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Jazz music taps.
Unlike its classical counterparts, jazz music is syncopated; it swings the player around along to the beat. The gentle sway and pirouette of the sounds bring life to the air. The blues are brought to life by the players, each note spinning on the stage. Each note is filled to the brim with emotion, the music itself open to improvisation of any kind. To Hinata, the saxophone carries what he could not.
The school's jazz department is smaller than the classical music one, yet the students are better known than them. Hinata hopes to achieve fame from the school. His playing is better than his peers, yet he struggles to achieve what the famed ones in the compartment do. His technique fails him at times, but the ability to play off mistakes as intentional creates different effects. Hinata struggles to grasp his own style of playing.
In the sax department, the stars are simple people.
You're a simple-minded player who plays whatever your mind comes up with. It could be the classical pieces of Mozart or Bach; it could be the endless works of Armstrong or Sinatra; you played them all. Your creativity ran through your blood, chasing the students in the hall with an unknown urge to dance. Your playing spills and spoils the listeners, driving them to the stage. If the universe would bend and dance for anyone, it would've been for you.
Hinata only knows you through rumors.
Yet, the music that comes from practice room one is alluring. The constant flow of endless notes and music has students fighting for practice room two. They want to open the window to hear your song play. The students tear each other out for the second room, yet Hinata stares at the note left by the owner of the second room this year.
Sorry, Hinata-kun! I'm sharing room 428 with the pianist again! I hope all goes well for you!
Hinata feels a blood vessel burst.
Yet, as he unlocks the door to the music room, the smell of wood greets him. He pauses to smile. It was fine. It would be fine.
The sound of the saxophone next door starts with the scales, stepping up and down the notes. Hinata joins them as they hit C6. The sounds of the two climb up together, and they descend together. Hinata finishes, panting as the other sax continues playing. That was incredible lung power. The sax plays a little melody, seemingly waving goodbye. Hinata plays one back, and the two close their windows.
Hinata's practice runs smoothly. He presses on the keys, the deep rumble of the instrument buzzing through the air. He finishes his piece; no change in the room. Practice feels a little repetitive with him; no change. It was like wandering a plateau forever, desperate to find the next hill or mountain in sight. There's no line of progress in sight. There was no mountain to climb in terms of skill. Was this what his brother felt before undergoing surgery?
The streets are empty, and there isn't a car in sight. The Speakeasy bars aren't in sight, and the city is void. No one lives there, the sound of emptiness flooding the air. There aren't any flappers or dazzling people running around. Hinata feels the land is barren. He wants to play in the bars full of life. Where were they? What happened to the moonshine bars? He's tired.
You grimace at your reed.
You need to change it again.
It sounds dead. Well, not dead, clogged.
You grab a cup from your bag, pouring a chemical in. Tossing your reeds into it, you sit on the side, tapping your fingers on the wood. You close your eyes, the exhaustion from practicing taking over. The silence fills the room as you drift away, listening to the sound of a dead sax reed sing.
Hinata sighs at his dead reed.
He pauses at the sound of the saxophone next door going silent and frowns. He stands there, contemplating every decision he's ever made. Nonetheless, he picks his saxophone back up, continuing on a new reed. He could worry about fixing his dead one later. He wonders if you had any tips for fixing reeds. He would ask later.
The sounds of Armstrong tap through the air, Hinata bringing him to life. The music clicks against the marble floor, spiraling and spinning out the window. It brings you a sense of peace, a rest you haven't felt in a long time. The music lifts a blanket over your head, covering your eyes. It lulls you into a rest you deserve.
It's peaceful.
Hinata struggles with the piece, hissing and grumbling at the lack of emotion behind his music. No. It wasn't a lack of emotion. He just had no idea what was wrong with his music. His teachers had stopped giving him criticism after figuring out that he was stuck on the plateau forever.
The frustration from his instrument grows apparent, and you sit up after only ten minutes.
