Archive of Our Own

I look at you, you make me blind
Why do you have to be so beautiful all the time?
I know I can't be with you
It's killing me to see you with someone else

This isn’t how Shouyou envisioned his reunion with Kageyama would be after almost two years of being apart and harboring a secret, recently known love for almost a year. But here he is, pretending to be happy and excited when Kageyama introduced his girlfriend—Haruka-san.

She’s perfect, absolutely beautiful with her wavy red hair and large, golden eyes; her smile so bright and cheerful it can probably heal nations. And the way Kageyama looks at her like she’s the sun itself, all soft and tender; so unlike how he looks at him, always glaring and annoyed. What on earth was he thinking, planning to confess? Did he really think if he did, Kageyama would tell him he’s been secretly in love with him too, before he swept Shouyou off his feet to make sweet, passionate love like he fantasized? A fat, hopeless chance.

As much smile and laughter he forced on their meet-up, he cried his heart and soul out just as much. He’s breaking, and no amount of satisfaction from his win in their recent game can ever abate the pain tearing every fiber of his being.

If he had realized his feelings sooner, would things be different? Would he be the one looking at blue eyes that radiate love, the one who gets to hold strong dependable hands, feel those slender fingers laced over his? He has no way of knowing, not then, especially not now.

But love really is such an enigmatic thing. Because seeing Kageyama like that beyond the court—happy and impossibly content—makes Hinata happy for him, too. It’s what he wants most for him after all, the thing he was supposed to promise Kageyama if he chose to accept Shouyou’s confession.

He can still give him that, with all the pathetic, broken pieces of his crumbling heart. He can be happy for his friend, for the person he loves, even though he can offer so much more. But what use is that, when someone better, someone more suited, has already taken the role?

Tobio fell in love when he was sixteen. It was odd and unexpected, but mostly, he remembered being angry and annoyed. It was distracting him from volleyball, yet at the same time, motivated him to do and be better. It was such a paradox, much like the person in the center of it all.

He fell in love with that dumbass Hinata, in all his weirdness and messy orange hair and expressive round eyes. God, he hated those eyes, the ones he could never say no to.

Tobio fell in love when he was sixteen.

And he never stopped.

But he knew the kind of love he had wasn’t going to end well. A boy liking another boy—it’s not something everybody accepts, even he knew this much. And even if that wasn’t the issue, what use is this love when he knows it won’t ever be requited?

Hinata is the sun and Tobio, well, he’s the very opposite of that. And as much time they spent together in high school, he knows Hinata only tolerated him because they’re supposed to be volleyball partners. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet when Hinata took off to Brazil, Tobio felt like a piece of himself went with him. It’s as if Hinata had his very soul on the palm of his hand. That’s when he decided that he couldn’t just let this continue, or else he’d deteriorate. So he tried to socialize more, meet new people and make new friends. It eased the longing for companionship a little, but it never did replace that piece lit only by the fire Hinata’s warmth brought.

Until he met Haruka.

She was like a little flame that healed his burns, a comfort that eased his loneliness. They started dating a few months after they met.

Everything is perfect. She is perfect. She supports his volleyball career despite not being able to attend his games very often, what with her busy schedule as a nurse. But they always make time to meet up every week, eating out or watching movies or visiting the zoo or the library—things Tobio has never done, or has forgotten what it felt like to do.

She’s cheerful and sweet, thoughtful and caring. And her smiles are the most beautiful thing.

Second only to Hinata.

It didn’t take long for him to realize—whatever it is he feels for Haruka is just another projection of his suppressed and “forgotten” feelings for Hinata. Those are still there, never went away, just found themselves manifested in another person.

But maybe that would change, too. Maybe Tobio will learn to completely forget about Hinata, to truly and wholly love Haruka. So he makes extra efforts for her, things never in a million years he thought he’d be doing. Seeing her smile and be happy is fulfilling, and it makes Kageyama happy, too.

This is working, he told himself; he found a person who genuinely likes him, who takes care of him, who shows him the affection he’s been craving for the longest time. He deserves this happiness—the joy he once thought was only contingent on the sport he loves, and the boy who made him love it all the more.

And yet, this happiness seems…forced. It isn’t complete. There’s just something missing; despite how wonderful Haruka is. He feels disconnected, as if a part of him is suspended in limbo. But he ignores it. It’s nothing. He has everything he ever wanted.

It’s only when the news of Hinata’s return surfaces, that Tobio realizes how wrong he was.

Shouyou has met with Kageyama exactly three times since his return—and every time Haruka-san is with him, hand-in-hand. Shouyou sometimes thinks he’s some sort of masochist; he could easily say no to these meet-ups, but he agrees, every damn time.

And every damn time he feels himself wither, at the sight of Kageyama being doting and thoughtful, all gentlemanly and stuff, things he never thought his friend was capable of. Or maybe it’s just not applicable to Shouyou—he’s just not worth a soft smile or a gentle touch.

“What’s wrong, Hinata-san?”

Shouyou blinks. “Hm? Oh, nothing! Nothing!” He smiles, as wide as he possibly can. “I’m just thinking how cute you guys are!”

Haruka-san blushes, tugging at her red hair. “Oh. Well…”

“I mean, Kageyama is smiling! Like, I thought that’s one of the most impossible things to happen. Now look at him, looking so happy. It’s kinda funny, actually.”

But Kageyama is not smiling now as he stares at Hinata—his brows furrowed, lips curling down, almost snarling. “What do you mean, funny?”

“What? You’re all frowny and pouty in high school, and now you look dopey in love. What’s funnier than that?” Shouyou laughs.

The instant shift of unbridled anger from Kageyama immediately stops his hysterics.

“I know what’s funnier,” Kageyama snaps, voice low and rumbling, “you and your sick amusement at something you have no idea of what it’s like.”

Shouyou can feel every icy venom that drips with each scathing word piercing his heart. What in the hell is he doing?

“You’re right,” he rasps. “I don’t know what it’s like.”

He can feel the tears incoming and with a quick bow at Haruka-san and not another word to Kageyama, he’s out of the coffee shop as fast as his numb legs can carry him.

He stops meeting up with Kageyama after that, despite the barrage of texts and calls. He’s not prepared to face either of them, not after his suspicious exit. And he’s mad as hell at Kageyama; mad at how he can be so callous and insensitive, and hurt—he’s hurting because of the exact same reasons.

Turns out this whole ‘being happy for the person you love’ thing isn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

It has been almost a month since Tobio last talked to Hinata, since that time his frustration bared its tactless fangs. It was a redirection of his own internalized annoyance, of the confusion and turmoil that tormented him ever since Hinata’s return.

He is restless, and not even Haruka and her attempts to cheer him up can ease it. Until one day, she suggests they watch some matches together after dinner. She very rarely shows any interest in volleyball, just enough to show her support for Tobio, so the unexpected offer makes him feel unusually calm and content.

They’ve already gone through 3 games: a replay of his first Olympics and two previous V League matches from a few years back. They’re halfway through another one when Haruka falls asleep, head leaning on Tobio’s shoulder.

It’s past one in the morning, and deciding to turn in for the night, Tobio grabs the remote to turn the TV off, when something catches his eye on one of the recommended clips. It’s something about beach volleyball and the thumbnail shows none other than Hinata captured in mid-air, form perfect.

He plays the video.

It’s a feature of new up-and-coming players in the beach volleyball scene—the entire thing is in Portuguese, but thankfully, has subtitles in English (he’s been learning).

