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Kyoutani winced, twitching back on instinct. Yahaba sighed softly, his pressure on the wound not wavering, his hand still placed firmly on Kyoutani’s chest.
“You’re going to have to trust me if you want this out of the way,” Yahaba stated in a matter-of-fact. Kyoutani only grumbled, looking anywhere but his face, despite how close it was to his.
“I trusted you enough to come here, didn’t I?” Kyoutani replied, his voice rough and defensive, as if what he said wasn’t the taste of honey to the lips.
The sun still slept when Yahaba woke up to rapid knocks on the door, and occasional doorbell rings. As he crept down the stairs, eyes still groggy, he was met with Kyoutani’s back, who looked as if he was just about to leave, having given up.
The two now sat on his living room floor, the items from a first aid kit scattered around them after Yahaba had seen Kyoutani’s bruise-covered face, ushering him inside his house.
Yahaba was still quite flattered at the idea of Kyoutani going to him first, but decided against that thought given the situation.
“You haven’t been coming to practice lately.” Yahaba whispered quietly, even with the emptiness of the house. Kyoutani swallowed as Yahaba reluctantly pulled back from the wound, which was now covered by a gauze pad.
“Aren’t you gonna ask about the wound?”
“Kyoutani.”
“Or the bruises on my face.”
“Kyoutani.”
“Or maybe why I even went to you at all—”
“Well do you want me to?” Yahaba retorted exasperatedly.
He blinked, as if considering it. “Not really, no.”
Yahaba rolled his eyes at him, “Why do I put up with you?” He muttered.
He stood up, making his way to the kitchen, Kyoutani’s gaze following him the entire time. Yahaba opened the freezer, retrieving an ice pack, shivering at the exposure to cold air. He looked out the window, the sun having risen from its slumber, making an appearance slowly from the horizon.
He took his place back next to the other, holding the ice pack onto his face carefully. And if Kyoutani was able to hold it himself, the two didn’t speak of it, letting the silent atmosphere stretch out. Yahaba found comfortability with Kyoutani, for some odd reason.
After their loss to Karasuno last year, there was an unspoken respect given to each other, and very obvious tension which everyone on the team happened to pick up on, that they had chosen to ignore. When the third years left, the responsibility as captain was passed onto Yahaba (which didn’t surprise anyone), and he had then given the role of vice captain to Kyoutani.
If anyone else would have asked why he chose Kyoutani as vice, he would have brushed it off, blaming it on the logistics of it all and the fact that if Watari wasn't libero, he’d have given it to him. Truthfully, his heart was the one that guided him, and it led him to Kyoutani. If Kyoutani asked Yahaba for all of his trust, he would be left with none. That’s just the way he was.
Kyoutani had asked him one day, about a week after he was announced vice captain, in the quiet of the locker room, why he had chosen him.
“You could’ve given it to Kindaichi,” He had listed out. “Or Kunimi—vice captains don’t have to be third years, y’know.”
“Well I gave it to you, so just drop it, okay?” Yahaba dismissed him. He pulled his shirt over his head, then turned to face Kyoutani. “If you don’t want the role, then just tell me.”
Kyoutani only blinked, and looked away.
Yahaba received no answer after that, and took it as a sign that he did, in fact, want to be the vice captain. But then a couple weeks later, Kyoutani had begun to show up to practice late, and after that, he gradually stopped turning up at all.
He tried to ignore it, tried to think of a reason behind it, as if that would then excuse his actions and all would be well. Watari had brought it up to him, and then Kindaichi, and even Kunimi. As captain, it was his job to understand why he wasn’t showing up, and find a way to make up for it.
To say the very least, Yahaba wasn’t a good captain, and didn’t even bother messaging Kyoutani, or ask him about it in each passing class they’d have together. Guilt chewed away at him each time he’d ignore the elephant in the room, but he couldn’t find the heart in him to confront the situation.
Looking at Kyoutani now, his question was answered, all without words to say it.
“I’m sorry.” Yahaba broke the silence, and he didn’t miss the way Kyoutani stiffened for a split second.
“What for?” He replied slowly, confused.
“For not noticing,” Yahaba said. “And for not talking to you sooner.”
Kyoutani grumbled something under his breath, and Yahaba pressed his lips together, readjusting his hold on the ice pack. “It’s nothing.”
A minute passed by, and Yahaba hadn’t expected him to speak up again.
“It was my dad.”
A pause. “What?”
Kyoutani shifted slightly in his position. “My dad, he’s,” He clenched his jaw. “There isn’t a time when he’s not drunk, and when he is, he gets..”
