Work Text:
At nineteen, Tobio’s life is much the same as it was during high school.
He still looks up to Ushijima Wakatoshi, even though they’re on the same team now. He still feels most at ease with a volleyball in his hands, even if it’s under the watchful eye of a tv camera these days.
Because it’s still volleyball. And that is something he can control. Where it flies, where it falls, who slams it out of the sky—the world is in the palm of his hand. The gentle slope of his fingers. The calculated twist of his wrist. The celebration in his fist as he bumps it against his teammates’. The unwavering trust in his spikers. The trust he receives in return.
It’s easy now, to believe that he has it. It didn’t use to be. But then, sudden like a thunderstrike in a clear blue sky, there was—
The one glaring difference between his life at fifteen and his life as it stands.
It’s not that he’s a professional volleyball player. It’s not that he has partnerships lined up to keep him comfortable for the rest of his days. It’s not that he lives on his own now, that he folds his own laundry and cooks his own food. That he has a dietician nudging him in the right direction when he doesn’t know what to cook, because the Adlers have so kindly provided him a hotline.
It’s not that he can knock on his teammates’ doors and that they’ll be right over to help him, or that they’ll stay for a while, laughing as they help clean the dishes and share stories of their weekends.
Because while those things are new, Tobio can adjust to them. He can dial down the washing machine’s speed to make it stop rattling. He can search for new recipes to appease his growling stomach. He can listen intently to Ushijima’s talk of botany and can pretend to do so when Hoshiumi goes on and on about some veterinarian that Tobio has never met in person, and it’ll almost feel like—
Like the one difference that he can not quite seem to shake.
Like if Hinata Shouyou was standing right by his side, chattering animatedly about this and that as Tobio trudged along the side of the road with a frown on his face and a retort on his tongue—because he could never let Hinata know that he was content just to be talked to. That he was happy to have him there, bathed in the light of the slowly setting sun or munching on whatever snack he got his grubby hands on that day.
But Hinata isn’t there anymore.
And logically, Tobio knew that he wouldn’t be. He knew that high school would come to an untimely end and that it’d suck for a while. He didn’t think it would hurt though—that there’d be a dull ache beating beneath his ribcage and that he’d have days where he wished he could claw it right out of his chest.
But whatever. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything.
He’ll adjust. He always has, albeit slowly sometimes. Don’t rock the boat, he’d whisper. Don’t let it sink. Well. The boat’s already sunk, and Tobio’s head is only just peeking out from under the water, not daring to scream lest he drop beneath the waves.
He refuses to drown. He can save himself. He has before, though he doesn’t think that he’ll need to now. He has other things to focus on, people to distract himself with, should things get really dire. He’ll be alright in no time. He has to be.
Tobio goes to practice and he nails every serve.
He knew that he would. His breakfast sits in his stomach just right, his body feels taut enough to spring with the force that he needs it to, and his mind is utterly, utterly calm—busy only with the movements he needs to make.
There is no shortage. There is no excess. There is only harmony, the exact balance that he needs to be his best. Just this. Just spin, throw, jump and letting his body do the rest. Just spin, throw, jump and landing back on his feet. Just spin, throw, jump and hearing Heiwajima grumble that he’ll get it next time, that he needs Tobio to give him one more.
One more. One more.
There is a memory banging on his doorstep, begging to be let in. Tobio ignores it, lets it stand out in the cold.
One more. One more.
He thinks what he’s given is more than enough.
“Do you miss him?”
It’s an innocent question. Or at least it would be, if Hoshiumi hadn’t posed it in the middle of the Schweiden Adlers’ locker room with such softness that Tobio isn’t quite sure if he heard him right at all.
See, Hoshiumi is not a silent, solemn person. That title is reserved for Ushijima, provided that no one’s fed him a bottle of sake, or Romero-san, provided that someone has. But never, in any state of inebriation, is it bestowed upon Hoshiumi Kourai. And so Tobio, dumbfounded, blinks.
“What?”
“Hinata Shouyou. You must miss him.”
There is no question mark this time, and Tobio feels its absence like a brand against his skin. He turns away from his teammate, who’s looking at him with big, sad eyes, and mutely pulls his shirt over his head. Hoshiumi watches him silently, with that same solemn sympathy as before.
He looks like he wants to touch Tobio. Like he wants to hold him by the elbow, or envelop him in a hug. He doesn’t though. Because he knows better than to swarm up into his space when Tobio is like this.
