Chapter Text
In retrospect, Kageyama should’ve seen this coming.
Hinata Shouyou is, in all senses of the word, attractive. He has wrists so delicate that Kageyama had worried they would break if he tried to receive a spike too strong, wrists that would look particularly good pinned roughly against a stone wall. Hinata’s hair, bright and loud and messy, is soft and easy to comb his fingers through, and glows when struck with the warmth of a sunset; it’s the kind of hair Kageyama thinks he wouldn't mind tugging on. His skin, where he’s been kissed by the sun’s fervour, is tan and freckled and striking, but when his shorts hike up a little too high during practice, Kageyama likes to relish in the smooth ivory skin stretched across his firm thigh muscles and think about what it’s like to bruise it.
At the same time, Hinata is short, much shorter than what most would consider the ideal height for a high school boy but of the perfect size to be tucked into Kageyama’s chest. He’s whiny and demanding and complains too much when he doesn’t get what he wants but Kageyama finds himself giving in every time Hinata begs for a toss with big sad eyes. He’s loud, way too loud but Kageyama thinks it’s unsettlingly quiet when his ears aren’t assaulted with Hinata’s boisterous laughter. In every way that Hinata is not supposed to be attractive, Kageyama swoons anyway.
Kageyama knows this, he knows that Hinata is attractive in a way that would only appeal to horny adolescent boys at the height of puberty. Hinata Shouyou was built to be loved by boys.
So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Kageyama’s not the only one.
Right after they beat Shiratorizawa at the Spring Interhigh Preliminaries, just as his and Tsukishima’s popularity with girls skyrocketed, Kageyama began to notice another irritable trend. It starts one afternoon in their clubroom after a particularly draining training session, innocuous and unassuming like a small drizzle on a sunny day. The first-years are given the responsibility of locking up the gym and clubroom and are changing out of their sweaty practice shirts when Yamaguchi speaks up.
“Ne, Hinata,” Yamaguchi begins, rummaging through his bag to find something. He fumbles about for a bit before fishing out something he wants to pass to Hinata. “Satou-kun from my class told me to pass you this.”
At first sight of what Yamaguchi’s holding, Kageyama’s eyes widen with disbelief. A slightly crumpled cream envelope addressed to one Hinata Shouyou of Class 1-1 in a messy font. It doesn’t take a genius to know what Yamaguchi clasps between his fingers — the key to Kageyama’s eternal despair. Just kidding.
Except not really.
In Yamaguchi’s hand, plain as day – there’s no mistake about it – is a love letter. But more importantly, it’s a love letter to Hinata.
However, it takes their resident complete idiot a little more time to process the scenario playing out before his eyes, his mouth hangs open dumbly at the revelation. “Satou… kun?”
Kageyama narrows his eyes at the envelope, trying as best as he can to inspect it from afar. Satou. He can’t conjure a face to match the name but judging from the almost illegible handwriting sprawled across the front of it and his past experiences with frilly pink love letters from girls, it’s from a boy. At the realisation, something unpleasant stirs in his stomach.
“Eh?” interrupts Tsukishima with a smug grin. “Satou Tatsuya, huh? Who would’ve thought he batted for the other team?”
Ah, so Kageyama was right. It was from a boy. Some sick part of him kinda wishes Hinata would throw it on the ground in disgust and spit on it, if not for the sake of his own heart.
“Tsukki! Satou-kun told me to keep this a secret so don’t go making a fuss about it in class!” berates Yamaguchi, to which Tsukishima merely clicks his tongue in annoyance. Yamaguchi turns to Hinata and smiles apologetically. “Sorry, Hinata, I told him to pass it to you himself but he insisted on having me do it for him. If you want to find him, he’s from my class. Oh, and he’s also on the softball team.”
When Hinata receives the letter from Yamaguchi with both hands, he handles it like it’s the most precious artefact in a museum, stares at it with the same starry-eyed wonder Kageyama had thought was reserved only for volleyball, lips parted in awe. Moments like these are rare, where Hinata isn’t jumping or yelling or begging for another toss, where Hinata looks soft even under the dim yellowish light of their clubroom, where Kageyama is made painfully aware of his own yearning.
