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The stars in the sky shined brighter tonight, million little things that are there for everyone to gaze upon, the only thing never changing in the too fast world Shoyo found himself in. No clouds were there to cover the immense universe above them, the clear sky a complete change from the rain of the past few days. If he knew anything about stars and constellations, Shoyo was sure tonight would be the perfect night to study them all. He thinks it would be fun to know how long those stars have been there, which galaxy they’re from and what shapes they form. Maybe he can take up the hobby once he moves, at least the stars will be the same, doesn’t matter if he’s in Japan or in Brazil.
And maybe he can teach Tobio what all the stars are when he comes back, even if he can already picture the confused frown on his face at trying to see the shapes in a sky filled with little bright stars and failing, telling him that it’s dumb and that someone probably made everything up.
He snorts at the thought, letting himself fall down on the damp grass like his limbs had turned to jelly. And maybe they have, because his thighs ache and his arms are heavy. Nothing new in his life, the familiar ache is something he almost looks forward to after grueling practices and never ending matches, but tonight it feels like his limbs might fall off and he’d be left with nothing to keep him up.
“What are you laughing at, dumbass?”
Tobio stops the ball they were tossing, letting it fall near him on the grass. With more composure than Shoyo, he lays down too, body close to him, watching him like he’s still a puzzle he can’t fully complete, a look he had been on the receiving end of for quite some time now. Shoyo doesn’t understand what more he needs to study about him, they’ve been friends for years now. He doesn’t know if he knows it or not, but his heart is always laid bare for Tobio, the only one that has unrestricted access to his mind, body and soul. But still, Tobio looks at him like he’s still figuring him out, with eyes that sometimes cut too deep into his psyche, leaving him vulnerable and open for Tobio to dissect.
“Nothing, nothing.” He waves a hand up in the air, to dispel the thoughts and the question. Both of their eyes leave the other, turning up to look at the sky. Really, it’s beautiful out tonight.
If it wasn’t for the grass wet with the late night dew on their backs and the slightly chilly air, Shoyo could almost think it’s summer, another summer together, just practicing and practicing and practicing, until their shirts are drenched in sweat and their breathing is ragged from the heat and exertion.
But still, those two things are true right now too, sweat is rapidly cooling on their bodies and the sound of their breathing is the only thing they can hear in the quiet night. Their routine never once broke in the three years they’ve spent together playing. It didn’t matter what day it was, what was going on outside of the gym or if exams were coming up. They would practice with the others, until everyone was tired and spent and Coach was yelling at them to go eat up and rest. And then they would linger, knowing that everyone knew they weren’t done yet.
The net would be kept on, the keys to the gym secured, his vice captain privileges making sure of that, and Coach would leave with a stern “ Don’t stay too late” that they all knew was just said as a habit and to keep appearances up, knowing the two would not be done for a couple hours still.. And Shoyo and Tobio would play, setting the ball and spiking it until their hands were tired, diving to receive serves and jumping until their knees protested.
And today nothing was different, even if everything was.
They had found themselves outside, the ball Shoyo still brought with him everywhere clutched in his hands, the gym closed behind them after the janitor had kindly asked him if they could close up earlier today.
And how could they say no? It was the last day of school for him too.
So they kept up with their routine, just this time the only light was from the lonely street lamp near the path and the stars instead of the too bright leds of the gym. Now, after hours of playing, they just breathed together, laying on the grass like their lives weren’t about to change forever, like tomorrow they would still meet for morning practice with hopes and dreams of going to Nationals like it was the first time.
Shoyo breathed, long and hard, letting the crisp air fill his lungs and wash away the anxiety creeping up on him. High school was really over and a chapter of their life was done. He could feel and hear Tobio matching his breaths with him, his presence comforting him more than everything else.
His head turns, letting his eyes rove over Tobio’s face. He really had grown up. His features were sharp now, his jaw too inviting for his own good, making Shoyo wish he could just nuzzle his face against it and kiss every inch of it until his lips grew tired.
The dangerous thoughts had creeped up on his mind once too many times in the last year, but Shoyo was too weak to fight them off.
His nose and lips were rosy from the cold air and the sweat cooling on his skin made him look like a sculpture carved in the finest stone, reflecting off the moon light, ready to be put in a museum for everyone to see.
