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Three steps, squeaking of his shoes, jump, and slam. Repeat. Three steps, squeaking of his shoes, jump, and slam.
With a heavy sigh Tobio leans down to put his hands on his knees, calming his nerves after another failed serve. It wasn’t unusual to find him at the Karasuno gym in the after hours, especially after a practice like today. The multiple squeaking of the other’s shoes, the heavy breathing, loud screaming matches, it all hurt more than usual. Already being used to sounds that cause pain to his ears did not mean he was immune to it, not when he had a bad day full of painful and annoying irritations. Being surrounded by loud teenagers all day when already on the verge of a meltdown was already more than enough for Tobio, but then having a training session with Karasuno’s loudest bunch tipped him over in ways he hadn’t dealt with in years.
He didn’t mean to scream, he never does. His mind losing control of his mouth and his mouth losing control of his words, that’s how it usually goes, the victims are never the same. Today, Noya and Shoyo, and their only crime was being happy about a successful spike. If it weren’t the first words he had said all day, maybe he wouldn’t have erupted like a volcano holding in its lava. Maybe he would have been nicer, wouldn’t have screamed at them at the top of his lungs. Maybe. Would have.
With a shaking head Tobio walks over to the Basket to grab another volleyball, desperately trying to clear his head and forget everything about today. He grips it tightly and digs his fingernails into the familiar texture.
Three steps, squeaking of his shoes, jump, and slam. Repeat.
HIs breath grows more shallow and he lets out an angry groan at the missed serve, now remembering how scared Shoyo and Noya looked while being screamed at. Coach Ukai ended practice after that, ushering everyone out of the gym, at least this is what his fuzzy mind remembers from that moment, while Takeda tried to get Tobio to talk.
He didn’t.
Even if he wanted to, no words formed in his mind, only jumbled up feelings and incoherent screaming was all that was left. What did Takeda even say to him? White noise and drowned out words is all his mind actively registered, only nodding along to at least make it seem as if he was listening. Only when he choked out a soft ‘Okay’ at some question, he left him alone to fend for himself.
Quiet is all he remembers after that. Finally.
He shakes out his head again to get rid of the memories, blocking them completely to hopefully forget about them later. Being alone is all he wanted all day, to distract himself and ignore the impending doom that is stepping into an empty home, with no parents to be found and a sister stuck at University.
How long has he been at the gym now? At some point the serves became a routine, making stop paying attention to his surroundings or his aching knees, the way his palm started burning half an hour ago. How could he even pay attention when his vision got blurry a while ago.
Three steps, squeaking of two pairs of shoes, jump, slam, and sniffle.
“Kageyama?”
His head turns to where the voice came from, but all he sees is a blurry mess of orange. Ah, he started crying. A soft gasp escapes his throat, the orange, his latest victim, shuffles closer to stand right in front of him. “May I?” Shoyo asked gently while lifting his hand, motioning towards Tobios tear stained cheeks. A nod is all he was able to bring himself to do. Soft hands cup his cheeks to tenderly wipe away the accumulation of tears, ignoring how soft his skin felt under his calloused fingers. The tears continue flowing down the setter’s cheeks for a moment longer. He wishes they would continue just so he wouldn’t have to look at Shoyo’s worried face, the thought of him being undeserving of such kindness and pity crosses his mind.
No matter how hard he tries, his throat feels clogged up and no words escape his mouth, only a frustrated whine. After a whole day of trying to explain why he couldn’t focus or partake in the usual shenanigans his teenager self enjoys the most, all he wants right now is to finally let someone know how exhausted he is. His eyes squeeze shut and he presses his lips together in agony, angry at his entire existence for being the way he is.
“It’s okay, don’t force yourself to talk to me, or talk at all. Just breathe for a moment,” whispers the orange head in a gentle voice, fully aware of Tobios struggle of forming, and actually letting out any type of words. After playing Volleyball together for what feels like an eternity he has learned how to read him, how to care for him. It’s not that either of them understand what exactly Tobios issue with loud sounds is or why his behaviour may seem robotic to others, but what Shoyo does know is that it’s beyond it being a choice. There is more to that and for his friend’s sake, he continues to study Tobio beyond his words and behaviour to take a peek underneath the surface.
