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“Asahi!”
The ball was sent flying to Karasuno’s ace, who prepared himself to jump and slam that ball in the opposite court, Tsukishima raced to the left side of the net, readying a block. Tobio watched as his ball was then slammed through Tsukishima's hands, giving their team of this practice match another point.
They've played for a while now, this being the fifth point of the second set. Everyone was energetic and ready to play, lovingly hoping to destroy the other team of the day, trying out some new techniques and solidifying old ones. Tobio, who shook out his hands to prepare them for the next round, looked around and smiled to himself. If someone had told him years ago that he would find a home in an old, dingy gym, he wouldn't have laughed, but definitely been judging his own sanity.
“Tobio!”
His head whipped around looking for the source of the voice, but no one seemed to look at him. His team took the time to prepare their rotation and the other team prepared itself to receive the serve. His eyes naturally strayed towards Shōyō, who looked at him with questioning eyes. Thinking more about it, the voice sounded like Shōyō's, although, it sounded like it came from further away, so it couldn't be him.
He looked away, and then he heard someone shout his name again. This time more desperately with an apparent urgency. A scowl made itself prominent on his face, deeply confused by this. What irritated him even more is that no one else seemed to hear it. He guessed it was a trick his mind was playing on him, so he ignored it.
The game continued. Various names were screamed, begging for attention or a ball, none of those names were Tobio's. He ignored that fact, simply focusing on setting the ball and swallowing down every cough his throat wanted to let out. The ball was sent his way, he glanced towards Shōyō who stayed quiet.
“Tobio!”
Again. This time it sounded like a sob, but looking around he saw no one looking at him directly. Only his teammates who continued playing and begging for his sets to fly towards them.
When did it get so dark?
Just a moment ago the sun was shining through the windows illuminating the gym in gentle sunlight. But now it was dark, the only light coming from the light above their heads. He furrowed his brows, but didn't think more about it. Passage of time has always been a weird concept to him, so he didn't want to waste another second thinking about the probably normal thing of time passing more quickly once you're having fun. Because that's what it was, he was simply having fun playing with his favourite team. He was feeling the calm energy rushing through his body, resetting his anxious thoughts.
So he continued.
Another received ball from Noya came flying his way, his eyes straying towards his favourite, neglected spiker. He could feel him getting antsy, wanting to finally spike that ball.
Not yet.
He wasn't ready yet.
Tobio cleared his throat to swallow down the itching making itself noticeable while ignoring how the upper lights made Shōyō’s eyes shine more than usual.
Instead of directing the ball towards the redhead, he sent it to Asahi again whose spike was received by Daichi. The ball came back flying, a chance ball. Noya dived towards the ground and received it with a flat hand, expertly holding it up in the air for Tobio to transform into a spike.
Not yet.
The nervous energy radiating off the redhead enveloped Tobio's senses, making him nearly send that ball to him, but he wasn't ready yet. For what he didn't know, but something was holding him back, like he knew that the game would be over too soon once Shōyō touched the ball.
He didn't want this to end, so he set the ball to Asahi which the opponent team saw coming. The ball barely touched Asahi’s hand since it was set too high, an attempt at a spike was blocked immediately.
“Sorry, the next one will be better,” is all Tobio could say, slightly embarrassed by not playing by his standard.
The next one wasn't better, and the one after that wasn't either.
His sets kept missing the spiker’s hand, some even flying out of bounds immediately, accompanied by a cough and irritating itch in his throat. Tobio tried to stay calm for a long time, but his patience was wearing thin. Angry fists clenched around the hem of his jersey while he suppressed tears out of frustration. Did he simply have a bad day? No, it was worse than that. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it could be. Every single one of his sets has been a failure, how was no one angry at him yet?
Deep breaths.
Maybe it's time now.
He shook out his head to clear his mind from the frustration, signaling to everyone around him that he was ready for the next round.
The other team served the ball, his team received.
Showtime.
Even though he tried his hardest to focus on the ball, his eyes betrayed him and strayed towards the redheaded spiker running up to a free spot at the net. Shōyō knew it was finally time, it was his turn to transform that set into the most beautiful of all spikes, the one Tobio loved the most to watch and be part of. He jumped up, lifting himself off the floor with a loud squeak of his shoes.
