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Kageyama looked at his best friend. A vision of orange, bright as the morning sun, and he wanted to know, he just had to know.
“How do you know you don’t like to kiss boys?” he asked.
“How do you know you do?” Hinata retorted.
Kageyama scoffed, he hadn’t thought about that.
The realization that he was attracted to boys the way he should be attracted to girls hadn’t really hit him, it hadn’t been some epiphany of epic proportions.
He’d just known.
Just like he knew that that same attraction had now drawn him to a certain honey-eyed individual. An individual that he had the pleasure and pain of spending every single day with, every waking moment of his slowly ripening life occupied by bickering and laughter and passion and an energy he could never quite match, never quite had to.
And like everything worthwhile in his life, he’d never had to wonder.
He’d just known.
“I just do,” he said.
“Well, so do I.” Hinata responded.
Kageyama didn’t buy that, he couldn’t possibly buy that. Because if he did that meant that he’d never have a chance, all he wanted was a chance.
“Aren’t you curious?” he asked and Hinata raised his brow.
“Curious?” he repeated.
“Curious,” Kageyama echoed.
“About kissing boys?”
Kageyama simply nodded, not trusting his voice to carry the words he wanted to say. He looked at his friend who in turn looked at him. Hinata sighed, his leg bouncing up and down the way it always did when he was nervous, restless.
Kageyama felt a sting of guilt, a pang of shame building up in his chest.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to-”
“Maybe I am.”
The words shot straight through Kageyama in a way he didn’t know words could.
“Curious?” he whispered, the words nothing more than a breath.
“Curious,” Hinata replied.
Kageyama saw a faint blush high up on his cheeks, and knew he had a matching one. If Hinata noticed, he didn’t mention it.
He didn’t know what he’d even wanted to accomplish with his question.
That was a lie.
He did know, he was afraid to let him know it too.
That was also a lie.
He wasn’t afraid to let him know as much as he was to let him in, let him judge him and then reject him. But he’d made his bed, he would have to lie in it.
“What do you want to do about that curiosity?” he breathed, taking one monumental step closer to the sunny figure in front of him, both in the literal and figurative sense.
Hinata breathed, short and shallow. “Maybe I should,” he gulped, “try it?”
“Try it?” Kageyama asked.
“Try it.” Hinata whispered.
They were at an arm's length now, one more step and they’d breach each other’s space fully.
Kageyama didn’t know if he had the stomach to take that step.
Luckily Hinata did.
It was one of the things Kageyama admired, no, loved about him. He might look afraid on the outside, might be scared of petulant little things, but he wasn’t a coward, not when it mattered.
He was brave and strong and close, so close as he took that final step. So close Kageyama could practically feel hot breath fanning across his cheek, which he knew Hinata couldn’t quite reach without standing on the tips of his toes.
Hinata gulped, honey eyes flashing from Kageyama’s lips back to his eyes, hungrily taking him in. As hungrily as Kageyama had been for days, weeks, months. He finally let that hunger take over as he closed the millimeter of space Hinata had left between them.
He felt lips, as soft and sweet and salty as he imagined. Because yes he had imagined them. More than he’d like to admit.
He felt tentativeness and intrigue and wonder in those lips as they parted slightly.
He felt determination in the breath of air that left the boy before him.
He felt a swell of love in his chest, a tingle in his belly, an electrifying surge of something all over his skin.
He felt lost and he felt found, he felt wanted and he felt wanting, he felt the pieces of the puzzle that was his life clicking together at last.
He felt a hand cupping his face, another circling his back, he felt his own fingers tracing the lines of a jaw, that of a cheek.
He never wanted to stop feeling. He had to eventually though, and when air threatened to slip away, so did he.
“I’m curious,” he whispered.
“Curious?” Hinata responded.
“Curious,” he echoed.
He locked his gaze on honey-brown eyes, slightly glazed over still.
“Why did you know you don’t like kissing boys?” he asked.
Hinata laughed softly, “I didn’t.”
That surprised Kageyama, hurt him almost. Had Hinata not felt that stunning show of fireworks he had?
“You didn’t?” he asked tentatively.
“I didn’t,” Hinata said, smile still on his face. Kageyama closed his eyes, gulped, readied himself for heartbreak. But then he felt soft, small fingers brushing a stray tear from his cheek.
“I didn’t like kissing boys,” Hinata repeated softly.
“Now I like kissing a boy.”
Oh.
Kageyama felt a lot at that moment, things he couldn’t quite explain. Relief, love, curiosity even. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. What mattered was that Hinata came closer again, his smile lighting up the room like it had a million times before, like it’d do a million times more.
And that smile was aimed at him. He wanted to kiss that smile dammit.
Maybe now he could.
“I want to kiss him again,” Hinata said.
“Yeah?” Kageyama responded.
“Yeah,” Hinata echoed.
Kageyama looked at his best friend. A vision of orange, bright as the morning sun, and he knew, he just knew.
He never wanted to stop kissing him.