Archive of Our Own

For Hinata Shouyou, January was the worst month of the year.

Once New Year's passed, it felt like all good things were behind him. Well, not all good things (even Hinata could admit to a bit of teenage hyperbole) but it always signified an infuriating, mandatory trade: of a lot of fun swapped for a lot of tedium.

Winter break, along with all its liveliness and freedom, was over, and that meant that school was upon him once again. All those sleep-ins, hang-outs and stress free days were just fond memories. Now it was back to early alarms and late homework; the bane of his existence.

To make matters worse, this was also Hinata's last semester of high school. With the shadow of exams and university applications looming down upon him, he already felt exhausted just packing his bag for the coming morning. With every textbook and leaflet he crammed in, Hinata grew more and more irritated. He hated the thought of all the boring, time-consuming nonsense that came with trying to graduate; of how many practices he was going to have to miss to study, or if he'd maintain the grade requirement to play at all.

All this stress when all he really wanted to do was see his friends and play volleyball.

Trying to make space for his pencil case, Hinata's eye caught something on the cover of a notebook. He pulled it out to see a messy, childish doodle of Vabo-chan in black pen. Instead of its usual cute expression, the little mascot was given big, angry eyebrows and awkwardly small pupils. It looked as pissed off as Hinata felt, and as ceaselessly grumpy as the person who drew it. Almost involuntarily, Hinata felt his frown soften and stretch into a big, stupid smile.

At least going back to school means I can play with Kageyama again, he thought, running his thumb gently over his friend's drawing, before zipping up his bag and settling into bed for the night. It was something to look forward to, despite everything. It got Hinata to set his alarm, accepting his fate and ignoring the temptation to fake sick in the morning. If he could just hit some of his partner's tosses, he'd feel much better.

But January never did treat Hinata kindly enough for that.

Instead of his alarm, Hinata was woken up by his phone screen, spilling an obnoxious blue light all across his ceiling. Cursing himself for not laying it face-down, he felt around his nightstand for his phone, eyes too bleary to adjust to the light.

"Ugh. Sun's not even up yet. Who's messaging this early?" He complained to himself, only using one eye to pick out the new message in the team group chat.

[Takeda Sensei (5:03am): Good morning everyone! Due to the weather conditions, today's morning practice will be cancelled. I will try to secure the gym for the afternoon. Will keep you updated.]

Scrambling out of bed, Hinata tore open his curtains to see that, as expected, the snow was coming down in droves. It must have started in the middle of the night, since at least five centimeters of powder was piled on all the cars, fences and telephone poles. The sky itself was covered in a billowing, threadbare sheet of white, flurries flying so quickly that it turned the remnant black of night into a brushed silver. It made Hinata frown once again.

Of course. Just his luck.

Through his irritation, he tried to see the best in it. He hated missing volleyball, but at least this meant he'd probably get the day off, right?

Before he could even finish wishing, his phone screen lit up the room once more.

[Yamaguchi (5:05am): Wow, it's so stormy...do you know if classes are cancelled as well?]

[Takeda Sensei (5:08am): The forecast says the storm should die down soon, so regular classes will be going ahead. Please be safe during your commute everyone!]

Of course. It was only the first hour of the first day back and already Hinata couldn't catch a break.

Wide awake now, Hinata got dressed and started gathering his winter gear. It was snowing too hard to take his bike, and a talking-to for being tardy was the last thing he needed today. He had to leave early if he was going to make it on foot.

Usually he met Kageyama halfway, but the 'good morning' message he'd sent had still gone unanswered. Ugh, of course he's still asleep, he thought to himself, just another pebble on his growing mountain of irritation.

Since it seemed company wasn't in the cards today, Hinata went ahead and bundled himself up the best he could. Securing his scarf over his mouth and tucking the ends into his coat, he pushed the door open against the wind. As the first flying pellets of snow pricked his face, Hinata steeled himself; he just hoped the storm wasn't as bad as it looked.

He found out pretty quickly that it was.

"This sucks." Hinata grumbled to himself, his eyelashes white with snow as he trudged against the freezing wind. The new year's cold always felt like burning, more than December's had, even when it wasn't from fifty kilometre-per-hour winds whipping snow directly into his face. Most stormy mornings, he'd gotten used to using Kageyama's lanky frame as a meat shield against the weather. He usually walked way too fast for Hinata to keep step, so it was only fair that he protected him from the worst of rain or snow or hail.

But, this stupid January morning, Hinata was alone, so he was buffeted by the snow with every step. It bit at his fingers through the same red mittens he'd had since elementary school, the stretched gaps in the weave rendering them practically useless.

Not only were his hands nearly blue by the time he reached the school, but he was drenched from head to toe. The moment he got through the front doors, he was greeted by the school's blasting heaters, and frantically yanked his soaked scarf from his face so he could breathe again. As he shucked off all his wet clothes, he wondered if Kageyama had beaten him there, what with how slow Hinata had walked. Maybe he could bully him into buying him a cocoa from the vending machine before class.

Sadly, the only person in the cubby area turned out to be a student council member, equipped with an apologetic face and blankets from the nurse's office. She smiled much too sympathetically as she handed Hinata one. He must've really looked like a wet dog.

Once in his classroom, wrapped in his blanket and warming his hands on his self-purchased cocoa, Hinata grumbled to himself about how not a single thing was going right. He was going to give Kageyama such shit at afternoon practice for leaving him behind; for not being there when Hinata so looked forward to seeing him.

He looked at the clock, trying to count the hours between now and then, before realizing in horror that this was only the start of his day.

Class was going to suck.

Class was okay.

It was survivable, at least. Once he dried off, Hinata felt a little less grumpy, though well away from happy, lively or even loud. Even without his usually hefty contribution to the chatter, a post-break classroom was always rowdier than usual. Hinata expected it; even steeled himself for it but, as usual, it was impossible for him to concentrate with all the noise.

