Chapter Text
Volleyball gyms were always loud. They were full of noisy fans, squeaking shoes, and balls being slammed against the floor as the perfect spike was hit. And even though the gym was loud today, during Aoba Jousai’s first match of the Spring High preliminaries, one sound cut through the commotion as Yahaba slipped when trying to receive a ball that would have gone out on their touch.
It was a dull, hollow sound. Harder than the smack of a ball, heavier than the thump of a backpack dropped by the door of the gym during afternoon practice.
It was sharp as it rang out in Kyoutani’s ears. A metallic, biting crack that caused his heart to leap into his throat and drop into his stomach at the same time.
Yahaba’s head hit the court and Kyoutani’s breath left his lungs.
He swore he saw Yahaba’s head bounce before his body went still, and Kyoutani was on his knees before the referee had blown the whistle to signal a time-out. Kyoutani knew better than to touch him, but his hands still hovered over Yahaba’s silver hair as he prayed for him to open his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Yahaba’s head had clipped the pole holding up the net in the one spot that it wasn’t padded, but the net still seemed to be shaking.
But maybe that was his imagination as his entire body rattled with anxiety while he watched the slow rise and fall of Yahaba’s chest.
He heard their coach call for a medic, even though it had probably been only a few seconds since Yahaba hit the court. He felt hands on his shoulders as someone tried to pull him away, but Kyoutani kept his knees planted on the court next to Yahaba’s head until the medic arrived and asked him to move.
Kyoutani stood with Watari and the rest of their team in the now silent gym as the medical team gingerly rolled Yahaba onto his back. They had his head braced to prevent further damage, and all Kyoutani could focus on was the annoying hum of whispers revolving around him. The team they had been playing had taken a knee on the other side of the court, waiting for the game to resume. Kyoutani swore he heard one of the bastards say that maybe they could win now that the captain and starting setter was out of the game. Watari must’ve heard them too, because his fingers encircled Kyoutani’s wrist, keeping him from doing anything stupid and redrawing his attention to Yahaba.
The medics had swept the hair away from Yahaba’s forehead, and were slowly pulling open his eyes to look for signs of life. When the bright lights of the gym hit him, Yahaba scrunched up his face, clamping his eyes shut with a groan.
Kyoutani let out a relieved sigh as the medics began to ask Yahaba questions, knowing that he was now at least semi-conscious. They were still wheeling in a backboard and gurney, and Kyoutani knew they would have to take him to the hospital based on the fact that he had been unconscious for such a significant amount of time.
But, he was going to be okay because he was awake and answering questions.
“Son, can you tell me your name?”
Yahaba’s voice came out in a strained whisper, but he was still able to mumble out “Shigeru” as the medic began strapping a brace around his neck.
“Can you tell me how old you are?”
“17.”
“Do you know where you are right now?”
“I…a volleyball game?” Yahaba answered with a question, and that made Kyoutani’s frown deepen. The medics didn’t seem to notice, probably because they didn’t know the fine lilt of Yahaba’s voice. They probably only took the inflection as a result of his pain, not the genuine confusion that it actually was.
They ignored it, moving on to asking if he could move his fingers and his feet before sliding him onto the backboard and lifting him off the ground. His eyes were still closed, his entire face contorted in pain as they began to wheel him off the court. The crowd began to clap as a sign of respect, but Kyoutani wishes they would just fucking stop as he made his way to follow Yahaba.
He was stopped by a hand in the middle of his chest and a pitying look from the head coach.
“We need you here, Kyoutani. The match is almost over.”
Kyoutani growled deep in his throat as he slapped Irihata’s hand away. “Yahaba needs me.”
“What are you going to do? Sit around the emergency waiting room until they tell you that you can go in? They won’t let you in the ambulance anyway.”
Kyoutani glared at the ground, puffing up his cheeks as he tried to come up with some reason that he should be allowed to go.