This is one of these moments where Shoyo realises that a whole different universe is slumbering under the tough and frightening exterior of his favourite king. A universe deeply hidden and personal, pushed to the far back so that no one would ever realise its there. The stoic setter is so used to hiding himself and his feelings that he doesn’t know how to act, especially when his mouth still won’t cooperate. At least he has calmed down enough to stop crying.
“I’m guessing you still can’t talk, huh?”
A gentle nod.
“No need to worry, Yama-Yama! Lucky for you, I love talking!” Shoyo proudly points to himself and shows his toothiest grin, only followed by a deep scowl from Tobio. One thing that Shoyo learned from Tobio is that his eyes will always betray his face, which is exactly why he can see the gratitude and quiet thank you reflecting in them despite the apparent scowl. “How about I ask you yes and no questions? Easy to answer without any words,” answered by nod from Tobio, “See? Sooo..what could I ask? Oh damn, this is tough! Ahh, okay I got something! Is there a reason you’re sad? And don’t pretend you’re not sad, Yama-Yama, be honest with your therapist!” he said proudly with a smug grin on his face, not noticing his habit of letting the words fall out of his mouth like a waterfall.
Tobio is already starting to regret this. With a heavy sigh, he simply nods, not having the energy to hide it any longer.
“Is it school related?”
Tobio shakes his head.
“Could have figured, or else you would have cried every day about your grades – OW DON’T HIT ME! – Okay, so is it Volleyball related?”
Tobio shakes his head again.
“Hm, okay…,” he hesitates for a bit, thinking about what else could make him that sad, an obvious idea forming in his head. Whenever Shoyo and Tobio spend time together outside of school or volleyball related things, they meet up at Shoyo’s place, questions whether they could visit Tobio are left unanswered, a realisation forms inside his mind. There must be a reason why he keeps his home, or rather his family hidden from him, right? His face softens and his voice gets gentler: “Does it have something to do with your family?”
Tobio nods his head after a long pause of contemplation. It feels cruel to him to let Shoyo continue guessing like that, especially with a tough topic like this. Quietly and with heavy steps, he walks towards the bench where he deposited his bag, motioning with his head for Shoyo to follow him, which he does just as quietly, avoiding squeaking sounds with his shoes. Shaking hands reach into the bag to pull out his wallet, opening it to take out an old photograph. He hands it over to Shoyo.
The redhead takes it and examines the picture with curious eyes.
It’s a picture of an older man, one hand holding the hand of a toddler staring into the camera, the other hand holding a volleyball. Both look obviously exhausted, but nonetheless happy. He turns the photograph and notices that someone scribbled something on the back of it: Kazuyo and Tobio after playing volleyball all day. The handwriting is neat, it was lovingly written and obviously left there by someone who wanted to preserve this moment. Yellowed edges and white cracks where the picture was bent many times leave behind a much loved picture and moment of the setter’s past.
This doesn’t need any words to be understood by Shoyo, especially not when he sees Tobio's eyes tear up again while looking at the picture. How his lip quivers, the way he nervously plays with his hands.
Letting someone else see this picture, his history of how he came to love volleyball, makes him feel way more vulnerable than he anticipated. Tobio never told anyone about his Grandfather, never found the words to describe how grateful he was to have had this big of an influence in his life, someone who uplifted him and gave him hope, a dream to chase. And it felt unfair to him to talk to others about his Grandfather’s influence when he will never be able to tell it to his face. To thank him for his encouragement and love, to let him know just how much he loved him. No, this wasn’t meant for other people’s ears, and it destroys him internally to know Kazuyo will never be on the receiving end of his hypothetical speech. Hypothetical, because even years later he never dared to speak his thoughts out loud in fear of being unable to find the right words.
