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Colorful flickering lights are the only thing illuminating Hinata’s face right now in the darkness of the large-scale club, but Tobio wouldn’t need them to notice the pure joy emanating from him.
On other days, the sweaty heat of strangers around them could have made him feel uneasy. But today, he also doesn’t care that they’re standing almost next to the stereo, blasting the greatest hits of the Eurodance genre, both of them going to be half-deaf when they will walk back to his apartment later that night.
Blame the crush that lingers in the back of his heart since the first year in high school.
Blame the fact that he hasn’t seen Hinata in almost six months.
Blame the drinks.
The only thing that seems to matter for Tobio in these moments, in this time they spend together and not apart, is engraining the memory of Hinata moving and laughing and singing and dancing into the deepest parts of his mind and soul.
Last week, he didn’t even think they would end up here together. Tobio’s teammates proposed the idea of going out on this game-free weekend and apparently, activities like these are a bonding experience and add up to the general trust with a team. So when Tobio agreed to join, he hadn’t thought of anything special, even when some players started snickering, but they simply declared they were really looking forward for him to come.
No one revealed they secretly invited Hinata.
The moment he opened his door a few hours earlier, he received a soul-crushing hug (Tobio purposefully ignored the pictures that were taken), and next to his initial disbelief and surprise, he realized how much he had missed Hinata. But there he was. His best friend, self-confident as always, and somehow more grown up and mature than the last time they met.
Maybe that’s the thing. They see each other in person so rarely that even now in their twenties, it still feels like Hinata grows up, like he changes drastically in the timespan between the last hug of saying Goodbye and the first hug of saying Hello again.
Hinata’s eyebags seemed darker than usual, probably due to the long flight and jetlag (shouldn’t the idiot rest at least a day instead of partying), his hair slightly shorter (it looks like he got an undercut), his biceps somehow bigger (yeah, okay, that could also be a too tight new shirt).
But maybe it’s just because Tobio has mentally mapped every single physical detail there is for Hinata, and no matter how small the detail is, he will immediately notice a change compared to the last time.
“Yama-Yama, you’re standing stiff like a tree, let loose a bit! It’s just me.” Hinata calls him out on his dance moves which became less and less the more he fell into his thoughts, but Hinata smiles at him brightly anyways, familiar and ensuring like Tobio remembers it, like Hinata had always done.
The smile had followed Tobio to his daydreams during class and to the ones at night, ever since the day they met, when a scrawny 14-year-old boy wanted nothing more than to win with a team who couldn’t possibly match his ambitions. His goddamn smile.
No amount of facetiming could ever replace witnessing it right next to him in person.
“I think about where we can play tomorrow“, Tobio shouts, trying to get away from his own thoughts, “and that I actually want to beat you on Italian sand.”
Not even the loud music can drown Hinata’s laughter at that moment.
Getting back into motion, Tobio starts to care less about how he looks dancing and genuinely enjoys moving his body to the beats and rhythm of the music.
Tobio distantly notices he has never seen Hinata drinking alcohol before, and therefore, never drunk. Even in the darkness of the disco, he can tell that the light shade of pink on Hinata’s tanned cheeks doesn’t come from dancing only.
Both of them aren’t lightweights anymore – at least physically –, so maybe they’re tipsy at most, but two drinks in and Tobio already experiences a dizziness he felt only a handful of times before.
Induced by beer, and maybe by looking at Hinata for too long, familiar images start to circle his mind. Situations he imagined happening, if he and Hinata were something else. If he and Hinata could be something else. It would be embarrassing if he ever told someone how many times he thought of kissing Shoyo back at the Karasuno gym, after their late night practices, before important games, under the Brazilian sun, at the airport–
Stop it. You know why you shouldn’t go down that road.
His brain did go down there, nonetheless.
Because if Shoyo would feel the same, wouldn’t he have taken a step in his direction by now? As the confident, extroverted part of their relationship – of their friendship?
You know São Paulo is over 9.000 kilometers away.
Tobio looks down momentarily, shaking his head in the movement. What counts is in the moment, it’s right now, and that’s the fact that Shoyo is right here with him. Together, not apart.
As the first notes of the next song merge in, the crowd screams joyfully in unison, the whole mood rising again. People around them start jumping even more than before, everybody’s moves getting more dashing.
In his time in Italy, Tobio got to know this music genre through his teammates who grew up with all the classics. He even recognizes the song by now, though the title itself are some French words he can’t remember.
Tobio locks his eyes with Hinata momentarily, and it takes him 0.2 seconds to notice the challenge that visualizes in front of them.
Despite being apart most of the time, the challenges these days still vary from actual volleyball to the most random stuff in their everyday life, things even Tobio would call stupid from time to time.
But he’s not going to turn down a simple dance battle he’s going to easily win anyway.