The interviewer goes through a number of players, until they get to Hinata as their final feature.

Hinata answers every question with a radiant smile, though at times he stumbles and stutters, ever the anxious mess Tobio has always known him to be, but also just as enthusiastic and spirited like he always is.

It makes Tobio’s heart ache.

“Now for my final question, Ninja Shouyou, what’s your biggest motivation?”

Hinata lets out a little laugh before he answers, “To be better. So I can fulfill a promise.”

“Ah, now that makes me curious, so would you mind me asking one final, final question?”

“Not at all!”

“Does this promise involve a person? A special someone?”

This time, Hinata answers without missing a beat, “Yes.” Then he starts speaking in Japanese, golden eyes staring right at the camera. Right at Tobio.

“I promised to defeat my rival so I can stand on the same stage as him someday, to reach the top with him. That’s what drives me. And achieving that will make me the happiest. Playing and being with him always makes me the happiest.”

Tobio stares at the TV screen even as the video ends, an ad taking its place. He’s frozen in place, yet his heart is full-on racing, the only thing that seems to be fully functioning at this point. He blinks himself out of his stupor when he feels a hand caress his face.

He turns to see Haruka staring at him, expression soft and face illuminated with the dimmed brightness from the screen and the kitchen light. Her hand rests tenderly on Tobio’s cheek, thumb running over his skin.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No.” Her touch on Tobio’s face never falters, her lips curling into a small smile before she leans in to replace her palm with a kiss. “I need to go.”

“What? It’s already past 1 am,” Tobio says, watching as she puts on her jacket. “Just stay in for the night.”

“I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow. Well, some hours from now.”

Tobio frowns. “But I thought it was your day-off until Friday—” He follows her to the entry hall, picking up his jacket and his keys on the way.

“I just received a message that one of the other nurses can’t come in tomorrow. We’re understaffed, as usual,” she says with a laugh, her back to Tobio as she puts on her shoes.

“At least let me take you home.”

She turns to him and for a moment, there’s some sort of sadness that passes through her bright features. She looks almost…resigned. But in a blink, it’s gone, only her signature comforting smile painting her beautiful face.

“Let’s go, then,” she says.

Things aren’t the same with Haruka after that. They still meet as often as they can, but now it’s becoming fewer and farther between. But maybe it’s just their conflicting schedules and Tobio can’t really ask for more of Haruka-san’s time with a job as demanding as hers, and with his own equally as stringent.

Yet, the effort to see each other tips over to Tobio’s side these days. She was usually the one who had the plans and he just went along with whatever she wanted them to do. Now even her Line messages dwindle, the time interval of her replies stretching with each passing day, and once she does, it’s only to apologize for replying late and apologizing again as she tells Tobio she’s going to rest after a tiring shift.

There’s no room for complaints and selfishness with these circumstances—he can’t just deprive his girlfriend of the rest she needs and deserves. So he focuses on his training and practices, with only ‘good mornings’ and ‘good nights’ exchanged between them. Still, he misses her.

When Haruka contacts him saying she finally has some free time, Tobio readily accepts, even though he needs to condition himself for the arranged practice game against the Black Jackals later that afternoon. It’ll be the second time he’ll see Hinata again after almost two months—the first one after that confusing afternoon being a joint training session of all Division 1 teams, where Hinata wasn’t really subtle with his avoidance of Tobio.

(He hasn’t really forgotten this…issue he has with Hinata; he’s just been really good at keeping himself distracted from it.)

He spots Haruka from the large window of the coffee shop they frequent, head bent low over a book. She only parts her attention from it when Tobio quietly slides in the seat across from hers, looking up in mild startle, her golden eyes going wide before softening, lips stretching into a smile.

“Hi,” Tobio greets.

“Hi! I already ordered for us. And don’t worry, I made sure yours has extra milk,” she says with a wink.

Their exchange starts as it usually does: updating each other on their respective happenings, which has a lot of ground to cover given their lessened communication from the past two weeks.

Haruka is as animated as ever and Tobio tries to fixate his attention to her stories, but his mind couldn’t help but wander to the impending scrimmage that afternoon. Specifically, on how he’s going to face and confront Hinata. He knows he’s at fault and that warrants an apology, but doing so would lead to unearthing things he doesn’t want revealed, not yet—

“Kageyama-kun.”

“No, I mean, yes—I—“ he fumbles, and feigning attentiveness, he clears his throat, “sorry, what were you saying again?”

Haruka-san smiles, but it’s nowhere near her usual cheerful one. “I said there’s something I want to talk about. It’s actually why I wanted to meet.”

Still perplexed, Tobio just nods. “Uhm, sure, what is it?”

Her gaze drops on her coffee cup, delicate fingers fiddling on the coaster as she speaks softly, “Do you remember that night we watched volleyball games together?”

“Yes,” he says, brow pinching. He doesn’t like the lack of vibrancy laced in Haruka’s voice and he inches forward to reach over the table and hold her hand, keeping it from fidgeting with the coaster. “Is something wrong?”

Her eyes remain lowered, staring at their joined hands, before giving his a squeeze as she lifts her face to look straight at Tobio, eyes misty.

“I woke up right at the time you were watching Hinata-san’s interview.”

Tobio’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He doesn’t even know what he plans to say; his heart is suddenly lodged on his throat.

Not that Haruka is letting him—she continues, gaze unwavering, grasping his hand like a lifeline. “You were so entranced by what was on the screen you didn’t even notice me wake up. Or should I say, by who.”

“Haruka—”

Her hold tightens, pressing on, “I’ve never seen you look like that before. So…pained and longing and helpless, all at once. Then I realized, I had actually already seen that expression on you. It was when you first introduced me to Hinata-san.”

It’s as though all the blood on Tobio’s body has migrated to his feet—he’s feeling lightheaded and his throat has gone completely dry.

Haruka smiles, but there’s nothing cheerful about it, only melancholy. “And everytime we meet with Hinata-san, something about you just changes. It’s like seeing a whole different side of you that only comes out when Hinata-san is there. You look at him like you’re always in wonder, like you’re trying to reach for something you truly, truly want.”

She pauses for a deep breath before letting out a small laugh, “At first I thought, you just really missed your best friend; I mean, you never shut up about him while he was in Brazil. And some selfish part of me was kind of like, ‘hey, maybe your boyfriend looks at his best friend like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen because he kinda looks similar to you.’”

Then a tear drops from her glossy eyes, streaking down her cheek even as she remains smiling. “But I was wrong. I got it all mixed-up. You look at me the way you do because I remind you of Hinata-san. I am the filter to the feelings you’re trying not to show.”

Tobio has to say something. He needs to say that she’s wrong, that he doesn’t have any secret feelings for his best friend and Hinata is nothing more than that to him, if he still even is his friend at this point. Tobio needs to say he loves her and will only ever love her, and what she’s saying is nothing but utter bullshit.

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

Because it would be a lie.

“You love him, don’t you? You always have.”

There’s no accusation or malice in Haruka’s voice; nothing but honesty in her calm voice that Tobio has no choice but to respond to with his own piece of truth.

“Yes.”

Haruka lets out a breath, her shoulders hunching high and clasping on their entwined hands as another stream of tears streaks down her face.

Forcing himself to make his limbs work, Tobio starts to move but Haruka shakes her head, turning to one side to wipe her own tears with the back of her free hand.

When she’s done, she faces back to Tobio, “And he loves you back. You know he does,” she says with a faint, rueful smile.