Truth be told, it was hard for him to focus in quiet so, by the end of first period, he'd very promptly given up. Maybe if he'd been able to blow off some steam at volleyball or poke at Kageyama this morning his brain would be more settled. Instead it drifted and daydreamed and had Hinata staring out the window, wishing he was anywhere else.

He wished he had friends in this class. Someone to goof off with, pass notes to and antagonize to make the day pass faster. He told himself that anyone would do—even Tsukishima would be fun to annoy all day—though he knew deep down there was only one person he'd want to spend his time with. 

Ah, there it was again, and this time Hinata couldn't even rationalize it. He winced a little at his own infatuation: it never stopped. No matter what chaos surrounded him, Hinata's mind always circled back to him, didn't it?

After all, he knew that volleyball wasn't the only thing that made him upset about missing practice, nor was school the only thing he hated about break ending. Getting up early was fine, if only he had woken up too. The snow wouldn't have mattered so much, if he'd pushed through it with him.

All his many grievances that morning were just screens, covering up one, baffling injustice: he kept being robbed of time spent with Kageyama.

Even though they were practically attached at the hip, he missed him when they were apart. A lot. So much it was weird to him. Lately, his mind was on Kageyama more than anything else, and the fact that he hadn't been able to see him that morning made it even worse. He tried not to think of it as pining, but what else could it be?

His mind acted like it was in a deficit, Kageyama's existence being some biochemical necessity he was getting much too little of. His thoughts of him came without sense or prudence, all black hair and blue eyes and aching.

What is Kageyama doing right now? He wondered, defenseless to the wandering of his own mind. Did he read the manga Hinata lent him? What did his grandma pack him for lunch? Did he have hat hair from the navy blue tuque he always wore when it snowed? Had his hands been as cold as Hinata's?

Would he have let Hinata hold them if they were?

As he watched the snow pile up outside, Hinata tried not to think about what that meant. He didn't recognize this feeling; he'd never felt longing like this, strong enough to warm him after freezing his hands and pushing through a morning of mounting annoyances. He was struggling to find justification for it. For feeling this sparkly; this new.

Eventually, just to make it easier to stomach, he chalked this sickly tenderness up to the sheer amount of time he'd spent with Kageyama over the break. That was bound to strengthen whatever attachment he had to him, right?

Truth be told, it was different for Hinata, spending so much time with someone outside his family. Instead of staying home playing board games with Natsu and his mom, broken up by the odd hangout with whatever friend was free, Hinata had spent nearly every day of the break with Kageyama.

It started off innocently enough. Some time ago, Kageyama revealed that, since he was raised by his grandmother* in a quiet, modest household, he had never really enjoyed any of the various celebrations leading up to New Year's. Hearing this, Hinata (out of the spirit of the holidays, no ulterior motives whatsoever) took it upon himself to invite Kageyama out for all sorts of winter activities.

Surprisingly, and quite opposite to years prior, Kageyama had said yes to nearly everything he'd suggested.

The first week they'd gone out with some of their teammates, ice skating at an outdoor rink all strung up with white and yellow lights. A couple days after, they'd built snowmen in Hinata's front yard, sending Hinata's sister running for cover as they lobbed snowballs at each other with warlike intensity. After that they'd met up nearly every afternoon, either just hanging around their rooms or going out, browsing comics at the bookstore and filling up on candy apples at a nearby Christmas market. They'd gotten so visibly close that Hinata's mom even invited Kageyama along for their annual hot springs weekend in Morioka. And Kageyama had said yes.

Watching the snow dance around the naked branches of the courtyard sakuras, Hinata wanted to think back fondly on those moments. All the fun times they'd had felt so precious to him, but it was hard to ignore the hot, inexplicable feeling in his gut when he played them back in his mind.

As the overcast sun tried breaking through the storm, Hinata tried to untangle his feelings from each memory. He tried to ignore how he'd felt about Kageyama being helplessly clumsy at skating, needing Hinata to hold his hand like they were a couple. He tried not to think about how a snowball to the face left Kageyama's cheeks cold-bitten and rosy, or how his lips looked when stained by sticky red candy.

He especially wanted to forget how he'd looked easing into the hot spring beside him, still awkwardly skinny but with muscles more defined and a smattering of new hair just below his naval. Hinata had blushed so hard, flustered and stuttering that he was just getting overheated from the water.

He didn't know what any of that said about him; he didn't know if he wanted to know. All that he was certain of was that, after that trip, Kageyama became more distant than ever. Hinata went from seeing him every other day to barely getting a text. He kept asking, but Kageyama turned down invitations like he was evening some score; making up for all the ones he'd accepted, it seemed.

The only explanation he gave was that he wanted to spend some time with his grandmother and sister, which was fine. It was understandable, Hinata told himself, trying to keep from feeling insecure. Besides, he asserted, it was weird to miss him this much. It wasn't like Hinata wanted to date him or anything.

Or did he?

Saving him from that crisis of a thought, the last bell rang out, rewarding Hinata for managing to get through the day. Even with all those exigencies on the mind, no force was more powerful than that which had Hinata springing to his feet, ready to race his own feelings to the gymnasium. He'd say it was restlessness that propelled him but, really, he was unable to keep his body from pursuing what it really wanted most of all.

He wanted to see Kageyama.

Even if the day was cold and his feelings were strange, he was still sure that spiking a few of Kageyama's tosses would make it all go away.

Once Hinata arrived at the gym, he quickly realized that something was off.

Most of his teammates seemed in-character. They surrounded him almost immediately, hugging and fist bumping, asking him what he did over break and what he got for Christmas. Hinata, while preening under the attention, couldn't help but notice there was one player who hadn't come to greet him.

Kageyama had his back towards Hinata, and he hadn't even noticed he was there. Instead he stared unflinchingly at the net, unaffected by any stimuli other than the ball in his hands. This, at first glance, wasn't abnormal: Kageyama getting tunnel-vision during practice was like a fish breathing water.