Their eyes met, communicating in silence what they both knew to be their truth: I'm here, don't hesitate.
Tranquility possessed Tobio's mind and calmed his nervous heart, the usual warmth he felt when looking at Shōyō engulfed his mind.
He hated it. Why did his body react this way to him? The softness he felt a moment ago turned into disgust, draining his heart of every ounce of love it possessed for his spiker. He had to ignore how natural it felt to give in to Shōyō and focus on setting the ball.
Ignore the itch in his throat.
Ignore the way his lungs scrunched up to take away his air to breathe.
Ignore the feeling of flower petals climbing up his throat.
Before Tobio even had the chance to finally send that set away to Shoyo, a painful cough escaped his throat and threw him off. It made his whole body shudder in pain, still not used to the feeling of flowers pushing themselves up his throat with that uncomfortable itch. His hands dropped the volleyball and pressed against his mouth, desperately trying to keep the flower inside, to not cough it up on the floor for all his teammates to see. And yet, the flower pushed itself through his pressed together lips, coating his hands in a disgusting mix of saliva and blood. Shaking knees dropped to the floor while blue, glassy eyes stared at the flower in his hands, deep red mixed in with that beautiful shade of orange he knew to love and learned to despise.
Panicked eyes shot up in fear, already expecting the confused and concerned faces of his teammates to be staring down at him, but that’s not what greeted him.
They continued playing, his position now being taken by Suga.
He looked around frantically, not understanding why no one is questioning him coughing up flowers, scratch that, why is no one even asking why he collapsed? His mouth opened to shout at his teammates, but instead of his voice ringing out in the gym, he heaved more bloody flowers making his whole body tremble and writhe in pain. Around him, his team continued playing as if nothing happened, their voices a garbled mess, but the familiar sounds of the volleyball hitting the palms of the spikers and blockers, his spiker and blocker, are as clear as ever. Panic started to set in inside Tobio’s mind, causing another coughing fit, each flower bloodier than the one before.
He continued to look around in frustration, not even noticing how blurry his sight has become because of the tears pouring from his eyes, a product of the frustration of not understanding what is going on around him. No matter how often he tried to open his mouth to scream, all that came out were even more painful flowers, stabbing his throat from the inside.
They continued playing.
Just as Tobio looked up, he saw Suga set a high ball for Shōyō to hit. He ran up to it and pushed himself off the floor with a squeak of his shoes, arching his back beautifully to reach the ball perfectly. A sight Tobio could never have enough of, as this is a testimony of Shoyo’s hardwork and resilience, never once having given up on his dream and their promise of staying the longest on the court. A calm sensation washes over his body at the comforting view of a spiker reaching for a setter’s ball. Shoyo’s hand slammed the ball into the other side of the court, skillfully avoiding the blockers on the other side. His chest fills with pride, and for the first time there are no flowers to be coughed up, his mind having been calmed down by his spiker’s promise of chasing every ball. Of fulfilling their own promise.
A smile dared to creep up on his face, before he stopped himself and his thoughts from spiralling even deeper into the disgusting love he feels for the redhead. He knew it was wrong of him to feel this way, to feel this deeply for the unassuming spiker believing they’re only rivals and nothing more. Tobio can’t even pinpoint a moment where his feelings of annoyance turned into a deep seated appreciation and respect for Shoyo. And it’s not only that, but when did these simple acknowledgements turn into the inability to stop thinking about him? How wavy and soft his hair looks when they were walking back home from practice, or how their fights became an excuse for him to keep touching Shoyo’s hands, specifically his wrists. So close to the hands he wanted to hold so desperately. Wrapping his arms around him to tackle him has become his version of a hug a long time ago.
He wished his thoughts and realisations stopped there.
Every practice a new can of challenges opened itself to haunt Tobio’s every dream, most recently, a sweaty Shoyo trying to cool himself off on a hot summer day while pouring his water over himself, their teammates were quick to follow his practice.
This was Kageyama Tobio’s doom.