"Well that was a shitty nap," You grumble, taking your reeds out. Setting them to dry in the room, you plug in a new one, filling the room with life again.
This time, you don't dance in the 20s; your feet sing tunes of recent years, tapping and clicking against the wooden floor. The sun seems to come out of the clouds for you and waves at you one last time before the moon comes out.
Hinata sits up abruptly when the music ends. He fell asleep.
He stares out his open window, and he sighs.
He'd have to practice tomorrow.
You glance at Room 2 and purse your lips. You want to meet whoever was playing in there. You heard it wasn't Komaeda this year. Standing still at the door, the sun goes down as you still wait. Maybe he was sleeping? You don't want to bother him if he is. Perhaps you'll return early in the morning to meet him.
The moon hums a familiar tune as you sing while walking off.
"fly me to the moon~" You twirl your finger aimlessly as you step down the hall.
Hinata locks the room behind him, and he stares at you walk off.
"let me... play, among the stars," He mumbles to himself, and he heads the other way.
—*.·:·.☽✧Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.✧☾.·:·.*—
Hinata stares at the letter slotted between the two doors and reaches for the envelope.
Dear room 2,
How does a collaboration for the graduation performance sound?
Sincerely, Room 1
(p.s. Slide this note into room 1 to respond as yes !! If you don't give it back, then I'll assume it's a no)
Hinata's hands shake as he reaches for room one's door. The letter slides through quickly, and he makes a sprint for his door. Is he supposed to be embarrassed? He's sure he's supposed to be. The best sax player in the school just asked to be his partner in the upcoming concert. He's pretty sure the two of you would be the opening performance. Could he even do that? Was that possible? He wasn't the best player out there.
You watch the envelope flutter through the slit of the doors, and you grin cheekily.
Packing up your saxophone, you lock the door behind you.
It'll be fun to practice with a partner!
Hajime Hinata has 99 problems, and you just caused another one.
You pull your reeds from the hydrogen peroxide and reach for the dried ones from a makeshift rack.
"So... what are we playing?"
"I was thinking," You plug the reed in. "Fly me to the moon."
"Mm," Hinata pauses. "But that's not exactly a sax song?"
"We can make it one," You grin. "Here." Tossing him the papers, Hinata stares at the notes. "The top is the voice while the bottom is the melody. Let me know which one you want to play."
"Neither," He deadpans. His voice punches you in the face, and you blink to process his words.
"N... either?"
"I don't think I can play this."
"Oh, I thought you were rejecting it because you didn't like me," You fall back onto the cushion in relief.
"How could I not like you?" Hinata stands up abruptly, and you jolt. "You're the most talented student on campus! You play the sax just as well as the pianist in room 428 plays the piano! You're a talent! It's like you were born playing the instrument!"
You pause, throat drying up at his last line. "Mm... well, nonetheless. Pick one or else I'll just force you to play both."
"You can't do that," Hinata tries to reason.
"I absolutely could," You grin. "I absolutely could."
Hinata thinks he forgot something.
"I run the performance for the jazz department."
That's what it is.
"I really don't have a choice," Hinata sighs, pressing the sax to his lips. "I'll try both and see which one is better."
Hinata's music is erratic. He runs and walks in intervals, bouncing unsteadily on the notes. The slurring notes do little to cover up the room needed in terms of improvement. Yet, you listen closely. The frustration behind his problematic rhythm and need to grow help you see something he can't. The sky above him is dark, but the mountain has a cave to rest in. You'll take him there.
"I can't play either."
"You would, though?" You press your fingers on the buttons. "Right?"
"If I could."
"Then I'll show you the way," You grin, pressing the mouthpiece, and you swing Hinata with you. He taps his fingers to your notes, heart ramming against his chest. The stars tap along, and Hinata thinks he's on stage for a moment. The crowd is staring at him as you play the sax, and it almost seems you're singing to him. Hinata wants to do that. He wants the ability to paint a scenery with just his instrument. Yet, he thinks he can't. He's not able to. So many of his teachers had tried teaching him, yet all of them failed.
