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Sweat drops were falling from his forehead right towards his eyes. With the knowledge of years playing sports, Kageyama passed an also sweaty hand through his face, in an effort to keep his eyes from burning to death. Practice had just ended and with that it was time out, his mind back on his other favorite topic.
Routine helped when his head had a hard time staying put. It helped when all he did lately was daydream about the sun and the sea whenever he was off-training.
With calloused hands he grabbed his water bottle from the sidelines and let go a small sigh of relief at the contact of the cool surface. His hands, red from the impact of the ball, thanked the brief surge of cold.
Walking towards the locker room, he wondered if volleyball was treating him well.
His teammates lead the way and Kageyama found himself crossing corridors and thresholds, following the stream of people he shared his everyday with.
Small talk surrounded him while he headed silently towards the showers. Throwing his towel on the nearest bench with his dirty clothes, he went all out for the cold water without hesitation.
Under the shower stream, washing the soreness from his limbs, a million questions popped in his head.
How was your day?
Mundane as it sounded.
Have you already found a way to mimic pork buns' taste?
From a place of genuine curiosity.
As the water ran through his back, a sigh made its way out his lips.
Is it true that the sun hits a hundred times stronger there?
Is it being gentle to your hair?
And your skin?
Eyes closed, he rubbed his hair, hands running roughly through it. He needed to be out. Now. It was cold and he was going insane.
Have you caught a change in your accent?
Cutting off the water, he turned back towards the bench. Towel in hand, he tried to shake off the feeling of the cold droplets that still hung in his body. His voice haunted him, the perspective of his way of speaking changing—and missing it—feeling like a serve powerful enough to go right out of bounds.
Do you miss speaking Japanese with someone else?
From his bag, he took a change of clothes. He dressed, his mind far away. What if he tried his luck and called?
He almost tripped on someone else’s sneakers, trying to get his legs on the stupid sweatpants.
Feeling bold today, uh?
It was probably his dumbest idea, considering he couldn’t even gather enough courage to text him these days, he thought while tying his sneakers.
“See ya tomorrow!” Hoshiumi patted his back
Oh, his teammates were leaving already.
Ushijima-san gave him a nod before making his way through the door.
A few more goodbyes and he was left all alone.
Would you wait for me the way you did everyday?
For the first time in a while, Kageyama let himself sit down on the locker room bench just for the sake of it.
He stopped.
And let his mind wander.
Do you want to practice a bit more?
Kageyama knew better than to overwork himself, but sometimes his thoughts slipped and told him that a bit more wasn’t bad for his health if spent in good company.
Which made absolutely no sense.
Placing his hands behind him on the bench, he laid back. Eyes closed, he pictured him.
Do you miss me?
Standing up abruptly, he knocked up his bag and catched it before it fell.
He shouldn’t be asking himself that, let alone him.
Oh, but look at the time! He really needed to leave.
-
If you asked Kageyama what was going on with his mind lately, he wouldn't be able to answer properly, so refrain from asking. Please.
Did you sleep well?
It always came to his mind while heading home.
Tokyo at night was nothing like Sendai.
It was louder. In every way possible.
Like a flash, he watched absentmindedly, cars passing fast, driving around up till late in perfect harmony with passersby like him, who danced with ease, sharing the road in a show of red and yellow and green.
And oh, there were people, so many people. Talking, laughing, screaming, let it be on the phone, with a companion, alone, in groups—he couldn’t pick the interactions apart, never good at it in his old familiar city, even less in this new—although not that unknown now—still bigger, one.
If Tokyo was overwhelming during the day, at night the lights were all more overbearingly bright. Loud. The color scheme was disruptive, it resonated in every corner of his tired mind.
It was all too much and too little, because even in a place with so much stimuli, Kageyama’s thoughts weren’t able to drift away from their preferred shore.
He pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes, the crowd around him guiding those few blind steps.
And for three seconds—among the black and white spots—it was just the two of them.
Blinking rapidly, he quickened his pace. Don’t trip, he warned himself.
Home was just around the corner.
An ocean away.
-
Scrolling through his friend’s instagram profile, he couldn’t stop thinking how much he missed him.
Is the beach truly that beautiful?
Or is it you in the pictures that made it look like the only place worth being?
He was going insane, obsessing over a place far away from everything he knew, getting jealous over the dumbest stuff ever.
Would he feel the lingering sand covering his skin?