“He doesn’t—I don’t—”

“You do. You realized at the same time I did.”

His consciousness travels back to that night, on how he watches as Hinata declares to the whole world their childish yet fervent promise like it was the very thing that puts meaning to his life, the very reason to his existence.

How it’s the same for Tobio, too.

“I was making up excuses, you know?”

At the sound of Haruka’s quiet but tremulous voice, he snaps back to the present, laying sight on her beautiful yet sad face. “I was avoiding you. Because I was scared. Scared that the next time we met would be the last.”

She squeezes his hand still in hers. “But I know you, and how stubborn you can be. I love that about you, after all. So I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

“Haruka, please—”

Slowly, she unclasps her hand from Tobio’s, her soft fingers lingering for a second until she slides them completely out of touch.

“I’m setting both of us free, Kageyama-kun.”

He can feel his chest constrict, his hands going rigid and cold. ‘Please, don’t,’ he wants to say, but something from deep within the depths of his soul stops him, and instead makes him say, “Would that make you happier?”

Her lips lift into a soft, comforting smile, despite the sadness still reflected in her eyes. “Maybe not right away, but yes. For now, your own happiness is enough for me.”

“I’m not deserving of it. I’m hurting you, I don’t—I don’t want that.”

“You are hurting me. But I know you’re in pain just as much as I am. Kageyama-kun, I know you love and care for me; I felt that in the time we’ve been together. It’s just not in the way we both wanted or intended. Because you have all that love actually reserved for someone else. And I deserve better.”

She does. Tobio wants that for her, more than anyone. She deserves someone who will cherish her and love her truly, with no reservations. Someone who can appreciate her for who she is, not as a replacement for a secret love.

She deserves better.

And a selfish part of him thinks he does, too.

So he accepts the freedom she offers.

“Hey, I heard Tobio-kun broke up with his girlfriend.”

Shouyou stops midway from taking off his shoes, takes another pause to process the sentence, before looking up to face Atsumu-san, sitting beside him.

“He…what…?”

The setter shrugs. “I heard from Korai-kun. It’s been a week, apparently.”

“It’s that pretty red-head, right?” Bokuto-san joins in out of nowhere, to which Atsumu-san nods.

As the rest of the team chatters about this news, Shouyou remains silent, quietly slipping out of the noisy locker room to the showers, mind reeling.

He’s…conflicted. On one hand, there’s the shock at the information. They were so perfect, so in love. What the hell happened?

On the other, he’s worried for Kageyama; even though he’s still mad at him. Oh. That explained why he was off during the practice match they had roughly a week ago—the break-up must have happened right before that. Kageyama had even sat out the last set and he’d been nowhere in sight when the scrimmages eventually ended.

It’s a difficult concept to wrap around: Kageyama being so distraught that even volleyball became irrelevant. Hinata has never doubted Kageyama’s devotion to the sport before; it was the one thing they shared to the absolute, after all. Hell would freeze first, before Kageyama ever abandoned a volleyball game. Or at least, that’s what Shouyou thought. Until it wasn’t the case anymore.

He debates messaging Kageyama—a silent argument battling in his head while he’s in the shower up until he’s in his bed, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room.

There’s nothing and so much that Shouyou wants to say, and the irony confuses him even more. He wants to know what happened; not to pry, but to understand how to comfort his friend.

But will his comfort be enough? Or even wanted in the first place? What if Kageyama sees it as pity? What if Shouyou contacts him, only to bring further disappointment, his name flashing on Kageyama’s phone when he’d rather have Haruka-san's on it instead?

His phone lays warm on his chest from the tug-of-war he’s been doing with the messaging app, typing and deleting texts.

He enters a fitful sleep without sending a single one.

Miyagi hasn’t changed much since Shouyou last visited—which hasn’t been that long, what with him going home to his family when he returned from overseas; but still, he didn’t have time then to appreciate his quaint hometown after two years in a busy, foreign city.

He does so now, doing a “little” shopping with Natsu for her volleyball stuff, right before he has to meet up with his old high school team for a get-together later that evening. It’s a last-minute thing organized by Sugawara-san, taking advantage of Golden Week, and as his senpai put it, to “keep up with tradition.” Everybody was free and onboard and after a few hours of discussion through their Line group chat, an izakaya reservation was made at a time convenient for everyone.

There’s still a couple of hours before their agreed time, and the izakaya isn’t that far from the mall they’re in, but Natsu also made plans with her friends (who are volleyball fans that asked for his autograph and photo, much to his surprise; he’s still not used to this kind of attention).

After he drops his sister off, he decides to pass the remaining time in a nearby park. He’d prefer to jog, but his button-up shirt and jeans aren't exactly the best running gear, so he settles for a walk. Twice, he’s approached by people who recognized him and again finds himself signing pieces of paper and even a handkerchief.

He’s on his third round of walking when a tall guy blocks his path, face obscured by a baseball cap and sunglasses.

It only takes him two seconds to recognize the figure. “K-Kage—”

A hand slaps against his mouth before he can finish.

“Don’t. Please,” Kageyama whispers and when Hinata nods, he removes his hand, then looks around. No one is paying them any attention. Kageyama turns back to him. “Walk with me.”

And they do, in complete silence; with just the sound of their sneakers hitting the pavement bringing Shouyou some sense of normalcy. It’s been over a month since they last saw each other, let alone talked; and now here they are, walking side by side in a park in Miyagi as the sky spreads with hues of oranges and blues as it enters dusk.

“I’m sorry.”

Shouyou looks up at the taller man, blinking in surprise and confusion. “Huh?”

Kageyama meets his stare, and even through his sunglasses and the darkening shadows of the evening, Shouyou can make out the intensity in his familiar blue eyes.

“That day, at the cafe, I–I said things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for just apologizing now.” His gaze breaks away, looking straight ahead. “I had a lot to deal with.”

“It’s okay,” Shouyou says; and really, it is. “I mean, yeah, that was insensitive of you, but I overreacted. And I didn’t reach out, either. Not even after you and Haruka-sa—”

He stops himself on time, almost biting his tongue.

Kageyama sighs, eyes still plastered in front. “It’s fine. You were not obliged to.”

Something pinches in Shouyou’s chest. Expected, but still hurts like hell.

“Y-yeah, I figured.” His voice wavers, despite him trying his best not to.

Kageyama stops walking then, stopping Shouyou on his tracks as well. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, frowning. “And you didn’t overreact. You were mad, I understand that, and I didn’t expect you to contact me even when Haruka-san and I broke up.”

“Still, I should have,” Hinata insists. The ripping in his chest is now replaced with the acrid burn of shame. “I-I’m your best friend and I didn’t do shit when you were heartbroken. And over something stupid that’s true, anyway.”

“It’s not just that.” Kageyama’s voice is barely audible, despite them being a mere inches apart. Shouyou can feel his body heat, his scent of wintergreens, this feeling of comfort and safety he always associates with Kageyama. Yet linked with it now is this overwhelming ache to touch, as he stands there, so tantalizingly within reach.

His voice is just as low when he responds, “What do you mean?”

He watches as broad shoulders hunch up, broad chest expanding as Kageyama takes a deep inhale.

“Hinata, I—”

Both of them flinch when Shouyou’s phone suddenly rings.

Hands shaking, Shouyou fumbles for his phone. “H-hello? Ah! Suga-san! Y-yes! Sorry, sorry! We lost track of time. Yeah , I’m with Kageyama. We’ll be there in no time! Bye!” He blinks up at Kageyama, who seems to have not moved from his spot at all.