This.
Tobio doesn’t even know what this is. He knows that he hates it more than usual though, when Hoshiumi keeps his distance. He’s grateful for it, typically, that his teammate knows him so well. That he respects Tobio’s boundaries and tries his best to comfort him in ways he’s still working to learn. And Tobio is lucky to have him, truly. But he doesn’t feel so lucky when none of it is right.
When none of it is Hinata.
When all he can think about is how Hinata would have crowded into his space just to see why he was frowning. How Hinata would have prodded at the wrinkles in his skin. How Hinata would have demanded that he smile right this instant or else, bakageyama. How Hinata would’ve annoyed the weight right off his shoulders and would have known how to carry it with a smile on his face. How Tobio would’ve felt lighter just because he was there, and how everything would always have turned out alright just because they’d promised each other it would.
He hasn’t answered Hoshiumi yet. And he doesn’t think that he can. And he doesn’t think that he will. At least out loud. He can admit it to himself though, maybe.
“It’s okay if you do, you know?” Hoshiumi tells him. He looks like he’s leaving. Tobio is not sure how he feels. “Just…”
Hoshiumi swallows, looks him up and down, smiles. He looks a little sad still, but he’s trying not to show it. Tobio is more observant than most people think he is.
“Try not to beat yourself up too much about it, okay? And…”
He wants to touch Tobio. He wants to reach out and put a hand on his skin. He wants to tell him that he’s there without saying the words. Tobio prefers the words. He knows Hoshiumi knows it too.
“And let me know if there’s anything I can do—or if there’s anything you might want company for.”
Hoshiumi is a good teammate. He’s a good friend. As it stands, Tobio is not good at talking about his feelings. He’s been getting better at being a friend though. And so he nods, shortly, and tells him, with all the gratitude he feels:
“I’ll let you know, Hoshiumi-san. Thank you.”
He isn’t sure that he will.
Tobio eats an orange. He doesn’t throw away the peels.
Tobio’s phone buzzes and a candle’s set alight.
It’s Hinata, because of course it is. It’s a picture, because in the few months that he’s been away he’s apparently discovered that those speak a thousand words. He’s on a beach, because where else would he be? He’s joined by Oikawa Tooru, because—
Wait.
Tobio grabs blindly for a teammate, and grabs the right one by pure chance. (Later he’ll say it was his precision, rather than luck, that had him turning his phone towards Ushijima’s contemplative face. Just know that he’ll be lying.)
“That is Hinata Shouyou.”
Tobio grunts.
“He’s with Oikawa Tooru.”
Tobio grunts again. Something sour sits on his tongue. Ushijima grunts with him. He seems surprised. He’s still scrutinizing the picture, still holding Tobio’s phone. Something ugly prickles across his skin. Tobio glares. Ushijima can keep the damn thing, for all he cares.
“I didn’t know they were such good friends,” Ushijima remarks, and Tobio’s stomach twists. He thinks he feels his face twist with it.
“They aren’t.”
Because surely he’d know. Surely Hinata would have told him. He never shuts up about anything else—always has something to brag about, even if it’s just how many pizza’s he’s delivered and how many people he could talk to as they opened their doors.
(Dumbass Hinata.
in portuguese, kageyama!!!!
i’m basically a pro now.
11:21 am
hey, how many languages do you speak?????
i bet it’s just japanese bcuz u suuuuuuck!! (＃｀д´ )ﾉ
11:25 am
971 – 986
11:27am
You
986 – 970*
You do not get a point for that.
11:27 am
Dumbass Hinata.
oh now you respond (눈_눈)
11:27 am)
Hinata could never not tell him. Especially this. Especially about him. And yet…
“I see.”
Ushijima is strong, and compassionate, and wise, and all the things Tobio wished to be when he was young. Ushjima is, also, not a man of many words. It offends people sometimes, scares them at others, but Tobio is not like other people. Because he thinks he understands his teammate a little better than most. Because he gets that there isn’t always a need for words when they can be snatched right out of the air.
I see, Ushijima says. I’m sorry, it means. For what? Tobio wants to ask. It’s not your fault he left. It’s not your fault he doesn’t need me anymore.
He doesn’t speak a word.
Ushijima understands him anyway.
