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Words had never been a problem for Hinata.
He liked words.
He liked the way they felt on his tongue, the speed with which he could rattle them off, the effect the ones that left his lips had on others.
He liked the vast variety of words he knew, though he often resorted to a select few. He liked hearing them, interpreting them, responding to them, with them.
He liked words.
Consequently, he had a lot of them ready at all times. But now, for once in his hyperactive life, he was at a loss. Because here he stood, eyes stinging, chest heaving, finger pointing at his favorite word of all.
“Kageyama,” he shouted, louder than he intended. And that was all he could manage because the boy, damn him, turned around.
Silky hair dark as night, blue eyes clear as day; a perfect cultivation of life, yet he did not seem lively at all.
He was one of life’s greatest mysteries, as far as Hinata was concerned; he was broody responses and unaffected grimaces and temperamental outbursts at Hinata’s every attempt to get closer. He was “leave me alone” and “you’ve had your last toss” and “get better first” at Hinata’s every wish for more practice.
But he was also stolen glances and hidden smiles and the faintest blushes when he thought Hinata didn’t notice.
He noticed.
And that only made the mystery that was Kageyama Tobio greater.
“What do you want,” he said in that rough-edged voice Hinata knew all too well, a voice he was no longer going to put up with.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” he spat as his feet took him further than he intended to go, nearly crashing into the setter.
“What the fuck do you mean, ’what’s wrong with me’?” Kageyama scoffed.
Something about it made Hinata’s blood boil. How could he not know?
Suddenly, he was no longer at a loss for words. A string of them, every one more colorful than the last, rushing out of him in a gulf of frustration.
“You’re an ass, kageyama,” he hissed.
“An ass?” he responded, an amused look on his face.
“An ass.” Hinata confirmed. ”You’re better than you were before,” he continued, voice on the verge of breaking, “you’re still a hard worker but kinder, helpful even. To everyone but me.”
Kageyama’s face no longer looked amused, it looked like something else.
“Hinata-”
But he was on a roll now.
“No. I’m not done,” he seethed. “Do you know how painful that is? Do you, Kageyama? Do you know how much it hurts to see you get along with everyone only to push me aside like dirt?”
Hinata was hardly breathing now, fumed instead.
“Do you know how much it fucking stings that you’ve traded me in for Tsukishima of all people?”
He scoffed, turning hazel eyes to meet stormy blue, “I thought we were partners, you and I.”
His voice actually did crack now, a tear slipping from his eyes as he soldiered on.
“I thought you told me that together we were invincible,”
He didn’t look up to Kageyama — couldn’t look up to Kageyama.
“I believed you,” he sniffled, “I guess I was wrong.”
He felt two hands gripping his jaw, his cheek, forcing his eyes up to face clear sky blue, a little less clear, a little more clouded.
“Hinata-”
But the words hadn’t left him yet.
“Do you know what hurts the most?” he said, voice not above a whisper. Kageyama only shook his head softly, matching the slight tremble of Hinata’s body.
“The worst part,” Hinata sighed, “the worst part is that I don’t know when or why you started hating me.”
That seemed to strike something in the setter, breath hitching, hand pulling back.
”Hinata-”
Hinata, Hinata, Hinata. It seemed to be his favorite word. The boy in question could only scoff.
“What?” he spat, “what could you possibly say? What could you possibly want me to say? Do you want me to cry and beg for your friendship? Because I won’t.”
“Hinata-”
“I just want to know why you hate me,” he whispered, fight leaving his body
“I don’t hate you,” Kageyama whispered back.
But his response only angered Hinata further.
“Then why? Why can’t you look at me? Why do you push me away when all I want to do is pull you in?” he shouted.
And finally he saw.
Faint, but definitely there. The shine of a tear threatening to slip from the prettiest eyes Hinata knew, even now. Even when he didn’t want to acknowledge it. They were.
Maybe that’s what he hated most about this. That even though Kageyama would never feel the same, he couldn’t help but admire every little thing about him.
He couldn’t stop his traitorous heart from skipping a beat when he caught him mid-change.
He couldn’t stop his double-crossing arms from reaching out to touch what he knew he couldn’t have. He couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of him in a string of incoherent praise whenever he did the littlest fucking thing.
He hated it. He hated hating words. He hated hating him. He hated loving him.
Because he had to be honest, at least to himself. He loved him.
He looked, finally looked at the boy in front of him, teary-eyed and terrified.
“I-” Kageyama started, a blush rising high in his neck. “I can’t,” he whispered.
“Because it’s true. You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
Hinata scoffed, couldn’t quite believe him. “You pushed me to the ground and kicked me while I was down,” he said.
“I don’t hate you,” Kageyama repeated — something of a mantra, but louder this time — as the blush spread to his cheeks.
“You slap me away when I touch you…” Hinata stepped closer again to press his slender finger to Kageyama's side for emphasis.
“Here.”
Kageyama shuddered but stayed strong. “I don’t hate you,” he said, his voice almost a shout.
”You yell and hiss and bite,” Hinata said, his eyes getting clouded now too.
“I don’t hate you.”
“You scream and kick and fight.”
“I don’t hate you.”
”Then why,” Hinata yelled. “Is it because you’re so scared that since everyone else left, I will too?”
It was a low blow, he knew that. Just like he knew he’d regret saying it in a moment, just like he knew he was crying now too.
“Is it because I annoy you? Because I’m small and dumb and not good enough for you, is that it?”
Kageyama sounded ready to explode, “Hinata, I don’t-”
Hinata wasn’t done.
“Is it because I’m too much, too loud, too-”
“Hinata, I don’t-”
Hinata felt his anger building and building and building until it exploded,
“you hate-”
“I love you!”
Kageyama clasped a hand to his mouth, trying to contain the words. But Hinata had already heard them. Was already drowning in them as they echoed through his mind.
Hinata Shouyou liked words. But perhaps there was one word he loved.
“Kageyama,” he said softly, shock still on his face.
“I didn’t-” the boy tried. But his efforts were futile against a wide-grinning Hinata.
“You,” he gulped, “you love me?”
Kageyama’s hand traveled further upwards to cover his face, his embarrassment, but he softly nodded yes.
“Interesting way of showing it,” Hinata teased.
For a moment he thought Kageyama might cry, more than he already had. And he couldn’t take the sight. Hinata’s hands had a mind of their own, apparently, as they sought out the offending fingers covering a beautiful, beautiful face.
His amber eyes locked onto clear sky blue, a soft glint betraying his feelings.
“I love you too,” he whispered.
The face Kageyama made in that moment was everything to Hinata.
It was the greatest mystery of life unfolding right before him. It was surprise and relief and love written all over it. It was soft and tender and kissable - could Hinata do that now? -It was framed by hair dark as night, pierced by eyes blue as day. It was the perfect cultivation of life, more lively than Hinata had ever seen it.
It was smiling down on him, for him, because of him.
He loved it.
Words had never been a problem for Hinata.
He liked words. But there was something he liked more. Something he had for a while now. Something wonderfully dark and bright and salty and sweet all at once. Something that saved him, in more ways than one. Something that told him that sometimes actions spoke louder than words. Something that made him want to test that statement.
And so he reached forward, leaning infinitely closer to press his lips to that one thing he liked more than words.
A thing called Kageyama Tobio.