Shouyou clears his throat. “Uhm…they’re all in the izakaya already, apparently.”

Slowly, Kageyama unfreezes, hands twitching by his sides, before nodding stiffly. “R-right. Let’s go, then.”

Silence once again finds them as they walk to meet their friends.

But this silence doesn’t stay; as if it has also gotten tired of working for pride and guilt and shame. After weeks and months of cold solitude, Shouyou finds himself bickering again with Kageyama, doing dumb competitions with him, teasing the shit out of him until the other man turns red in annoyance and embarrassment, his large hands drilling down on Shouyou’s head. Like old times, like nothing ever changed. Maybe being surrounded by their old team has something to do with it.

Or maybe, Shouyou just missed his best friend.

Maybe Kageyama did, too.

That night out sparked a change. Or rather, it reverted things back to normal. They get talking again, both in person and through chats; meet up a couple of times; launch into arguments that always get out of hand—it’s like nothing ever happened.

But Shouyou can’t erase the fact that something did, and although Kageyama is as much Kageyama as he always was, scowling and glaring at nothing and everything, Shouyou can feel the melancholy hidden behind. He sees it in the murkiness of his navy eyes, the faint circles underneath them, the frequent quiet sighs and short moments of staring listlessly into space. Once or twice, he catches Kageyama gazing at him with this indescribable look on his face. He almost looks…scared. Of what exactly, Shouyou can only guess.

He never asks about what Kageyama was about to say that day in the park, before he got cut off. Nor does Shouyou pry on what happened between him and Haruka-san. But one thing is clear: Kageyama is still, very obviously, heartbroken. Maybe that pushed him to rekindle their friendship, maybe Kageyama just really needs a friend right now, to ease the loneliness. Shouyou is perfectly alright with that. He can be that for him; he should have been that for him right from the start. So he’s going to be Kageyama’s comfort. For as long as Kageyama needs him.

When Kageyama finally opens up to him, Shouyou is all ears—and heart, despite it crushing with every word that spills out of Kageyama. Strangely, he sounds calm, almost serene. Accepting; as he tells Shouyou that the way things ended with Haruka-san was a two-way agreement, not at all the messy break up Shouyou was expecting, with how visibly distraught Kageyama is. It was something mutual, something “they both needed,” in Kageyama’s own words, although he doesn’t elaborate much about what that means. He says they're still friends, and talk to each other occasionally . But—

“I still hurt her,” Kageyama says, voice slightly wavering, trembling hands gripping on his jeans. It’s taking all of Shouyou’s willpower not to fold his own hands over them. “But I know I’d just keep hurting her if we stayed together. She deserves better.”

“But what about what you deserve?” Shouyou blurts out; Kageyama just stares at him. “I mean, you still love her, don’t you?”

“I do.”

It’s like purposely running in front of a bullet; Shouyou winces at how his chest sinks in on itself.

“But not in the way I’m supposed to.”

He blinks at the other man, a mix of different emotions swirling together inside him, but mostly confusion. “What do you mean?”

For what seems like an eternity, Kageyama is silent, just his deep blue eyes staring straight through Shouyou, piercing, pinning him in place. Paralyzing him.

And Kageyama is getting closer. Closer. Closer.

“Some other time,” he breathes, inches from Shouyou’s face.

He can still hear and feel the thunderous beating of his heart long after Kageyama drops him off to his dorm, until he’s on his bed, wondering what the hell just happened.

The confusion stays with him the following days, and only volleyball keeps him sane. His chats with Kageyama are still nonsensical and random; clearly, he’s the only one rattled by their last encounter. Was that all in his head? Was that just some weird projection, or something? Maybe it was, maybe he was feeling too much that day and his mind short-circuited and combusted.

Because in no way did Kageyama look like he was about to kiss him.

There’s no way, right? Why the hell would he? He doesn’t—

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Shouyou cries when his grocery cart bumps into someone else’s. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking—”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t either.”

There’s no mistaking that cheerful voice, warm, sunny smile, and vibrant red hair.

“H-Haruka-san?”

Haruka-san simply smiles at him. “Hello, Hinata-san. It’s been a while.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah. Yeah, it is,” he stutters. Of all the people to run into—literally. He eases back his cart and makes space, despite the aisle being big enough for both of them and their carts.

“Sorry, again, Haruka-san. You can pass now.”

“Oh, actually, I wouldn’t mind shopping with you,” she says, bright smile inviting. “I’m not used to doing it alone. That is, if you don’t mind…?”

Returning the gesture, Shouyou beams. “Of course not! I’m about to get milk.”

He pushes the cart forward again, taking extra care not to bump with Haruka-san’s as she maneuvers her own to walk beside him.

“I totally forgot—I’m about to run out of milk, too! Thanks for the reminder!”

“Sure!”

They roll their carts in shared, comfortable silence, until Haruka-san breaks it with the most unexpected question:

“Is it for Kageyama-kun?”

Shouyou almost trips himself to the next dimension. “W-what is?!” he flusters.

“The milk?” Haruka-san clarifies, bewildered.

Now Shouyou is also confused. “I—no. It’s…for me.” He slows down his pace, partly to prolong their walk, mostly to properly look at Haruka-san. “Why did you think it was for Kageyama?”

Long lashes blink at him. “I thought…” She trails, taking a long pause, then something like realization flashes in her features as her puzzled expression morphs into a frown while she mumbles under her breath. “That idiot, I swear to god…”

“I’m sorry?”

Haruka-san shakes her head. “I don’t mean you! Just…thinking out loud.” With a smile, she asks, “I know this might be weird, but do you wanna grab a coffee or something to eat after this?”

This whole encounter has been nothing less than confusing, that Shouyou finds himself accepting the invitation. It’s his free day anyway, and really, who can resist that sunshine smile?

They decide to eat at some fast-food joint after they finish grocery shopping (it’s also his cheat day; he can easily recover all these empty calories later, anyway). Haruka-san is great at conversation, as he already knew from all the other times they met and Shouyou has no problem keeping up. Curiously, not once does the mention of Kageyama come up, and Shouyou is silently thankful for it.

But just as Shouyou starts to lower his guard, Haruka-san unleashes the beast.

“Did you and Kageyama-kun make up?”

Shouyou kind of regrets eating two cheeseburgers; his stomach is threatening to hurl them right out. “Yeah…there was this get-together thing with Karasuno…”

A sudden chill zips down Shouyou’s spine. Oh god, is she planning to ask Hinata to help her get back with Kageyama? Is this what this is about? It could be; he can’t think of any other reason why they’re having this ‘talk.’

But the bigger question is, if this is her pleading for his assistance to win back Kageyama, is he willing? Can he do it? Can his heart handle even more breaking? All for the sake of Kageyama’s happiness? Maybe he can. That’s what he wants, right? That’s the most he could ever give him—true happiness that he’ll help Kageyama gain, even at the expense of his own.

When Haruka-san sighs, Shouyou braces himself.

“That’s good, then. He was constantly worrying about it, during the time you weren’t talking.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t trust himself to say more, too preoccupied trying to reign in the incoming hurt. He settles with a lame mutter of “Sorry.”

A small laugh comes in answer. “No, please, don’t apologize. I wasn’t ranting or anything. I just wanted you to know that he cares about you. A lot.”

This is absolutely not what Shouyou was expecting at all. He had his heart primed to withstand whatever mangling he’d once again purposely got himself into, but he could feel all these shields and barriers he surrounded his heart with crumble, just from those last few words.