It actually made Hinata smile a little, and that warm, fond feeling in his chest made itself known for the millionth time. He felt pride alongside it, giddy with that fact that he, more than anyone, knew how much Kageyama missed playing over the break. He'd been the one next to him as he'd tried.

They'd done drills as best they could in the Kageyamas' yard or the park, but gloves and mittens were cumbersome. Thirty minutes was their record with bare hands, nursing painfully frozen fingers until they could get back inside. Hinata recalled how he'd nearly reached out for Kageyama's hands, to warm them with his breath, but missed his chance over and over. Hands shoved in his armpits, Kageyama had always run ahead, cussing and damning the winter in a way that made Hinata's laughter carry down the street.

So it was nice to see him back in his element, warm and unimpeded by the stinging frost of Karasuno's winter. As much as he wanted to pout over not being greeted, Hinata's urge to grin prevailed; his passion had always spoken to him, so he could never spurn him for being so fixated.

At least, not at first.

It only took a moment for Hinata to realize that something really was amiss.

"Hey, what's up with Kageyama today?" Hinata heard Nishinoya chuckle behind him, trying to nod towards their setter as discreetly as possible. With a small snort, he pointed out how stiff he was, knees locked like chicken legs, his positioning odd to see in a player of his caliber. "He looks constipated."

"Doesn't he always?" Tsukishima scoffed back, but Hinata didn't quite agree. Kageyama was painfully awkward almost by default, but Hinata knew that the court was the one place he didn't feel that way.

"Maybe he's just...warming up?" Hinata tried to defend him, wincing as the ball rolled off the tips of Kageyama's fingers and bounced off his head once on its way to the floor.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes in response, and Hinata had to admit it'd been silly to say. Kageyama usually didn't need to warm up—always rearing to go—but today he didn't seem to have that focused, almost arrogant buzz of enjoyment that volleyball usually brought out in him. Stranger still, after only a couple weeks out of practice, Kageyama was very visibly failing at basic drills.

Every toss, he seemed to fall ever shorter of the heat-seeking precision everyone expected of him. Over and over, he lobbed volleyballs everywhere except the one scuff on the floor he always aimed for. Every miss, Hinata flinched in anticipation for a swear or some bark of frustration from Kageyama, but it never came. He seemed almost...okay with failing.

That was very unlike him.

Still, Hinata kept smiling as he approached him. If he got bothered every time Kageyama was being weird or having a bad day, they never would have become friends in the first place. If anything, Hinata sort of relished the thought of being the one to shake him out of it, whether that was cheering him up or pissing him off.

Today, Hinata was more than happy to attempt the former. "Kageyama!" He shouted cheerfully, taking a running jump towards his friend, arms outstretched.

When he landed, it wasn't in a hug or even a stumble into Kageyama, but solidly on the floor. Hinata blinked up at him; Kageyama had stepped backwards, out of his reach. 

Huh? Hinata was unsteady for a moment, a little stunned. Kageyama never dodged a hug from Hinata, at least not for the last year. Pretended he hated it? Sure. Made a show of pushing him off? Always. But shy away from Hinata's touch completely?

That was the first stab, right in Hinata's chest, and his smile started to wobble.

Trying to hide the slighted feeling, Hinata shook it off as best he could. "I didn't know if you'd actually made it to school today!" He said. "Did you get my message this morning? The weather was so bad, wasn't it? I was hoping we could walk together, but it's okay. I managed to make it on my own!"

"I can see that." Kageyama deadpanned, not looking at Hinata at all. "I overslept, then I got the train."

"I figured! For someone so serious you're surprisingly lazy in the mornings." The jab was met with silence, which Hinata suddenly felt anxious to fill. "Oh, I found a little angry Vabo-chan doodle on my Japanese literature notebook. That was you right? It was so silly, I loved it."

"Mmhm. Yeah." Kageyama mumbled, eyes glued to the ball as it hit the net and ricocheted back into his hands.

"C'mon, don't be all antisocial, stupid-yama." Hinata pouted, trying to evoke even an iota of emotion in him. "I feel like I haven't seen you in so long! You didn't come to the New Year's festival. I went with Yamaguchi again, but we missed you!"

I missed you, Hinata bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying. I missed you like crazy.

Kageyama only looked at him out of the corner of his eye. It was so icy that Hinata felt the tips of his fingers freezing again. "I told you I was busy." Kageyama responded flatly. "Also, it hasn't even been a week since we hung out. You couldn't have missed me that much."

Second stab; his tone was cold, but without the welcome heat of teasing to balance it out. No dumbass or idiot or profanity that Hinata had come to view as thinly veiled tenderness. Not only did it hurt Hinata's most hidden feelings, but also the ones right on display. Kageyama almost seemed genuinely annoyed that his friend was even talking to him. 

But that couldn't be right, right? 

"Oh, o-okay. Yeah, I guess that's true." Hinata stammered, believing—hoping—he was just overanalyzing the tone of Kageyama's meanness. Overcompensating for his discomfort, Hinata forced himself to hide insecurity under playfulness, clinging to Kageyama's arm like an excitable child. "Hey! Toss to me a bit before practice starts?" His voice pitched up with desperation. Kageyama couldn't possibly be so uninterested to deny him that.

"I'm doing my own thing right now, Hinata." Kageyama grumbled, shaking Hinata off with the guise of setting his arms for a toss; a toss to no one. "Ask one of the first years, they could use the practice."

That was the third stab, and a fatal one at that. 

Hinata felt his heart wrench in his chest. Had he been thrust into some cruel, alternate dimension? Who was this? This wasn't the brash, reactive Kageyama he knew. He wasn't the Kageyama who teased him relentlessly, so amped-up in Hinata's presence that he was usually powerless to hide his feelings from him, whether it was spitfire rage or constipated, almost dorky joy.

This wasn't the guy he'd been bubbling with excitement to see all day; all week. This was different.