“Be prepared”, Hinata shouts at him, smirking as he starts bouncing up and down energetically.
“I’m ready as ever”, Tobio answers.
As both start to unroll their battle moves, regret comes faster to Tobio than he anticipated, his mouth going dry for more than one reason. He didn’t take into consideration that Hinata lived in Brazil for years – Tobio should have known that this opened a whole new world of steps and moves for Hinata to learn. Even more distracting is the way he moves his hips to the fast beat, which should be illegal, and Tobio doesn’t have a single clue how he’s doing it.
His feet, his legs, hips, arms, shoulders – it’s like every body part is perfectly synchronized, guided by the music alone. Hinata’s eyes are momentarily closed as if he’s in another world, the look on his face more content and happier than ever.
While doing his best to match Hinata’s energy, Tobio regrets not drinking one more beer, maybe then–
Tobio thinks about never drinking alcohol again. Surely, his eyes are playing tricks on him. Hinata looks everywhere but Tobio’s face when his hand comes up to the bottom of his too tight, muscle-hugging shirt, touching the hem softly and pulling it up, up until he’s revealing a good part of his toned stomach where the slightest outline of a thin happy trail is visible.
It’s the last straw and Tobio gives up on ever getting on Hinata’s level in terms of dancing. He never had a realistic chance to win against someone who’s apparently possessed by some Brazilian dance god on a mission to hypnotize his enemies.
Tobio shouts, “You win this one, dumbass.”
“Yes!”, Hinata laughs, stretching his fist triumphantly up as far as the people around him allow it. He’s still laughing wholeheartedly as he leans forward and slumps against Tobio as the song comes to an end, and Tobio is grateful for the break – wait, what exactly is Hinata doing right now?
From one moment to the other, Tobio’s face is brushing Hinata’s fluffy hair, smelling the scent of his fruity shampoo mixed with sweaty musk and something that is uniquely Hinata. He’s too stunned to move, feeling the last bits of laughter go over in small chuckles against his own chest, and a new song comes on as Hinata leans back again.
Mesmerizing.
The word spins inside Tobio’s mind when Hinata looks up at him through his lashes because of how close he suddenly stands to him, and there really is no other word to describe the impact he has on Tobio.
The first line of the song that sounds through the stereo is familiar to Tobio, but maybe didn’t understand it before. Or he had never really listened to it. The lyrics are almost sobering to his mind when the meaning of them hits him.
The kisses of the sun, were sweet I didn’t blink, I let it in my eyes, …
Fuck it.
His eyes never leave Hinata’s as he lifts both of his hands up to slide them around the side of Hinata’s neck, fingertips touching the short undercut, thumbs pulsing where they’re lying on soft and slightly freckled cheekbones.
“Hina… Shoyo.”
There’s no way he could clearly understand Tobio’s words, but the way Shoyo’s eyes widen are proof he heard him well enough.
Shoyo nods his head, held between Tobio’s shaking hands, and suddenly, there’s a warm hand sliding around Tobio’s middle and another one carefully touching his face.
His whole body feels on autopilot as their foreheads lean together, warm skin bordering hot, so close their breaths start to mingle, before their lips find together.
His mind should be spinning with a thousand thoughts at once, but he’s consumed by Shoyo and his warm, strong body pushing against his own. Every nerve ending beneath Tobio’s skin feels on fire, and no mental image from the past years comes close to what he actually experiences in this moment. It’s so much better.
Shoyo kisses him with the same intensity he applies to the rest of his life, demanding and passionate. He kisses like he needs it to survive, and Tobio’s responses to that are no less desperate.
They let themselves be driven by the dancing crowd around them as their make out session grows more heated. Tobio’s hands get bolder as they stroke over Shoyo’s back, unconsciously keeping him close, and Shoyo’s body moves rhythmically against him, eventually grinding his crotch against his thigh which makes Tobio groan shamelessly into his mouth. They pull back for air, both still holding onto the other’s shoulders and waist, not wanting the physical contact to end yet.
“Are you okay with this?”, Shoyo asks, and it would have sounded shy if it wasn’t for his loud voice and his hand stroking over Tobio’s lower back, fingertips already touching his jeans.
Tobio exhales deeply and shakes his head at the question. “You have no idea how often I thought about this”, he admits and can’t resist the urge to gently ruffle through Shoyo’s hair.
“I guess it’s the same for me then”, Shoyo replies, and his voice betrays something that sounds a lot like longing and nostalgia.
Maybe it really was the same all along for both of them.
Shoyo leans in once again, this time right against his ear, and says, “Tobio, let’s get out of here.”
The hot and sticky disco air doesn’t stop the goosebumps spreading all over his skin in anticipation. He’s with Shoyo, they’re together and not apart, and that’s all that matters in the end.