“Take care of him, okay?”

And despite the bright smile and the heartfelt words, laced with it is something desperate, like a plea, like a behest that only Shouyou can fulfill.

“Why are you saying this to me, Haruka-san?” he asks, not in accusation, but as an honest-to-goodness question; he’s never been so confused in his entire life.

Haruka-san just continues to smile, and Shouyou can almost taste how bittersweet it is.

“Because I want it to be worth it.”

Haruka-san’s words ricochet inside his head the following days, making him lose sleep. She didn’t bother to explain what the heck she meant by it; she suddenly had somewhere to be and left Shouyou to brew in confusion.

But in time, the whole encounter slowly fades to his subconscious, as the demands on his volleyball career increase. Preparation for the next season is starting soon, and there’s been talks about the JNT finalizing their roster to represent the country for the upcoming Olympics. Shouyou is aware he’s got a chance, what with Kuroo-san giving him tidbits from the inside, and his performance from last season speaking for itself. But he can’t be too complacent, so he trains and practices harder than ever, completely immersing himself in the sport.

“I’m sure you’ll get in,” Kageyama tells him during one of their private practices. They’re doing this thing again, just like in high school. It was Kagegama who initiated it. “That’s why we’re doing this. I need to adjust to your—” there’s a brief pause as Kageyama takes a side glance at him, eyes roving Shouyou head to toe, “—everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Kageyama sighs. “It means, your play is not as sucky as it was in high school and I need to get used to you not sucking all that much, now.”

“I did not suck!” Shouyou huffs. Then he stops his impending whine to look at Kageyama, eyes wide. “Are you admitting I’m amazing now?”

“Don’t put words into my mouth, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbles, but there’s color rising high on his cheeks.

Shouyou grins, giddy. “Oh, but that’s exactly what you’re implying!”

With a groan, Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Obviously, if you’re good enough to play in the top league. Idiot.”

“But I want to hear you say it.”

“Fine. You’re amazing or whatever. Happy?”

And Shouyou is, despite Kageyama’s half-hearted declaration and Shouyou basically forcing him into admitting it. Because he’ll take what he can get—beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

“I am,” he says, and maybe he doesn’t mean to sound as beguiled as he does, or for his voice to convey almost half of what he’s feeling; but it does, spilling out of him, forced out by this shallow, small piece of praise Kageyama gives him.

And maybe, possibly, it’s this daze that clouds his mind and vision, of Kageyama staring at him with as much yearning as Shouyou feels, reflected by the depths of his mesmerizing blue eyes; of him inclining his body towards Shouyou, like he’s being pulled, or maybe it’s Shouyou who’s actually moving closer, closer, closer.

He hears his phone ring. He doesn’t care.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Kageyama says, voice quiet and deep, and Shouyou is looking at his lips as he forms the words.

“Okay,” he says, reluctantly stepping out of the warmth of Kageyama’s space—their space—to get his phone out of his bag.

Whatever spell that took over him breaks the second he glances at the caller ID.

“Y-yes?!?! Kuroo-san?!? Sorry I took too long to answer, I was—No! No! I’m not busy. Yes, sure you can—”

Shouyou’s universe stops, before exploding and drowning him in billions of stars.

“I—I got in? I’m in the national team?” He can barely hear himself over the deafening drumming of his heart. He’s trembling, knees nothing but jelly under him. When his eyes find Kageyama, the look of absolute pride in his smug, painfully handsome face steals all the air from his lungs.

He falls forward.

Strong, open arms catch him, as if they were waiting.

All this time.

“Told you you’d get in,” Kageyama says, smirking.

Shouyou can only hold tight, hands clutching at the back of Kageyama’s sweaty shirt as he looks up at Kageyama. His face is a mess, definitely, but he doesn’t care. “I-I made it…K-Kageyama—” he takes a shaky inhale “—I made it.”

Kageyama envelops him with his warmth; Shouyou can hear the thudding of his heart, how it's racing in tandem with his own. He feels how unbelievably gentle Kageyama’s touch is as he sifts through Hinata’s hair, before his fingers glide over his cheek.

“I never doubted you would.”

“Kageyama, I—”

Whatever remains of Shouyou’s being splinters like a supernova when Kageyama lifts his face and kisses him.

Hinata tastes nothing like Tobio imagined him to.

He’s salty, for one, with all the sweat from their drills and practices. And his lips are chapped, not at all the cloudy softness that intrudes Kageyama’s dreams on most nights. He doesn’t feel tender or dainty, like the way Haruka-san was. He doesn’t smell of flowers or spring; he smells sweaty and musky and icy—it’s AirSalonpas, Kageyama vaguely recalls.

He’s not at all the sweet sunshine Kageyama fantasized him to be.

He’s infinitely better.

He’s more than sunshine—he’s an ever-bright flame that sparks light and warmth in the midst of darkness. And in his kiss is the taste of realness, of all Tobio’s desires and wants condensed into one searing point of contact, of their promises of victories and defeats, of years of devotion and pledge.

In his kiss—their kiss, is the sweetness of waiting for real, genuine love.

The breath that Tobio takes when they part feels like the first real breath he’s ever taken; the first time he feels alive.

Hinata’s eyes are hazy as they stare at Tobio—and for all he knows his might be too—but then, those amber eyes turn wide, scared and uncertain. Tobio won’t allow it to fester, however. He’s been through enough bullshit to let this—Hinata, slip away again.

“I love you,” he says, palms still holding Hinata’s warm, pink cheeks. “I love you, Hinata.”

When Hinata doesn’t respond, just staring, dazedly, unblinking, Tobio lets go of everything.

“I love you. I’ve only ever loved you. Two, three years ago…or five, ten, a hundred years from now.” His voice is rising, trembling and cracking, but he doesn’t care—all he wants is to let them all out. To make Hinata understand. “I was a fucking mess when you left and I did things I shouldn’t have, hurt people I didn’t have to, just because I was hurting. And it took me too long to realize that while I was shitting up my own life, I was hurting you, too.

Hinata finally displays something of a reaction, small hands coming up to curl in front of Tobio’s shirt. “Kageya—”

Tobio shakes his head. “No, please, let me finish. I need to say this. Please.” He takes a deep inhale. “I’m sorry. For everything. For saying this now; for, fuck, just…I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I’ve been in love with you since fucking high school and I—I don’t know what to do anymore.”

His hands resting on Hinata’s face slacken to fall limply back on his sides—all of his energy drained following his confession.

Silence lays over silence.

Tobio is struggling to breathe as he waits for Hinata’s response. He’s not even looking at Tobio anymore, head hanging low; but his hands are still gripping tightly onto Tobio’s sweaty shirt.

“Why…”

At first, Tobio isn’t sure if he heard or understood it correctly, , with how quiet Hinata’s voice is, and how sad those amber eyes are as Hinata stares at him as he speaks again.

“Why”

Tobio blinks, shaking his head slightly. It’s not really a question and Kageyama is struggling for the right things to say. “I don’t…understand—”

“Why… now?” Hinata rasps, and his hold on Tobio tightens—he can feel him shake, can see how his voice quivers. “Why tell me… now?”

“Because—”

The words tumble out into nothingness when Hinata takes a step forward, backing Tobio up across the gym with an unusual ease, like he knows he’s currently weakened.

“Why are you just telling me this now?” Hinata spits again, his voice rising higher, tensed and raged. “Why do you always find ways to hurt me and confuse me? Why do I fall for it every, single, fucking time? Why—” he halts as he pushes Tobio against the padded wall, his burst of strength fading as he almost collapses, if not for his tight hold on Tobio’s shirt.