They stand there for a while, just looking at the picture, Shoyo giving Tobio a moment to calm down again. No words are needed for both of them to understand just how important this moment, this day is, for Tobio. Carefully, to not startle the taller one, Shoyo looks up at him and asks him gently: “Do you want to visit him?”.
It takes Tobio a moment to register the question and think about whether he would want to do that. Would it frustrate him even more should he stand in front of his gravestone and still be unable to talk? He squeezes his eyes together and nods, realising that it wouldn’t matter either way, he wants to see him, at least try to feel his comforting presence. The teenagers start cleaning up the gym and putting away the volleyballs and net, taking their time to calm down and think about the next best course of action. Shoyo, of course, fills the silence with mindless rambling, which Tobio is grateful for.
Cleaning up everything doesn’t take too long since it became a recurring routine of them both staying later to get in more practice. They simply gather their belongings, close up the gym and start walking, following Tobios lead to show the way to the cemetery.
Shoyo, once again, fills the silence. At this point Tobio feels his throat open up and his mouth cooperating with his body again, and yet he is content with just letting him ramble on about whatever is going through his head. Not really listening to the wild stories of his volleyball partner, his mind started to wander. Just half an hour ago he felt like his world was being drowned out by anger and exhaustion, everything felt too loud for him and the thought of people talking to him gave him indescribable pain. And yet, with his favourite redhead by his side, talking his ear off after wishing death on everyone who crossed his path today, he can’t imagine someone else he’d rather have walking with him.
The walk to the cemetery takes them a while and yet it is filled with avid talking and quiet humming, but the moment they cross the threshold silence washes over them. The only noise coming from them are their feet shuffling on the gravel. A feeling of dread builds up inside of Tobio, knowing he will have to face the physical reminder of his most devastating loss, the beginning of his downfall. Not realising what he’s doing he grabs Shoyo’s hand in search for some type of comfort. Shoyo squeezes it gently, not needing to say the ‘I’m here’ out loud.
They arrive at the gravestone. It doesn’t look too different from its neighbours, the only difference are the fresh flowers surrounding it and the lit up candles flickering gently in the cold breeze.
Kageyama Kazuyo. His death’s anniversary, today.
Seeing the gravestone in front of him jumbles up his mind again, just when he felt ready to talk again. He has so much to say and tell him about, all the stories of their wins and losses, how he got to be part of Karasuno’s rise to the top after being called the flightless crows. The story of how Shoyo and Tobio became known as the freak duo, but yet no sound escaped his mouth.
All he wants is to tell his Grandfather just how loved he is, was. The thought that not even his gravestone, the only physical evidence left of him, will ever hear Tobio talk about his achievements thanks to him, tears him apart. Gently he sinks down to his knees and lowers his head, Shoyo sitting down next to him while still holding his hand tightly. Leaning against him and wrapping his arm around him the moment the setter's shoulders start to tremble from the silent tears escaping his eyes.
Shoyo can see how Tobio tries to open his mouth, how he physically tries to push out his words and hurt himself even more in the process.
He feels so stupid for struggling in front of his middle blocker, for letting him be witness to this moment of weakness. He could push him away, scream at him to leave him alone, but deep down he knows that he craves this closeness and gentle comfort, no matter what his mind and instincts try to convince him of.
“Tobio, It’s okay. If you cannot get any words out, don’t force yourself. Right now it’s more than enough that you’re here,” he carefully cups his face again and wipes away his tears with his thumbs, gently caressing his cheeks. Tobio’s eyes are red and all puffed up after the amount of crying that happened in the last hour, not used to crying that often in such a short amount of time. Considering his next words carefully, he opens his mouth again: “ Whatever you want to say, I think your grandfather knows.”
A loud, pained sob breaks through the black-haired’s carefully built facade. Like a dam that has been close to breaking for many years, the suppressed pain pours out of his body. He leans forward and falls into the smaller person’s arms, melting into them to grab on to every single drop of comfort he could possibly get. It’s not often that he seeks out physical contact like this, but right now he cannot imagine anything else he’d rather have. A Soft hand finds itself in his hair, gently combing through the straight, black mop on top of his head, gently scratching the back of it and pulling him close to the middle blocker’s chest. The other arm wraps itself around his waist and squeezes him, grounding Tobio and keeping him safe.