All throughout practice, to say Hinata was distracted would be an understatement. His mind circled the same thoughts over and over, trying to figure out what had changed. It wasn't like Kageyama hadn't denied him attention before—the guy thrived off that stuff, opposing Hinata until he's red and bursting with annoyance. He was rude and tactless and blunt, sure, but the way he'd just spoken to him...

Well, it was all those things, but it still didn't sit right with Hinata.

Though his words might've seemed characteristically cold to the naked eye, they were somehow bereft of Kageyama-isms. There was no fire casting sparks; no liveliness or temper. He was vacant, with none of that fierceness in his voice that always made Hinata want to spit back an equally fiery retort. It didn't even feel like Kageyama wanted a conversation, and really, seriously intended to make Hinata feel unwanted.

But Kageyama hadn't said anything like that, so why did it feel that way? 

Hinata whiffed a spike, and that was when he realized: Kageyama hadn't called to him. He hadn't yelled at him once in the past half hour, not even to point out Hinata's many distracted mistakes. "Don't mind, don't mind." Kageyama said under his breath, not even directly to him, and it was strange. 

That's what was off. He was quiet.

Not his usual kind of quiet either. Not a simmering silence, forewarning a coming eruption of anger; nor was it that tight-throated, wild-eyed loss of speech that happened when he was overwhelmed. This was a quietness that seemed oddly resolute, uncomfortably stubborn and almost...sad. Hinata didn't understand it.

"You alright, Shouyou?" Yamaguchi tapped him on the shoulder gently, shocking him out of thought. "You seem a bit out of it."

"Oh, yeah, yeah!" Hinata waved him off. "Just spacing out, sorry!"

"Go sit down and take a breather. Murakami will sub in for now. It'd be good for him to work on his blocking."

Too preoccupied to feel bad about being replaced by a first-year, Hinata obeyed his captain and plopped down on the bench without complaint. If anything, he was glad for the opportunity to watch Kageyama's face, still unable to understand why he was acting this way.

Why had he changed towards him specifically. Hinata frowned; now that he could look in from outside, Kageyama seemed to be acting normal with everyone else. Now that Hinata was off the court, he'd already gotten a little louder. Just a little, but enough to make Hinata insecure about it.

His mind buzzed with anxiety, considering any and every possible cause for his predicament. Had he said something that made him not want to talk to him? He called him noisy and obnoxious all the time, always met with a snide, 'says you.' But Hinata wasn't sold on that being a problem. They insulted each other so much, it wouldn't really make sense for Kageyama to suddenly start getting offended now.

Hinata felt a shiver course through him; could it have something to do with how Hinata had been looking at him lately? Kageyama had grown slightly taller, his shoulders seemed broader than they'd been last semester, and Hinata had struggled to tear his eyes away as he realized it made him more flustered than it did jealous. Had Kageyama noticed this? Did he see how Hinata had reacted to his body at the hot springs; his cold-bitten cheeks, his glaze-shiny lips? Did he hate how Hinata had gotten too red and looked too long?

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable in his own skin. He hoped this wasn't the case, and that all this worry was just some side effect of how he'd been feeling. As much as he hated to, he had to admit that he'd been obsessing over Kageyama lately, his perception of him becoming rosier by the day. Maybe it was making him oversensitive.

Maybe it was all in his head.

But at the same time he wondered, has Kageyama always looked at me this much? Every couple minutes, Kageyama glanced over at Hinata—slowly and (clumsily) furtive, trying to look natural—only to avert his gaze as fast as possible when he found Hinata looking right back. In between glances, Hinata felt himself constantly watched out of Kageyama's periphery, the star setter flubbing toss after toss because he was more focused on not seeming focused on Hinata.

He had no reaction to any of their teammates' shouts and hollers, but when Hinata was called back in with a boisterous cry of his name, Kageyama's shoulders stiffened undeniably. 

Surely that wasn't Hinata's imagination.

For the first time ever, Hinata was impatient for practice to end. For clean-up, he was assigned the sweeping, and earned a dubious raise of an eyebrow from Yamaguchi as he ran to the janitor's closet. If he was going to figure out what was going on, he had to work fast. Pressing the broom to the floor, Hinata used its handle to propel himself forward at top speed, trying to finish and get himself to Kageyama before he tried to run away from him.

In a record two and a half minutes, Hinata had covered the entire court, pushing all the dirt back into the janitor's closet and hiding it in a corner under the broom. Just for a moment, Hinata let himself exhale. As determined as he was, he couldn't deny that he was a bit scared to find his answer. If it really was because his crush had been found out, Hinata could understand Kageyama feeling weird about it.

He could understand it, but he was having a very hard time accepting it.

Whether it was his fault or not, Hinata just felt wrong about how Kageyama was acting. It was annoying him. Kageyama was being annoying, and if he wasn't going to speak then Hinata would be tactless enough for the both of them.

So, in an instant, he found himself stood next to Kageyama, who was quietly collecting stray volleyballs into a cart. "Oi, Kageyama!" He shouted, desperate to shake his friend out of this pitiful shell he'd crammed himself into.

Looking down at Hinata, Kageyama's face was still blank. "Yes?"

Hinata froze. He realized that, for all his endless thinking, he'd not actually thought about what he was going to say. "Wh-what did you do over the last week of break?" He managed to cobble together.

"Nothing really." Kageyama blinked. "You?"

Electing not to comment on the fact that he'd rejected him for 'nothing really', Hinata perked up at the question. So he was interested in talking to him. Maybe Hinata was overreacting after all. "Well, after we got back from Morioka, Mom took Natsu and I out to get new yukata for New Year's!" Hinata prattled on excitedly, beginning to regale Kageyama with a week's worth of stories. "Mine was dark blue with—"

Kageyama looked at him quietly, vacuously, in a way that betrayed no emotion whatsoever, before turning his back to Hinata completely.

Hinata choked on whatever he was saying, suddenly feeling his annoyance boil up into a rage. "Hey! I'm talking to you, asshole!"

Kageyama pretended not to hear him, though the stiffening in his shoulders was unmistakable. It wasn't actually meant to irritate Hinata—not a joke or an attempt to rile him up—which was worse. He was really choosing to ignore him.

