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Crash!
The chair broke into pieces, just as it was supposed to do.
But the timing was all wrong.
“Dumbass, you’re supposed to wait for the sting!”
Kageyama gave him a scowl that could peel paint. “What’s a sting?”
“The dun-dun-na in the music! It’s a sting! A part of the song, dumbass!” Hinata was this close to taking the broken pieces of the chair and throwing them at Kageyama’s stupid face.
“I’m not a dumbass, you’re the dumbass!”
Daichi, the president of drama club, and the student director of Karasuno High’s upcoming production of Les Miserables, stood from his chair. “Listen, you two—”
Kageyama and Hinata weren’t listening.
“You’re going too fast!” Hinata screamed.
“You’re too slow!” Kageyama countered, pushing him backward.
Damnit, he’d been on his tiptoes to meet Kageyama’s taller eyeline, and now he was falling over. Well, he wasn’t meeting the floor alone. He grabbed Kageyama’s shoulders and they tumbled down together.
They tussled and rolled, until the director and his assistant, Suga, climbed onto the stage to separate them.
“That’s enough!” Daichi bellowed.
Even the kids offstage who had been working on costume and props stopped what they were doing. Everyone was less interested in Drama Club and more interested in the drama happening right in front of them.
Daichi pointed at the stage in front of him, to two taped Xs on the floor, left there from a set change three or four shows ago. “Sit, now.”
Kageyama and Hinata kneeled in front of him with their heads bowed. They waited for his verdict in terror, as if Daichi were a crime boss and they were each about to lose a pinky.
“If you two don’t learn to work together, you’re out of the play,” Daichi announced. He pointed at Kageyama. “Suga will play Javert.”
There was a gasp of joy as Suga clapped his hands together.
“And you.” Daichi turned to Hinata. “You won’t be Valjean anymore. We’ll give it to Noya.”
“But Noya’s suspended for lighting the chem lab on fire!”
Daichi was deaf to Hinata’s protestations. “And when he comes back, he’ll take your part.” He fixed the two of them with an icy stare that could turn a summer day to blizzard conditions. “Unless you guys learn to work together.”
“Sir, would it be possible, to…” Kageyama began.
“Are you seriously talking back right now?”
“No, no.” Kageyama shook his head. “Just, maybe, perhaps, I could do the scene on my own?”
The entire room, already quiet, went completely silent. One of the costumers dropped a pin, and it echoed throughout the auditorium.
“Kageyama,” Daichi explained, his syllables slowed down, because he was talking to an idiot. Hinata didn’t dare laugh. “Drama club is a team sport. You need other people in order to make a scene work. The confrontation scene is not a monologue. It is a duet.” He covered his face with his hand, as if Kageyama’s stupidity was painful. “Go…just. Go figure it out, and don’t come back until you learn to be a team.” He waved them away, in disgust or exasperation. Maybe for their own safety, since he looked one step away from beating the snot out of both of them.
This is ridiculous, Hinata thought. He wasn’t the one saying stupid shit, ruining things. This was all Kageyama’s fault!
As soon as they had grabbed their backpacks and fled the theater, Hinata said as much. “This is all your fault!”
Kageyama looked like a volcano about to explode. But dumber. “No, it isn’t!” He headed toward the covered patio, where all the jocks ate lunch.
Hinata scurried behind him. “If you had the timing right—”
“Your timing is wrong!” Kageyama slammed his backpack on the table. “You’re too slow!”
“This is West Side Story all over again!” Hinata kicked his own backpack onto the ground. He pointed a finger in Kageyama’s face. “You couldn’t get the fight scene choreography right, and we ended up having to change everything!”
“It’s not my fault you can’t dance!” Kageyama knocked Hinata’s finger out of his personal space. “Like in the Wizard of Oz, when you couldn’t get the steps! You kept tripping us up on the yellow brick road! You should have been the Scarecrow, because you don’t have a brain!”
“Well some of us haven’t been in dance classes since we were old enough to walk!” Hinata seethed. “Some of us don’t have fancy private lesson money!”
“Doesn’t take money to learn the steps and to practice them at home!”
They were both panting now, staring daggers into each other’s eyes, finding the words that would cut and hurt the most.