“Why are you so fucking stupid,” Hinata breathes, face fiery red from his outburst—and Tobio dares think, from how close their faces are.

And he dares himself even more, even though he has no right whatsoever, when he says, “Because I fell in love with you when I was sixteen.” Hinata’s breathing ceases just as Tobio takes a shaky one in. “And I never stopped.”

For a solid minute, Hinata just stares at him, face unreadable. Then, very slowly, he unclasps his fists from Tobio’s shirt, gaze fading down for one second before snapping back up, golden eyes searing.

“And that’s supposed to make everything okay?” Hinata scoffs, incredulity dripping from his voice. “To make me feel better?”

“I don't—I don’t know,” Tobio answers, frowning. “I just don’t want to lie to myself anymore. Or to you.”

Hinata lets out a dry, almost choking laugh. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

“Hinata—”

Small hands are on him again as Hinata plants his palms over his chest and pushes him, his back colliding against the wall once again. “You can’t just—you can’t just say that out of nowhere and expect me to just be, like, ‘oh cool, great, I love you too, by the way,’” Hinata shouts at his face, giving him another angry push. “Things are not as simple as that!”

“I’m sorry, I just—” Everything in Tobio stops to a grinding halt when his brain fully registers what exactly Hinata just screamed at him. “Wait, did you just—”

Tobio can almost feel the warmth when Hinata’s face ignites again, from flushed to burning red. “N-No! Shut up! That’s not relevant right now!”

He stops pushing at Tobio, only to divert his fists into shaking his shoulders, but his voice quivers as he asks, “What—what are you doing, Kageyama? Is this some kind of sick experiment to you? You said you loved Haruka-san, still love her, that’s what you told me literally two weeks ago, and now you’re telling me you—you l-loved me since high school?! What the hell—”

A momentary pause before wide brown eyes bulge even more, the fear in them palpable. “Oh god. No. No no no no. Is that—is that why you two broke up? Did she find out and thought you were unfaithful, or you just realized and—”

“No!” Tobio shrills, just as horrified. “I mean—yes, but not exactly…”

Frustration once again veils Hinata’s features. “Then explain it to me!” he shouts, shaking Tobio even more aggressively.

There’s only so much Tobio’s patience can carry, and he can feel his own frustration bubble over as he grabs Hinata’s wrists, effectively stilling them, to make Hinata listen. “I was fucking scared, okay? I was scared of my feelings then, and I sure as fuck still am scared, even now. Because what do you do, when you start having more than friendly feelings for your best friend? What was I supposed to do?” Every word he spits out feels iron-heavy, the struggle just to push them out of his throat is already an effort, but he needs to say this. He has to. “As long as we were playing volleyball, as long as you kept your end of our promise, I told myself, that was good enough for me.”

He feels Hinata struggle to free himself but he persists; the feel of his warm skin the fuel he needs to plow through the thicket of his tortuous feelings. He takes a deep inhale, steeling himself, and once allowed to be free, the words just stumble out like an avalanche:

“But then you left, and I—I thought that was my chance to get over you. But no, it only…it only made me want you more. But I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do; and then, Haruka, she—she was there for me when I was lost, and confused, and feeling shitty. She was a friend, like… like you were, and for the first time, I found someone else who could put up with me and was willing to spend time with me and I thought I could, I don’t know, redirect my unwanted feelings for you to her. I thought I could love her the same way I loved you.”

He can feel and hear his desperation crawling, spilling along with his words. “But I couldn’t, it’s impossible. And I tried; I fucking tried, Hinata. I tried to forget about you, tried to focus my whole attention on Haruka, tried to give her the things I could only dream of giving you. But all I did was fool myself into believing I was doing a great job of doing all of that when, really, I was just fucking up my own life even more. All I did was hurt a person who genuinely cared for me. When I said I’d just keep hurting her if I stayed, that’s what I meant. She figured it—she figured me out.”

Something twinges in Tobio’s chest at the memory of his last conversation with Haruka-san, the way she looked sad, yet accepting; how miserable Tobio felt at seeing her usually beaming, cheerful face like that, but not as much misery as what she possibly felt the moment she put the pieces together. The guilt had been eating away at him ever since then, even though he had come to understand the devastating damage he could’ve inflicted on her if he’d insisted they stay together.

So he’s not going to put all their effort to waste. Tobio has to say what he wants to, what he needs to say. For all of their sakes.

“I loved her enough to tell her the truth and come clean. And she loved me enough to let me go.”

But putting into actual words even just a small fraction of the swirling emotions inside him is enough to burden him, making him race against his own breathing when he’s finished, and even then Tobio feels as if he hasn’t said enough.

And Hinata has yet to utter a single word since Tobio started.

“I can’t force you to believe me, because I know what I did wasfucked-up, but I just—” he sighs, finally easing his hold on Hinata’s wrists, watching as he lets go, but still within reach, enough to feel his heat. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to pretend that what I feel for you is something I can forget or replace. I’m just done pretending.”

His gaze remains fixed on the tiny space between their hands before snapping his head up, meeting Hinata’s stare. “Aren’t you, too?”

The answer comes almost too quickly. “I’m not,” Hinata huffs as he breaks eye contact. Looking off to the side.

“Don’t lie, Hinata.”

“So what if I am?” Hinata spits. His stare is back at Tobio, the gloss in his eyes unmistakable, voice trembling as much as the rest of him. “So what if I pretended to be happy for you while you paraded your girlfriend in front of me when, really, I was crumbling from the inside out? So what if I’m tired trying to tell myself it’s fine when everything is shit? You didn’t care before, and you sure as heck didn’t notice, so again, why now?”

“I told you I don’t want to pretend anymore!” Tobio snaps, but it’s a misdirected anger; Hinata’s accusation hits a mark—he can’t believe he’s only realizing this now; how much Hinata burns from all the pain concealed behind his smiles and laughs, how much anguish he’s bottling up in his small frame. His stomach churns in guilt and regret, its bitter taste crawling up his chest, suffocating him. Tobio swallows. “I—I just wanted to tell you how I feel. Like I should have done years ago.”

But he's tired—he’s tired of using anger as a flash of fire to cover his weaknesses. He’s tired of this pain; this exquisitely brutal pain of wanting something he knows he can’t have, of chasing something he knows isn’t meant for him, no matter what he does.

“And I really should have, because there’s no fucking difference,” he says, and he doesn’t care if he sounds like he just accepted defeat. With a brush against Hinata’s shoulder, he frees himself out of the corner Hinata had trapped him in.

Then he feels himself go airborne, as something solid and heavy barrels at him, arms winding tight around his torso.

“What the—dumbass, get off me—!

“Get back here, you jerk!” Hinata shouts and with one forceful shove, the momentum and their shared weight topples them over on the floor; all the air on Tobio’s lungs squeezed out into a wheeze, but his state of oxygen deprivation becomes the least of his concerns when Hinata crawls over him, straddling his waist as he lifts him up by his already crumpled shirt.

“Stop being selfish, you—you selfish king!” Hinata screams at his face as he shakes him. “You are not allowed to run away again!”