“Mizoguchi is going to go with him, so he won’t be alone until his parents arrive.” Irihata placed a hand on Kyoutani’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before letting go. “I know you two are…close. But I know he’d want you to finish the game for him. We’ll all go see him after the match is over.”
Kyoutani continued to stare at the ground as Irihata left him alone to wrangle up the remaining team members. True to his word, the second coach gathered up Yahaba’s bag and jogged away in the direction they had taken him. When he was gone, Kyoutani picked his face up and returned to his team, swallowing down the sour taste growing at the back of his throat.
----
They won. Of course they won. They had already completed the first set, and were only 10 points away from victory when the first year setter that shook when Kyoutani looked directly at him stepped onto the court. Yahaba had been training him up, since he would be the starter next year, but Kyoutani had never had much opportunity to train with him one on one. As a result, his sets were sloppy and off center, nothing like the smooth, clean set that he and Yahaba had been working all year to perfect. They had started off their third year at each other’s throats, convinced that this would never work. That they could never be a setter and ace duo that was comparable to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. But somehow, during their second game of the interhigh preliminaries, something finally clicked, and they managed to pull one of the cleanest straight set victories that either of them had ever seen.
Yahaba had embraced him once the match was over, in front of their entire team and a gym full of people that they didn’t know. Kyoutani was shocked and more than a little embarrassed, but he hugged him back with one arm before loudly complaining that Yahaba stank and needed a major shower.
Yahaba pushed him away with a pink face, but he still had a sly little smile on his face. After that, they had grown closer over the course of the school year. They practiced late after their other teammates had left, sharing shy hugs and then kisses in between successful spikes. They introduced each other to their homes, and Kyoutani spent the first night in Yahaba’s bedroom scared shitless that he would accidently push him out of his own bed by accident. They called each other friends, then boyfriends. Yahaba had recently started calling him Kentarou.
Kyoutani had been given permission to call him Shigeru.
Once the match concluded, Irihata called for all the boys to pack their things up and get on the bus so they could go and check on their captain. Kyoutani found himself snapping at some of the first years for moving too slowly as they changed their clothes, as every second they dawdled was a second longer that he didn’t get to see if Yahaba was okay.
Eventually, everything got packed up and the team loaded into the bus. Irihata gave Kyoutani permission to sit in the front seat with him because the tension in his body was rattling everyone around him. He was making everyone nervous as he sat on the edge of his seat, grinding his teeth and nearly tearing a hole in the cushions because of how hard he was squeezing the bench with his hands. Watari sat a seat behind him, trying to calm him down with words of encouragement. Yahaba would be fine he said. He was starting to wake up when he left the gym, and now they probably are almost all done with the scans and tests to make sure that he’s alright.
At worst Yahaba has a concussion and won’t be able to play the rest of the tournament.
Is what Watari says.
Coach Mizoguchi is waiting for them when they arrive at the ER’s waiting room. Kyoutani plants himself in front of him and is about to chew his coach out before Mizoguchi sticks up a finger, assuring him that he never would have left Yahaba alone. His parents had arrived 10 minutes after the ambulance pulled up, and were with him now as they awaited the results of the scans.
Because he had hit his head so hard and blacked out for so long, they were going to keep him at the hospital overnight for observation. Just in case.
But because they were going to keep him overnight, no one was allowed to see him until they moved him out of the emergency room and into an overnight room.
No one besides his parents were allowed back right now. Not even Kyoutani.
If he were a weaker person, Kyoutani would have cried from frustration. Sure, he trusted his coach’s report well enough. Yahaba was awake. In pain. Not wanting to talk much, but able to answer basic questions. Kyoutani wanted to see that for himself. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he saw Yahaba sitting up and alert for himself.
Kyoutani let out a groan of frustration as he plopped down into a chair, scaring a couple first years out of his way. He crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips into a thin line as Watari swiftly took a seat beside him. Watari patted his arm and asked if he was alright, but Kyoutani refused to answer.
Of course he wasn’t fucking alright. He had just watched his boyfriend play like a limp noodle after hitting his fucking head on the hard court. The anticipation and waiting was killing him, boiling up like fire in his chest. His skin felt hot in an unpleasant way, and he just wished he could fucking see Yahaba already.