He nods solemnly, but not sad at all, and asks Tobio if he wants to join his workout. They’re half-dressed already and he was going to hit the treadmill and he wants to drown out whatever the white noise in his head is and—
He says yes.
The world around him falls silent. Ushijima spots his lifts. They don’t talk while they work. Tobio screams inside his head. It’s all he can do to feel okay.
Tobio goes to Brazil. He plays in the Olympics. He’s the youngest on his team. He scores five service aces against France. Hibarida-san nods at him, satisfied, and smiles when he tells him that he’s done a good job. Something happy shoots up Tobio’s spine.
Tobio has two days before he goes back to Japan. He does not meet Hinata. He tries to ignore how that makes him feel.
Tobio watches the sun set. He hopes that it returns soon.
“Do you think small animals know we think they’re cute?”
Tobio is sitting on his couch, a steaming cup of tea in his hand as he watches Hoshiumi dangle from the cushions. He’s upside down and if his hair was longer it’d stand upright like when they first met. Tobio doesn’t tell him that though, lest he face the breaking point of Hoshiumi Kourai’s fragile masculinity and be left covered in its shards.
“Like…” Hoshiumi turns. The angle that his neck makes so he can peer up at Tobio does not look comfortable. “Do you think they know they’re cute and… exploit it?”
“I don’t know,” Tobio tells him honestly. “I’ve never thought about it.”
Hoshiumi grins. “So think about it now!”
Tobio can manage that. He thinks about cats, because they’re his favorite, and how they flop onto their backs when he dares to come close. He doesn’t often. Because he knows that they’ll bite. But he’s been tempted to before.
He thinks about them wriggling against the concrete and exposing their bellies to the soft light of day, the potential danger that Tobio poses, and for a second he thinks them to be brave. But that’s not the assignment, and so he moves on.
Do small animals know we think they’re cute? Do they exploit it?
Tobio thinks about cats crowding into his space. How they bump their heads against his shins and weave between his legs so they know that he’ll feel. How they purr softly as they do so they know that he’ll hear. How they try their hardest to make him notice that they’re there.
I’m here!
He thinks about how soft they look, and how good it would feel to sink his hands into their fur, and how they’d look at him with big, brown eyes to tell him that they didn’t know he could be so gentle, and—
Tobio isn’t thinking about cats anymore.
Do they know that they’re cute? Does Hinata? Wait— Does Tobio even find him cute? Stupid question. Of course he doesn’t. Just because Hinata is a dumbass who doesn’t know what a hairbrush looks like and needs Tobio to card his fingers through the knots does not mean that he’s cute.
(This is nice, a sleep-soft voice tells him. Yeah it is, his traitorous heart replies.)
But cats. They’re cute, right? And they know, don’t they? And they use it to get what they want, probably. It’s… pretty smart, actually. Tobio decides to file the information away for later. But for now he just hums, contemplative, and says:
“I think they know. And I think they do.”
Hoshiumi is no longer hanging with his head to the ground, and Tobio can easily see when a spark flares in his eyes. “Yeah? You think they’re devious enough to use us like that?”
The spark from Hoshiumi's eyes must be highly flammable, because Tobio suddenly feels like he’s burning. Like he’s engulfed in a fire that he can’t seem to put out. Like there is ash falling into his eyes and smoke curling into his lungs. Like he can’t quite breathe right.
His teammate has already launched into his own beliefs on the matter, his own explanation of the cunningness small animals possess. Just because they’re little doesn’t mean they can’t do big things, he proclaims, and Tobio lets his words wash over him like a storm.
He hopes that they’ll somehow douse the flames.
Tobio turns twenty. There is no life-altering event to commemorate it.
Dumbass Hinata
call me when you see this!!!!!!
☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆
06:12 am
It’s lunchtime when Tobio finally has time to catch up with all the birthday messages. He sees Hinata’s. He puts off opening it for as long as he can, and then he stares at his screen for an undetermined amount of time once he does.
He swallows thickly. Which is stupid because it’s just Hinata, for god’s sake. But somewhere this year the lines of what he can and cannot expect from him have gotten blurry, and Tobio does not like to be unprepared.
Don’t rock the boat. Don’t let it sink.
He sighs, runs a hand through his hair because it’s all he has to ground him, and groans because he shouldn’t need anything to ground him. It’s just Hinata, he repeats.
You’ve wanted an excuse to call him for weeks.
He chokes the thought down. His cowardice goes down with it. He hits call.
