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Hinata's been acting strangely all day, and Tobio isn't above admitting that he desperately wants to know why.
They aren't in the same class, so it's not like Tobio's had a lot of chances to observe his partner all day. And during practice, Hinata's no worse than he usually is. His serves and receives suck - he's improved, but they're still shitty - and he flies across the court in his ever constant desire to hit any and every ball that comes his way or otherwise.
Their synchronization is perfect. If Tobio's being honest with himself, it's probably the best they've ever played together outside of an actual game. But if Hinata looks his way, it isn't for long, and if Tobio wants to be heard, he has to sign, because Hinata's eyes are everywhere but on his mouth.
It's frustrating, worrying even, that Hinata won't tell him what's wrong even though something is obviously on his mind. And there's still too much room for doubt within their friendship for Tobio to be calm about this, even if Tobio did learn to sign for Hinata, even if Hinata promised to always be there.
So, Hinata doesn't have to tell him what's wrong. But... Tobio still wishes he would.
They leave school together as they always do, waving a goodbye to the lingering upperclassmen and loitering near the bike rack until Tsukishima's and Yamaguchi's backs disappear into the distance. Hinata pushes his bike in the space between them as they walk, quietly and in the dark, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
Tobio debates whether or not to say anything to Hinata about the way he's been acting. But if it were something he'd done, Hinata would just be avoiding him like he used to, flapping his hands and averting his eyes and darting off in the opposite direction. Tobio doesn't miss those days, so he's not about to bring them back by opening his mouth and saying something he shouldn't.
Which is just odd. Since when has he worried about pissing Hinata off?
The old, rusted chain on Hinata's bike suddenly stops rattling, and Tobio starts only to find that Hinata is no longer beside him. He turns, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. Hinata is staring stubbornly down at his feet, standing still in the middle of the path.
Tobio doesn't say anything - it's useless, Hinata's not even looking at him - and waits for something, anything, to change. After nearly a minute of painfully awkward shifting, Hinata's shoulders relax from their tense, hunched posture, and he slowly wheels his bike forward, coming to a stop yet again at Tobio's side.
"What's up?" Tobio asks when Hinata's eyes zero in on his mouth. "Did you forget something?"
Hinata frowns, and his expression is reminiscent of the look he gets during games, when he loses track of where he is and what he's doing and just feels. Tobio finds himself flushing, skin itching uncomfortably under such an intense stare, and he's about to excuse himself and continue on the path alone, anything to get away, when Hinata opens his mouth and says, "Tobio."
It's awkward. Garbled. But Tobio hears and understands and freezes. Tobio has heard him sigh, groan, laugh and cry, but he has never heard Hinata Shouyou speak before.
He used to, or so Hinata's mother says, loud and incomprehensible, but that all stopped after he graduated junior high. Tobio thinks about that sometimes, about what may have happened to make someone as determined and bullheaded as Hinata stop trying, but it's a subject probably better left alone. Hinata doesn't need to hear anyway, doesn't need to speak to make people pay attention to him. Tobio knows that better than anyone.
Hinata's apprehensive expression melts away into something more pleased when he takes in the naked shock on Tobio's face. I practiced. He says, and it takes every ounce of Tobio's remaining cognitive ability to register how Hinata's hands move. I'm probably being dumb, but I wanted to be able to say your name.
Why? Tobio signs back, somehow unwilling to break the lingering silence around them, wants nothing but the sound of Hinata's stolen voice in his head for the time being.
Hinata smiles, bike braced heavily against his right hip. We're partners, stupid. I should be able to do that much for you.
And it's kind of infuriating, Hinata's obliviousness to his own actions and the impact they have on others. Maybe he can say Tobio's name out loud now, but he's been doing so much more than that since the beginning, jumping up into the consuming silence of his own small world and always trusting that Tobio will get the ball to him, even without the call for a toss.
Hinata swings, unhindered, and Tobio is so in love with him it hurts.
"... Idiot."