Tobio never thought of anyone in a more than friendly way, his mind always having been focused on volleyball and his improvement as a setter. So why did this single action make his brain short-circuit in an irreparable way? He was no stranger to the concept of sexual desires, his sister made him watch way too many romance movies for that, but why was his first urge to lick that one droplet travelling down Shoyo’s throat before it melted into the wet t-shirt. He wasn’t supposed to think that about him.
About a guy.
He remembered a weird feeling settling in his chest, his cheeks growing hotter with every second of watching the spiker get wetter now that their teammates started splashing water at each other. His legs were melted to the ground, simply staying by the gym, watching them play, specifically him. Frustration built up inside of his mind making his heart clench uncomfortably. He shook his head to get rid of that sexual desire he felt for his rival, his best friend.
And that’s when he felt the now familiar itch for the first time.
He continued on with his life, simply ignoring his itchy throat, blaming it on eating too much ice cream. Practice was nothing special, Shōyō was still as annoying as ever, and yet Tobio got his daily dose of wannabe-hugs. It was late night practice that changed all of this. They stayed back to practice their spikes, crituiqing and insulting each other with the only goal in mind being improvement. This day has been a trainwreck from the very beginning, Shōyō had bigger problems than usual, something weighing on his mind and therefore weighing him down in jumping. Tobio had a short temper from the start, lashing out more quickly than usual, so when the spiker finally hit that long-awaited ball and slammed it into the court, there was nothing left, but for both of them to turn to each other and hug. Like magnets that have been held away from connecting, these two dashed into each other’s arms, melting into one. A long day of frustration and anxiety has been left behind, only relief has stayed.
A sigh escaped Tobio’s lips, the irrational fear of Shōyō hitting a low and losing his motivation leaving his mind completely. All that was left was the gentle warmth spreading from his chest through his entire body while he buried his face in the crook of Shoyo’s neck. Deep inside he knew that there was no reason to be concerned about him, and yet his body and mind were naturally filled with anxiety, while the logical part of his brain stayed quiet.
Only after a few seconds he realised just how much he started to enjoy being enveloped in the redheads embrace.
His eyes widened in horror while pushing Shōyō away from himself, breathing heavily. The itch returned tenfold and before he knew it, he pressed his hands to his mouth and coughed heavily until small petals landed in the hands pressed to his mouth. Without any explanation he ran to the bathroom and continued coughing up even more petals.
This marked the beginning of the end of Kageyama Tobio, a doom caused by the violent act of nature to punish those who love.
His coughs have gotten more violent over time, the petals turned into blooming flowers and soon after, they were drenched in blood. This specific shade of orange was staring him in the face, laughing at his misery. How could a beautiful and gentle flower be this violent to his body? An orange marigold, symbolizing love. It’s laughable, a flower symbolising love punishing him for feeling it.
Nature was cruel, creating a disease turning a body into a ticking time bomb with the only way out of this misery being to confess. Something Tobio could never do. For that he would have to admit to loving Shoyo. Admit that he was in love with his best friend, guy best friend.
A boy.
A rowdy, loud, and stinky boy who challenges him to a daily race, who kept blinding him with the annoying radiance of a sun. Shoyo, who never knew when to keep quiet and let things happen, the one who channeled the audacity of pretending to be stronger than anyone else.
A remarkable boy, really.
Tobio loved and hated everything about him. He loved how his stupid sense of humour cheered up entire rooms, specifically him, and he admired Shoyo’s constant urge of self-improvement. No matter how hopeless a situation looked, Shoyo always found a way to get their team out of a slump with his bright personality, ranging from gentle encouragement to aggressive affirmations. Most of the time it was Tobio who was at the receiving end of the aggressive affirmations. Somehow, he always knew what to say and how to handle him without a doubt. They built each other up when they most needed it with just the right amount of words to show their deeply rooted care, a trust Tobio only had in Shoyo.
He loved Shoyo. He hated that he was a boy.
He wasn’t strong enough to accept himself for what he was, a boy in love with another boy. This thought gave him a weird mixture of warmth inside his chest and dread in his gut, no matter how often Tobio tried to swallow down his feelings, they came back right up his throat and out of his mouth in the shape of petals, then flowers.
But how did he get here, on the court with his teammates ignoring him and his very existence?
Desperate eyes started to look around, until someone stopped right in front of him and crouched down to look him in the eyes. It was Shoyo.