That didn't just irritate him, it enraged him.

Still, he gave Kageyama one more chance. He waited for him to break from whatever weird character he was playing; to snap back at him, unloading onto Hinata whatever was making him shut himself away. But he never did. He just continued to pick up balls with movements silent and robotic. The soles of his shoes barely even made sound on the floor, and Hinata felt like he had to scream to fill the silence.

For the first time all day, his mind was silent, and everything he thought tumbled out of his mouth instead.

"What is wrong with you?" Hinata shouted, nearly stepping on Kageyama's heels with how closely he followed behind him. He was all too aware that he looked like a small, angry dog, circling Kageyama's ankles and barking, but he was too angry to care. "Why won't you talk to me? You wouldn't hang out with me all week and now you're being all weird and ignoring me! Did I do something? Are you just gonna be like this now? Hey! Are you listening to me? Stupid Kageyama, you—"

In his haze of rage, Hinata hadn't even noticed they'd made it back into the equipment room. Kageyama still had his back to him, but his body betrayed that yes, he was listening to Hinata. He was tense, gripping the bars of the ball cart and hunched over as if he was in pain. It was as if he was fighting within himself. To react or not to react; it seemed like the old Kageyama was getting closer and closer to winning that battle.

Even without showing his face, it was the most emotion he'd shown all afternoon.

"Kageyama—"

Hinata was interrupted by shouting behind him. "We're headed out, you slowpokes!" Yachi yelled across the gym, standing at the door as heavily bundled players filed outside. "Make sure to turn off the lights and lock up when you're done arguing!"

"Yeah, we will." Kageyama shouted back, and Hinata flinched at the much more normal decibel of his voice. It was weird to wish, at that moment, that he would just yell at him.

His rage simmering down to a terse sadness, Hinata waited the long seconds it took for the last of their teammates to leave. There was something wrong. He'd known it, but now he felt it from Kageyama, undeniably. His stance was stressful to look at, and he feared what it meant. Had he done something wrong? Did Kageyama not want to be partners anymore? Did he not want to be friends?

Hinata felt like he might cry when he asked, once more: "What is wrong with you today? Did I do something?"

This time, Kageyama answered in a voice much more like himself. "Would you stop asking me that, dumbass?"

Hinata couldn't help but feel half relieved, but he knew he had to keep pushing. "I'll stop asking when you tell me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Seriously? If you're going to do weird, shitty things, ignoring me and brushing me off, I think I deserve to know why."

"I didn't mean—ugh, fine." Kageyama sighed, defeated. "You didn't do anything. Happy?"

Hinata screwed up his face. "That makes even less sense."

"Did you want me to be mad at you?"

"Well, it seems like you already are, but now I really don't know why."

"I'm not mad, I'm just..." Kageyama clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face twitching, like they were begging him not to say what he was thinking. "I'm...I just have some...stuff going on."

"Really?" Hinata scoffed incredulously. "Just stuff? Stuff like what?"

Suddenly Kageyama is quiet again, but it's a much heavier silence, the air thick around him like his thoughts were producing steam. By the time he managed to solidify some into words, they came out lukewarm, weak and fumbling. "Do you, um...do you remember when we hung out over winter break?" He mumbled, slowly turning to half-face Hinata.

"Which time, stupid?" Hinata snapped, although he couldn't help but soften his voice a little as it followed Kageyama's apprehensive question.

"The last time."

Hinata's stomach dropped. "The hot springs?"

"No, after that." Kageyama said, looking curiously at Hinata's suddenly flushed face. "At my house. Remember?"

Hinata had forgotten about that. The day after returning to Miyagi, Hinata had gone to Kageyama's house. He went to return a pair of shorts that had accidentally ended up in his bag, and they spent a couple hours together. It had been nothing more than typical: they'd hung out for a while, ate snacks, read manga, bickered and wrestled like they always do.

"Oh yeah." Hinata responded. "You were normal then."

Kageyama bristled, finally turning around completely. "Shut up." He spat, before twisting his face back into a more mild expression, as if he'd caught himself slipping into something more intense. Something more him.

Feeling as though the mask was finally, really starting to chip, Hinata kept chiseling at it. "Did something happen that day? I don't remember anything weird."

"Of course you wouldn't have noticed." As if he was trying not to show anything in his body language, Kageyama moved awkwardly as he hoisted himself up to sit on a pile of gym mats. Hinata moved to sit too, but the sudden aura of gloom around Kageyama made him anxious to keep the upper hand. So, instead, he just stood across from Kageyama, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed like a teacher asking him to explain why he disrupted the class.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm not so stupid I can't notice when something's weird."

He'd given him such a wide opening—to bully him back, tell him he was that stupid—but Kageyama just sighed, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact. "I guess I'll just say it then." He conceded. "Um...spending so much time with you over the break, there was something that...changed."

"That much is obvious." Hinata scoffed, trying to hide how that piqued his interest.

"Shut up and let me finish, asshole! I'm trying to tell you how I—" Kageyama suddenly looked like he was trying not to gag, "—how I feel. Ugh, I'm only saying it once so you better actually listen."

"Fine, okay." Hinata crossed his arms tighter. "Say it then."

"I'm trying, idiot!" Kageyama exhaled sharply. "I've been feeling weird about some stuff for a while, but that day...when I was yelling at you for dog-earring my book, and then you were yelling back at me it...it's embarrassing because it's what we always do, but—"

"Oh my God." Hinata, who was trying so hard to listen (he was the one just complaining about Kageyama being too quiet) was starting to get impatient. "Just spit it out, shitty-yama!"

"I got turned on, okay?!"

As soon as Kageyama blurted it out, both of their faces went bright red. Hinata felt his own face hot and too-tight. He watched himself mirrored in Kageyama, mouth open still, shocked the words had even come out of it.

Hinata didn't know what to feel. He was embarrassed. He was ecstatic. He was confused.

