimi holds onto.
Instead, he sits on the floor next to Kindaichi and offers the other boy some toilet paper to blow his nose. Ten snotty minutes later, they leave the school and Kunimi walks Kindaichi home, even though his own house is in the opposite direction. He has only been over to Kindaichi’s house once, mostly because Kindaichi is embarrassed by his living situation.
Kindaichi and his mother don’t have a lot, and their one bedroom apartment is cramped, but Kunimi is happy to know that what they lack in money, they make up for in warmth. Kindaichi-san works an extra job just to her son can play volleyball games she will never get the chance to see and go to a school that would never look at him without that extra cash.
Kunimi can’t help but think that Kindaichi deserves no less devotion because he gives it in kind. He deserves that from Kageyama but will never get it because Kageyama is cold and stupid about people.
As Kindaichi slumps into the futon that doubles as both his bed and the sofa, Kunimi wordlessly goes to the kitchen area and begins to prepare dinner. Food always improves Kindaichi’s mood, so he prepares simple but hearty fare and makes enough so that Kindaichi’s perpetually tired mother will have something to eat when she gets home just after midnight.
Kindaichi is surprised when he’s handed a bowl of food and a fork that is easier to wield in his shaking hands than chopsticks. “Thank you,” he says quietly before rattling off the usual blessing. Kunimi takes his own bowl and drops onto the futon next to Kindaichi. He scoots close enough for their thighs to touch and wishes they can be as close in spirit as they are in body, but Kunimi is a realist and will take what he can get.
“Eat up,” he says coolly.
They eat together in silence, but Kunimi can barely swallow for all the things he wants to stay that are stuck in the back of his throat.
The championship game ends in disaster, much like they think it will. Kunimi still can’t believe he convinced Kindaichi to turn away from Kageyama. For reasons that are mostly unselfish, Kunimi inspires the entire team to stop hitting Kageyama’s ridiculous sets, and in one shining moment, it all comes together as the ball hits the floor untouched.
Kindaichi’s face is impassive as this happens, but Kunimi knows there is a battle being waged underneath. Technically, Kindaichi and Kageyama are still dating, but Kunimi doubts this will be the case by the end of the day. Kindaichi has simply had enough, and he is going from wondering what he is doing wrong to believing that he deserves better than to be blamed.
The match ends in defeat. The relationship follows suit in the hallway outside their changing room. Kunimi walks Kindaichi home again. This time, his mother is home (for a change), but Kindaichi barely notices as he goes straight to bed still in his clothes.
“Was it really that bad?” she asks Kunimi when she sees her son has made himself unavailable.
Kunimi knows she is referring to the match, but it doesn’t feel right that she doesn’t know about the other thing. After all, volleyball shouldn’t make anyone that angsty. He begins by testing the waters of how much she knows. “What do you know about Kageyama?”
Her face twists in a scowl as she thinks — a trait she has definitely passed on to her son — and she answers, “He’s one of Yuutarou’s friends from the volleyball team, right?”
So, she isn’t aware that her son is dating, let alone to what extent or whom. Kunimi isn’t surprised, really. Kindaichi is easily embarrassed, so he probably couldn’t get through a conversation about dating, or the almost imminent lecture about sex that would follow. He has no intention of outing Kindaichi without his permission.
But, if she is going to help Kindaichi through this time, she has to know something. Picking his words carefully, he says, “Kageyama was someone he really liked, but Kageyama has been treating everyone on the team badly, including him. It was ruining everything for everyone, so we all decided that we’d rather lose using our backup setter than deal with Kageyama. And yeah, we lost, but the worst part was after the game when Kageyama and your son had it out. They are no longer speaking.”
“Oh,” she gasps, a hand fluttering over her heart. “Poor Yuu-chan. I hope he’s going to be all right.”
Kunimi nods. “He just needs some time. Kageyama meant a lot to him, both as his setter and as a friend. It will be hard for him to adjust, but he’s strong. I’ll do whatever I can to make it better.”
Kindaichi-san smiles broadly at him. “Yuutarou is lucky to have you, Kunimi-kun.”
Any reply Kunimi might have is ashen in his mouth. Instead, he bows. “I should get going, since he really wants to be alone right now. Just make sure he eats something, even if he doesn’t want to. It usually makes him feel better.”
“Of course,” she replies, clapping a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “Thank you for taking care of my son. I wish there was more I could do for him, but it’s hard to figure out what’s going on under that ridiculous hair of his.”
