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Hinata wandered back to the room where it all started. The untidied bed, the books, the messy desk, everything. The lights were a little dim, but Hinata didn't mind. The walls were white and there was a Karasuno jersey with the number 9 written on it hanging on one of the flat pale wall. Hinata was glad that the place didn't get tidy up so neatly. He thought this way, it will still remind him of the person who once slept here. He stroked a photograph of him and Kageyama that was placed on the nightstand beside the scrawny sheets.
He remembered. He remembered how it started. He remembered how it went. He remembered how it end.
The memories stabbed him like a knife. Even more painful than that. The memories were sharp and it came in waves. He remembered when he first met Kageyama. He remembered how he felt when he saw him. He hated him. He hated him so much.
Hinata sat on the bed, ignoring how messy the sheets were. It still had the warmth of Kageyama. The warmth of love they made countless times. The warmth of them cuddling and hugging under the blankets to escape the cruel cold world. It was just them both. It was just them, with or without clothes on. It was just only them.
Hinata felt those feelings—the feelings he always thought came from the demons inside him—crawling from inside. He felt heavy, he felt that damn anxiety again. He felt heavy, but yet empty. His hand held the sheets tight, knowing that there won't be any Kageyama to hold on to. Knowing that there won't be any Kageyama. Kageyama was gone.
Hinata remembered those sweet nothings Kageyama had whispered to his ears. Hinata remembered it was by the fire, or in his room, or in this room, or in the gym, or in wherever they went, where Kageyama would whisper "it's okay" or "there's nothing to worry" and would always add dumbass in the end of the sentences. Dumbass. Because Hinata always had been the dumbass who fell in love too hard.
Hinata remembered that words Kageyama whispered countless times. Hinata remembered how he always believed in Kageyama and every words came out of his mouth. He remembered he believed in those words.
"We're forever, so it's okay."
He said they're forever. He said it's okay. But he left. He left too quickly to call it a forever. And Hinata believed too deeply to actually thought they'd be forever.
Then, the sharpest memory came stabbing him. Not in the back anymore, but in the heart. The chills came when he managed to attach every pieces of the memory.
He remembered... he remembered how it ended. He remembered how he died. He remembered his last words. He remembered his screams. He remembered everything and it hurts so much. He remembered how he held Kageyama's hands tight. He remembered Kageyama gasping for air. He remembered the machine that kept Kageyama's life. He remembered the doctor said he won't make it. He remembered the accident that end both of them like this. He remembered his last words, still echoing in his head whenever he breath.
"H-Hinata," Kageyama said between the pain he felt, that even Hinata could feel it.
"Hina.. ta.. I–"
He never finished those words. Kageyama didn't finished his last words. But it was his name. It was a "Hinata" and not someone else's, and Hinata knew that's okay. It's okay. At least when Kageyama was in the edge of dying, Hinata was his last hope, his last air that he held on to for the last time.
Hinata felt the heat filling up his chest, his cheek felt like it was burned with fire that once was burning on Kageyama insides before it died. He felt his eyes become glisten. And he knew he'll break apart anytime soon.
His hands held the sheets tighter than before when flashes of sweet memories he had with Kageyama come and go. His tears started falling down from his eyes to his cheeks to his chin before it fell onto the floor. The heat started to eat his whole insides and he gasped for air like the fire of Kageyama burn him down to ashes. Those sharp memories came stabbing his head on one second and the next second it's gone. And the pain was hideous. The pain was unbearable. Hinata can't believed Kageyama held so much pain like this. Even bigger ones. Kageyama, on his edge of dying, held so much pain and misery and bruises and regrets. Kageyama was strong to held those, but Kageyama was weak to lose.
The pain crept up to his spine, to his heart, to his body and he felt like he was numb. And then there was that memory again. That memory of Kageyama dying and gasping for air and screaming "Hinata" and "it hurts" until his last words. Hinata broke apart. His vision became blurry and his eyes sting and his cheeks wet because of the tears that rushed down too fast.
Hinata released the tight grip of the sheets to wipe his tears. He must be strong. Kageyama wanted him to be strong, and he must do that. For Kageyama.
Hinata took a deep breath and exhale it. He looked over the nightstand where the photograph of him and his-now-dead-lover were placed. Right next to it, there was a small birthday tart that Hinata brought before wandering the room. There was a candle burning on top of the cart, and, oh god, the tart was vanilla and it was Kageyama's favorite flavor.
Hinata picked up the tart with its white pale plate. The vanilla color matched the plate and Hinata's mood and even Kageyama's skin when he died. The fire burned in pale orange like it will lose its live in the next second. The room turned colder than it was and Hinata started to shiver. He glanced at a clock on the wall.
11:59 pm.
He took a deep breath. December 22nd, he thought. He'd be the last. He always be the last.
"Happy birthday, Kageyama."
Then he blew the candle and the fire is gone.