“Kageyamaaaaaa!”
The voice slurs. There is noise in the background. Some language that Tobio does not understand but Hinata does, because he makes a shoo sound and giggles into the receiver. He’s drunk, Tobio realizes with a start.
“Birthday-yamaaaa! Talk to me!”
He’s a dumbass, he’s a dumbass, he’s a dumbass.
“You’re a dumbass.” Maybe don’t say all your thoughts aloud next time, he scolds himself. “I can’t talk to you if you keep screaming at me.”
Hinata giggles again.
Do small animals know we think they’re cute?
Tobio feels like he’s the one that’s knocked back one too many shots. He swallows thickly. Wills himself to calm the fuck down, because he’s being illogical and embarrassing and—
“I can’t help it,” Hinata says sulkily. “I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you,” then repeats. “I can’t help it.”
He’s pouting. Tobio knows he is. He can almost see it through the eighteen thousand kilometers that separate them. He doesn’t want to think about why that makes his fingers cold and sets his cheeks aflame. But when he moves to tell Hinata to try, dumbass, the air is stolen from his lungs by an honest, drunken voice that says, as softly as it can in that roaring Rio bar:
“I miss you.”
And there it is. The stuttering of a heart that threatens to break from how much it aches for something it does not have—it can not have. And there are the waves knocking at his doorstep and the sea that hauls him in and a boy that no longer tries to stay afloat.
Just rock the boat. I’ve already sunk.
He lets himself drown this time. He can’t save himself now. He doesn’t think he wants to. He has this one thing to focus on, this one person that hoards all his attention like a squirrel in the winter months, and Tobio is helpless against the harsh December cold.
“I—”
Miss you too.
“You—”
Have ruined sunsets for me. Because when I see one I think about you and it hurts.
“—should get some water.”
His voice is soft and fond and he hates that he hasn’t noticed it before. The only thing he finds comfort in is that Hinata is probably too far gone to hear it. Then he hums, all happy and buzzed and warm, and Tobio feels that last comfort slip through his fingers like the finest of sands.
“Yeah,” Hinata mumbles. “That’s a good idea.” He giggles again. “Smart-yama. Being all nice to me and protecting me from a hangover with his big big brain.”
Tobio’s brain is not big by a long shot. Hinata never fails to laugh at him for this fact. But Tobio does not have it in him to call it out when he can feel his decidedly not-big brain turn to mush.
Do small animals know we think they’re cute?
Do they exploit it?
He said earlier that they do. But here Hinata comes to do what he does best and derail Tobio’s most strongly held theories. Being the best isn’t everything. Being a King is not all that bad. Small animals do not know we think they’re cute—because Hinata doesn’t know, even if Tobio’s finally admitted to himself that he is. And oh god this is a mess.
It takes Tobio all his might to hum.
“So go get some,” he whispers, and he’s not sure why he’s so quiet. It feels important, somehow. Like he might break something fragile if he speaks any louder.
He hears the noise on Hinata’s end of the line quiet down. He’s probably outside. In Rio. Where the sun no longer shines but the air is still blessedly warm. Tobio casts a bitter glance at the thick coat on his chair. He’s decidedly not outside. In Tokyo. Where the sun no longer shines despite it being twelve in the afternoon on a normal winter’s day.
Hinata mumbles something unintelligible and the frost seems to thaw.
He drinks his water like Tobio tells him to, then wishes him a happy birthday again. Tobio thanks him softly, because he has given up all pretense, and wishes him a good night. Hinata tells him he’ll have the best. It sounds like a challenge. Tobio’s lips quirk up when he hears it.
The boat has been rocked and it’s sinking to the bottom. Tobio thinks he might be learning how to swim.
Tobio turns twenty. Maybe his life does change, a little.
“He misses me.”
Hoshiumi finishes tying his shoe. Then he turns. Tobio can’t quite read his expression, but he doesn’t think he has to when he’s trying to breathe something into existence.
“I miss him too.”
It doesn’t hitch. It doesn’t stall. It flows through the air and stays there, alive. And Hoshiumi holds it gently in the palm of his spiker-callused hands. He moves to touch his shoulder, and Tobio lets him because he needs it. Hoshiumi smiles and it doesn’t look sad. He squeezes and it doesn’t feel strange.
I’m proud of you, it says. You’ve come a long way.