The shock and the fact that his lungs got crushed renders Tobio immobile, but then he recovers, and he yanks Hinata’s fists off him with a grunt. “Then what do you want me to do, dumbass?” he shouts back. “You clearly don’t accept my explanation, and I’m not sitting around while you reject me, even though—”

“I want you to get over your head and listen to me for once in your life!” Hinata cuts him off as he frees his hands, latching them on him again. But this time it’s not for any more violent displays of his frustration—it’s to gently cup Tobio’s face between his warm, calloused hands, as he stares at him with this look of both desperation and imploring. “All I wanted was for you to be honest. To make you understand that you can’t just kiss me and drop a confession like that, out of nowhere, and expect me to just run along with it. Of course I’ll get angry, of course I’ll demand an explanation. I’ve been drilling this into your thick, stupid head since we were teenagers—stop glaring at me, you are stupid—but you really should work on your timing.” His expression softens, just a bit, but his touch remains, his thumb tracing over Tobio’s jaw, almost absentmindedly. “So tell me again. Why?”

“Because…because I love you,” Tobio says, the only right answer he deems suitable. And—ah, yes, there is one other thing he hasn’t said yet. “But I was too blinded by my own pain that I failed to see that you love me, too.” He meets the intensity of Hinata’s gaze as much as he says, like a challenge, “And you do.”

Hinata blinks at him, lips parting, before he snorts. His lips curve into a small smile, cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “And what makes you think that?”

“Because I see it. Took me a while, but I do now.” Then Tobio’s smirking right back. “And you told me yourself just a few minutes ago—”

“Okay, fine! Are you gonna kiss me or what?” Hinata puffs, his cheeks beet red.

Tobio can feel the heat spread across his face as well. “W-well, if you want to…”

Another annoyed huff of breath escapes Hinata’s pouting mouth. He presses his palms to Tobio’s face harder, bunching his cheeks. “You basically attacked me earlier and now that I’m giving you permission, you still have to ask? You really are so—”

Tobio tastes stars and galaxies again when their lips meet. Their noses bump and it’s not the best angle, but then Hinata sighs against his mouth, this soft, muffled breath that seems to free all his excess tension and apprehension, and he melts against Tobio, lips perfectly molding against his as if they found their rightful place.

Here, with him. And Tobio thinks that's the same for him, too. How basking under Hinata’s warmth and glow makes him whole, all missing pieces clicking into place, the touch of his calloused yet gentle hands painting over the scars, healing him.

This is it, this is what he’s been desperate to hold onto since the very moment he first laid his eyes on this beautiful, annoying being that captured every essence of his mind, heart, and soul, as if it was the easiest, simplest thing to do, with his eyes and his voice, his touch, his unwavering determination and the passion he shares with Tobio. And it’s then that Tobio fully realizes that once he fell, there was really no going back; that finding and seeking solace from another would’ve been condemning himself to a lifetime of darkness, to eternally drown in guilt and regret.

But now he’s breathing, light and unrestricted, with each tiny sigh Hinata breathes into him at every short interim of their kiss. And with each kiss, each touch, each tender whisper of his name forming on Hinata’s lips against his, each burst of love swelling and overfilling his chest, this ever-present pain deep within his core begins to lose its force, until it’s barely a twinge, until Tobio can’t feel it anymore.

Maybe experiencing that exquisite, merciless pain of want and longing was needed, just so he can truly cherish every piece, every portion, every sensation of true love that was worth every scar.

Three years later

“Kageyama! Get your butt in here! It’s almost time!” Shouyou calls as he boots the laptop open and quickly logs-in on Zoom—which is kind of hard, typing on the keyboard when his legs and feet seem to be joining in with every movement of his fingers out of excitement.

And where the heck is Kageyama?

“Kageyama, get in here!” he shouts again. He finally manages to login, but his feet have not stopped their jittery shifting. “Tobio!”

“Fucking wait, dumbass, I was washing my face,” Kageyama shouts back as he emerges from the hallway leading to the bedroom. He’s shirtless and—this idiot, volleyball gods help him—appears to be pulling up his sweatpants and adjusting it over his hips. His insanely, annoyingly, perfectly shaped hips and also perfectly slanted waist and his immaculately cut, rock-hard abs and ample chest—

“If you want a second round, then we can do that,” Kageyama tells him with a giant, obnoxious smirk on his equally obnoxious handsome face.

“Who says I want that?!?” Shouyou bristles, despite his face burning hot. He grunts when Kageyama shoves him across the coach to take a seat next to him. He’s now up close and personal with said abs and chest. As if he wasn’t doing more than that earlier….

“You’re practically drooling,” Kageyama snorts, rolling his eyes. But then he leans forward, still with that smug smile glossing his features, a large hand laying unceremoniously over Shouyou’s bare thigh, fingers dimpling his skin. Shouyou takes a gulp, but his eyes never leave Kageyama’s steely blue ones. “I don’t mind doing it again.”

One second—Shouyou is one second away from throwing sense over to a bottomless pit and succumbing to his desire and instinct, to Kageyama’s smoldering gaze and his deep, no-business-of-being-ridiculously-sexy voice, and even then he’s already getting pulled in, like metal to magnet, and his hands twitch, eager to touch firm, solid body again—

Kageyama decides for him when he pounces on Shouyou, and they both go down as a single mass on the couch. He would’ve yelped, or maybe he did, but his mouth is now currently occupied with Kageyama’s. He tastes minty after his wash, lips slightly cold, but his tongue tangling with Shouyou’s own is slick and warm and tastes much, much better than their toothpaste. They’re making an awful lot of noises, just doing this sloppy and wet making out as Kageyama’s strong, godly hands roam all over his thighs, slowly cruising their way to his stomach and chest; all this is enough to string Shouyou high, and it's not as if Kageyama minds him making these sounds, he loves it actually, and Shouyou is more than willing to comply.

But when one of those wandering hands slinks down the elastic of his boxers to squeeze his ass, the sound that chokes out of him is downright lewd, body curving against Kageyama’s, pressing more to his possessive touch.

“‘Yama, please…” he mewls, all other rationality gone into the humid evening of Rio. It doesn’t really take long for him to get wound up, not when Kageyama just has this overwhelming power and control over him. Curse his stupid sexy abs.

Kageyama kisses his cheek, so tender and loving, the exact opposite of what his hands are doing to Shouyou’s already sensitive bottom, pawing and kneading it with ferocity.

“Bed?” he whispers in his ear, and god, Shouyou has to harness all the powers in the universe just to keep himself from dirtying their couch right there and then, at the mere cadence and timbre of Kageyama’s voice.

“No, just… need you.” He’s practically begging, Shouyou is aware, and that’s a hundred percent a point loss by their standards, but then—

“Me too. I want you all the time, Sho.”

Ah, it’s a tie this time. Kageyama is worked up enough to start spilling out the nicknames.

And that does it for Shouyou; he’s going to absolutely make this man, or if he’s being truly honest, the both of them, crazy right here in the living room, in this very couch. Not that they haven’t done it here before, but this time, Shouyou is intent on breaking both of their minds.

That is the plan, and it’s a solid, very much doable plan; but the sudden, upbeat chime from the laptop makes them both jump; Shouyou almost knees Kageyama in the groin and the slap of elastic when Kageyama pulls his hands out of his boxers stings his skin, making him yelp.

“W-Wha—oh god, shit, wait—Kageyama—geez, put a shirt on!”

“Speak for yourself! You’re not even wearing pants!”

“Why the hell would I let them see—just put a freaking shirt on, idiot!”

After five seconds of scrambling with Kageyama pulling a random shirt from the fresh laundry and Shouyou making lousy attempts to make himself presentable, or as presentable as he possibly can with his messy hair and boxers (which are probably Kageyama’s, but whatever); and deeming themselves passable for decency, they crowd in front of the laptop and Shouyou clicks ‘Accept Call.’