Shoyo knew Tobio was handsome, he’d always been, just that kind of beauty people’s eyes were drawn to. But now, seventeen years old, with his baby fat all gone and muscles born from discipline that showed even in his slightly baggy uniform, he had become irresistible. The amount of love letters and blushing girls that approached him at games and at school is a testament of that.
Not that Tobio cared, no, he never did, always looking at them with his brows drawn together, like he couldn’t understand why the letters were in his locker and why girls were stuttering while telling him he was so cool while playing.
Not only was he handsome and cool now, he grew up too. Never gone, but changed , was the grumpy, scared kid he got to know three years ago. He was still grumpy, but he now knew how to say what he thought instead of just lashing out. And now, irresistibly cute, the grumpiness almost always came with a sleepy Tobio, one that just woke up from a nap on the bus or when he was falling asleep after practice, that would grumble and pout and would make everyone want to smother him in a blanket and let him sleep.
Even Tsukishima, who still tried to look uncaring like he didn’t spend most of his free time with them, had said he wanted to pinch that pout and shut him up until his lips fell off. Yamaguchi had to then translate to the horrified first years that it was just a case of cute aggression.
And he wasn’t scared anymore, not scared of not having anyone spiking his tosses, because Shoyo was always there, he had been since the first day, even if they didn’t know each other yet, even if they fought and had yet to learn how to get along and work together step by step. But Shoyo was there, ready to spike whatever ball Tobio sent his way, with his eyes closed or not. And if he wasn’t there, it was Tsukishima, and still if it wasn’t him, it was one of the first and second years that looked up to him with shining eyes.
Still, Shoyo knew him better than anyone, so the fear was still there, the fear of pushing everyone away when his prickly personality came out a bit more during practice, or when he barked orders like he knew better than everyone else but he always ended up regretting it the moment the words left his mouth.
But again, Shoyo was there, to jokingly tell him to shut up and that he couldn’t tell him what to do, making Tobio’s shoulders drop minutely, the fear washing away quickly knowing Shoyo didn’t take it to heart. And if it wasn't him it was their captain, a steady presence in their life that Shoyo hoped would always be there even if they didn’t play together anymore.
Because as much as Shoyo knew Tobio, Yamaguchi knew each and every one of them like the palm of his hand, always knowing what to say and what to do to keep them calm or rile them up, knowing when to push them to do more or when to take them to the side and just make them breathe until it all felt better.
But also, Tobio was now so, so kind and caring, in his own way that people that didn’t know him wouldn’t understand.
But Shoyo knows him and he can see the love he carries everywhere with him; in the way he sling a towel on the first years’ shoulders after a match, or in the way he stands a little closer to Yamaguchi when other teams think their captain’s soft smile means they won’t win.
It’s all those little things that make Tobio who he is now.
He doesn’t know how long he stays there gazing at Tobio, until he too turns to look at him.They don’t speak for a while, just watching each other, Shoyo smiling softly like the moon isn’t in the sky but it’s in front of him.
“Promise me something.” If Hinata wasn’t so attuned to everything concerning Tobio, he probably would have missed the whispered words.
He nods, waiting for him to continue, noticing how nervous he suddenly looks. It takes a minute, then two, then five of Tobio looking like he just swallowed a sour lemon and he would rather be anywhere but there before he sighs.
Like no frowns were ever present on his face, the tension bleeds out of his face as the air gets expelled from his lungs. With the look in his eyes he only gets when he wants to do something reckless during a particularly difficult set in a game, he speaks.
“Promise me that we’ll be on the same stage again.”
A strong inhale makes Shoyo almost choke. All the air in his lungs gets trapped and the world feels like it just tilted on its axis. He didn’t know what he expected Tobio to say, but it wasn’t a promise to come back to each other. He didn’t even expect they would have a heart-to-heart talk today, or ever.
He doesn’t get to reply or breathe before Tobio continues. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes, if it takes months or years or decades , I need-”
Shoyo doesn’t let him finish, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “Of course we will! You’re my setter, aren’t you? You’ll always be.” The last part is said with a softness not even Shoyo thought he could muster and he doesn’t miss the wide eyes Tobio has fixed on him.
But he can’t be bothered to take back his words, or add anything to make it sound less fond than he did. Because he can’t.
Tobio has been his setter since the first time they stepped in that gym, from every quick they did and every spike he hit and he’ll always be, his one and only setter, the one that brought him to heights he didn’t think were possible. He could never be replaced, even if other setters will try and he’ll accept the new sets, Tobio will always be his.