He tilted his head and smiled at him gently, his slightly longer hair falling to the side and over his eyes. Everything else seemed to blur, the most prominent thing in Tobio’s mind being the redhead right in front of him. A gentle hand patted his shoulder making Tobio flinch away for a second until he relaxed into the touch. He didn’t expect to be touched after vomiting bloody flowers in the middle of the court in the Karasuno Gym. Glassy, unfocused eyes met brown, gentle ones, harbouring a haven of comfort and trust.
“Are you okay, Tobio?” Shōyō asked with his usual grating voice, but this time it was laced with concern. It echoed through the gym, drowning out the noise of shoes squeaking against wood and volleyballs being slammed to the floor.
What Tobio felt in pain dissipated the moment Shōyō asked this stupid question, because of course he wasn’t okay. He humiliated himself in front of his team and the boy he tried so desperately to stop loving and no one seemed to care.
“Are you really asking if I’m okay? Have you lost your mind?! I basically coughed up my guts and have been sitting on the floor for half an eternity and you’re really asking me if I am okay?!”
Anger overwhelmed him, he shook off Shōyō’s hand and stood up with shaking knees, pulling on his hair in frustration. “Don’t act like you don’t know what these fucking flowers mean! You saw me cough that shit up, that fucking disease that has been plagueing me for a year now!” he took a deep breath to suppress a new wave of tears from escaping his eyes. “They clogged my throat and made it so fucking difficult to play volleyball, and yet I did it! I played so well, just to collapse here in the gym now. Why?! Why did this happen and why did nobody care..,” this time a tiny sob escaped his throat after finally speaking out loud what has been his question this entire time.
Just when he was about to continue talking another coughing fit took over, it made his body tremble in pain while collapsing to the floor again. This time the flower kept being stuck in his throat, the biggest up until now. For a while he only choked on blood, and only after more tears spilled from his eyes the flower wrung itself free from his lungs, travelled up his throat and landed on the already bloody gym floor. Another frustrated sob escaped him.
Shōyō was looking at him with gentle and calm eyes, once again patting his shoulder. His hand brushed down towards his back to caress him there softly. The sound of their teammates now even further away than before. Tobio looked up once again at Shōyō, a warm wave of tranquility started blooming in his chest. For a second his eyes started to stray, looking over at their teammates playing. Tanaka riled up Noya with a nasty spike which made Daichi chastise both of them, reminding him of his first year at Karasuno. He loved his third year team, too, but nothing could replicate the comfort of having found a team he considered a family. A team that made him his best version of himself.
His eyes widened in realisation.
He was in his third year. Daichi, Suga, Noya, Tanaka, Asahi, they all graduated. They haven’t been his team for a long time now.
"I'm dead, aren't I?”
"I'm sorry."
The noise around them stopped completely the moment Tobio looked back at Shōyō, or rather the thing looking like Shōyō.
Everything else around them disappeared, they were the only ones left in the gym. Now the eerie atmosphere and his teammates ignoring him made sense, if only with an even sadder reason. He looked down at his bloody hands and then back up into the comforting brown of Shōyō’s eyes, questioning whether they really were that comforting or if it was a trick of that being in front of him.
"And you're not Shōyō," is all Tobio was able to say, the shock numbing his mind. Even when he tried to remember, he had no idea how and when it happened. It made no sense in his mind. Of course he knew the disease has been getting stronger, the flowers were drenched in more blood every time he coughed, and yet he had no idea just how close he was to being dead.
"I'm here to make it easier for you," the being in front of him whispered in a gentle voice, still in the disguise of the very reason he died, still trying to emulate the radiance of Shōyō Hinata. An impossible feat, for Shōyō Hinata was the sun captured in a human's body, so blindingly beautiful he infected everyone around him with a gentle warmth, so gentle it healed the most broken parts of one's soul. So beautifully tender, and yet ferocious in his actions. How could a being of mortality ever capture the incarnation of life?
How could someone like Tobio Kageyama, who has always been hated for his very existence, give everyone around him an even bigger surface of attack, that is being a boy who is in love with another boy? He was scared, so scared of being trapped in this endless cycle of hate by allowing himself to exist freely. He hated life, for it cursed him the moment he was born and took away his chance at blending in. He hated Shōyō, for he challenged the boundaries established by society and bent them to his own will, expanding his, and therefore everyone else's possibilities – Tobio's possibilities.