He endured an hour of waiting before Yahaba’s father emerged from the emergency room doors to announce that they were going to be moving him in the next thirty minutes, and after that, they would have to walk to the front of the hospital and request to see him. Kyoutani had met Yahaba’s father a few times before, and found him to be a nice enough man. He looked just like an older version of Yahaba. Yahaba had gotten his height from his father without a doubt, and the gentle eyes and pointed nose. But his silver hair he inherited from his mother, as his father’s was pitch black. Yahaba’s father always made Kyoutani feel welcome in his home, always making sure to check with him and making sure everything was going well with him in a way that his own father never really did. Even now, he took a few minutes of time to speak with Kyoutani before returning to his son’s side.
After congratulating him on their victory, Yahaba’s father updated Kyoutani on his condition.
“Shigeru is very alert right now, though that’s slightly dulled by the medicine. He seems to be having some…difficulty remembering things, so after they move him upstairs, we’d like to have you and Watari come back to talk to him. Maybe he’s just a bit rattled right now.”
Kyoutani nodded slowly, knitting his eyebrows together as he wondered what it could be that Yahaba was not remembering. Kyoutani recalled the confusion Yahaba had earlier when asked if he knew where he was, and he hoped that it wasn’t any worse than that.
It was close to another hour of thin patience before Yahaba’s father came to the waiting room again to retrieve Kyoutani and Watari. Some members of the team had already gone home, picked up by their parents or other friends as the wait became too much to bear. Kyoutani made a note of every person that left, swearing to himself that they would be running extra laps in the gym the next time they met for practice. He hated hospitals himself because the only good thing that ever happened there were babies being born. But he still wasn’t going to leave, not while his boyfriend was lying in a bed somewhere nearby.
Kyoutani followed Yahaba’s father through the double doors and down a hallway, Watari close on his heels as he tried to match Kyoutani’s urgent pace. He tried to remind Kyoutani to keep his voice down when they got close to the room with Yahaba’s name already on the door. But he really didn’t need to be told twice.
The room was dim, most likely to help soothe the headache Yahaba was undoubtedly feeling at this moment. It took Kyoutani’s eyes a moment to adjust from the bright hallway, but when they did, they immediately focused on Yahaba.
He was sitting up in bed, legs crossed in front of him and hands cradling a bottle of water in his lap. Yahaba’s eyes were a little weary as he tried to focus on his mother, who was speaking in a soft, gentle voice, probably about the results of all of Yahaba’s tests. Kyoutani mostly saw his back as his mother was oriented to face the door, but he could see the mess Yahaba had made of his hair in the trip from the gym to the hospital.
Yahaba’s mother gave Kyoutani a small, exasperated smile before she turned towards her son to let him know he had visitors. Only then did Yahaba turn around, slowly, moving his body rather than turning his head as if his neck was stiff and sore. Kyoutani didn’t blame him. The one time he had gotten a concussion was back in middle school when he was playing volleyball on a sand court, and his head smacked the concrete ridge meant to keep the sand inside. He didn’t want to move his neck for a good few weeks after that, so he made a mental note to help Yahaba relieve the tension as soon as he could.
Kyoutani couldn’t read the expression on his boyfriends face as he reached out for him. He whispered his name, “Shigeru”, and grabbed his closest hand. He was fully intent on pressing a kiss to Yahaba’s forehead before his hand was dropped.
Yahaba snapped his hand away as if Kyoutani had burned him, pulling it to his chest so that no one could hold it again. Kyoutani frowned, taking a half step away from the bed before changing his mind and stepping forward again.
“Shigeru, what the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been worrying my ass off.” Kyoutani tried to keep his voice low so as not to upset Yahaba’s headache, but his words were harsh, displaying his hurt at the rejection.