Kageyama’s fingers itch to reach over and tuck a stray strand of Hinata’s hideous orange hair behind his ear but he resists the lowly temptation and settles for digging his blunt fingernails into his palm, thickened from years of volleyball training. He tries to ignore the fact that the tingle in his spine and the prickle in his palms are the same unceasing itch he feels on the court as soon as the whistle blows.
At first, Hinata is quiet, like he’s savouring the sweet gratification of acquiring a confession letter from someone he’s probably never even met, and then as if the realisation hits him in a second wave, he explodes.
“GWAH! This is awesome!” Hinata exclaims, clutching the letter to his chest and leaping into the air in excitement. He’s nearly glowing with elation. “I’ve never gotten a love letter before!”
How? Kageyama wants to ask. How had Hinata, with all his endearing quirks and kinks, not gotten a single love letter in his sixteen years of existence? How had nobody else gotten blindsided by Hinata’s warmth and zeal and fallen in love with the embodiment of sunshine? How had Hinata broken through Kageyama’s defences so easily?
But he’s not nearly stupid enough to actually ask. In fact, he has to restrain himself from offering Hinata nothing but a petty ‘tch’. Fortunately, Tsukishima beats him to it. “How sweet, the love between morons is truly something else.”
At that, Hinata stumbles on a landing and turns to fix a glare at Tsukishima. “Let me have this, Tsukishima. You get confessions on the daily.”
“Eh? You overestimate me,” Tsukishima sneers. “I only get them weekly.”
Kageyama scoffs. Anyone who likes that stuck-up short-sighted stick on legs must only have confessed at gunpoint. After all, the only person with an attitude as pissy or even pissier than his is Tsukishima. “You’re full of shit, Tsukishima.”
In typical fashion, Yamaguchi opens his mouth to defend his best friend but Tsukishima stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be leaving first. Remember to lock up after yourselves.”
“Whatever.” With that, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are gone, the door clicking behind them.
Just like that, Kageyama and Hinata are left in the clubroom all by themselves, the silence that’s settled around them anything but comfortable. Kageyama quickly pulls a fresh shirt over his torso and turns around to start a conversation, only to find Hinata still standing around half-naked.
His gaze is fixated on the letter in his hands, slowly crinkling in his iron grip. It takes Kageyama every ounce of energy he has left in him to tear his eyes away from Hinata’s bare torso, all lean muscle and freckled skin. He vaguely registers that his cheeks are warm.
“Idiot, what are you so slow for?” Kageyama finds himself almost yelling, startling both his teammate and himself. “We have to lock up.”
“O-oh right,” Hinata says apologetically, finally snapping out of his reverie and putting on his spare shirt. He quickly stuffs the letter into his bag and hurries out of the clubroom alongside Kageyama.
On their way back, Kageyama considers bringing the issue up but decides against putting Hinata on the spot, especially if it means threading the fine line that threatens to expose his own feelings. His eyes trail over to the ginger-haired boy beside him, no doubt still thinking of the love letter in his bag, soft underneath the warm artificial glow of the street lamp. Kageyama’s heart lurches in his chest.
It’s a while before Hinata speaks up, a strange lilt in his voice. “Ne, Kageyama, what should I do?”
Kageyama jolts. The answer is clear to him. I like you, so you should reject it. “Why’re you asking me? It’s your letter, do whatever you want with it,” he says instead, ignoring the way Hinata’s brows furrow at his response.
“You’re lying.”
When Kageyama stops in his tracks and meets Hinata’s gaze with his own steely one, he almost flinches at the fervid certainty in Hinata’s ember eyes. It’s like they see through him entirely. He grits his teeth. “I’m not.”
Hinata’s lips melt into an easy grin. “You are. After all, who’s going to play volleyball with you if I’m off on a date with someone else?”
Is it alright to be a little selfish after all?
Kageyama huffs, turning away. “You’re not the only one I play with. I could always just ask, uh,” — he trails off, mind flitting through the volleyball club roster and eventually coming up with nothing.
The smugness radiating off the ginger-haired boy beside him sends a steady heat creeping up his neck. He doesn’t need to look to know Hinata has on his most shit-eating grin. “Eh, who’re you gonna ask, ‘Yama?”