His voice trailed off, and Yahaba nodded along, holding onto the rare sight of vulnerability.
“I have three older sisters, and the last one recently moved out.” A beat passed. “My dad hasn’t been taking it well, and he just,” he let out a shaky breath at the memory of it all, nails digging into his palm.
“My sisters call me as much as they can, but it—it’s not the same.”
Ever since Kyoutani was little, he never entertained the idea that there was a God that exists, who loved everybody equally. In truth, he knew that God didn’t exist, because if he did exist, he wouldn’t have killed his mom so mercilessly.
Kyoutani was only six years old when he experienced grief. Standing beside his three sisters, watching as they sobbed shamelessly at the sight of their mother’s casket. Kyoutani didn’t cry that day, and nobody blamed him for it. He’s too young to understand, many would say, and yes he was young, but he understood all too well.
It was only until two months later, when his hair was growing longer and into his face.
“Ken, when did your hair get so long.” His eldest sister tutted, bending down to ruffle it, to which he stuck his tongue at her.
“It’s not that long.” Kyoutani crossed his arms.
“It’s starting to cover your eyes! Can you even see now?”
“Can too!”
“Hmm, I’m going to have to give you a haircut.”
Kyoutani stiffened at her words, grabbing at his head defensively. “No!”
She peered at him, cocking her head to the side. “Watcha mean no?”
“No!” He yelled out. “No, no, no, no!”
Kyoutani ran away, dodging all of his other sisters and their confused looks, locking himself away into his room. He threw himself onto his bed letting it swallow him into its sheets, and cried.
He didn’t know how long he cried for, or how loud he was, but nobody mentioned his hair after that, until a year later when he shaved it whole.
Yahaba had long since let go of the ice pack, which now sat warm on the couch behind them. There is a stillness in the air which cannot be moved, the sun rising to meet face to face with them, its rays seeping into the house. Kyoutani looked up hesitantly at Yahaba’s face, afraid he’d be met with pity, because if he did, he would fall apart.
Instead, Yahaba took his face in his palms, stroking softly. Kyoutani didn’t hide his surprise. “You’re not alone.” He whispered into the quiet morning, and Kyoutani shut his eyes, leaning into the touch.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“…I know.”
Kyoutani’s head found Yahaba’s shoulder, and they stared into their reflection from the TV which sat a few feet away.
How long had it been since they spoke to each other? How long did it take for them to fall back into rhythm?
Instantly, Yahaba thought, and he wondered if Kyoutani thought the same.
“You’re going to be late.” Kyoutani pointed out.
“I don’t want to go.” Yahaba confessed, his eyes focused on the kitchen light which flickered on and off.
Kyoutani snorted. “You aren’t gonna pull me to practice with you? Make me run laps?”
Yahaba paused, biting down on his tongue, a habit he learnt when he was young. “Not enough time to get ready.”
“Are you serious?”
Yahaba turned his head to look at him. “Are you making fun of me?”
Kyoutani ignored him. “It takes like five minutes to get dressed.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“So what did you mean?”
Yahaba sucked in a breath. “You’re gonna laugh.”
Kyoutani furrowed his eyebrows. “You try too hard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He squawked.
“You know what I mean.”
“No I don’t.” Yahaba lied.
Kyoutani rolled his eyes, and flicked his forehead. Yahaba yelped. “You try to seem as perfect as you can, even though you’re allowed to have flaws.”
You don’t know that, he swallowed back.
“Did you get that habit from Oikawa? Seriously, why would you want to be like that guy.” Kyoutani leaned back into the couch, and Yahaba laughed.
There’s a pit that still remains in Yahaba’s stomach despite the comfort, and he knows that if anyone could relate, it would be Kyoutani.
“At least I go to practice.” He bit back.
Kyoutani scoffed. “That’s not fair, you know why I don’t.” There was no venom in his tone, and Yahaba held back a smile.
“You’re making a bad example for the first years.”
“Oh, am I really?” He said, mockingly.
“They don’t even trust you.”
“Well you trust me.” Kyoutani stated. “I think that’s all that matters.”
Yahaba's eyes widened. He stared at him with open eyes, until it crinkled, a grin growing on his lips. “You know, I always thought it’d be me to confess first.”
Kyoutani turned away before Yahaba could see the blush on his cheeks, but he still saw regardless. “Fuck off.”
“But I guess when I shoved you against that wall it was a way of making a move.” Yahaba wondered out loud.
“Seriously, shut the fuck up.”
The two show up at practice half an hour later, and earn a five minute scolding by the coach, and ten laps around the gym. Yahaba decides that it was worth it, as long as he was with Kyoutani.