“Why would you bother?” Yahaba’s voice was rough, shaky and low as if he was sick. His face was blank, but Kyoutani could see the tell-tale signs of a grimace forming as the corners of Yahaba’s lips turned downwards. “And I don’t remember giving you permission to use my first name, Kyoutani, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t.”
Kyoutani’s mouth dropped open, not believing the absolute bullshit coming out of Yahaba’s mouth. He tried to think of something to say, something that would knock Yahaba out of whatever stupid fantasy world he was living in right now. But no solutions came to mind apart from smacking Yahaba upside the head, and that would probably only make his condition worse.
Kyoutani didn’t fight when Yahaba’s father pulled him out of the room and into the hallway. They left Watari behind, and Kyoutani strained to hear what was being said between the two. Yahaba clearly sounded happy to see his friend after his traumatic experience. But, he didn’t seem to remember Kyoutani.
Yahaba’s father asked him if he was alright and he shook his head no. Of course he wasn’t fucking alright. He felt like he wanted to throw up and punch his fist through a wall at the same time. Yahaba’s father tried to calm him down, saying that he wanted Kyoutani to go back in and ask what Yahaba remembered about him. Apparently, Yahaba’s head slamming against the gym floor sparked a bit of retrograde amnesia, and he only seemed to remember up to a certain point.
He remembered the spring high from their second year, and slamming Kyoutani against the wall.
He remembered being named captain when Oikawa stepped down.
He remembered almost to the end of the school year, to the last birthday he and Matsukawa-senpai shared together. That’s how he knew he was 17. He remembered it, but only barely.
Yahaba didn’t remember the seniors graduating. He didn’t remember moving on to their third year. He didn’t remember the interhigh or the hug or anything that meant something to Kyoutani.
Like their first kiss, angry and frustrated as it was after they both shouted their confessions at each other.
He didn’t remember their second kiss, which was almost an apology to the first for being so aggressive and regrettable.
He didn’t remember their first date, or the first time they spent the night together, or giving permission to use his first name.
Yahaba didn’t remember anything that mattered about Kyoutani, like the things that made him a good person and all the things he had worked so hard on this past year to become a better person for himself and the team.
But mostly, the things he had done to become a better person for Yahaba.
Was it all a waste of time? All the effort he had put in take make sure he didn’t lose Yahaba, someone who could probably have whoever the fuck he wanted.
He never thought it could be taken away from him just like that.
In a snap, in just a second, in all the time it took to bounce his brain inside his skull.
Kyoutani didn’t want to go back in. He knew he was just speculating, based on what Yahaba’s father told him, but he didn’t want to go back in and look at the person he loved stare at him like he was a nuisance.
He didn’t want to listen to words come off of lips that he had kissed just this morning say that they have never kissed at all.
But, he did. He walked back in the room, almost hiding behind Yahaba’s father’s back. Watari had pulled up a chair besides Yahaba’s bed, and he gave Kyoutani a forced smile that covered up what he already knew to be true.
“Your old man says you don’t remember anything, Shi-…Yahaba.” Kyoutani stumbled with his name, not sure what to say after he had had his permission to use Yahaba’s given name taken away.
“That’s right. I remember just up to my 17th birthday, but I’ve already been told that it’s been almost a whole year since then.” Yahaba let out a big sigh before sinking down into the pillows propped behind his back. Kyoutani felt a little tug on the edges of his lips, threatening to pull into a smile as Yahaba’s overdramatic side began to peek out from under the pain medicine. “I don’t see why you care though, Kyoutani. You basically hate me.”
Yahaba’s mother began to scold him, but Kyoutani cut her off by slamming his palm against the wall. “God, Yahaba, I don’t fucking hate you. Why do you even think that?”
Yahaba’s eyes were wide after the loud bang, but he quickly regained his composure so he could answer Kyoutani’s question. “Because of the way you treat me. You’ve never said a nice thing to me in your entire life.”
Kyoutani closed his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to restrain himself from lashing out or breaking down. He tried to remember that he was in a hospital, surrounded by Yahaba’s parents. He made sure his voice was steady before speaking again. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”
“Remember what?”