“All I do is practice,” Hinata growled. “All day, all night. I wake up and practice. I go home and practice.”
“Too bad no one can tell,” Kageyama sneered.
Hinata wanted to punch him in his little pouty face. Instead, he landed the killing blow. “And it’s too bad Suga’s going to take your part.” He sat on the lunch table that was weirdly bent in the middle from too many football players using it as a bench press. He leaned back on his hands, one leg crossed at the knee. The picture of nonchalance.
“No, he’s not.”
“Yeah, he is too.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“If you don’t learn to work with me, he is. Unless you’re calling Daichi a liar?” Hinata knew no one would sign up for that death wish. Even someone as stupid as Kageyama. He waited until the idiot figured it out.
“Shit.”
“Yup,” Hinata said, popping the p. “So maybe you should stop yelling at me, and start working with me, like some Daichis have suggested.”
Kageyama sat on the table opposite his, and put his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his fists. He looked like someone having a difficult time on the toilet. Hinata burst into giggles.
“What’s funny, idiot?”
“You, dumbass. You look like you’re taking the world’s worst shit.”
“You’re the world’s worst shit.” Kageyama stood up and shook out his arms and legs. “Come over here and let’s practice.”
“We don’t have the music.”
Kageyama mumbled something under his breath, as he dug through his backpack. He came out with a battery-powered tape player. “It’s the OBC, not the backing tracks, but we can sing over it.”
Hinata hopped off his perch. “Figures. Fancypants.”
Kageyama rewound the tape and cued up the scene. “Shut up and sing.”
“Which is, it, shut up or sing?” Hinata mocked, getting into position. He found a stick to use as their prop, since their breakable chair had been left behind in the auditorium.
“You’re so annoying.” Kageyama rolled his eyes as he stood in his spot. As soon as he stood on his mark, the song began.
“Valjean, at last
We see each other plain
Monsieur la Maire
You’ll wear a different chain.”
Not only were Kageyama’s dance skills ridiculously high-level, his singing was superior to anyone else in his age group. He had an insane range. He could hit all the high notes and the low bass of the last line. Hinata had a begrudging respect for the guy. That kind of talent only came with years and years of hard work.
He knew Kageyama had been in community theatre productions since he was in diapers. He’d overheard him talking about attending actual drama camp. Kageyama had gotten to eat and drink and sleep theatre every summer since he could walk. Life wasn’t fair.
Hinata felt a fierce pride that he’d been able to keep up with Kageyama, considering how different their levels of experience were. He’d been the Riff to Kageyama’s Bernardo, the Lion to Kageyama’s Tin Man. And now he was the lead, and Kageyama was just the villain.
Sure, Javert had really good songs and got to jump off a bridge into a trapdoor and everything, but Valjean was almost in every single scene! He got to stay on the stage for longest!
“You messed up your line.” Kageyama reached over and stopped the tape with a loud clack. He rewound it back, starting and stopping it until he got to the beginning of the song again. “You said ‘you know nothing of the word’ and it’s supposed to be, ‘you know nothing of the world.’”
“That’s what I said!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Were you even listening?”
“To every off-key note!” Kageyama slammed his hand on the table, and the tape player toppled over the side.
Hinata caught it before it could hit the floor. “What’s your problem? Not just with me. With all of this!”
“Nothing!” Kageyama ripped the stereo out of Hinata’s hand. “This has to be perfect, and you’re the one who keeps messing it up!”
“Why does it have to be perfect?” Hinata yelled. “We’ve still got weeks before opening night!”
“I don’t have that much time,” Kageyama insisted. He looked so pained, Hinata nearly felt bad for him. His hurt expression was covered up with a scowl, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Again, from the top.”
There was a loud buzzing noise. Hinata looked around for a beehive, or some sort of bomb. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” Kageyama got into his position. He reached for the play button. “Get on your mark.”
The buzzing kept going. “There it is again. What is that?”
Kageyama sighed in frustration and opened the front zipper of his backpack. He pulled out a blue pager. One of the fancy ones, clear plastic so the insides were visible. He peered at the number on the screen.
“You have a pager?” Hinata squawked. “Fancypants Kags strikes again!”