He dared to hope, but never acted on it.
And maybe that's why Tobio died, by fearing living beyond his cursed boundaries so much it killed him every time he denied himself the pleasure of indulging in the comfort that is being in love. Being in love with his best friend, his partner, the one who stood by his side and carved himself into Tobio’s very being. With his own hands he clawed away at Tobio’s icy exterior to break in and leave a burning mark on his soul, to connect them eternally with no way back. When their souls melted into one he didn't know. It just happened, and he would lie would he say he didn't like this. The comfort their soulbond gave him was the only reason he continued to stay calm in the face of death.
"He's not really here."
"He never was."
Hearing that hurt, but he knew it to be the truth. How could he be here when the spiker was alive and well, far away from this weird limbo Tobio seems to be stuck in. A distant memory of times long over, but not forgotten.
Tears welled up in his eyes just thinking about leaving this behind again. Glassy eyes looked around trying to capture every detail of the gym, but on closer inspection everything looked more blurry than before, probably because he was aware now of it being an illusion, a trick to make him more calm before stepping over. With a soft gasp, he looked back at the only other being in this gym, dread filling his gut and dragging him by the scruff into a hole of despair. The weight of the situation settled in, slowly freeing his head from the shock to finally confront the situation as what it is.
A meeting with death.
Tobio Kageyama died, probably alone. Definitely alone.
"I don't know if I'm ready to leave,” how could he when he was barely eighteen, so close to achieving his lifelong dream of playing volleyball forever. There were so many things he never had the chance to do, like travel to other countries, meet his favourite volleyball players, confess his love to – confess his love. Is that something he wanted to do or was it just another excuse to trick himself into fighting for his life?
"You have no choice, you made your decision."
“But I didn't! I did not choose to die, it's this stupid illness that pressured me into this, this thing! This thing of puking out my emotions every time I thought of him!” he screamed with frustration, gripping his hair, finally standing up to pace around with the only sound being his squeaking shoes. Why did fate have to give him this flower-puking disease, a slow and painstaking process of being killed from your very within, a disease enveloping him in loving arms while squeezing him to death. Wasn't love supposed to be a beautiful thing? Why was it his killer now?
“You’re wrong, you know that? It wasn't the illness that killed you, it was you. You denied yourself of accepting the love you feel. All that hatred and fear internalised itself, buried itself deep within you until your body had no way to contain it any longer. This is what happens when you deny yourself the pleasure of accepting yourself for who you are. It kills you. Killed you and your body from the inside out. This disease was never meant to kill, but to free the body of the love turned into hate stored inside of it. It was meant to help figure out that there was no way of hating something so integral of you, hating love. You, Tobio Kageyama, were so scared of that part of yourself you rather poisoned your body than simply indulging in it. You chose the hard way, and I'm truly sorry for you. Sorry, that you didn't allow yourself to be who you are in fear of what others may think. Was it worth it?”
For a very long time he was rendered speechless, opening his eyes to the truth for the first time. It wasn't that he didn't know all that, he simply ignored the fact that every time he pushed his feelings into the most hidden corner of his mind, the itching in his throat made itself prominent. And the more he pushed, the worse his coughing turned puking got. Hearing it like that made him realise that he put the blame on everything else, but him, the only one who's actually to blame.
He always hoped to avoid the feeling of regret, trying to keep the delusion of being happy with his decision to ignore his feelings. What he didn't expect was to be faced with it when it's too late to change. Too late for running up to Shōyō and finally expressing what he knew was always the truth since the moment they met, of his heart belonging into the tender hands of his favourite spiker.
Regret.
His hands let go of his hair, slowly lowering to his sides to grip his jersey. A sob built up inside his throat and pushed through his pressed together lips, the answer to the question barely holding on to his tongue, threatening to spill.
“No. It wasn't worth it. But it's too late now.”
He hated saying it out loud even though it was the truth, a painful and bitter truth.