"W-what?" He stuttered. "What does that mean?"

Kageyama looked like an overwhelmed child. His pink cheeks puffed up in a special brand of irritation, meant only to disguise an explosion of emotion he desperately wanted not to show. "Like I know!" He shouted, voice cracking under the pressure of honesty. "I just know that my chest got all hot and tight so I went to the bathroom and..."

"Yeah I remember now, you were in there forever, you...oh. Oh." Hinata, both athrill and mortified by this discussion, pointed in a general downwards direction. "Did you actually get a...you know, a b—"

"What?" Kageyama cut him off in a huff. "No! I just couldn't...I couldn't show my face I felt so, uh...sort of, almost...I don't really—ugh, do I really have to spell it out for you, dumbass?"

Hinata, feeling his blush run from his chest to the crown of his head, laughed into the back of his hand. He hadn't found it funny, contrary to what Kageyama seemed to think—insecurity suddenly so clear on his face—but just not what he'd expected. It was a relief that he hadn't done anything wrong, but his body still had a boatload of other nerves to dispel.

"Are you messing with me?" Hinata asked. He really hoped he wasn't.

Kageyama's face, embarrassed, prideful and downright frustrated, was enough of an answer as it was. "Why the hell would I lie about that?" He hissed. "It's embarrassing, so stop laughing, asshole."

"Sorry, sorry." Tempering his laughter, Hinata felt his heart swell so much his lungs ached. He had a million questions. Did Kageyama like him? Had he thought about him that way before? How long had he been having these feelings?

Eventually, he settled on just one, as ineloquent as it was. "So you felt, uh... y'know because of the, um...yelling or for...for me?"

"I don't know. Both, maybe?" Kageyama looked away, trying to skirt around any serious answer. "Anyway, so that's what's 'wrong' with me today. I didn't want to get into some yelling match and risk having to deal with those feelings again. So I was being...nice."

Hinata scrunched up his nose indignantly. "That was not being nice." He huffed. "That was just weird and too quiet. And also super mean, actually."

"Well, I tried, okay?"

Kageyama was silent for a moment—a wonderfully awkward, Kageyama silence—and Hinata just watched him in amazement as he was seized and twisted up in so many feelings. All caused by him.

He tried not to seem too giddy.

Finally Kageyama stopped wringing his hands enough to say, "Sorry if all this weirds you out."

"It doesn't!" Hinata answered much too fast, and Kageyama's eyes snapped up in surprise. Wide and watery and waiting. Hinata flinched, suddenly understanding why Kageyama had shied away from his gaze before.

Pinned under the blue watch of Kageyama's eyes, he felt so incredibly vulnerable; so uncharacteristically shy.

"I mean...I guess I've also been...I don't know, confused about stuff." He stammered. "Not about the yelling or whatever, just about...you."

"Me?"

Hinata scoffed. It was his turn to hide his embarrassment under the comfort of spite. "Y'know you really pissed me off today. Ignoring me like that."

Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows. "I just explained that—"

"Yeah, well your excuse is dumb." Hinata grumbled, the heat on his skin starting to steam from the intensity of what he was trying to articulate. "What I'm trying to say is that I hated it. I like when you pay attention to me. Only me."

"Well, you don't see me hanging around anyone else, do you? At least not like I do with you."

"See, that's what I'm trying to understand. What do you think of me anyway? Past y'know, volleyball and what seems like a weird thing for arguments?"

Kageyama looked down at his hands, balled up with his shorts gathered in his palms. "You have to ask that?"

"You act like you're easy to read. Just answer the question."

Kageyama bristled. "You're putting me on the spot, asshole. Didn't I just say I didn't know how I felt?" He sighed shakily, somehow sounding even more unsure. "Why don't you answer it if it's such a simple question?"

"I..."

"See, it's not so easy now is it?"

"I just..." Hinata surveyed the scene before him; surveyed his own heart for a moment, before gathering all his courage. "Let me try something."

Tentatively, Hinata stepped forward until he was standing between Kageyama's legs. Sat on the pile of mats, Kageyama was only a little higher up than he was standing, so Hinata was able to just reach. Moving slow as to not scare him, Hinata wrapped his arms around Kageyama's neck, hands quivering with anxiety all the while. He waited there for a beat and, when Kageyama didn't recoil, he pulled him down to him, coaxing him to curve into his shape.

He arched himself into Kageyama as well, trying to hold contact with him at as many points as possible. Holding the broad expanse of his back, Hinata let himself breathe him in, reenacting a scene he'd forced into the recesses of his mind. Time and time again, telling himself he did not have a crush on his best friend.

But, as he let the scent of Kageyama's sweat and deodorant overtake him, he felt all his resolve melt into the mingled heat of both their skin.

Kageyama, for his part, was barely breathing. "Wh-what are you doing?" He stuttered, and Hinata could feel the ghost of his hands hovering over his back, shaking and unsure of whether they should touch him.

"Testing it." Hinata murmured, pressing himself further into Kageyama's warmth. Like a puppy, he nosed at his neck and shoulder, delighting at how the movement of his face along his collarbones made Kageyama shudder. When he laid his cheek to his chest, he felt the percussion beneath. "Your heart is beating so fast."

"So is yours, idiot."

"I think..." Hinata sighed—he knew. "This feels nice."

"Yeah. I...I think so too."

Finally, as if he'd been waiting for permission all this time, Kageyama hugged him back. His hands were large and surprisingly gentle, spanning across his ribs like wings folded down upon his back. It made Hinata feel like an angel, something he'd never quite felt before, or even knew he wanted. Like he was something good for someone.

The more he melted into him, the more he felt it: encasement, the feeling of being possessed by these arms that surrounded him. So he let Kageyama's arms tighten, his biceps pressing under Hinata's armpits and his forearms crossing across his back to hold him as close as possible. Kageyama's hair tickled his face as he dropped his head to Hinata's shoulder, enveloping Hinata in his warmth; his touch, his scent.

