Work Text:
Every morning the maple leaves. Every morning, a young boy with a young heart spills himself out of his chest. He spills his tendons, his blood, his veins, all uniform, and all spelling out desire. It hurts, you know. Every morning Kageyama is tempted to push this younger boy right up against the wall and fulfill his dirtiest fantasies. He is tempted to, but he keeps his hands to his sides even if they shake.
Everyone knows that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he kept his mouth shut.
He wanted to touch his neck, and chest, and stomach, and therefore he is the worst of the worst. Kageyama has hands that wants to touch the wrong things, a mind that doesn't think the right thoughts.
Hinata says it sometimes. He says, "I love you, Kageyama," but it's always so playful and laced with innocence, always accompanied by a hug from the back and then nothing further.
No, he thinks. You don't love me the way I need you to.
In a parallel universe, Kageyama is upfront with his feelings. He can imagine how it goes down. The scenario is: They will be alone. The lights would be dim because Kageyama doesn't know how he would speak if he was looking at him clearly. Hinata's shadow comforts him. His voice shakes when he says the thing weighing on his shoulders but Hinata is there, saying shhh, shhh, it's okay, I think I like you too.
But the universe isn't nice to him and he knows how it will go: They will be alone and Kageyama will close his eyes and say this and this and this but when he turns around Hinata will not be relieved. Kageyama is spilling his heart and Hinata has a hand snaked behind his back, hand already turning the doorknob to make a run for it if he can.
He saw this in a dream, he knows what's going to happen.
Kageyama knows that if he thinks about it too much, he won't ever sleep again. He doesn't like to think about the future, he likes the temporary pleasure. He lives for pleasure like it's his airway for breath, like the blood running through his veins.
Kageyama can have Hinata, just not in the way he'd like. In the dark of his room, he trails a sneaky hand in his pants, breathes a little faster, gasps a little louder. Hot, sticky fingers and heavy, warm feelings in the pit of his stomach were common occurrences, and guilt was an afterthought.
The boy he loves is far away, he thinks as his fingers rub against the tip of himself. He wanted his hands placed underneath his shirt and he wanted him to say the things no one else had ever told him. He shouldn't love this boy but he does.
He wants Hinata on him and inside him and rubbing against him and moaning...and he wanted Hinata to bite him in the neck and give him a little lesson for being so naughty like this. So perverted. He wanted to be spanked because he's been a very bad boy. Kageyama wanted to tell him that he loves him but he knew Hinata wouldn't let him.
Actually, one day Kageyama does tell him but Hinata doesn't say anything and this is just like dying, he remembers. This is just like being stabbed in the heart. He knew how it would go. He knew.
I want to love this boy, Kageyama thinks, and it feels like the rightest decision he's ever made but it's so hard. I want to love this boy and I want him to kiss me hard enough so that I suffocate and die in his arms.