"You can't," His voice comes out as a whisper when you finish. "They've tried."
"They were helping you while on that flatland," You hum. "The clouds of a storm are brewing above you, and there is a mountain up ahead. People who paint scenery can see every single thread of improvement waiting to be tied."
"You speak strangely," He mumbles.
"The mind of a genius slows for nobody," You grin. "Now, from the top!"
Hinata works out the notes slowly, and you force him to do breathing exercises with you. Hinata has no idea why the hell he's doing cardio with you at a 7am in the morning, but he's not whining. You were trying your best. He doubted he could make any improvement, but he admired your effort. Maybe you'd teach him something new, though.
"Ready?"
"Huh?"
"Now we do the actual cardio." You grin, flexing your arm.
"That was... a warmup?" He pants.
"Yeah," You tilt your head. "Don't worry, it's only for lungs."
Hinata is going to die.
—*.·:·.☽✧In other words, hold my hand✧☾.·:·.*—
He didn't, but he's got no energy to play the instrument. He's exhausted. He needs a nap. Really bad. He doesn't get how you're capable of playing every day after such hellish training. Hinata's lungs are about to burst. He doesn't even have the strength in his arms to lift the instrument; his fingers aren't functioning either. He thought he was somewhat fit. He is not. Nekomaru from the dance department would probably yell at him for slacking off.
"Earth to Hinata~" You wave your hand in front of his face, straddling him.
"How do you move after all of that," He exhales, staring up at you.
"Your body grows used to it," You grin. "Cardio helps with heart problems and lung issues."
"I hate it," Hinata feels you roll off to the side, and you shrug.
"I used to hate it too."
"People like you are born with talent."
You stare at him. "Whatever you want to believe."
"Do you have perfect pitch?"
"Cute," You chuckle, "but no."
"You don't?"
"Contrary to what the school likes bullshitting about, I don't have perfect pitch," You shrug. "They like pretending their best students are born perfect."
"Is that so?"
"You can get surgery for it now," You grin. "Alright, I'm getting back to work."
Hinata finds out quickly that everything you play is based on instinct. Not a single one of your notes is practiced beforehand, and he feels more and more inferior to your playing. It was strange. You were the best player, yet you didn't seem to practice half as much as he did. You played with your whole heart. That was all. It almost reminds him of his brother's lover.
Three weeks in, Hinata finds that his lungpower has, in fact, gotten better, and his playing... has improved? He doesn't know if it's because his mental state is better or if you're just talented. Maybe there was improvement. He doesn't know. He can't remember the last time he stopped thinking about how he played and just... winged it. It's liberating, in a way.
"Alright," You slam your case closed one night, and you sigh. "One week off. I have to grade students starting in two days. Yearly check ups."
"Ah," Hinata stares at his sax. "Will... I pass?"
"We grade blindly," You shrug. "So it depends. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."
Hinata has no idea if he'll pass this year. He barely made it into the 50th percentile that year, so it was worrying. What if he gets eliminated? Oh, dear. He'd get in trouble. What if he does get eliminated? Maybe then he'd end up disowned. Ah. Then his parents would actually hate him more. How sad.
Hinata chews on his bottom lip as you toss him the keys to lock up.
He can do this. You didn't teach him for nothing.
As he steps into the exam room, he exhales. Just remember what you told him. Have fun with the instrument. He had plenty of muscle memory already; there was no messing up unless he thought about it.
Hinata glances at his name on the board three weeks later.
At the end of the hallway, Hinata spots you. Before his mind can process anything, he's racing toward you. You stop and catch him, his weight knocking you onto the ground, your lungs giving out on you. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry," He coughs, getting off of you. "I... ranked top ten. I got excited."
You grin. "That's good. So?"
"Yes," Hinata exhales. "To pay you back."
