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One day, for no reason, Hinata jabs him in the ribs and says “you know, I bet Iʼm a better kisser than you.”
Yesterday it was climbing trees. The day before that it was word puzzles.
(Tobio won at puzzles and lost at climbing—for now).
Today itʼs kissing. But—
“What makes you think youʼd be better?” he frowns. “And why does it even matter?”
He thinks about where kissing falls in the scheme of things that are important:
Volleyball, being a better setter than Oikawa (which is related to volleyball), making it to nationals (volleyball again), their team, not failing his classes (so he can continue to play volleyball), his sister, making sure his grandfather would have been proud.
Kissing isn’t part of the list at all.
“I kissed a girl once and she said she liked it,” Hinata shrugs.
Tobio feels a sudden sinking feeling, like having missed an opportunity to spike and letting the ball drop to the ground.
Heʼs hurt by this, almost like a betrayal, but why?
Obviously, Hinata can kiss who he wants. “That doesnʼt mean youʼre better. Maybe she was just being nice.”
He doesnʼt actually think this is likely, since he doesnʼt know this girl, but he says it anyway because of how he feels (like crap, because Hinata kissed someone).
“Oh,” Hinata says, and the skip in his step goes away. “I guess I didnʼt think about that.”
Heʼs quiet for a whole minute, which almost never happens. Itʼs weird.
“Are you any good?” Hinata asks.
“At what?”
“Kissing.”
“I donʼt know, maybe,” Tobio says.
“How come you donʼt know?”
“Because I havenʼt kissed anyone. Are you happy now?”
They stop walking. Hinata looks at him, and Tobio feels somehow pinned down. His face turns red as Hinata looks him over.
“What?” he demands.
“I just canʼt believe that,” Hinata says.
“Why not?”
“Look at you. Youʼre all tall and youʼve got this shiny hair, and you look like you could be one of those heroes from a shoujo manga when you make your brooding face. Girls like that, I think.”
That might be true.
“I donʼt want to kiss girls,” Tobio admits.
Heʼs never told anyone.
“Oh,” Hinata says, thoughtfully, for the second time today. “Do you want to kiss boys?”
Tobioʼs never really, intensely thought about it. Heʼs always thought yes, in general, maybe, someday, he would.
But today, specifically, he thinks heʼd like to.
“Yeah.”
“...would you kiss me?”
For a split-second, Tobioʼs gut instinct is that heʼs being made fun of. Then he remembers that this is Hinata, and he knows exactly what it sounds like when Hinata is making fun of him, and this is different.
“If you wanted to,” Tobio says, forcing nonchalance. “Sure.”
“Here,” Hinata says, and suddenly his warm hand is on Tobioʼs jaw—probably still has dirt on it from when he tripped in the schoolyard. “Lean down.”
He does it. Then closes his eyes tight. On the court, he and Hinata know each other without talking, in some ways without looking. Will this be different?
Itʼs quiet except for the rustle of the trees. Traffic somewhere in the distance as Hinata presses his mouth to Tobioʼs.
Slow. Deliberate.
He is a good kisser.
Better than Tobio, definitely, who doesnʼt move and is so, so stiff for the first couple seconds before he finds his groove—in a rhythm with Hinata, since thatʼs just his life now.
He feels cheered up, doing this, parting for breath, and then kissing Hinata again.
He can see why people like to do this. Itʼs not as gross as it looks when itʼs someone else doing it.
They kiss a few times, right there by the side of the road.
When they part the final time Hinataʼs all flushed, as if overheated on a cold fall day. “Okay. I think you win this one.”
Itʼs generous. But Hinata knows him better than to actually let him win, right?
“We could do a rematch sometime,” Tobio suggests. “Just to be sure.”