Tobio swallows, turns his eyes to the ground before setting them on his teammate once more. He breathes and it doesn’t creak. He smiles and it only looks a little broken—sunlight peeking through.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He does.
Tobio eats an orange. He hangs the peels up on the walls.
There is a buzz in the air and a fire in his belly. Tobio serves hard enough to put it out and wave away the smoke. Hoshiumi whistles, Romero ruffles his hair. Ushijima sends him a nod of approval.
He’s on a roll. He knew that he would be.
He’s having dinner with the team tonight. They’re bonding, as the captain put it. Which means they’re talking smack about other teams and discussing who to beat next. Once Romero announces that he’s had enough of the volleyball talk—shocking, truly, in Tobio’s humble opinion—the conversation takes a turn.
Hoshiumi smiles. He looks devilish, like a small animal knowing that it’s cute and exploiting it. Except Hoshiumi is not cute. And he’s likely to bite if Tobio calls him small to his face. Either way, he looks evil as he pokes Ushijima in the ribs.
“Well…” he says conspiratorially, and wiggles his brows at their Opposite until he grunt and spills all the secrets he’s uncovered.
How, exactly, Ushijima has found out that EJP’s middle blocker is going out with MSBY’S setter’s twin, Tobio does not know. Why he knows that EJP’s libero is supposedly upset about it he can fathom even less. Ushijima, when prompted, shrugs and tells them that he keeps his sources secret, lest someone come for their heads.
The group laughs at that. Tobio joins in, albeit a little more reserved. His soft huffs of laughter catch Romero’s attention though, and soon he finds himself the prey of his teammates’ hunt for gossip, splayed out upon the wall.
“What about you, Tobio?” Romero asks him. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Tobio has never stopped laughing quite so quickly. He chokes on his water and his breath hitches dangerously. He has a full-on coughing fit before replying, with fire-red cheeks, that he is not. Hoshiumi looks like he’s trying very hard not to say something stupid. Tobio kicks him under the table, Romero none the wiser.
“Ah, I see. Is it… because you… don’t want to?”
“Oh, he wants to,” Hoshiumi mutters quietly. Nobody hears it, but Tobio sets out to kick him again anyway. He thinks better of it right before the swing.
We’re a team, he tells himself. We’re a team and we’re bonding and they can help me stay afloat.
“Ah… no,” he admits finally, hand scratching at his neck. “Not because I don’t want to.”
His answer seems interesting enough to have all eyes turn towards him. They’re curious though, not malicious. So it is fine. Tobio is fine. Tobio thinks about Hinata Shouyou and he could never not be fine. It’s scary, putting the storm inside his chest into words. But he’s done it before and he turned out alright.
He glances at Hoshiumi, who looks at him with a smile in his eyes and nods his head encouragingly. He breathes in. Breathes out. Breaks the silence.
“I… well I guess I found out I… like someone.”
The dam bursts. Water rushes up around his neck. Tobio doesn’t sink. He’s clumsy, but he floats. He tries his hardest to answer his teammates’ questions, listens carefully as they offer their advice, and thanks them when they wish him good luck.
The night goes by quickly after that, and Tobio thinks it’s the most fun he’s had in a while. He grows tired though, eventually, and the fun comes to its mellow end. He still has one arm out of his coat when Ushijima stops him.
“Ushijima-san?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just pulls out his phone and shows him a picture. Tobio has to squint to see it well, low resolution as it is, but once he does it’s like the skies part.
“I like someone too,” Ushijima tells him. “And I can’t be with him either. In person, I mean. It’s… difficult sometimes.”
There are a million words left unsaid. But they have never needed to say them all. Tobio understands. Ushijima knows that he does. Again, Tobio is reminded how similar they are. How much sense it makes for them to be close friends. How much he’d like for them to be.
“It is,” Tobio agrees. “But it’s better if you aren’t alone.”
Ushijima nods. It feels like a promise. Tobio’s always been sure to keep those. He nods too, seals the deal, thanks Ushijima yet again for a night well-spent, and walks out into the night.
There is no sun outside, not quite yet. But Tobio knows he won’t have to wait long for it to return.
Dumbass
[attached: 2 images]
look how clear the sky is!!!
so blue!!!
11:22 pm
is it the same color at home?
11:27 pm
Tobio is woken up by the sun peeking through his blinds. He doesn’t move to shut them.
A phone buzzes and a forest’s set ablaze.