Practice with Hinata is much like the jazz age. The two of you dance on the vinyl flooring with the saxes, and the two of you forget much of the time passing. You lock yourselves in the room; you nitpicking at Hinata while he adjusts his lungpower for each note. He wants to strangle you some days, and others he thinks he'll be fine. At some point, the two of you forget to eat. You've grown used to it; Hinata has not. He collapses on you.
You rush him to the hospital in a panic, waiting in the lobby as they stabilize him. You don't know why, but the white makes you sick to the core. It's too clean. It looks too dystopian. You contemplate returning him, but you think it'd be good if Hinata woke up to someone. You fall asleep next to him at some point.
His shuffling wakes you up.
"Hinata?"
"No..." Hinata grabs your sleeve, head heavy. "Nononononononononono... no please... get me... get me out..." He sobs, clinging onto your sleeve desperately. It's the first time you've seen him cry like this. "Get me out... please... I'll listen this time... sir... I'm sorry... please... don't lock me up again!"
You stand up to turn at Hinata, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
He cries against your chest, and you glance at the white of the walls.
Your heartbeat quickens from the sight as well. You hate this place just as much, if not more. The building that you had grown sick of made your stomach curl in absolute disgust. You can still see the calluses and scars on your hands. You're so glad those are behind you now. You clasp a hand over his eyes, and you mumble and whisper. Hinata calms down, still shaking as you talk to the nurse, asking if he could be discharged. He's scared of hospitals, you tell him. The nurse agrees, having a doctor sign him out.
Hinata only gets to see once the two of you are back in the school's halls. You wonder what happened to him to turn him into that state.
"I'm sorry," Hinata glances at you. "I grew up in a hospital."
"Don't worry about it," You shrug. "It gives me bad memories too."
"I grew up in one." Hinata chuckles. "So it's the worst."
Hinata tries playing again, but he's visibly shaken and terrible. You stop playing first, waiting for him to realize that he's lacking lung power. You should probably talk to him. It's lunch. You'll take the excuse.
"Lunchtime," You tell him once he finishes. "Come on."
The two of you sit to eat, and you're first to speak up.
"You were... revealed to be one of the children, right?" You place your sax to the side as you reach for the sandwich. "One of the children trained from childhood by the school?"
"Yeah. Hinata hums. He trusts you. But then again, the school wasn't exactly hiding the children. "They ran all sorts of psychological tests on the kids and me. Only my brother and I survived. It succeeded in my brother, but it failed in me.:"
"How sad." You sigh. "Well, at least you can still play."
"Yeah." Hinata pauses, biting on his chopsticks. "How about you?"
"Me?"
"I heard you've been the top of the jazz department since you came."
"I have two jazz artist obsessed parents," You sigh. "If I don't do well, they don't send me money for living expenses."
"I thought you were on a scholarship?"
"That was only after last year. I shot to fame through the winter performance, remember? The school gives scholarships based on pure talent, but talent can only be shown on stage or else it goes unnoticed." You chew on the sandwich, pausing. "My parents praised me to the moon that day. Then when my fame faded, they went back to threatening me over my placing."
Hinata finds that your music has more depth than his does, yet he finds the piece fun. It dances around the room, bouncing off walls and spinning around the room with you. Hinata finds it strange. You still loved your instrument despite the memories that came with it. Though he doesn't mention anything as you pause to stare at him. He plays his part without complaint.
Hinata thinks there's a beauty to your playing. You sound practiced, as if that wasn't obvious enough. He watches you tap the keys on the instrument, filling the room with life as you blow into it. Hinata sounds lacking compared to you, but he likes that he's improved. The music waltzes through the air slowly, painting the old streets of Chicago and speakeasies a vibrant yellow. The night seems alive when you play it, but his almost seems empty.
"Say," You pause, "have you been to the states?"
"No?" Hinata stares at you as if you're asking him if he's killed a man before.
"Do you wanna go?" You glance at him. "I barely spend my scholarship money, so I can technically take us both there."
"To where?"
"New Orleans," You deadpan. "The home of jazz?"
"What would we even do there? We can't drink legally in the states."