Suddenly, Hinata felt so incredibly stupid: of course he loved Kageyama. He'd loved him longer than he even knew himself. It had always been him; this was his favorite person. He'd been foolish to try and deny it.

He had to say it. He had to tell him how he felt.

When he opened his mouth, any words he might've said had evaporated into a sharp gasp. He felt Kageyama's nose on his shoulder first, followed quickly by the soft pressure of his lips. Kageyama, as if finally released from his self-made cage, kissed him through his shirt with a modest gentleness he hadn't even known he was capable of. Another kiss to his collar had half of Kageyama's mouth landing onto his bare shoulder, just barely pressing down on the muscle leading up to Hinata's neck, and it made Hinata's stomach twist with elation.

Courteous and unsure, his lips were barely touching him, but Hinata's heart pounded so hard he still felt it pulse against them. He couldn't help but want it to go further, craning his head to the side so his neck and shoulder sloped in a way that all but welcomed Kageyama to rest his head. "W-wait, not my neck." Hinata stammered, suddenly a bit anxious about his own invitation. Even just thinking about it made his head feel like it was full of hot water.

"I would never do that without asking, idiot." Kageyama snarled, but with an unmissable tenderness lacing every word with fondness and care. Hinata realized then, for the first time, that he'd heard that tone before. Every time Kageyama grabbed his shirt at the crosswalk, pulling him back when he wasn't paying attention. Every time he accepted an invitation to Hinata's house or agreed to toss to him. It rang so clear that Hinata felt stupid not to have realized what it was. Even though his words seemed sharp to everyone, Kageyama reserved an undertone of fondness for Hinata only. 

Because he was his favorite.

Hearing it in this way, feeling it breathed against the flushed skin of his own body, filled Hinata with a love he'd never felt before.

"K-Kageyama, I..."

Kageyama tightened his grip on Hinata's hips. "No, I want to say it."

"Then say it."

"I...I think I like you."

"You think?" Hinata leaned in teasingly, feeling his smile grow so wide it felt wobbly. As much as his own heart pounded, he couldn't pass up the advantage he had over an impossibly flustered Kageyama. "Well, let's figure it out for sure. What do you like about me, hmm?"

"Fuck off. That's not what I meant."

"I know, but I still want to hear it."

"I'm...it's embarrassing."

"I can go first."

"That's even more embarrassing." Kageyama made a sweet noise of reluctant surrender, high and slightly whiny in his throat. "Fine. I...I think I like...here." Kageyama runs his hands up from Hinata's hips, placing them firmly on his sides, his thumbs touching his belly. "When you jump and your shirt comes up, I can't help but think...it'd be nice to put my hand there, or to lay my head on your stomach, I guess. And, um...sometimes, in the summer, you have a tan line from your shorts and I think that's really sort of...cute." Face beet red, Kageyama can barely contain his embarrassment. "Is...is that okay? I'm not good at this kind of thing."

"You're doing fine." Hinata murmured, doing his best to conceal his own blush. The summer? That long?

He hadn't expected Kageyama's answer to be so sweet; so surprisingly earnest, without pretense or a stiff upper lip. The emotionally-constipated, prideful boy that Hinata knew was, for possibly the first time ever, trying to be vulnerable. 

Not wanting to squander this unprecedented moment, Hinata put his hands over Kageyama's holding them even firmer to his sides. Kageyama twitched in surprise, as if the sensation of their skin meeting travelled through them like a current, and Hinata's heart continued to swell with affection. "Right here?"

"Mmhmm."

"Your hands are cold."

"Sorry."

"It's not a bad thing, stupid." Hinata scoffed. "At least they aren't always hot like mine, see?"

Without thinking, Hinata cupped Kageyama's face in his hands, and suddenly it was his turn to be embarrassed. He hadn't expected such a small action to evoke such gentle affection in him, seeing his small, freckled hands framing Kageyama's beautiful, anxious face so clearly. His long, black lashes, poorly hiding the emotion in his eyes; that crease between his eyebrows; the small, barely-there smattering of acne scars just below his mouth. Every part made Hinata's brain melt, and he could barely string two words together.

"You're so...well, um..."

Pretty.

Kageyama smiled just slightly, a spark of impishness joining the shyness in his eyes as he realized he had gained the upper hand. "Mmhm." He hummed, as he pressed his hot, soft cheek into Hinata's palm. He nuzzled him just so, like a cat, and Hinata felt like he was steaming from the ears. "I...I like that about you too, you know? You're always warm. Like an electric blanket or something. If I'm cold I can just stand near you and I'll be alright."

"I, um..."

"And it's not just that, it's also your...you. Your personality, it's warm too. It's so sunny it's annoying sometimes, but it's also...good, I think. You have a temper and you get overexcited but you're not mean. At least not on purpose. I like that."

Hinata felt his eyes start to water. "Kageyama..." He couldn't quite believe these sentiments were coming from Kageyama's mouth, and it was overwhelming. When it was all stammering and half-truths, Hinata could easily maintain his composure, but Kageyama with a softened tongue and a soft heart was so wholly unexpected. Hinata had asked for this, he wanted it, but he was just now realizing how unprepared he was to find out how much Kageyama actually liked him.

He liked him.

Hinata's heart was so full and, still, Kageyama continued. "I know I'm not always the best at showing it, and I'm moody and socially inept sometimes but you...you make me feel like I deserve to have a friend. And that maybe I deserve to have more. You make me happy, I—" 

Softly, Hinata placed his fingers upon Kageyama's lips, hushing him. His breathing shook, his nervous system sparking with joy barely containable. "Do you really feel that way?"

Kageyama nodded, wilting into embarrassment once more. "Was it too much?"

"No. Kageyama, it was..." Unable to take anymore, Hinata cupped Kageyama's face in his hands, feeling his lips part involuntarily. He leaned in slowly, eyes falling shut in anticipation of the moment brought of desire Hinata could no longer fend off. He felt himself close, Kageyama's warm breath curling throughout his own, when he's stopped by a small, sharp sound. A gasp mixed with an exclamation of fright.