With a sigh of displeasure, Kageyama rolled over to his left, trying to find comfort in a bed that was always too hot in the summer and overly cold without fail in winter.
He just wanted.
Would the sea salt sting in the small scratches, left by the friction?
He just wanted to be something, anything.
May that be sea salt in his wounds or something else.
He was jealous of the sand, and the waves, and the country who was witnessing him getting better.
Away from everything they knew, he felt him growing up, growing apart. They often joked he would have a lot to catch up on, but in all honesty, Kageyama was being left behind.
Why was it so hard to text him?
In the silence of his room, with the lights off, the sound of his phone going off startled him, making him jump.
Quite high.
Way more than he would ever admit.
He might have fallen over the side, after giving a good honest fight against his bedsheets.
The traitors.
His phone was waiting for him in his night stand, the now lightened up screen like a beacon in the dark.
Funny coincidence that one.
Kageyama wouldn’t find it funny, but Hinata would.
Detangling himself from the mess of sheets and limbs, he took his phone in both his hands, careful to not press anything unwanted.
He hesitated a bit. It was around ten for him and with the time difference, Hinata was supposed to be in the middle of training.
Kageyama had been going to sleep at nine sharp every night since before their high school years, Hinata should know that.
Or maybe not.
Maybe he just… forgot.
Before he had time to answer, the call ended and Kageyama was left sitting on the floor of his room with a silent phone in his hands.
It could’ve been a minute or more when it let out a ring.
In the middle of the night.
Right on his hands.
Kageyama was very much flustered to admit he sent said phone flying across the room.
A string of notifications followed that first one.
Almost falling over his face in his shame-crawl, Kageyama reached for his phone once again.
Ten new messages.
From him.
Trembling fingers unlocked the screen and tapped them open.
I’m sosososo sorry for calling you
You must be asleep
It’s like an hour past your bedtime
Srry
Soryr
Sorry
Just
Saw you
And wanted to talk
And then, an image attached. It was a selfie, he noticed as a breath left him without his permission, a giant billboard with a face Kageyama knew all too well—his own.
Another infamous promotional ad for the Olympic Games.
Cringing a bit at the sight of his awkward posing, Kageyama realized he hadn’t seen this one yet. With the Japan National Team jersey on and some inspirational quotes in what was for sure Portuguese, they had edited—quite nicely—a group of athletes from different countries and sports. Or that he assumed since half the billboard got cut all too soon with a zoomed but fairly small portion of Hinata’s face peeking from a corner. Red, messy hair, matching eyebrows, big brown eyes and the top of a freckled nose were all he had access to. The smile, nowhere to be found.
He didn’t mind the missing part of the ad—it was pleasantly replaced in Kageyama’s humble opinion. Just… Well, there was a lack of some crucial visuals.
Kageyama had had a long day.
And it was past his bedtime.
If someone ever tried—or dared—to ask Kageyama what possessed him to videocall Hinata well past ten, from the floor of his room, he would turn around and sprint away.
But his phone was vibrating in his hand, his own dumbfounded face staring right back at him.
The tone went off just once when Hinata answered.
Kageyama’s brain chose that moment to catch up and realize he wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t ready at all.
This was exactly why he always went to sleep early.
His heart started beating faster as he felt a blush creeping up his neck.
The first thing he saw were his curls and half a tanned forehead.
“Kageyama! You’re up!” his voice showed up from somewhere below whatever he was seeing.
This dumbass. Couldn’t even bother to show him half his face.
“Not by choice,” he chose as an answer.
A pair of eyebrows peeked out. “Did I wake you?” Then, they furrow. “Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have called. Or texted. I’m so sorry,” Hinata rushed out.
Anxiety suddenly sprinted its way into his mind. “No.”
“No?” The brows moved. Kageyama was sure he was blinking.
“You didn’t—It’s okay,” he stammered.
“I didn’t wake you then, did I? I didn’t keep you up?”
Well, in a way it was Hinata’s fault. If only he could leave his mind for a bit.
But the more he thought about it, the less he wanted him to leave his head.
“It was… doesn’t matter.”
“You can tell me, you know that, right?” Hinata moved his phone around a bit, he caught a glimpse of those eyes. “I might be here but we are still—I, well, I am—It’s just me,” he ended, softly.
Kageyama was too awake now. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Hinata conceded back.
It was time to try, he decided.
“Could you… could you show me—” he started, tentatively.