He nods again, trying to put all his conviction in his gaze, hoping that all he feels get across. Many thoughts race through his head at seeing the wild, hopeful gaze set on him, filled with promises and fears and everything unsaid. Thoughts of finally confessing, of telling Tobio all the things that had been bubbling up to the surface for quite some time now rush to the forefront of his mind. He thinks he should just stay in Japan, if it means Tobio won’t look so distraught over not playing together again, he should just stay here and never let Tobio go.
But he can’t do that can he? He has plans, dreams, and needs. He needs to do this if he wants to play with him again, it wouldn’t be the same if he just stayed here, letting Tobio go along without him while he did nothing to grow, just watching him from the back, seeing the differences between them grow and grow. And Tobio would never let him stay, not if it meant he wouldn’t become the best version of himself he could be, not if it meant he wouldn’t play volleyball like they both wanted to play it.
But he can stake his claim over Tobio too, can’t he?
“Then promise me,” his whole body turns, his side getting wet on the grass and making him shiver slightly, his hands coming up to keep his head up, “You won’t have another rival, I’ll always be the only one forever.”
Tobio snorts, the side of his mouth quirking up into a smirk as his head moves to look up at the sky again.
“That’s not possible, dumbass. How can I play in matches if I don't have rivals on the other side of the net?”
Shoyo whines, letting himself fall down on his back again before flailing around like a kid throwing a tantrum, his legs and arms moving around and hitting Tobio twice before a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.
“Stop hitting me, idiot.” There’s no bite in the words, even if the hand around his wrist is squeezing almost too hard.
“Tobio,” his name is drawn out, a pout evident in the word and Shoyo scoots up closer to the other. His wrist is freed, but their hands stay close, palms up toward the sky and pinkies almost touching, “You know what I mean, don’t be a jerk, Bakageyama!”
The genuine, private little smile Tobio gives him makes a swarm of butterflies erupt in his stomach.
“Of course, you’re my only rival, you always will be.”
Shoyo doesn’t cry, he doesn’t even tear up, shut up . But he comes really close to it.
One of his arms comes up to shield his eyes, sneakily running across them to rid them of the tears clinging to his lashes. They stay there, their hands still close to each other and Shoyo just breathes. With a sudden surge of courage, still with his eyes closed under his arm, he brushes his pinky over Tobio’s. He feels his hand twitching, but not moving.
Emboldened by the reaction, he intertwines their pinkies together, feeling silly at the gesture, something that not even elementary schoolers do, but it also feels like such a big thing right now, almost like he’s doing too much.
His arm falls back down to the ground and he blinks to clear his vision of the remaining tears. His eyes glide over to Tobio, always drawn to him like a moth to the light.
He’s beautiful like this .
Nothing else is running through his mind, only that thought doing loops around his brain. He’s beautiful, with the light blush on his cheeks and ears, with the pout ever present on his lips making them look so kissable. He’s not looking at him right now, but Shoyo knows that the stars are reflected in his blue eyes, making it look like a galaxy is in the depth of his soul, like he’s holding all the universe in him and he’s the brightest star out there.
Wow, he’s down bad, isn’t he?
Shoyo opens his mouth, maybe to say all these thoughts to his face, or maybe just to say those three words that are stuck in his throat, but Tobio beats him to it.
He doesn’t turn, but the way his forehead wrinkles so deeply makes him scared that lines will be permanently etched into his skin.
“Promise me,” he falters, closing his eyes for seconds that feels like hours, before turning on his side, careful not to dislodge their hands and the intensity of his gaze on him is too much, not enough, watch me more, watch me forever, Tobio, “Even if you are in Brazil and I’m here and we can’t play together everyday or–or if we can’t talk, promise me you won’t forget me.”
The tears that Shoyo had tried to keep at bay for most of the night suddenly flowed out of him like a dam that’s been opened. He openly cries now, tears wetting his cheeks and sobs racking his chest. Like the elementary schooler he is, apparently, he crawls on his hands and knees, caging Tobio between his arms, hands on either side of his shoulders and looking down at him with mere inches separating their faces.
He blubbers, his hands leaving the ground to cling onto Tobio’s shoulders, his grip probably hurting him a bit but Shoyo can’t think about that. All he can think about is telling him that he could never forget him, not now, not ever, not in a million years, not even in the next life or in another universe. Hinata Shoyo could never forget Kageyama Tobio even if he tried.