The affectionate drop of his nickname comes so suddenly it short-circuits his brain. “I guess I’ll ask Tsukishima.”
At that, Hinata breaks into uncontrollable laughter, his familiar high-pitched giggles clear as wind chimes in the stillness of the night. As fondness envelops Kageyama’s heart in warmth, he allows himself a small smile.
And it’s with this, the image of Hinata trying to stifle his laughter under a blanket of stars, that Kageyama tells himself that everything will be alright after all.
-
It isn’t even a week later that he realises he’s dead wrong.
When Nishinoya bursts into the gym one morning with a wicked smile on his face, nobody reacts, save for Daichi’s monotonous “You’re late”. They’re used to his loudness, his heart-attack-inducing dramatic entrances but nothing’s prepared Kageyama for what’s about to come. If the incident in the clubroom a week ago was a drizzle on a sunny day, then this would be looming clouds and the smell of rain: a brewing storm.
Nishinoya’s gaze sweeps across the gymnasium, narrows in on a mop of orange hair on the other side of the gym and glints dangerously. His grin widens and before Kageyama knows it, he’s breaking into a sprint towards Hinata, screaming “Shouyou!” at the top of his lungs.
He lunges at his unsuspecting kouhai and they both topple onto the ground in a heap. Their bodies are pressed together in a tangle of limbs and all of a sudden, the deafening beat of Kageyama’s heart in his ears is almost too much to bear. Distantly, he can hear Daichi yelling out a string of complaints at them as they slowly get up, dopey grins plastered on both their faces.
But Kageyama’s eyes aren’t watching the way Nishinoya grips onto Hinata’s waist or how they slot into each other’s side perfectly, they’re trained on the dull-looking envelope clutched in Nishinoya’s hand as he helps Hinata to his feet. The rush of emotions he’d suppressed a week ago punches him in the gut with full force.
“Congratulations, Shouyou! Your favourite senpai has come to deliver your first ever confession letter!” Nishinoya announces proudly as if he was the one on the receiving end of the letter.
At Nishinoya’s declaration, everyone’s ears perk up with curiosity, and Daichi does not move to make everyone continue with practice. Not that Kageyama expects him to, not when their seemingly most inexperienced teammate’s about to break out of his shell for the first time. (The first-years know better than that.)
“Thanks, Noya-san!” Hinata beams and graciously accepts the cursed envelope from Nishinoya. He’s making the same face he did the first time, all awestruck and dazed, though he doesn’t bother correcting Nishinoya.
He scans the front of the envelope with wide, innocent eyes. “Shiro Yugi?”
As if everyone hadn’t already been waiting with bated breath, the silence instantaneously becomes thicker, and Kageyama’s spit turns sour on his tongue. Another boy. He strains to remember where he’d heard that name before when Tanaka rips the silence apart with a shrill cry. “Shiro Yugi?! The second-year ace of the basketball team?”
Ah. Kageyama’s gut twists painfully with realisation as he watches Hinata’s eyes grow wider with curiosity and wonderment.
“That guy’s one of the most popular guys in school,” Sugawara comments off-handedly like he doesn’t notice Tanaka turning redder by the second. How sly. “Even the girls in my class talk about him.”
At the mere mention of girls, Tanaka flares up expectantly, an angry flush now staining his cheeks hot red. “Eh?! What’s so good about him? Just because he’s an ace, he has girls all over him? We’re the ones who beat Ushiwaka! I bet this Yugi’s just a poser. Ain’t he, Noya?”
Kageyama sighs inwardly. It’s not uncommon that Tanaka, fuelled by petty jealousy, flies into one of his frenzied rants in the middle of practice sessions, though it is rare that Kageyama finds himself asking the same questions too. He knows that he has nothing to be jealous about, that there isn’t one person in the world who could take away what he and Hinata share, but jealousy tastes bitter in his mouth all the same.
“Ryu, I hate to tell you this, but Yugi is cool. He’s way cooler than the both of us combined,” – cue Tanaka’s affronted squawk – “but none of that matters now that he’s taken,” Nishinoya declares triumphantly, chest puffed up with pride. He turns to Hinata smugly, “By our sweet kouhai here. You’re absolutely welcome, Shouyou.”