Kyoutani shook his head, not wanting to say it out loud if Yahaba didn’t remember. But, he knew he had to try. “Like, you don’t remember us? You don’t remember us dating?”
“OH my god….no.” Yahaba shook his head as if he was trying to get some mental image out. He crossed his arms like an X in front of his body and almost sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Us? Dating? Yeah I definitely do not remember that, because it’s impossible.”
Kyoutani inhaled sharply through his nose before turning on his heel. He heard Yahaba’s mother and Watari trying to talk him into apologizing as Kyoutani was stopped by Yahaba’s father.
“I’m sure…if we explain things to him, we can work it out. You used to cause Shigeru frustration before, but, you’ve been good to him since you’ve started dating. I’m sure we can find a way to fix-”
“No, fuck it. I’m done.” Kyoutani cut him off, and tried to push his way out of the room. “He doesn’t remember. He thinks it’s a fucking joke. I don’t have time to try and get his head out of his ass a second time.”
Another shove was all it took to get Yahaba’s father to release him. He pushed through the door, out of the dark hospital room into the bright fluorescents of the hallway. The light stung his eyes and made them water, and Kyoutani tried to convince himself that was all it was as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.
When he entered the waiting room where part of the team and the coaches still sat, Kyoutani tried to ignore them. He shrugged off questions of how Yahaba was doing, gruffly answering ‘find out for yourself’ before trying to walk away. He only paused when Coach Irihata called out to him, telling him the time the team was meeting before leaving to play their next game tomorrow.
Kyoutani didn’t answer.
He walked until he reached the front door of the hospital. When the chill breeze of the outdoors hit his face as the sliding glass opened, Kyoutani took off at a sprint down the sidewalk. He nearly knocked over a middle aged man on crutches, and he skirted around a grandma in her wheelchair, but he never slowed his speed. He would’ve ran the entire way home if he lived closer, but instead, he had to stop at a train station to buy a ticket back home. He supposed he could’ve called his dad, or anyone really, to come get him. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone else. He only grunted confirmations when buying his ticket, and he ignored questions from people on the train asking if they could sit nearby. He just wanted them all to disappear and leave him alone.
As soon as he sat down and the train began to move, Kyoutani felt as if he had just deflated. He felt as if all the powerful emotions he had been feeling today were being pulled out of the bottom of his feet, leaving him empty and hollow and confused.
He felt like he had been slapped in the face. Embarrassed, humiliated, and he didn’t know if Yahaba would tell others about his outburst. He almost didn’t care if he did, at least it would give Yahaba something to laugh at for the rest of his life.
But damn it, Kyoutani fucking loved him. He’d been through a lot of shit in his life, but this was easily the most painful thing he had ever experienced.
Yahaba had loved him, and he didn’t even remember it. It was a joke. A cruel joke with no punchline.
The Yahaba that was sitting in that hospital bed didn’t even think it was possible to love him.
He thought Kyoutani hated him.
It’s like Kyoutani had nearly won the race and reached the top of the mountain, only to have his footing yanked out from underneath him. Now he was back at the bottom of the hill, broken, bruised, and hurt.
God, how he hurt. He hardly ever cried, but the pain in his chest made him feel almost like he should go back to the hospital to check that he wasn’t dying.
His heart was so heavy it made it difficult for him to stand up from his seat and get off the train when it pulled up to his stop. His heavy heart made it difficult to drag his feet back home, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He brushed off his father’s questions as to why he was home so late, and he locked the door when his father started yelling for being ignored.
His heart was still heavy as he looked over his bed at all the little pictures Yahaba had insisted on pinning there. His heavy heart saw one of Yahaba’s blue practice shirts sticking out from under his bed, and to torture him further, his heart wouldn’t give him the strength to kick it further under the bed so that he could no longer see it.
Kyoutani’s heavy heart made most everything more difficult, from walking to thinking to breathing. Only one thing did it make easier: falling face first into bed to suffocate himself in memories of Yahaba that only he now held.