Too many questions filled up his mind, but there was one question he didn't know whether the answer would give him nothing or break him entirely. After taking a deep breath, he knew he had to ask before his list of regrets gained another entry: "Do you think he loved me? Was I stupid for letting it happen?"
"Does it matter now?"
The beautiful looking creature in front of him laughed softly at the ridiculousness of the situation. It sounded exactly like the redhead's, and yet it lacks the usual warmth and giddiness it usually brought to Tobio's chest. A laugh so enchanting, no replica could ever capture its true meaning: perseverance. Holding on when you want to let go the most, and maybe that's what Tobio now had to do. Hold on.
"No, but I'm curious.”
"Curiosity killed the cat."
“I'm already dead.”
And saying that out loud sounded weird, because just a moment ago he was alive and well. Even without his memory of how and where he seemingly choked to death, he knew he couldn't have been dead for too long.
“Touché. But do you really think he liked you, nevertheless loved you?”
The creature tilted its head and scoffed at Tobio, seemingly enjoying itself while pondering the question.
“Don’t laugh! This is a serious question,” Tobio barked at that thing in front of him, stepping forward, ignoring how his chest tightened at the thought of Shōyō not reciprocating his feelings, maybe even be embarrassed at being loved Tobio.
“I'm not laughing at the question, I'm laughing at you thinking Shōyō loved you.”
Tobio dashed forward and grabbed it by the collar, pulling it close to then shake violently. His knuckles turned white and his face contorted in anger at being laughed at. He didn't understand why he was so angry suddenly, because he wanted to laugh, too. The creature was right, why should Shōyō love him? And even though his mind was telling him he should agree with the thing, his body acted on its own, defending himself as if there was a different part to this story. A part his mind had no access to, yet.
Shōyō Hinata loving Tobio Kageyama. It sounded ridiculous to him, because why should he? Tobio was an ass, a grouchy teenager who's always been allergic to giving out compliments and praise, there was no one who knew that better than Shōyō.
And yet he somehow stayed.
He spiked every difficult ball Tobio sent his way, even promising him to be there every single time. A promise so strong it started haunting his every memory, breaking through the walls built up to keep everyone out.
They always continued to spur each other on to do their best, push their limits until the maximum has been reached, and whenever Tobio started lacking or distrusting his abilities, Shōyō was the first to call him out, resetting his doubts to zero.
For a long time Tobio thought Shōyō only spent time with him because he was a setter and therefore another step in the long staircase of improvement, so it came to a shock to him when Shōyō wanted to spend more time with him even outside of volleyball. It started with eating lunch together, then doing homework at each other's houses, going to the mall, even staying over night at their respective places. Somewhere along the way they became friends, best friends even.
They got to know each other outside the court.
Shōyō learned Tobio's tells of when an outburst caused by overstimulation was about to happen, sometimes he brought him his favourite yogurt drink to practice, and other times he let the raven haired setter ramble on about his frustration with school. In-between the days when they slept over at each other's in the quiet hour of the night, they would share secrets and desires, hidden wishes only to be spoken out loud when being met with safe ears. That's when Tobio fully explained his issues at Kitagawa Daiichi, only then realising just how badly being abandoned on the court affected him, how much it means to him that he is now being surrounded by spikers wanting to reach his set ups, especially Shōyō who continued to keep his promise of being there.
As a setter there was nothing that warmed his heart more than a spiker doing everything possible to reach that ball, to fly higher and transform his template of an attack into reality with such a passion it screamed love.
Pause.
And suddenly it made sense.
All this time Shōyō has loved him back.
Looking back on it, it was as obvious as the sky is blue. A love so quiet in its words, but so mighty in every action. A love woven in-between their petty fights and plays, accompanying their everyday lives. From the very beginning it hid itself in plain sight, becoming so normal that there was nothing to be found out, it's been there from the very beginning.
Tobio looked at it with closed eyes, actively hindering himself from accepting the straightforward truth: Shōyō Hinata loved him. He breathed love with every word and action, encasing the raven haired setter in a love so overwhelming he stopped seeing it all together.
All this time, the cure to his disease has been in reach, but his mind trapped his body in a makeshift cage. A cage where the key has been within him from the very start.
The body knew.
The body tried sending signals, to let that love out, to allow himself to feel the well-deserved love, so every time he choked out his thoughts, his lungs choked out his air. This sick mentality presented itself physically.