With that, in the blink of an eye, as if Nishinoya’s words had finally severed the thread of silence pulled taut by the awkward tension stifling the gym, everyone explodes simultaneously, bursting into idle chatter about the possibilities between Hinata and his new boyfriend.
Tsukishima passes by Hinata and sneers at him. “It seems there are more dumbasses in this school attracted to stupidity than I thought.”
Hinata bristles. “You’re mean, Tsukishima.”
“But I’m right.”
Before Hinata can retort, Tanaka grabs him by the shoulders. “Say, Hinata, you’ll accept, won’t you?”
“Yeah, Yugi’s super cool! He’s the ace of the basketball club and he has the best grades in class! If I were you, I’d accept it,” Nishinoya continues, like he’s a salesman trying to sell a product, except the product is a high-quality boyfriend complete with good looks, good grades and popularity and the customer is Kageyama’s first-ever crush about to be stolen in front of his eyes by some NPC. “No homo though,” Nishinoya adds as an afterthought.
Being cornered by two crazed senpai, Hinata looks like an animal of prey cowering in fear. He attempts to placate them, “Thanks, Noya-san. I-I’ll think about it.”
Kageyama doesn’t even realise he’s making a face or that Tsukishima and Yamaguchi have appeared by his side until Tsukishima speaks up. “You know, King, I kind of hope Hinata keeps getting these letters,” says Tsukishima with a snide grin. “Just so I can keep seeing you make that face.”
Yamaguchi looks at Kageyama apologetically.
“Fuck off, Tsukishima,” growls Kageyama. Those are the first words he’s uttered since the start of this whole debacle and they’re going to be his last. He can’t watch this anymore.
“Oi, Hinata, dumbass!” he yells, to which everyone in the gymnasium turns towards him curiously. “Spike my tosses.”
In an instant, Hinata detaches himself from Tanaka’s vice grip, stuffs the letter into his pocket and bounds over to Kageyama like an obedient puppy. Just like that, as if Kageyama had broken a spell, Daichi is back to keeping everyone in order. “Settle down, everyone. We’re here to play volleyball, not write a tabloid.”
Everyone quietly obeys and continues where they left off with practice but judging from all the small glances stolen at Hinata throughout practice, there’s a question on everybody’s mind: will he accept the confession or not? Hinata’s probably too stupid to realise that everyone else is practically itching to know his answer so Kageyama, ever so altruistic, decides to intervene before everyone pisses their pants trying.
After Hinata delivers a particularly bad spike, Kageyama scowls at him. “Stop being distracted, dumbass.”
Hinata glares back at him indignantly. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Kageyama says. “It’s about the letter, isn’t it?”
With that, he knows he’s gotten everybody’s attention.
Hinata’s cheeks flare up, with embarrassment or annoyance Kageyama can’t tell, though he decides he likes when Hinata blushes bright red. “It isn’t. Stop it, Kageyama.”
“Shiro Yugi won’t toss to you on the court, you know,” Kageyama says pointedly. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, yet it seems like everybody else in the gymnasium needed a reminder.
“I know that, stupid,” Hinata says, a smile pulling at his lips. He catches Kageyama’s intent gaze, embers burning bright. “You’re my setter.”
Other than Hinata, of course.
The resounding sound of a distant smack is enough to tell him everyone’s gotten the note, including Nishinoya and Tanaka who tackle him at the end of the day to demand meat buns.
The storm passes, and the uneasiness stirring in his gut settles but doesn’t go away.
-
Kageyama doesn’t see the first strike of lightning until the thunder is deafening in his ears.
They’re supposed to meet for extra practice during lunch break. Kageyama’s already by the Second Gymnasium waiting for Hinata when his phone vibrates in his pocket.
dumbass hinata [11:02] sorry kageyama, something came up and i can’t meet you for lunch :( see you during training! i’ll make it up to you!
Ugh. He should’ve known Hinata would cancel on him, probably for some stupid reason like extra English lessons.
He’s shuffling past the narrow alley between the classroom block and the First Gymnasium when a movement in the dim pathway catches his eye. Kageyama figures it’s another one of those pointless love confessions and scoffs, opting to ignore the soap opera going down in the alley.