“Shut up,” Kageyama said, shoving the pager back into his bag. He threw the tape player in there, too. “It’s my mom. She probably needs to pick me up early. Come with me to the gym so we can practice while we wait.”
The gym was where the student payphone was. Hinata had used it to call home before. He didn’t have an expensive pager. Half the time, he didn’t even have the twenty cents for a phone call. He just called collect and when the automated voice asked for his name, he just yelled as quick as he could, “practice is over, come get me!”
It worked most of the time.
Hinata sat on the brick of the wall outside the gym. It had originally been a planter for flowers or shrubs, but now it was desiccated branches and dirt. Their school was kind of a mess. Hinata scratched at the brick, next to where Brian and Destinee had engraved their undying love. He tried not to overhear Kageyama’s conversation, but it was pretty audible, since no one else was around.
“Mom, it’s me. What’s going on?”
There was a pause as Kageyama’s mother told him she was on her way, or whatever. Hinata watched Kageyama nod. “I see.” He covered his face with his hand, as if he were annoyed or angry.
Big surprise there, Hinata thought. He imagined Kageyama first thing in the morning, in his rich-boy two-story house, birds chirping, blue skies and sunshine. Kageyama frowning, mad at it all, because that was how he woke up.
“I’ll see you in a few.” Kageyama hung up the phone and turned away.
Hinata kicked himself off the wall and ran over to where Kageyama seemed to be hiding from him. “You wanna run it one… more…”
His words trailed off as he realized Kageyama was crying. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Kageyama wiped at his face with a sleeve. “We can do it—”
“Shut up and talk to me!” Hinata grabbed Kageyama by the shoulders, but it wasn’t to threaten violence. Not this time.
“Which is it,” Kageyama sniffled. “Shut up, or talk to you?”
“Sit.” Hinata pushed Kageyama toward the wall, where he sat with a thump. “Spill.”
“That was my mom.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Kageyama didn’t even roll his eyes. “My grandfather died.”
“Oh, man.” Hinata felt terrible. Here he was, giving his enemy…rival…classmate a hard time, and he actually had a reason for tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s been sick for a while. We knew we didn’t have much time left.”
I don’t have that much time. Kageyama’s earlier outburst made sense now. “It’s still sad. I’m sorry.”
They sat together in silence that wasn’t completely uncomfortable.
“It’s because of him,” Kageyama eventually said. “All of this.”
“Your sparkling personality and people skills?” Hinata joked.
The corner of Kageyama’s mouth jerked up in a half-smile. “He was the one who started the community theatre, fifty years ago. He’s always loved acting, singing, dancing. It’s because of him I started taking classes, started going to auditions.”
That made sense. No wonder Kageyama had so much experience. “That’s really cool,” Hinata said, without a trace of jealousy this time.
“That’s why I loved doing musical theatre the best,” Kageyama continued. “He’d come to every performance.” A fresh tear dripped down his cheek. “But he won’t be coming to this one.”
Hinata felt as though he’d been given a precious gift, to be able to see Kageyama like this. He’d never really had a conversation with the guy, past how he was messing up their scenes or being too prissy for his own good. It felt kind of nice, to get to know him a little.
Hinata decided he might let Kageyama get to know him, too. “You’re lucky to have someone to support you like that,” he said. “My parents don’t really get the whole drama club thing.” Kageyama half-smiled again, and Hinata felt like he could tell him something he hadn’t ever told anyone before. “They say it’s gay. Can you believe it?”
The smile melted from Kageyama’s face.
“Not that I think it’s gay, or anything,” Hinata’s voice got higher and higher as his rationalizations kept going. “I mean, what’s gay about it? Singing, dancing, there’s nothing gay about that, right?”
“What if there was?”
Kageyama’s words stopped Hinata in his tracks. “Um. What?”
“What if there was…there were, gay people?”
“Oh, well, I mean…there’s nothing…it’s fine, I suppose. Not that I’m gay.” Hinata laughed, trying desperately to get his train of thought back on schedule. “I like girls and everything.”
Kageyama’s smile didn’t return. “Okay.”
