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Kageyama has never liked mornings.
They came to him as bleak blur of colors – grays and whites - on the back of his eyelids, too sudden after hours of blackness. They brought cold wind trying to make it's way through closed window and silence that welcomed him as soon as his mind was concious.
There is short moment of nothingness before his thoughts find their proper place and vanishing trace of dreams and nightmares dissolves completely.
His eyes wander for a while, trying to find a place they could focus on. But no matter how long Kageyama searches he can't find this one crack on the ceiling he used to stare at every morning.
Kageyama needs a moment to realise that this isn't his ceiling. And this isn't even his room. And definitely not his bed.
He hears soothing sound of breathing next to him, slow breaths coming in and out of somebody's mouth. There is something bright and orange that he sees out of the corner of his eye.
Oh, right. That shouldn't be new after all this time.
Kageyama doesn't really remember how many times he woke up next to Hinata now. Apparently enough to remember that he likes to sleep on his side, with blanket crumpled between his legs and hands tangled together.
And no matter how many times he saw Hinata's sleeping face before, it was enough to learn that there are eleven freckles on his left cheek, eight on his right and five more on his nose.
Kageyama didn't know before how Hinata's eyelids flicker when he's dreaming and his eyelashes are almost white near the skin and get darker at the ends. He didn't know the way he frowns and his lips tighten when he is having a nightamare.
It takes him a while to figure out that when Hinata's fingers are clenching on his shirt, he's lost somewhere in his dreams, fighting a monster or struggling with difficulties. He doesn't know what to do at first, but then he notices how Hinata's expression softens and his grip gets weaker as soon as Kageyama's fingers rest on his head and his arm pulls him closer.
It lasts long enough to make Kageyama remember smell of Hinata's sheets and feeling of fabric touching his skin. It's enough to recognize refreshing smell of Hinata's shampoo. To get addicted to the warm scent of skin on Hinata's neck and feeling of pulse beating under Kageyama's lips.
It's been so long that Kageyama is not sure anymore how to wake up without feeling of smaller body pressed to his chest. If he could manage to survive the morning without lips pressed awkwardly slighty below his own and sound of yawning and streching. How to start a day waking up in an empty bed where sheets next to him aren't even warm anymore.
Kageyama knows that Hinata's voice is hoarse after the night. He gets used to the sound of Hinata walking around with one sock because the other one got lost somewhere among the blankets. He notices sign of toothpaste in corner of Hinata's mouth and way he's pulling up his shirt to get rid of it.
He knows all of it by heart, but it's still new for him. And sometimes the warmth next to him and fingers tangled with his own are still surprising.
Mornings are a blur of colors pressed forcefully to the back of his eyelids. Gold and amber, pink and orange. It's still cold of breeze that got through the window and makes his fingers stiff. It's silence around them that makes their breathing louder.
But Kageyama is starting to like them. In some way.