The sobs continue for a while, once the dam has been broken all the water needs to escape, for there is no way to just stop the natural flow of water, just like there is no way to stop a naturally emotional person from letting their emotions flow out after their mask falls off. For what is anger, if not concealed grief hiding in the depths of someone who’s very idea of love was built by a person no longer here to witness him looking for it every single day. The day Kazuyo died, his belief in love died along with him. His grief manifested in ways that pushed everyone around him away, turning him into a monster biting the hand that tries to feed him.
So, why doesn’t he run away? Why does Shoyo continue to stay with him, considering that he is one of his victims. Swallowing hard in preparation for what he is about to see, he looks up in Shoyo’s brown eyes, gasping softly at being met with a warmth he’s only used to when being in the sun. A warmth so comforting and gentle with neither anger nor belittlement behind it. He only now remembers that after he screamed at Shoyo, he was the one who ushered everyone out, not coach Ukai. He was the one who looked after him and made sure to keep the count of his outbursts at one. He didn’t leave the gym once, being there the entire time, looking after him to make sure he was alright.
Oh.
Maybe the love he was looking for was here all along, studying him and his very being. To catch him should he fall, which he did. His new definition of love aced the test and gave him a gentle landing enveloped in loving arms.
No words are needed, they stay in each other’s arms for a while longer, both needing the comforting embrace after a long, emotional day.
“Thank you,” Tobio’s voice is rough, hoarse from staying quiet all day. Shoyo startles at actually being talked to, he fully expected to be met with silence until the end of the day. “Don’t thank me for that, Stupid-yama”, he flicks his forehead and grins down at the puffy-eyed setter. They get up carefully, Tobio with slightly shaking knees, and brush off the dirt from the gravel.
“You can start walking, I have something I would like to say to Kazuyo,” Shoyo announces while putting his hands on Tobio’s shoulders to turn him around and push him forward. He scowls, but complies and walks forward a few steps to pretend as if he’s giving them some privacy.
“Thank you for showing Tobio Volleyball, I think that was a pretty neat idea! So uhm, I think he will be back once his brain reconnects to his mouth, so wait for a while, okay?,” he hesitates, not sure if he should continue talking. After taking a deep breath, he decides to be honest: “And thank you for being the indirect reason we met, for bringing us together. I think I am speaking for the both of us when I say that volleyball is more than just a sport.”
Tobio is standing a few feet away, quietly wiping away the rest of his tears and training his face into hiding the smile that crept up on his face after hearing Shoyo talk. This time, his tears aren’t laced with pure sadness. To have someone like Shoyo by his side who knows how to interpret his non-verbal acts and ignore the mean exterior, is his biggest blessing. Kazuyo would have loved meeting Shoyo, to know that his boy is in good hands. That Hinata Shoyo is Tobio Kageyama's someone better.
One day, he will tell the redhead more about his grandfather, but not today. He lifts his hand to wave over the smaller one who jumps up to him with a big smile on his face. Without asking any questions, Tobio takes his hand and squeezes it gently as a quiet ‘thank you’. His mind is the clearest it has been in a while, and yet he does not find the urge to talk, which is fine. He knows it’s fine, and that alone keeps him calm. Shoyo knows how grateful he is, they have never needed big words, simple gestures and one look explain more than their mouths ever could.
Shoyo squeezes his hand three times, for a silent ‘you’re welcome’, a quiet ‘you’re important to me’, and a voiceless promise of having his back, in and outside of volleyball. The promise of continuing to explore the universe in Tobios mind and untangling his fears. He’s here.
Tobio squeezes back three times, a quiet ‘you are important to me too’, an unuttered promise of not backing away from the challenges they will come to face, and the most important of it all, the one thing unanimously understood without having to say it out loud, a truth deeply ingrained into their beings as friends, partner’s, and soulmates: a soft, lovingly implied ‘I love you, too’.