A black screen first, and then, “Oh, finally. Hi!”

“Hi, Haruka-san!” Shouyou greets, with Kageyama chorusing beside him with a “hey, Haruka.”

“Took you a while to answer, so I thought you were busy. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Haruka-san says, and although the video isn’t as high quality as they want it to be, they can see her giving them a sideways smile.

“N-No!” Shouyou splutters. Kageyama snorts, the jerk.

Haruka-san laughs. “Well, if you say so.” She looks off to the side, then goes out of frame completely, before reappearing. “Are you ready to meet her?”

Shouyou is already bouncing in his seat. “Yes!”

“Dumbass, calm down,” Kageyama tells him, but one look and Shouyou can tell he’s excited as well—the idiot has this dumb, wobbly smile on, cheeks pink.

“Okay, well, here she is.”

A baby girl with round, chubby cheeks and dark, wide eyes fills the screen, a tuft of red hair peeking through her bonnet. For a second, she just stares, blinking, then she makes a squealing sound, her toothless smile blinding even through the low resolution feed.

Shouyou can feel his heart melt. “Oh my god, Haruka-san, she’s beautiful!” He blindly grasps Kageyama's arm just as he looks at him. “Isn’t she, Kageyama? She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

Kageyama nods, now full-on smiling, and Shouyou didn’t think he could melt even further, but he’s pretty much evaporated by this point. The sense of pure happiness in Kageyama’s smile is a gift, and Shouyou has been privileged enough to be granted it every day, but seeing it manifest like this, genuine joy for their friend and previous significant one, makes Shouyou appreciate it even more. How proud he is of Kageyama for not being afraid anymore to show his emotions like this, raw and honest.

“She’s beautiful, Haruka,” Kageyama says. “What’s her name?”

Haruka-san sits the baby in front of her, who’s making gibberish noises and squeals and making grabbing motions with her tiny hands towards the screen. “It’s Mai, with the kanji for ‘real’ and ‘love.’”

The smile on Kageyama’s face grows even bigger, brighter. “I’m happy for you, Haruka. I’m glad you found it, too.”

“Me too, Kageyama-kun.”

Shouyou can’t help it anymore; he just lets the impending tears run free over his cheeks. “What the heck, you guys, don’t make me cry!”

“What the hell, dumbass, why are you crying?!” Kageyama suddenly sounds and looks alarmed. He reaches over to wipe the wetness of Shouyou’s face. “Such a cry baby,” he mutters.

“Cause! You were having such a wonderful moment there!” Shouyou reasons. He sniffs, before turning to Haruka-san, smiling as he says, “I’m happy for you too, Haruka-san! Sorry we couldn’t make it to the wedding. We had a match and stuff.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Still, it would have been nice, though. Celebrity volleyball players at my wedding!”

“You used to date this guy,” Shouyou says as he jabs an elbow at Kageyama.

Haruka-san laughs. “True. But I think the Hinata Shouyou is the bigger superstar right now.”

“Ha! See! I told you I’m becoming more popular than you!” Shouyou gloats, smirking at Kageyama, who just rolls his eyes at him.

“Whatever.”

Shouyou rolls his eyes back and blows a raspberry.

“You guys are adorable as ever,” Haruka-san comments through the call, laughing. Mai-chan giggles along with her. “And speaking of that, how are you two?”

“Good!” Shouyou says. “We’re off season right now, and Kageyama is here with me in Brazil. We’re running some papers and all the other requirements for the marriage registration before we go to Italy for the honeymoon—”

“Woah, woah, hold on!” Haruka-san interjects, possibly startling Mai as she blinks up at her mother curiously. “You guys are engaged?!”

It’s Kageyama who answers, holding Shouyou’s hand up to the screen to reveal their matching rings. “Yeah, I proposed two days ago.”

“And I said yes,” Shouyou says, lacing his hand held by Kageyama properly. Heat crawls from his neck up to his cheeks, but he doesn’t care; all he cares is the way Kageyama’s gaze softens, probably reminiscing the moment, just as Shouyou is doing now. It was nothing fancy—they were taking a walk in Copacabana Beach as they do every night whenever Kageyama visits him. They had a few drinks, sharing kisses under the moon and with the sand in-between their toes. And Kageyama suddenly blurted out, half-drunk, that he loves Shouyou, wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, and asked if Shouyou wanted the same. He’s kind of mad because of two things: first, he was planning to propose, although he didn’t have any definite plans yet, but still; and second, Kageyama had the nerve to ask when he should have known that the answer couldn’t be anything other than ‘yes.’

The next morning (after a night of utterly amazing love-making all around Shouyou’s apartment), when they were both a bit sober, Kageyama reaffirmed his intentions, that he was serious, and Shouyou once again gave his response—but not before bickering with his now-fiancé for stealing his thunder and for having to ask him twice. Then after another discussion, they went to buy rings because Kageyama wanted them. Shouyou did, too, but he didn’t say it out loud. There was no need, after all.

“That’s great! Oh my gosh, congratulations!” Haruka-san gently lifts Mai’s arms and coos, “say congratulations, Macchi.”

“Waah!” Mai-chan cheers.

“Thanks,” Shouyou says, peeling his gaze off of Kageyama, but their hands remain linked.

“Thank you, Haruka. And, uhm, Mai.”

“But why hurry, though? Doesn’t that call for a big celebration?” Haruka-san asks.

“Well, we’re just registering our marriage here in Brazil. But we’ll eventually have a proper wedding in Japan. Maybe five, six months from now?” Shouyou explains. “So, yeah. And we want to invite you to the wedding, of course.”

At that, Haruka-san beams. “Oh, thank you! I’d love to go! I’m so happy for you two.” Her wide smile eases a bit, but the joy in it doesn’t dwindle; if anything, she looks at them more fondly. “And I’m glad I kind of played a part to make this happen.”

“You really did,” Shouyou says, and nothing could have been closer to the truth. He was grateful for her, for the pain he had to endure, for every heartbreak and doubt and confusion; he could survive through all of that again if this is where it would lead him.

He finds himself gazing at Kageyama, whose stare is already on him even before he does, nothing but love in those midnight blue eyes; the same ones that Shouyou fell and got lost in all those years ago.

But now he’s found and he’s here, right where he’s meant to be.

“Oh gosh, stop it you two. We get it, you’re madly in love,” Haruka-san teases, then she looks off-screen, seemingly talking to someone, before returning her attention back to the call. “My husband just came home. Would you like to meet him?”

Shouyou nods eagerly.

“Hinata-kun, Kageyama-kun, this is my husband, Akira.”

Haruka-san pulls at an arm, dragging it down, and into the frame enters a tall, lanky guy with dark, side swept hair, his eyes just as dark yet startling. Almost glaring. Almost like—

“Kageyama!” Shouyou blurts out, and before he can even properly consider the words running unbidden out of his mouth, it’s already too late. “You look like twins!”

An eerie silence hangs over them at Shouyou’s declaration, and he’s already silently praying for the couch to eat him alive, or for a gaping hole with ragged jaws to open up in the floor so he can jump in before he dies out of pure embarrassment; when Mai-chan lets out a sound of pure, innocent delight, clapping her tiny hands.

The four of them blink at the giggling child, then at each other, and just like that, Shouyou’s apartment fills with laughter and exchanges of good-natured teasing.