It's too late now.
While Shōyō actively tried to keep his promise of staying by Tobio's side, by being there, he was killing himself slowly. Just because he refused to see the world as it was, a space where even someone like him could find loving arms to catch him after a fall. This integral fear of having even more reasons to be hated by his peers hindered him from feeling the love that would protect him. And god did that make him angry. Not only angry at himself, but at the world that it gave him the need to suppress the beautiful art of being in love, of allowing himself that vulnerability that would liberate him from that fear and self-doubt.
His mind has always been his biggest enemy, dangling the key to his cage right in front of his nose. The cure to this disease presenting itself in orange.
Orange uniforms, symbolising the family he found, a family that from the very beginning accepted him for what he was, a rude asshole trying to fit in.
Orange petals, guiding him towards a gentle and hopeful future filled with love.
Orange hair, belonging to his very own definition of love.
Orange, complimentary to his very own blue.
The regret of not allowing that love into his life sunk in even more, and the anger doubled the longer he thought about it. At some point in his life love became an obstacle, something that hindered him from being happy. Maybe when his pet bunny died in early childhood, this being the first contact with mourning something loved. What definitely changed his view on love and the pain it causes, was his grandfather’s death, he who introduced him to the purest form of happiness, left a hole inside his heart so big no amount of condolences ever fixed it.
Love continued to abandon him.
Contrary to popular belief, Tobio loved his Kitagawa Daiichi team, they gave him the opportunity to test his abilities and get to know his first mentor, someone he admired and loved so deeply, being hated by him never even crossed his mind. Being hated by any of them, that's where he first came across unrequited love.
Loving something, or someone, doesn't mean it has to love you back, and this fact scared the setter. The setter, who thrived on controlling the court, couldn't handle the uncontrollable act of being vulnerable with another human being and not knowing how they’ll respond.
Volleyball was the only thing that loved him back.
A safety net keeping him from falling into an endless abyss of self-loathing and despair, cradling him in a promise of finding a place to stay in this cruel world, finding someone who would reciprocate his passion and love.
Someone better.
His someone better has always been Shōyō Hinata, and he ignored this out of fear of attracting more hate towards his existence.
Volleyball wasn't the only thing that loved him back, for Shōyō Hinata was love, holding Tobio Kageyama in a gentle embrace slowly fixing his broken heart.
Tobio Kageyama was a stupid boy. Of course he was loved, and he let that go just because of an irrational fear for losing his safety net, the place he called home. It hit him like a brick, that it's over. There was no coming back, he couldn't deny death. Choking on petals was his decision and now he had to lie in it, six feet under.
He let go of the reaper and stumbled back a few steps, now staring at his shaking hands, his thoughts raging from anger to sadness.
They're bloody and bruised, years of playing volleyball hardened his gentle hands, and the constant washing off blood dried them out. What he saw clear became blurry because of the incoming stream of tears, slowly falling down his cheeks with a stinging heart. A gasp rang through the gym, echoing off the walls and finding itself back in the middle of the court where he was standing still, across the replica of his beloved.
His knees gave up under him, hitting the wooden floor harshly.
And for the first time he admitted that he lost. Shōyō, who has always been the emotionally smart one out of both of them, had to have known what he felt towards Tobio, he won. Tobio lost, forever.
Game over.
No coming back.
Eternally silenced.
Panic.
His breath hitched and the sobs grew shorter and more ragged with his body falling forwards to put his forehead to the floor.
“Please,” he gasped out in-between sobs, gripping the floor with a bloody hand, “let me live.”
“Why?” A singular word so powerful it halted Tobio's sobbing for a moment, his breath hitching with a sob being stuck in his throat. Yeah, why should he deserve another chance? Thoughts and ideas started flooding his mind when it hit him suddenly. This is a trick question, there was no answer to the question whether someone should stay alive, because everyone deserved a chance at life. Everyone deserved to see themselves grow old and be loved by their community.
He deserved to have a chance at being loved.
