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The first sensation that Kageyama feels is a cold shudder coursing and expanding over his skin, piercing deep to his bones.
Then it’s warmth, flooding into every part of his body in the blink of an eye, taking up more space than available.
The brush is light, careful, tender, anxious—Kageyama can feel it all. His eyes flutter shut against his will, weak, having lost all their fighting spirit to go against it. There's a warmth that pulsates in the tight space between the two, as fast and fierce as their heartbeats.
The bed creaks softly as Hinata leans in, the sound too loud in the silence. His eyes are shut painfully tight, creases following the corners of his eyes, almost like tears too afraid to fall, but it's incomparable to the choking pain in his chest. A pain like none other—he wants to stop, wants to break away from it, wants to breathe properly again—and yet, he needs it all the more. Craves for that choking thrill.
Kageyama can't breathe, his lungs incapable of functioning anymore; a forest fire with his heart as the core. There's no escape from it, surrounding his very being, burning every fibre in his body and soul. The smoke takes all the space available and more, rises high to his mind, clogging and fogging it all up. It's thick, and he can't see through it. He can't see anything. Kageyama's eyes burn, they burn so much, but he holds the tears back.
He trembles on the inside, a soft earthquake barely visible on the outside. A shaking hand, smaller than his own, curls its fingers around the front of his shirt. Hinata clutches and holds on to him so strongly as if he had found his own sanctuary, finding peace and security in the ever spinning world around them. He holds on to Kageyama as if he's all that matters right now.
Kageyama exhales, finally forcing his lungs to breathe, a soft and warm breeze against the other boy's cheek. It's too overwhelming; all the attention and devotion Kageyama's receiving. To be depended on so deeply. It's too much, sends his mind buzzing even more than he thought possible.
Their lips part, just enough to breathe. They still hover above each other, a brush so gentle and feather light. Their breaths are fire, tinting cheeks a red hue.
The bed beneath them creaks again when Kageyama shifts, makes it easier for them to move, to press closer against each other. He closes the already barely existing space between their lips, and he's not sure whether it's worse or better to breathe. He's not sure whether he wants to break away or get closer, closer, closer.
Kageyama's hands slide up, quivering and slow, weak. Nimble torches lighting skin through clothes until they cup cheeks. A voice in the back of his mind tells him to say something, distant and so, so shallow, drained out by the numbing white noise and fog in his mind. But even when he does try, all that escapes through his lips is a deep yet silent exhale, full of questions he doesn't have the strength to form.
And Hinata doesn't, either.
They part and meet again, dance around softly in tandem. It's easy. It's like the rise and fall of sun and moon.
Not a word is exchanged, but their feelings are clearer than the sea at dawn. They shimmer like the sun reflected on the surface, like waves they move in unison and sometimes they clash against the cliff and shore. Sometimes they're heavy, waves in a storm, and sometimes they're gentle.
Kageyama's shoulders quiver and his grip tightens, loosens, too weak to hold on. But it's okay. Because Hinata has his back. He always does.
Hinata's free hand curls around Kageyama's neck, nails digging into skin and probably leaving a bruise—but there's no time to think about it, or to care. Hinata pulls him a little further down, a little closer, desperately. His hand at the front of Kageyama's shirt trembles, about to lose grip, so he slings his arm around Kageyama's back—chest to chest, heart to heart, lips to lips.
Hinata always manages to catch him when he falters, whenever his knees are too weak to hold him up anymore. What’s new is that time he’s the cause for it.
Their lips part again, painted in a deep and vivid red, glistening softly. Eyes heavy-lidded and fluttering between open and closed, Kageyama glides his thumbs across Hinata's so beautifully rose-coloured cheeks. He feels tired, chest heaving, and he leans in to press his forehead against Hinata's. His nose brushes against a smaller, and even though he has been doing nothing but breathe heavily, none of the air seems to fully reach him; a meaningless act.
Hinata leans in to the tender touch, nose to nose, eyes closing the small distance—but they can't stay that way for long, with his heart still beating so fiercely and liquid fire coursing through his veins.
Kageyama's lips are slightly bruised, a dark shade of red not quite matching with his cheeks. His chest moves with Hinata's in unison and then breaks it; moves and breaks, moves and breaks.
Hinata tries to laugh, but it's a mere exhale, small and weak brushing against bruised lips. His grip around Kageyama's back tightens for just a moment to let loose again; lets his hands slide to Kageyama's side. Hinata's palms move against his body like a fish in water—effortlessly and meant to be.
He breathes in everything that is Kageyama, and notices that he has to relearn that again, too. Kageyama is like a forest to him—peaceful, full of new adventures and experiences, somewhere he can get lost in. A forest that is misunderstood by most.
Another brush of thumbs against warm cheeks, then Kageyama's hands travel to bury themselves into soft tufts of orange, his fingers not lifting for even a second. Kageyama's nails scrape again Hinata's scalp in the motion, slow and tender, and the boy shivers beneath his touch.
“Hinata...” Kageyama's voice trails off together with their wordless promises, fades away between the two. Kageyama's eyes open just enough to see the face in his grasp, vision blurred by his lashes.
“Mm?” It's all Hinata can muster to say, still so blissfully drowning in the haze of his mind, a heartbeat so fast he can't decipher whether it's Kageyama's or his own.
“I think I really like you...” A whisper, a promise, just loud enough for Hinata's ears. The thought never formed into proper words in his mind before, but everything falls into place. Everything makes sense now.
Hinata deflates a little in his arms, both from relief of finally knowing, of finally hearing it, mingled together with exhaustion. “Mm...” Hinata leans in again, a brush of lips so light it's barely there but enough to make him melt. It's enough to send his heart back into beating furiously in his chest, to make him crave for more—greedily devouring everything he can get.
“I do, too...” Simple, a mumble between slow brushes; not even kisses anymore, just breathing and slightly wet lips and so, so good.
This time, it's Kageyama's turn to laugh. Low and warm against Hinata's cheek, filled the contradiction that is relief and disbelief.
It's mutual, somehow—wordlessly falling to the side and softly bouncing off the bed. They hold each other close, a tangle of limbs and warmth and happiness until they finally drift off into a gentle slumber.
The final sensation Kageyama feels is bliss.