"You can, not me." You grin. "Do you think the jazz students are pure little souls? Our school has plenty of people who were born there."
Hinata still has no idea what that means.
"So?"
"Uh... sure? I can pay you back if-"
"You know how Komaeda ended up in Switzerland with the pianist from 428?"
"Yes?"
"All scholarship students are guaranteed a week of full paid trip to any country for the sake of further pursuing their interest in music. Learn to eat the rich, Hinata." You hum.
"Alright... alright."
—*.·:·.☽✧In other words, baby, kiss me✧☾.·:·.*—
Hinata boards a plane for the first time in his life with you. You plan the itinerary; it's not the first time you're leaving for the states. You explain to him your parents made you visit each year because of their obsession. He heads to security, going through bag checks and getting pulled along to the first-class lounge. He had no idea what kind of luxury the scholarship students were getting. You tell him to order expensive since you had the music school's brooch on, and he orders something he's never had before. You order a kusamochi for him for dessert, and he watches you down an entire glass of champagne before leaving for the states.
"You're twenty?"
"We're graduating this year," You remind. "Hinata, you're literally a graduating senior. You can legally drink even in the states."
"If you knew I could they why'd you-"
"I have a fake ID," You shrug. "I'm graduating early because I completed most of my classes last year. They also push for their scholarship students to graduate early so they pay less for tuition haha."
Hinata watches you stare out the window. "Oh, right. The crime rate in the states is higher than here... so stay vigilant."
You check your bag. "I'll get the stuff from a graduate student there and a couple of people I'm friends with. We're going to be going out at night, so don't bother fixing your jetlag."
Hinata finds that his senses are dulled on the plane right, and he watches you go twelve hours without food. When the two of you stop for a layover, he watches you order a coffee at Starbucks. He offers you half a sandwich he bought at the store, but you turn him down. You look pale. You go another three hours without food after the layover, and once the two of you land, he seems to understand why you went almost a day without food.
"Darling!" Hinata recognizes the woman. It's the previous department chair at the school. "How are you? I never thought you'd visit New Orleans after last time!"
"I felt like," You pause. "Bringing a friend along this time. He's never been to the states."
"To the home of jazz?" The woman laughs. "You even brought your saxes!"
"First class has lots to offer," You grin, turning to Hinata. "This is Maya, the old department chair. She's also providing us with a place to stay."
"Her house?"
"Penthouse, dear," The woman smiles. "The two of you will stay there. I have to leave tomorrow anyway, so keep the house clean, will you?"
Hinata heads to a penthouse for the first time in his life. It's a lot of firsts, now that he thinks about it. He had never left the school prior to meeting you. Now, he was flying halfway across the world with you to a place he had never even thought about visiting. He wonders if you planned anything else during the trip. Speaking of which, you still haven't eaten. He wonders how long you can last without food. You looked sick on the car ride to the penthouse.
"We prepared food since you hate airplane food so much," Maya laughs, pushing the two of you along. The smell of roux fills Hinata's senses, and he pauses.
"What is that?"
"Gumbo!" You beam, ditching the luggage at the door to have the food. "Mmmm I love your cooking."
Maya laughs, and you kick your legs childishly as you watch the tv in her living room. Hinata doesn't understand, but he supposes there's more to how you work. Maya shows him his room, and he holds his breath at the cityscape. He wonders if New York would be even busier. The room is clean.
"Okay, my flight is in four hours, so I'm going to leave now!" Maya beams. "Take good care of the room! Darling, you already have the wine cellar's key, so stay safe!"
"See you!"
Hinata wanders around the apartment as you continue watching the TV. He has no idea what's on, and his English was always mediocre, so he doesn't bother prodding. He finds the wine cellar quickly and a minibar in the back. "Are we going to the minibar in the back?"
"No!" You yell. "Get ready! We're leaving in twenty minutes to see an old upperclassman's show!"
Hinata stares at his clothes in the reflection of the glass. "Can I wear what I have currently?"