Then he hears it, Hinata’s voice, like a single ray of light penetrating the murky fog of doubts clouding his mind. Immediately, almost as if on instinct, he turns towards the alley and trains in on the mop of outrageously bright orange hair, lit like a flame in the dancing shadows. It takes him another second to notice the other person standing in front of Hinata, a head taller than him and trapping him against the wall.
Kageyama’s feet take off on their own, his instincts set on fire. Overwhelming jealousy thunders in his ears and there is nothing but one thought in his mind: Hinata Hinata Hinata. Before he knows it, he’s already by their side. There’s an ugly clump of emotions wedged in his throat, burning with an intensity that sends his head spinning, and it takes him every last bit of restraint not to drive the other guy’s face into the wall.
“K-Kageyama! What are you doing h–” Before Hinata’s given the chance to ask Kageyama any questions, Kageyama’s hands are already clasped around Hinata’s wrist and towing him out of the alleyway.
The other boy moves to stop Kageyama but he draws his hand back as soon as Kageyama snarls at him. “Get lost. He’s my spiker.”
“Let go of me, Kageyama!” Hinata struggles against his grip but Kageyama doesn’t budge and continues trudging forward until they’re back to the Second Gymnasium. When he lets go, Hinata draws back his hand so quickly that Kageyama has the audacity to feel a bit hurt.
Only for a second though.
“Do you have time for this, Hinata?” Kageyama snarls. Hinata flinches at the venom dripping off Kageyama’s tongue. “Are you satisfied with our win against Ushiwaka?”
Excuses, his subconscious tells him. He knows exactly why he feels like that and Hinata's lack of practice isn't it.
“You know I’m not!” Hinata bites back, his hurt amongst other emotions so evident that Kageyama startles. His face is carved into a glower, soft features clashing against hard edges, and it’s with his expression, with the fiery determination in his eyes alone that Kageyama realises with a jolt he should apologise.
But he’s stubborn. And he’s jealous.
And just those two are enough to fuel the fiery rage simmering at the pit of his stomach. “Then what were you doing in that alley? You said something came up!”
Kageyama winces at how his words ooze with jealousy bordering on possessiveness but he can’t be bothered to care about what Hinata thinks right now. He just needs Hinata to listen. “We barely made it past Shiratorizawa and we’re not going to go anywhere near the top if you’re going to keep hanging out with people who won’t help you get there.”
“I was rejecting him, you fucking asshole!” Hinata nearly screams, his eyes red and glassy with tears that threaten to spill out. His face is contorted into a messy expression that drives a sword into Kageyama’s heart and Kageyama yearns. He yearns to pull Hinata into a hug and keep him there so he won’t have to make that expression ever again.
Except Hinata’s only like this because of him.
“You think I haven’t noticed how prickly you’ve been these past two weeks?” Hinata continues, his voice breaking. A tear escapes and slides down his cheek. “I know you want to climb to the top but so do I, and so does everybody else on the team. I can handle my issues by myself, I don’t need you to keep poking around in my business.”
Now that the boiling rage has somewhat evaporated and his head is clearer, Kageyama is at a loss for words. He hadn’t meant to make Hinata cry or make him hurt. He just wanted... he just wanted–
What was it that he wanted?
He chances another full look at Hinata. Hinata with his watery doe eyes and furrowed eyebrows, Hinata with his freckled cheeks dusted red with anger and sadness and all the bad emotions Kageyama had forced into him, Hinata with the way his shoulders curled into himself defensively. Just then, every single overwhelming emotion warring inside Kageyama’s head over the past two weeks slams into him like a freight train, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
That’s right, he’s known all along. He wants Hinata.
He firmly wraps his arms around the shorter boy and pulls him close. Hinata stiffens in his embrace and applies a slight pressure against Kageyama’s chest as if trying to escape his grasp.
It isn’t until Kageyama buries his head into Hinata’s ginger locks and whispers “I’m sorry, please don’t hate me” that the other boy gradually relaxes in his hold and snakes his arms around Kageyama’s back.
“It’s okay, Kageyama,” Hinata tells him and it sounds like a lullaby. “We’re best friends, I could never hate you. Let’s reach the top together.”
In that moment, it doesn’t matter how close Kageyama holds Hinata to his chest.
Because he can’t hear Kageyama’s heart shatter.