Hinata opened one eye to the breathtaking image of Kageyama, eyes wild with surprise and panic. He couldn't believe it: the boy who'd just been pecking at his shoulder, rubbing his face into his palms and gushing about him was nervous for their first kiss.

Hinata could barely stand it.

"Please?" He couldn't help but whine. "Kageyama, you're so cute I can't take it anymore."

Kageyama's voice quivered with nervousness. "I...I'm not cute."

"Are to." Hinata grinned, taking in every decidedly adorable bit of Kageyama's expression. "Come on. You like me, right? What do I have to do to kiss your stupidly cute face?"

"I just want..." Kageyama looked away, face pinched with insecurity. "I know I said I wanted to say it, and I did, but now I really..."

"Hmm?"

"I want to hear you say it back."

"Say what back? I...oh!" When he'd processed what was being asked of him, Hinata felt like someone had lit a firework in his chest and sent it shooting right through his ribcage. Kageyama was asking for reassurance of Hinata's love; of something that had been blasted out of Hinata's heart after years of hiding and denying. Something that Hinata was more than ready to give. "Kageyama, I like you." Hinata kissed his cheek. "I like you." He kissed the other cheek. "I like you so much." He kissed the corner of his mouth.

Then he kissed him for real. Climbing up onto the mats, Hinata pressed his lips onto Kageyama's—too hard, too sloppily—spurred by all the longing that had built up since he'd sat down for first period that morning.

He had no idea what he was doing. Neither did Kageyama, his nose crooked against Hinata's cheek and his bottom teeth brushing against his inner lip, but every bit of deficit was made up by how it felt. Kageyama was laying down now, with Hinata half on top of him, and Hinata had never experienced the kind of bliss that came from feeling a person this close against him. He was suddenly glad for every piece of clothing separating them, because even Kageyama's hands curled into his t-shirt were overwhelming when they were kissing so feverishly. So deeply. 

Their lips slotted awkwardly and they had to keep stopping to breath, but it felt right. "How—" Hinata huffed in between kisses. "How have we never thought to do this before?"

"Mmm, dunno." Kageyama hummed, his nerves long dissipated. "Don't think. Just kiss."

Hinata listened diligently, running his hands across the cropped hair behind Kageyama's ears. He felt themselves slowly begin to figure each other out, kissing more evenly, with less tongue and less teeth than before. The constant, almost routine pressure of Kageyama's lips had Hinata melting down into him, tangling their legs together as he let his weight settle on top of him. The fever was settling into an even heat, like a comfortable day in summer, and Hinata's brain had never sounded so quiet. Even if Kageyama hadn't told him not to, he couldn't think. He could only kiss him and, at that point, he didn't know if he ever wanted to stop.

Maybe he was trying to bite Hinata's lip—to do something daring, in theory—but suddenly Hinata felt the sharp pinch of teeth coming down on the tip of his tongue. "Ouch!" He shouted, shocked out of the lull his body had been in. "Kageyama, what the hell? You bit my tongue!"

At first, Kageyama looked mortified, hands covering his mouth like he couldn't believe what he'd done. Only for a second, however, before he started using his hands to cover his laughter instead. "Sorry!" He said, but it didn't sound very genuine coming out on the back of uncontrollable giggling. 

Hinata's smile felt like it might arch right off his face, laughter bubbling out of him before he could even stop it. "You asshole!" He shouted, all smiles. "You bite my tongue and then laugh at me?"

Kageyama had tears in his eyes, barely able to speak past his laughter. "You're laughing too!"

"I can't help it! Your laugh is contagious, giggly-yama!" Hinata flopped onto his back next to Kageyama, the two of them laughing and laughing until they couldn't breathe. All the while, Kageyama's hand stayed on Hinata's stomach, feeling it rise and shake with laughter like it was the line with which they shared their joy with one another. Hinata knew it wasn't; that connection was invisible, and it was always there. It always had been.

It remained even when their giggles faded back into the quiet of the empty equipment room. It remained as Kageyama shifted onto his side, and then onto his knees, hovering above Hinata. It remained as he lowered his face to his, bringing their lips together once more. Finally, Hinata thought.

Their connection finally had a name. 

When they finally left the gymnasium, it was dark outside. 

"At least the snow's stopped." Hinata commented, the cold feeling nice against his kiss-swollen lips. He hoped that his mom wouldn't comment on them, but he probably wouldn't be so lucky. Maybe he'd pinch his cheeks red too and say he fell in a snowbank or something.

"Yeah." Kageyama said, testing the door to make sure it locked properly behind them. "I would've hated to walk home in that."

"It looks really pretty now though, doesn't it?"

It did look pretty. The high drifts of snow seemed to reflect in the night sky, painting over it's usual deep blue so that the moon lay nestled in a soft, powdery grey. A few loose snowflakes still drifted in the air, falling lazily under the moonlight like infant fairies being rocked to sleep. Hinata looked back at Kageyama, whose face was awash in a gentle, baby blue light, and the warmth of affection rendered his scarf practically useless.

Still, Kageyama fussed with it, making sure it was properly covering Hinata's neck and chest. "Bundle up properly, idiot. You'll catch a cold."

Hinata only smiled. "Thank you, Kageyama."

"Y-you're welcome." Kageyama stammered, the light from Hinata's smile clearly overwhelming him. "Come on, let me walk you home."

"Silly, we walk home together every day."

"Yeah, but..." Kageyama, slowly and shyly, slid his fingers across Hinata's palm. He held his hand gently. Tentatively, as if he was expecting Hinata to pull away, but Hinata didn't. He curled his fingers, gripping Kageyama's hand tightly.

"Kageyama?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you."

Kageyama blushed and looked away. "Shut up, Hinata."

"I like you a lot!"

"I said shut it!"

As they walked hand in hand, Hinata's laughter rang clear through the cold, winter air. Maybe January wasn't so bad after all.