"I made you pack a striped suit! Wear that!"
You finish the food and place the dish in the sink, rushing to get changed. Hinata walks out of his room uncertain about his clothes until he spots you. You change your earrings quickly, and Hinata pauses at the sight; You're dressed like a flapper. He pauses as you put the headpiece on, clicking your phone. It's as if the two of you had went back in time, now that he thinks about it. He's not complaining; you look good in gold.
"Hinata, can you answer my phone?"
Hinata opens it and clicks speaker.
"We're downstairs." Ah. Hinata recognizes that voice.
"I'm putting on lipstick, you can wait." You hum, opening the product.
"We have a timer-"
"Just pay the cops a hundred. I'll let the school know."
"Five minutes."
"If you leave me here I will ruin your stupid performance. I know you care a lot about having me on stage, so you better shut the fuck up," You close the lipstick, reaching for a purse as you grab the keys. "We're heading downstairs."
You hang up, and Hinata speaks up. "Was that Juzo?"
"Yeah," You lock the door behind you. "You fought him once in sophomore, right?"
"Yes," Hinata furrows his brows. "How'd you know?"
"Juzo threw a fit over how a sophomore fought him over how he was treating Chisa from the woodwind department." You grin, heading down to the first floor. "Remember, act posh. The show he puts on always features a story. No one's actually going to die. Remember that."
Hinata gets into the car as Juzo hands the two of you cards.
"I haven't been to one in ages!" You hum, staring at the role card.
"Is this... a play?"
"It's just for fun," Juzo stares through Hinata. "You have the role of detective, so keep an eye out for suspicious things. Y/n's your apprentice. The suspects are people who are wearing any form of gold. Have fun."
Hinata enters a bar through an apartment building. It's surprising, Hinata thinks. It takes him back in time, and everyone else is dressed for their part as well. Hinata sits in the front next to you, and the two of you watch the performance as Juzo plays. Hinata notices a couple of familiar faces behind the two of you. You excuse yourself to use the restroom with a couple of other people.
Hinata enjoys the performance. Juzo always played fiercely. It was pleasant to the ear despite being fuelled by so much rage. He always thought he'd be better suited for rock.
You return to your seat first, and Hinata nods at you. Juzo plays with fire, the stage flaming with passion. There's a lot more to it, now that Hinata thinks. Juzo isn't the best talent-wise, yet he played with enough emotion to make-up for it. Strange to think that this man was one of the rudest people at the school. His popularity vote was only ever so high because people liked his face.
A body falls through the ceiling.
Hinata jumps in his seat.
"Ah," Juzo hums. "That's where my performance comes to an end. Do enjoy the rest of the night."
The rest of the people scatter around to start drinking or dancing, and Hinata steps up to the body. He looks at you for affirmation, and you smile at him. He searches the doll first, looking at wounds, collecting information. You hand him a notepad, nodding as he sorts out his thoughts verbally. He's ready to start the interrogations.
You follow him around as he talks to the people, connecting with alumni and people from the community while listening. Hinata notes down things that don't make sense on their timeline, and he glances around. Seven. He has seven suspects. He's missing another. He pauses to stare at you, smiling without his eyes.
"You're my last suspect."
"I'm an apprentice. How would I be a suspect?"
"You're wearing gold," Hinata hums, slipping two fingers under your necklace to get a better look at it. "So?"
"Well," You tell him your timeline. He matches it with the others. There aren't any holes in your alibi, but something is off-putting about you. You had the most normal timeline of everyone; it felt out of place. So, as the lights dim, Hinata taps your collarbone twice, telling himself it was for the role. He has to get the information out of you somehow. Maybe seducing would work best. His heart races against his chest as he leans close to your ear, humming lowly.
"Are you sure that's all you did?" He stands straight again slowly, pausing at the sight of you visibly flustered. You stare at him wide-eyed, holding a hand to your heart. You look visibly shaken, pausing to collect yourself.
"Yes," You smile. "That's all I did, detective."