Shaking hands wiped the tears from his eyes while he lifted his head, determined eyes stared down the creature right in front of him. “I deserve it. I deserve another chance to prove my worth. It's unfair, okay?! I finally realised that all I ever wanted, needed, was right in front of me this whole time, so why shouldn't I get the chance to accept it? This whole thing is stupid,” he lifted himself off the floor while holding eye contact with the redheaded thing, voice laced with anger and desperation, “I need to tell Shōyō that I love him, always did. He deserves to know, just as much as I deserve to live. Please, I finally know I wanna be who I deserve to be. Someone in love, someone who loves another boy and not be ashamed of it. All the hate will do nothing to me! Besides..”
Tobio took a deep breath, straightened his posture, narrowed his eyes, and with a wicked grin plastered on his face he continued: “I have a promise to keep and a tally to win. I won't lose to Shōyō just because my body randomly decided it wanted me dead.”
Soft, regular beeping sounds were echoing inside the karasuno gym mixed in with frantic, unclear voices. Just now Tobio was realising that the space around them was lighting up slowly, the dark turned into a soft, sunlit atmosphere already known well by Tobio. Confusion must've been visible on his face since the creature in front of him started talking with a gentle voice: “I never answered your question whether you're dead, you know? You came to a conclusion and I just played along. It was way too early for you, anyway. You're a fighter, be strong and show them your perseverance.”
“TOBIO”
His eyes fly open, a cough makes it way through his throat and into a breathing mask stuck to his face. Weary eyes look around and notice the shaking of cabinets and their contents, some weird medical stuff which his brain was too exhausted to think about more. A flash of orange catches his eyes and stay stuck to it, and the more focus his eyes gain the softer his own expression gets at realising who this flash of orange belongs to. Comfort floods his body, only caused by one singular person in this entire plane of existence.
Shōyō Hinata, holding Tobio's hand close to his mouth while pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. Hitched sobs escape his lips, raspy after seemingly screaming the entire time. His eyes are swollen and red, fresh tears are still in the process of drying on his cheeks, the soft lips that were plaguing Tobio's daydreams were chewed on and bloody.
Even though his heart hurt at seeing his spiker cry, he had no other choice than to smile in relief, finally allowing himself the comfort of drowning in the warmth his chest exudes at having his hand held by Shōyō.
“Shōyō,” his voice is hoarse and quiet, it barely comes out as a whisper, but it's loud enough for everyone in the ambulance to gasp at.
“You're alive- oh thank god you're alive,” Shōyō’s hands cup his face lovingly, his voice broken after crying his heart out ever since Tobio collapsed.
“I love you.”
It felt weird to say it out loud, but he had no other choice since everything inside his body was begging for it to leave his lips, a desperate need to speak it into existence and solidify the truth, the truth of Tobio Kageyama being the living and breathing embodiment of love for Shōyō Hinata.
And Tobio expects everything, but Shōyō's laughter. A laugh so boisterous it makes the racing ambulance shake even more. “I know, dumby-yama. But I'm glad you finally know it, too!” Shōyō gasps in between laughter, leaning down a bit to be even closer to his setter.
“The fuck you mean, I knew the entire time,” a dumbstruck Tobio answers with furrowed brows, another cough escapes his dry throat, for the first time in a year without that thorny itch, “I just.. didn't want to admit it.”
Only when Shōyō wiped away the singular tear rolling down his cheek did Tobio realise that he started crying. Subconsciously, he leaned his head towards Shōyō's soft hand, desperately looking for any type of comfort.
“It's okay, I figured. I just wish you could've realised before choking to death in practice, Tobio,” he whispers softly, finally leaning down more to press a gentle kiss to his sweaty forehead. Tobio shut his eyes for a moment to commit that feeling of his soft lips against his skin to memory, finally indulging in the flood of butterflies swarming through his gut. While gasping for air, he realises that his lungs have lost the tightness and itch, he's free of all the flowers that became a part of him a year ago.
Relief.
And love.
Finally he can breathe out without the need to suppress a vomit of flowers, a vomit of love for his redhead.
For the first time, Tobio knows that he's gonna be fine, no hate could ever take away the feeling of liberty he feels at accepting himself for who he is, for allowing himself the pleasure of Shōyō's comforting embrace.
Tobio gets to hold Shōyō's hand, meaning he's alive and loved.
He squeezes his hand gently.