Before the tears fall down onto Tobio’s face and to not see the desperation in his eyes anymore, Shoyo lets his head drop, letting his forehead rest on Tobio’s chest. He doesn’t need to look up to know Tobio is crying with him.
Where Shoyo is loud, almost wailing into his chest and wrinkling his shirt under his hands, Tobio is quiet, the only clue that he’s crying being the way his chest jumps under his face and the ragged breaths ruffling the hair on the top of his head.
They stay like that for a while, until Shoyo doesn’t feel like the world is ending and all hope is lost, until his eyes are almost dry and they’re just there, breathing together.
With one last shuddering inhale, Shoyo picks his head up, determination written on his face like he’s suddenly facing Ushiwaka or something.
“I will never forget you! It’s not possible!” He shakes Tobio’s shoulders, to get the point across or maybe to wake him up from his stupor, “And we'll talk everyday! Doesn’t matter if I’m awake when you’re asleep or practice gets in the way. We’ll do weekly calls! A-And I’ll text you every minute of the day, so much so you wish I’d have forgotten you!”
In his spiel, his whole body has moved up, their chest touching and their faces so close Shoyo can feel Tobio’s breath on his nose.
“You will never get rid of me!”
Tobio smirks and then a huff of laughter escapes him, making Shoyo’s eyes flutter when the air touches his lashes.
The sight of Tobio’s blue eyes, so deep he could probably drown in there, red rimmed and wet makes his heart skip a beat. He’s beautiful like this, all vulnerable and open, his eyes letting him see so much , so much more than usual.
Shoyo breathes in their shared air, never moving away, not wanting to break the spell they found themselves in. He can see how hopeful Tobio is, how much trust he’s putting in Shoyo. A flicker of something passes in Tobio’s eyes, something that Shoyo desperately wants to understand.
Before he can say anything, Tobio brings his arm up, making the space between their faces grow and rubs at his eyes. Letting go of the death grip he has on Tobio’s shirt, he sits up, letting his weight bring him down to the grass, but not giving up on contact, leaving their thighs touching.
While Tobio lets his arm rest over his eyes, Shoyo thinks.
They still have a few weeks together, having planned his trip for after graduation, leaving him time to pack everything up and say bye to everyone. But who knows when they’ll have a moment like this again. Between his own dreams and Tobio starting with the national team it could be a year before they’ll find the time to visit.
Is it time?
Is this the moment he has been dreaming about for a while?
But he couldn’t, right? Use this vulnerable moment to bring up his feelings, taking advantage of the situation just so that his chest could feel lighter, not having to bring around all these feelings alone all the time.
Is it wrong? Wanting to finally tell Tobio something he has wanted to say for a while now?
But he has to. It’s probably now or never.
Biting his lip, his hands playing with the grass peeking up through his crossed legs he finds the courage deep inside him.
“Tobio”, he waits until Tobio brings his arm down. Seeing how Shoyo isn’t looking at him, he puts his hands under him, sitting up so that they’re almost at the same height. Shoyo fills his lungs, ripping off a last tuft of grass and sprinkling it on Tobio’s leg, the action earning a grumble and him shaking the grass off.
Shoyo huffs a laugh, looking up at Tobio with furrowed brows.
“Can you promise me something?”
Tobio nods, no hesitation behind those damn blue eyes, like anything Shoyo says could never be unachievable, like he doesn’t care what he says but if he’s asking for it, he can surely do it. Shoyo shudders, the trust he sees in there makes him realize how strong their bond is.
“Promise me you’ll never love anyone else.”
He sees Tobio’s eyes widen, something that usually never happens, before they soften so incredibly fast Shoyo almost feels faint. He can’t look aways, can’t stop looking into those eyes that are telling him so much, so much he has wanted to hear for months, something he now wishes he had said sooner.
“Dumbass, I have never and I will never love anyone else.”
All the tears he thought he had cried suddenly filled his eyes. A sobs wrecks his chest, making his lower lip tremble. This time though, instead of launching himself towards Tobio, he freezes, his hands clenching and unclenching on the grass, unsure if he can touch or if it’s too much.
And this time, it’s Tobio that moves, scooting closer, their hips touching side by side while still facing in opposite directions. One of his hands comes up to cup Shoyo’s cheek, so tenderly like he’s a precious jewel that can break if a strong gust of wind comes by.