Tobio’s hand shoots out on instinct, but he knows he could only find one person at the other end of it. Ushijima stares down at him, passage blocked by Tobio’s outstretched arm, and huffs a laugh.
“Kageyama-kun,” he greets. It sounds amused, comfortable now that they’ve spent evenings drinking tea on each other’s sofas. “How can I help you?”
Tobio doesn’t say a thing, just moves to turn his screen now that he knows Ushijima will stay. He doesn’t think he can say anything, really, when that has been imprinted on his retina.
“I see.”
Ushijima no longer sounds amused. He sounds serious, like he knows how big of a deal this is. He probably does, knowing him.
Tobio turns his phone back, looks at the picture again. It’s different from the last time he saw Oikawa Tooru’s leering laugh defile his chat with Hinata. That had been a shock, this feels more like he’s been hit by lightning.
It’s not a silly picture, not like their earlier one. They aren’t howling like idiots. They aren’t making any faces. They’re just… smiling. On a beach. Together. Tobio squints, he can’t see a volleyball. That’s weird, because Hinata should be training and he better not be slacking off, and—”
“I don’t know, Kageyama-kun. It looks like they’re… cozying up, as Satori would say.”
That.
Tobio’s lunch sits sourly in his stomach. His chest constricts with something thorny, and painful, and—that means something, doesn’t it? It means something that Tobio’s breath hitches and that his fists clench and that it’s tangible; this feeling that’s been pulling him into its embrace slowly like he’s prey.
Another text comes in.
Dumbass
i can’t believe i’ve met oikawa-san twice before i’ve seen you
so unfair (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ
i want to see MY setter!!!!!!!
07:23 am
The smile on Tobio’s face is foul, considering that he does actually respect Oikawa, but he can’t really help it when sweet victory swims through his veins and contentment clouds his judgment. Ushijima huffs a laugh when he sees it and moves to read along over his shoulder.
“I see,” he says again. It sounds a lot better the second time. “Well, that’s good.”
There’s a wobbly smile on Tobio’s face. He doesn’t try to hide it, even though it’s strange enough for Hoshiumi to come over and demand to be let in on the joke. Ushijima fishes the phone out of Tobio’s joy-slackened hands and gives it to him. Hoshiumi screams. Then apologizes. Then screams again.
“What are you doing just sitting here? Answer him!”
Tobio’s brain comes back online. Then goes offline. Then comes online again. He breathes in. Breathes out. He thinks he might faint. But he’s an Olympic athlete. He’s done scarier things than text Hinata Shouyou, even if he is like lightning and thunder and storm and sun and sky all at once.
You
Come home soon
I’ll be waiting for you there
07:28 am
The skies cry tears of joy as the clock strikes ten-fifteen.
Thick drops of rain crash down onto the ceiling and echo through the gym. Tobio thinks he hears thunder, he assumes that means lightning is following closely behind. He has never wanted to race out into the storm as much as he does today.
Tobio glances at the clock. Five more minutes until practice ends. Five more minutes until he can hurriedly pull off his shoes and change out of his clothes. Five more minutes until he catches Hoshiumi’s glance at Ushijima, knowing glints in both their eyes. Five more minutes until he slips on wet tiles in his haste to get clean. Five more minutes until he yells out a quick goodbye and leaves his teammates grinning in his wake.
Five more minutes to get his head in the game. Five more minutes to get his heart under control. Five more minutes. Five more minutes. Five more—
“Tobio. Just go.”
He runs.
Tobio looks up at the stormy sky. The heavens break wide open.
The car has barely stopped before his seatbelt’s ripped away. He does it himself. So he knew that it would be. But it still shocks him a little when Tsukishima tells him to wait lest he break all of his bones. He didn’t know he cared so much. Yamaguchi does though, Tobio thinks, because he pats Kei on the arm and tells Tobio to be patient.
Don’t rock the boat. Don’t let it sink.
It capsizes the second Tobio’s foot hits the land. They’re late. Yachi has pointedly reminded them of this at least two dozen times. She says it again now. Tobio barely acknowledges it before his body starts to move. He thinks he hears Yachi yelling after him, Yamaguchi telling her he’ll be fine. Yamaguchi is right. He’ll be fine. He’ll be great. Because the second he comes to a stop, too bright light shining down from above, Tobio’s breath is stolen from his lungs.
“Kageyamaaaaaaa!”