Kunimi snorts at this and gives her a tight smile in return. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out myself.” Bowing again, he all but flees the apartment before vomits any more of his feelings.
He makes it about halfway to his own house when he stops in the middle of the street and laughs. There is not a shred of amusement in him as he thinks that he at least has a shot for someone in the Kindaichi family to love him, even if it is Kindaichi’s mother.
Once he returns to his own empty house (his parents usually do date night on evenings Kunimi has volleyball games), he ignores the 2000 yen note stuck to the fridge so he can order takeout and goes straight to his room and flings himself face-first into the covers.
He’s not going to cry, but he almost wishes he could. Maybe that’s why Kindaichi does it so often; perhaps there is something freeing, something cathartic in loudly proclaiming that one is in pain. But instead, he lays there festering like an un-lanced wound, festering on the inside.
This is when Kunimi decides that he does, in fact, hate Kageyama Tobio — for both his abominable behavior and for wounding him via his most glaring weakness in Kindaichi.
Even with the inordinate number of times they have faced Karasuno, Kunimi used to think that Kageyama was far behind both him and Kindaichi, an unpleasant memory that no longer haunts them like a specter.
It’s almost painful how wrong he is when he walks in on Kindaichi and Kageyama in the bathroom after Aobajousai’s Spring High loss. They aren’t exactly in flagrante, but they can’t have been far off.
It takes everything Kunimi has to play it cool and escape the sight he never wants to see again. He can barely catch his breath until Kindaichi makes it to the bus at last, smelling like come and reeking of regret.
They don’t talk for most of the ride home, but Kindaichi doesn’t need to say anything for Kunimi to know what he’s thinking. The artificial brightness on his face in the bathroom has only left darker, deeper shadows in their wake. In just that scant amount of time, Kindaichi looks three times his age and so, so lost.
The senpais look at both of them and probably think they are upset about the match, but volleyball is not the loss Kunimi will remember about this day. Instead, the headlines will herald this day as the one when Kindaichi stops being naïve and understands how toxic his feelings for Kageyama have been.
And then Kindaichi will refuse to give his heart to anyone for a long, long time. Even to Kunimi, who has quietly stitched it back up until it is made more of patches than artery.
He half-heartedly offers to talk it out with Kindaichi but is relieved when the latter declines. There is nothing to be said that they don’t both already know. Kageyama will be Kindaichi’s fist and worst mistake, but will be the last in a long while. Kunimi knows because it is the advice that he intends to give when the time is right.
Once again, Kunimi follows Kindaichi home to make sure he is cared for. Kindaichi-san is again not home, so Kunimi makes food neither of them will taste and bundles Kindaichi off to bed early enough so he can do his homework in the morning.
Kindaichi is like a robot, his gears and servos obeying remote commands rather than abiding by his own free will. They don’t speak and Kunimi is grateful for the silence. Not so he can let his mind race with the doors that are now open but he will never be granted entry, but because he’s sure he will throw up if he opens his mouth.
Once his charge is tucked in under a massive pile of blankets, Kunimi braces a hand on Kindaichi’s hunched shoulder and says softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A hand shoots out of the swaddle and latches onto Kunimi’s wrist. “Don’t leave me, Akira. Please.”
Kunimi can’t recall the last time Kindaichi used his given name, but the sound of it, the intimacy of it, pours something warm and sweet into his belly. He slides his wrist out of Kindaichi’s grasp so he can lace their fingers together in a way Kunimi has only been able to imagine.
He isn’t sure if Kindaichi wants him or just someone right now, but he is weak and craves just a fraction of what Kageyama has thrown away and trampled. It’s probably wrong to take advantage of Kindaichi’s weakened emotional state, but Kunimi has the rest of his life to contemplate it.
Right now, Kindaichi is here and wants him to be there, needs him to be there, and Kunimi will be there.
Quickly, he texts his mother to let her know where he will be and wangles himself in the small expanse between Kindaichi’s chest and the floor. Within seconds, Kindaichi’s arms are wrapped around him and they are both under the fortress over covers
Kunimi doesn’t know how Kindaichi could possibly miss how hard his heart is pounding, but the other boy still hasn’t let go, so maybe he won’t. The tears he expects come and go, but it isn’t until Kindaichi’s snotty, hoarse breathing evens with sleep that Kunimi allows himself to cry until he can follow.
Kindaichi’s mother finds them tangled in one another when she slumps in after a long day, and she smiles to herself. She’s always had a feeling about these two. If only her son stops being too dense to notice.