Work Text:
Shouyou, at 16 years old, is currently having a life crisis.
It all began during lunch break, with him spending most of it with his classmates before he went to find Kageyama to do some passing exercise when they still had time before the bell rings. It was all so normal, so unassuming, and nothing could have prepared Shouyou for the one, simple, yet oh-so-powerful question that would forever alter his life course.
“Have you all had your first kiss?”
Shouyou almost chokes on his yakisoba bread. He stares wide-eyed, and probably crazed at Acchan, who is merrily muching on his onigiri as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell right in their midst.
But then again, Shouyou is probably just making things a bigger deal than it is, because the question triggers such an uproarious reaction from their group.
“Of course, dude! I had mine when I was like, fourteen, or something,” Nobu-chan pipes in.
Shouyou’s eyes go even wider, yakisoba going dry in his gaping mouth. Fourteen?!
“That’s lame. I scored my first kiss at ten,” Rokkun huffs, smirking, which earned another rousing laughter and whistling.
If it’s possible for Shouyou’s eyes to bulge out of their sockets even further, they would—which is a terrifying thought on top of everything. Ten?! In what dimension are Shouyou's friends living? Who the hell has someone that special that you’d go as far as to kiss them at ten freaking years old?!
“How about you, Shouyou?”
It feels like getting slapped back to reality when he hears his name, and he tries to swallow the stale, disgusting glop of dough in his mouth before forcing out a crazed laugh. “Oh, uhm, what? Me? Well…”
“I bet you haven’t even kissed anyone,” Rokkun jeers, his haughty smile only getting bigger.
Shouyou can feel his ears go warm, either in shame or fury. “So what if I haven’t? What’s the big deal with kisses anyway?”
His classmate shrugs, the rest of the group remaining silent. “We understand, dude, don’t sweat it. Kinda hard getting girls when you’re the same height as them.”
Now, Shouyou is by no means a violent person, or at least he likes to think that he is, but it’s taking every ounce of self-restraint right now not to punch the pompous grin right off Rokkun’s face.
And maybe it’s that rage that distorts his judgment, bends his decision-making skills (which are already questionable in the first place, to be honest), that makes him stand up, gobbles down the remaining piece of bread in his hand, then declares for everyone within hearing distance, “I bet I’ll have my first kiss before the day ends.”
With that bold declaration, Shouyou grabs his volleyball and storms off out of his classroom, internally dying and wishing his stupid mouth doesn’t have the habit of detaching from his brain.
But it’s too little too late for regrets, and if there’s one thing he has absolute confidence of being, it’s that he’s not a quitter. And he means what he said. By some miracle or sheer, dumb luck, the sun will not set today until he acquires his first, real kiss.
He’s determined. He’s emboldened. He’s fired up. He has no idea how he’s going to do this.
Goddammit.
He’s speed walking through the hallways, letting muscle memory take over, and before he knows it, he’s already outside, legs taking him behind the gym. When he gets to their usual spot, Kageyama is already there, doing a one-hand toss against the wall.
“Show-off,” Shouyou says as he approaches.
Kageyama just snorts, making the ball bounce once before catching it in one hand, long fingers grasping around it. He turns, greeting Shouyou with a glare and a frown, “You’re late.”
“Ah, well, got caught up with something.”
Kageyama doesn’t remark on that; he just passes the ball to Shouyou, which he catches just in time, lips curling up in a small smile. For how loud and brash Kageyama can be, he doesn’t pry on things and keeps to himself, whether that’s because he doesn’t care, or some other Kageyama things Shouyou is still trying to figure out. Either way, it’s one of the things he likes about his surly, grumpy partner
And by like, he means as a friend sort of thing. Absolutely not the kind of like that would make you want to kiss them because they’re thoughtful in weird ways or because they’re maybe, kinda, just a little bit cute—
“Dumbass! I told you to put your arms together! A platform! Make a platform!”
Shouyou shakes his head. What in the hell is that train of thought?
“Ah, yeah…sorry,” he mumbles as he runs to retrieve the ball.
It’s just this kiss thing making his mind go haywire and crazy, enough to make him think Kageyama—scary, growly Kageyama —is in any way or form, someone he’d consider touching lips with.
He takes a glance at the other boy, taking in this vision of tall, dark, and handsome, the sun like a glowing halo in contrast with his silky, raven hair, features all sharp edges and intense visage. Except for his lips, which Shouyou has always found to be such a paradox to everything Kageyama is. They look so dainty, all pink and plump, probably from all the pouting. They just feel soft, even when Shouyou is just looking.
And this day has nothing but all sorts of weirdness and Shouyou probably is asking for instant death when he opens his idiotic mouth to ask, “Can I kiss you?”
He’s 99.99% sure it’s the desperation talking, his innate competitiveness edging him to do stupid, dumbass things for the sake of proving something, even if that something is equally stupid.
The silence is eerie, even with the cold, autumn breeze whistling against Shouyou’s ears and the distant chatter from the school building. Kageyama just stares at him, unblinking, scrutinizing, before finally speaking.
“Why?”
Shouyou lifts a shoulder. “Nothing. I haven’t had my first kiss yet and I just thought it’d be nice if it’s you.”
And because I make stupid claims I have no intention of withdrawing from. He doesn’t say. Not that he would have any other opportunity to do so because Kageyama is marching towards him, face unreadable.
Shouyou blanches, every ounce of blood in his body dropping to his toes. “S-Sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!” he wails, taking a step back as Kageyama advances like a bull.
Oh god, oh god. This is the end. Shouyou is going to die because of his dumb mouth and his incapacity to rein in his intrusive thoughts.
His back collides against the wall, and he wishes with all his might that he suddenly has the ability to phase through it when Kageyama towers over him, like a great mountain casting its dark, enormous shadow over Shouyou’s pitiful, quivering body.
“Well?” Kageyama says, tilting his head to the side. He looks calm, not at all murderous, but maybe he’s just lulling Shouyou to a false sense of security.
“Well, w-what?”
Kageyama huffs, looking increasingly annoyed. “Aren’t you going to do it?”
“D-do what, exactly?” Shouyou asks. Is this some new kind of torture? Confuse him to death?
The other boy rolls his eyes, scoffing. “You said you wanted to kiss me,” Kageyama tells him with all the nonchalance in the world, gaze dropping low, not quite looking at his eyes.
It’s his lips—Kageyama is looking at Shouyou’s lips; he can even feel the burn, the tingle of the intensity of his stare. As if he’s waiting, anticipating.
Pleading.
Desperate.
And who is Shouyou to deny, when he has been just as desperate, not just because of the stupid comment from his classmate, nor his declaration to oppose that. He realizes now, the very second his lips touched Kageyama’s, hurried and awkward, just how much he’s been craving this, this faint taste of milk and sweat and Kageyama, how his arms looped around his neck feels just right, even while he stands on his tip toes. How Kageyama pushes back, kisses him back, hand slipping at the small of Shouyou’s back to pull him in, holding Shouyou just as eager, the movement of his lips against him as needy and zealous, almost impatient, asking him why, why the hell have they not done this earlier?
Why does desperation—so clumsy and uncoordinated—taste so damn sweet?
These are questions that beg to be answered, but for now, Shouyou savors this intoxicating flavor.
He might not have the earliest first kiss, but he’s damn sure he’s got the best one.