A smile that is so rare to see graces Tobio’s lips, making Shoyo cry harder but brightening the night sky like it’s suddenly dawn and the sun is out.
A sob wracks his chest, trying to take in air and not make a fool out of himself. Tobio’s thumb swipes under his eye, taking away the tears that are flowing down his cheeks. They don’t speak, no words could ever be enough to say what their eyes are saying.
Shoyo watches as Tobio’s gaze goes from one eye to the other, down to his cheeks, tracking the tears until they fix on his lips. Without thinking, Shoyo wets his lips, his tongue swiping out to lap at the salty water that made its way down and to soothe the bites he had inflicted upon himself to keep his sobs in. The moment he does, he sees how Tobio’s eyes turn darker, the softness that was there not all gone but mixed with something more, something deeper.
This time, he doesn’t wait, he can’t anymore. His hand goes up to cling to Tobio’s neck, his fingers tangling in the short hair at the base that feels so soft even if still damp with sweat. When Tobio’s eyes snap back up to his, he asks one last question with just a move of his eyebrows.
Can I?
The soft line of his lips smoothing in a content smile is all the answer he needs. Without waiting anymore, his grip on Tobio’s hair tightens while his lips softly touch Tobio’s.
It’s nothing more than a peck at first, neither of them moving to get anything more out of it. Shoyo moves back, pecking his lips once, twice, three times, until Tobio sighs and the hand on his cheek brings him back down again, tilting his head to the side while his lips move over his.
A soft tongue touches his lower lip and Shoyo feels like time doesn’t exist anymore, like the world has narrowed over the two of them in this moment, in this place, under their corner of the sky.
The saltiness of his lips from the tears mix with the sweetness that is so irrevocably Tobio and it makes his head spin.
He doesn’t know how long they stay there, lips moving softly over the other, tongues touching and tasting and feeling everything they need to say without words.
When they part, their foreheads touch like they can’t bear to bring space between them and maybe they can’t, not now, when they’re too raw to be without the other right there.
“I love you,” Shoyo can’t help the three words that fall out of his mouth when his breathing is finally under control. He can’t open his eyes, squeezing them so hard he sees spots dance in the darkness behind his lids. What if he messed up? What if it was too soon? Why couldn’t he wait until they had at least gone on a date or something? They literally just kissed and nothing else, oh my god-
The hand still on his cheek moves to his neck, squeezing to bring him back to the moment, fingers gently but surely bringing him back down to earth..
“Stop spiralling dumbass, I love you too.”
A broken laugh escapes him, while his eyes open to look at Tobio.
“That’s a really dumb confession, stupid.”
A quiet shut up makes him laugh harder, all the tension bleeding out of his body while this time the tears that flow out of his eyes aren’t of fear and sadness, but for hope and happiness.
Detangling himself from Tobio, he throws his head back while looking at the blush adorning his cheeks and ears. He’s so cute and he doesn’t even know it.
Shoyo breathes once the laughter subside, letting himself fall back on the grass like he did at the start of this night.
This time though, Tobio goes down with him, but instead of the space they had left before between them, he lays with their side entirely touching. Shoyo can’t help but curl up against him, resting his face on his shoulder and blushing at the arm that wraps around his back.
It’s nice, staying like this and it feels almost cruel knowing that this amazing thing he just discovered will be taken from him in a few weeks. He won’t be able to kiss Tobio anymore, or feel the hand going up and down his back like he’s a cat searching for pets. He won’t feel that kiss on his forehead Tobio just gave him for who knows how long.
But maybe he can take his fill until then, hoarding up every moment in his mind like a dragon with his treasures, filing them in every available space that isn’t taken by volleyball and filling it with whatever concerns Kageyama Tobio. Not that he didn’t do that already, but this time, other than his tosses and his plays, there will be his kisses and his ‘I love you’s’.
And maybe Tobio will do the same, and they’ll survive this, coming out stronger in every aspect when they’ll finally be together again.
Curling up tighter to Tobio’s side, he tilts his head up, looking into those eyes that really hold his world in it. With a pout that demands kisses, Tobio sighs, relenting to the request and brings his face down to give him everything he wants.
While the night grows colder but their hearts grow so much warmer, they kiss under the stars that will connect them even if they’ll be on different sides of the world.
In that moment, with Tobio wrapped up in his arms and his lips kissing every inch of his face, Shoyo knows they’ll be fine.
They were always destined to come back to each other and that won’t stop now.