Something solid flies into his chest. And Tobio catches it. And Tobio holds the sun in his hands. And it’s still raining outside and it’s still storming in his head and none of it matters because Hinata Shouyou is here—he’s here—and it feels like daybreak.
“Hi,” Tobio whispers into flame-magic hair. “Dumbass.”
Hinata looks up at him. His eyes are shiny with tears. There are languid rivers running across his cheeks. Tobio wants to kiss them off his skin. He settles for wiping them away, lets his thumb linger for a second too long. He doesn’t care. He’d keep touching Hinata Shouyou until they were molten and welded together.
“I missed you," he says and he means it.
Another tear rolls over his thumb. A wobbly smile opens the floodgates to his soul. Water rushes up around his neck. But Tobio doesn’t drown. He kicks away from the surface and swims.
Tobio is most comfortable when there’s a volleyball in his hands. He spins it. He throws it high up in the air. He chases after it and hits it 'till it breaks. And perhaps his life truly has changed, between fifteen and twenty-one, because he watches it crash onto the arms of Hinata Shouyou, sees it arc over to his setter, and he feels more content than he ever has before.
Tobio is most comfortable when there's a volleyball in his hands. But maybe having Hinata Shouyou in his orbit isn’t so bad either.
A beast crawls out to the surface and Tobio lets it. It grins. Feral and free. A monster grins back. Wholly and wild. They clash. Again, and again, and again, and it’s the most fun volleyball has ever been.
Tobio looks down onto his hands, the love in the palm of them, and smashes it over to the other side. Hinata catches it, easy like his receives, and returns it in tenfold. The rally continues. The game’s moving on. Tobio moves along with it.
He has some catching up to do.
Dumbass <3
1096 – 1100
10:09 pm
Tobio looks up at his boyfriend, bundled up on his couch after a hard-fought battle, and he smiles.
“There’s no way I’m letting you get ahead,” he says.
There’s no way I won’t be standing beside you every step of the way, he means. Hinata hears it. Because of course he does. There is a monster in his belly and a fire in his chest. He looks at Tobio, flames threatening to burn him alive, and grins—wild and warm and wholly.
“There’s no way I’m letting you go now that I’ve caught up,” he responds.
There’s no way I’ll be leaving you either, he means. Tobio feels it in every fiber of his being. He nods, then motions for Hinata to come closer. They’ll compete again tomorrow. They’ve deserved their cuddles for now.
At twenty-one, Tobio’s life is much the same as it was during high school.
He’s still most at ease when his feet find the court, though his carpet-lined home is a close second place. He still glances up when a storm hits the town, when lightning strikes and thunder booms and rain rolls down his windowpane. But he knows how to deal with it now.
It wasn’t as easy before, to believe that he could. It wasn’t so simple then, to watch the earth split into two and keep his own edges from fraying. But then, powerful like the skies parting and the sun shining down, there was—
The one glaring difference between Tobio’s life at fifteen and his life at twenty-one.
It’s not that he’s on the Adlers now. It’s not the knowing grins that grace his teammates faces when he walks into the locker room with a skip in his step. It’s not that he’s been to the Olympics, not that he serves better than the rest, that his routine calms him more than anything.
It’s not that his friends knock on his door and demand to be let in so they can eat together, it’s not that they’ll stay to help wash the dishes or that their conversations long transcend the realms of volleyball.
Because while those things are new, Tobio has adjusted to them. He has perfected his response when someone asks him good night? He has secured a place on the new Olympic roster. He has shown how he serves to as many as he can. He has listened intently to Ushijima’s updates about his boyfriend, has pretended to be shocked when Hoshiumi admitted that he, too, was dating a friend. No, it is none of those things.
Instead, the earth-shattering difference between Tobio’s life at fifteen and his life at twenty-one is this:
It’s Hinata Shouyou, holding his hand when the world’s caving in. It’s Hinata Shouyou, who will keep doing so it until their fingers turn to dust. It’s Hinata Shouyou, who pads to the kitchen and beckons him close. It’s Hinata Shouyou, whose smile heals all that ails him. It’s Hinata Shouyou, who dares to be brave.
It’s saving the sun and being saved in return. It’s being alright, but not needing to be. It’s learning to swim and enjoying the waves. It’s not needing a distraction when the world's come into focus.
Shouyou eats his orange. He licks the juice right off his lips.