“Oh, the billboard! Right, sure.” Hinata flipped the camera, all cheerful again. “It’s huge! And you are there. I gotta say you scared me a little with that… smile I assume. You need to learn to smile, Kageyama, with all these photoshoots and stuff—”
Kageyama couldn’t even afford to be offended at that very moment.
“Show me,” he demanded.
“What?” Hinata had the audacity to sound taken aback.
“Your smile, your face, whatever!”
“You want me to show you how to smile?” Kageyama swore he could hear the frown. It was frustrating and endearing in equal measure.
“I want you to show me your smile!” he snapped.
“My—”
“Yes! Your smile,” he interrupted. ”Just that. Your full face, I don’t care!”
“I—” Hinata flipped the camera, at last. He tried a small, confused smile.
Kageyama let out all the air he unknowingly was keeping in his lungs.
“Hi.” It escaped from him in the remains of that breath.
“Hey you.” Hinata greeted back, a small tilt of his head to the side.
The quality of the image wasn’t perfect, but it was clear enough for him to notice how he was even more tan, the ginger hair clearer, those brown eyes big as ever.
As Kageyama’s gaze zeroed into every detail the poor front camera from Hinata’s battered phone allowed and settled finally in the upward curve of his lips, the last parts of the conversation quickly downed on him.
“I—Sorry,” was the only excuse of an apology he could manage.
“C’mon, don’t.” A small, soft laugh escaped Hinata. He felt light, so light. “At least turn on a light so I can see you too.”
No. That was non-negotiable. He was beet red, he knew that. He could probably camouflage with the olympic kit.
“You have the billboard," he pouted.
“Nu-uh, idiot, if I show you, you do too!” he retorted, accompanied by that easy laugh that seemed to follow him everywhere under that foreign sun.
Oh, he caved so easily.
Fumbling around a bit, he went for the light in his night stand.
He missed his own face appearing in the screen in favour of catching Hinata’s smile broadening into the exact expression he thought about every day and dreamt of without fail. Just as that, he catched his gaze squinting, that genuine smile turning into a smirk.
“Did you fall off the bed?”
If he blushed more he would combust. “No—Of course not you—Stupid—”
The laugh from the other side cut him off.
“Oh, so you fell hard!”
That he did, he couldn’t help but thought. He fell with the promise of taking up the world together, he fell with the vow of climbing each step side by side. He fell for a smile and a ray of sunshine. He fell every day, every waking moment, with every breath. He fell with every thought and as he fell hard he fell gladly.
“Yeah,” he managed.
It felt charged. He was all too aware of the softness of his face.
A gust of wind ruffled Hinata’s curls.
Oh, to be the wind.
Twelves miles away, Kageyama unabashedly wondered, wished and wanted, to have him in more than dreams, to live the dream, to be the dream and not share an ounce of it. For one who had been called selfish and possessive, not once or twice, for a whole world less, a real reason tasted tangerine sweet.
“I—” Missed you, thoughted you, wished you. “Will be waiting for you.”
“Don’t.” His favorite voice whispered. “Keep going. I’ll catch up.”
That he was sure of. They both were.
“Alright.”
“Good.”
The quietness fell around them, covering the moment with a blanket, their only company being the constant murmur of the cities that hosted them from each corner of the world. Ever alive, rustling of steps and voices, always in rush hour, never a moment of stillness.
It made Kageyama miss late night practice hours back in Sendai, where he would walk in relative peace, his… the idiot he had as a best friend by his side, in a rare moment of silent reprieve.
They would bump against each other. Kageyama would carry his bag and once in a while when Hinata let him he would take the bike in his hands up until the intersection where their paths diverged night and night again.
“You think we could take a volleyball to that park near your house next time we are both back home?”
“Yeah.” He saw him concealing a laugh. “I’m sure I still have one of mine at home. We can pick that one. Or one of Natsu’s. She won’t mind.”
“That would be nice.”
“I'm already looking forward to it.” Bashful, muttered like a promise.
Like a secret rendezvous
Like a date.
A beat got caught in Kageyama’s chest.
“Me too.”
He would look forward to it alright.
When Hinata hung up—because he was, indeed, in the middle of a training run—Kageyama received another three texts.
Tried again!
Hope you like this better
And, at last, another photo of the billboard, this time, with Hinata’s full smile next to his very own awkward one.
It soothed the ache a bit. Enough to let him sleep. Enough to make him keep going.
He really liked it better.