Hinata scuffed at the ground with the tip of his shoe. He avoided looking in Kageyama’s direction as he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think it’s bad. If people are gay.” He chanced a glance, but Kageyama was staring at the concrete. “Do you think it’s bad?”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being gay. I think…”
That was all Kageyama wanted to say, it seemed, because he fell silent.
Hinata felt emboldened by Kageyama’s lack of disapproval. “I know I like girls and stuff. But sometimes…”
Was he really going to say this right now? To Kageyama of all people? The guy thought he was an idiot on a good day. Well, then, it doesn’t really matter what he thinks of you, does it?
Hinata took a deep breath and finished the sentence. “But sometimes…I think I might like guys, too.” His ears were burning and he knew he was turning pink. Why did he feel the need to talk about this at all? Kageyama hadn’t brought it up. He had! Dumbass Hinata! Why did he do that? Because Kageyama had shown him his soft underbelly? Had cried in front of him? Had proven—gasp—he might be actually human, instead of some sort of perfect drama-robot created in a lab?
Hinata willed himself into silence. He wasn’t offering any more ammunition if Kageyama decided to turn his secrets against him.
But his once enemy—rival—costar surprised him. “Yeah. Me too.” He was turning pink as well. “Only…maybe not girls. At all.”
Holy shit, Kageyama’s gay?
For a moment, Hinata thought about who he should tell. His friend Hitoka had had a crush on Kageyama all year. She would love to know this information! Or at least their fellow cast members. Wow, this was some juicy gossip.
Then his brain caught up to him, and he slammed that door shut. Hinata had trusted Kageyama. Kageyama had trusted him back. This wasn’t anyone else’s secret to know.
Wait, it was a secret, right?
“You gonna tell anyone?” Hinata asked. It wasn’t just a question for Kageyama, but for himself, too.
“I’ll probably come out at grad night,” Kageyama looked sad again. “That seems to be tradition.”
Once he knew everyone in class wouldn’t be calling him “the gay kid.” Once he knew people wouldn’t be asking him about his “boyfriend” or accusing him of “turning people gay.” Once he knew he was safe.
Hinata understood perfectly. “Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Hinata held up his pinky. “I swear it.”
“What are you doing?”
“C’mon, Dummy-yama. Don’t pretend you don’t know what a pinky swear is.”
Kageyama grabbed Hinata’s pinky with his own. “I know what it is, idiot. I thought you were trying to drink tea or something.”
Hinata giggled. “I’m not the fancypants here. That’s all you.”
He realized the two of them still had their pinkies linked. They were basically holding hands. His cheeks turned pink again, but he didn’t let Kageyama go.
His mom’s car pulled into the parking lot, and that seemed to break the spell. Kageyama pulled his hand away and wiped it on his pants. Hinata didn’t take offense. Their palms were both a bit sweaty.
Kageyama picked up his backpack and shrugged it onto his shoulders. “Hinata?”
Hinata had been getting ready to head back to practice, but he turned around. “Yeah?”
Kageyama embraced him. A full-body hug that gave Hinata a tingling sensation from his toes up to the top of his head, crackling out through his hair like static electricity. “Thank you,” he mumbled, from where he’d buried his face into Hinata’s shoulder.
Hinata patted at his back in a daze, still in shock from the contact. “For what?”
“For everything.” He pulled back and looked into Hinata’s eyes. He was such a good actor, his emotions always plain to see. But this time, his expression was hard to read.
“I’m here for you, Kageyama,” Hinata said. And meant.
Kageyama walked to his mom’s car. “Page me sometime.”
“Wait,” Hinata called after him. “I don’t have your number!”
Kageyama rolled his eyes, and pulled out a pen. He wrote the ten digits on the back of Hinata’s hand in a barely-legible scrawl.
Then he waved and his mom drove them away.
Hinata looked down at the dark blue ink. He might actually want to talk to Kageyama sometime. It didn’t feel like an obligation, like he had to suffer through their time together and survive the hell somehow. He wasn’t forced to work with under threat of losing his place in the show anymore. Things were different, now. They trusted and understood each other. They pinky swore a secret together. They had hugged. They weren’t enemies, or rivals, or even classmates anymore.
So, then, what are we?
“Partners,” Hinata said out loud, tasting the word in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. It felt… right.
They were partners, now.