"Alright," Hinata presses a quick kiss to your cheek. "Thank you. You look great in gold, by the way, sweetheart." He walks off to go through his notepad. His ears burn as he does, his heart racing in his own chest. It's still you, he believes. Your timeline had discrepancies compared to everyone else, and you were the only one whose character was a regular at the bar. He wonders if you knew he was searching things up on his phone.
"A bourbon on the rocks, please." Hinata smiles at the bartender, and he picks up the drink. He sorts out his thoughts. He has to find Juzo to see if he was right.
When the culprit of the night is announced, Juzo hums, having the spotlight point at them. You hold both of your hands up, defenseless, a mischievous grin on your face. Hinata's brain can only think about how he had kissed you. It was normal, right? It was common in the 1920s? He doesn't know anymore. He has average scores in his history class as well. Yet, as Juzo presents to him a saxophone, Hinata is visibly taken aback. What kind of wealth was Juzo rolling in?
"Thank... you," Hinata manages.
"How'd he know I play alto?" Hinata sits in the lounge with you, holding another glass of whiskey.
"I told him," You shrug. "Juzo plays alto as well. I'm one of the few tenors in our department."
"Alto is the most... common, huh?"
"Alright. Now imitate Juzo's playing style."
Hinata goes out to two separate performances with you during the time you stay in the states. Each night is the same. You make him perform while imitating the style of the performer. He finds some sort of improvement. His playing style flows better some days; his emotions flow better on others. Hinata finds that he has a talent for copying. It's strange. He always thought he was useless since his brother was the one whose talent succeeded. Was he talented as well?
"Hinata," You pour a glass of champagne on the last day, sliding it to him. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Sure." Hinata puts his sax back, sitting on the couch. "What's wrong?"
"Why'd you kiss me on the first day?" You stare at him, and Hinata coughs. He tried to forget.
"It was for the role." He pauses. That was a lie. He hopes you don't catch it.
You nod. "Alright. That's all I wanted to know."
The way back is strange. Hinata barely talks to you, and you translate for him as the two of you arrive at the airport and get ready to head back to the school. Hinata doesn't know how to tell you he likes you. Maybe it's weird of him to like you. Does he like you? He does. He might even love you. It's strange. He doesn't like how his heart races when he thinks of you. His cheeks flare up, and he swears his heart is going to burst.
The opening performance goes incredibly well. You rehearse with him a couple of more times, and once the two of you open the ceremony, Hinata feels graduation has gone well. He finishes the performance with a spin, and the road roars for him. He hears his name more than yours, and you smile at him knowingly. Hinata should tell you. He needs to tell you. You're probably going to chase the rest of your dreams in the states, and you're leaving him. He can't have that.
"These," Kamukura hands Hinata a bouquet of pink roses, and Hinata blinks at him. "If you don't ask them out, you'll never see them again. I promise."
Hinata knows better than to doubt his brother's words. The ceremony ends, and he rushes outside to find you. Maybe you're with your parents. Maybe you packed up and already left to avoid your parents. He prays quietly that you're still here, and he races to you as he locks eyes with you.
"Hinata?"
"A-ah, um," Hinata holds the roses in his hands, head spinning a million miles an hour. "These are for you. I... like you a lot. I know I told you that the kiss was just for the role, but I genuinely meant it. You look great in gold. I... like you a lot. I think I already said that. Um, yeah! I like you a lot, and I'm heartbroken that we're graduating and I won't get to see you next year. I'm... sorry. I just wanted to get the feelings off my chest before you left for good."
"Would you... like to go out with me?" You blink at Hinata slowly, taking the roses from him. "I'm continuing for a masters, so we aren't exactly splitting."
Hinata's head rings at the information. "Please. I would be so happy."
The two of you stand there awkwardly before Hinata coughs. "Um... shall we have lunch first?"
"Please," You exhale. "I'm starving."
—*.·:·.☽✧In other words, I love you✧☾.·:·.*—