Chapter Text
Hinata’s heart was pounding like he’d just finished a five-set match — only way more humiliating. He wasn’t running drills. He wasn’t spiking a game-winning toss. He was standing in the courtyard with clammy hands, a dry mouth, and the most nauseating combination of panic and shame swirling in his gut.
Because he wasn’t just staring at Yachi Hitoka. He was about to ask her out.
Yachi was laughing, her shoulders bunched up with that shy, fluttery kind of joy, hands cupped over her mouth like she was trying not to spill it all over the place. Probably something Kiyoko had said — she was standing right next to her, brushing her long hair back as she helped Tanaka rearrange flyers on the club board.
And Hinata… he wasn’t really looking at Yachi, was he? She was pretty, like a sunflower basking in the rays of the morning sun, and her personality was just as sunny, but—
I like her. I really do! I like her. I like her. I like her! I like her!
But he couldn’t even focus on that too much, he was too busy thinking about someone else.
Kageyama.
That stupid, intense scowl. That laser-sharp focus during every toss. The way Hinata’s heart did a weird, uncomfortable somersault every time Kageyama complimented someone
else’s
spike.
The way his chest ached after practice the other day when Kageyama had almost said something — Hinata had
felt
it, felt the air between them go electric — but the moment passed, and Kageyama walked away without a word.
He clenched his jaw.
It’s not like that.
He told himself this over and over.
It’s just complicated.
We’re rivals.
We push each other. That’s all.
That has to be all.
So maybe, just maybe, if he dated Yachi, all of this confusing, twisted stuff inside him would go away.
He could feel the lie settle like a weight in his chest, but he ignored it. Shoved it down.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward — just as Yachi turned around.
“Hinata?” she said, blinking at him, concern flickering behind her eyes. “Are you okay?”
He flinched. Too much. Crap. He nodded a little too quickly, throwing up his brightest, fakest smile. “Yep! Totally! Uh — hey! Can I — can I ask you something?”
His voice cracked. Absolutely perfect.
Yachi tilted her head. Her smile faltered, and she glanced at Kiyoko again, her expression unreadable. “Sure?”
His hands were fidgeting — of course they were — so he shoved them behind his back.
“Wouldyoumaybewanttogoonadatewithme?”
It came out in one long, breathless rush.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
Hinata’s thoughts were going a hundred miles per hour. Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no.
But somewhere under his pleas rang the thought: Help me forget about Kageyama.
And then something strange — something sad — crossed her face.
She didn’t look surprised. Or flattered. Or even flustered.
She looked… tired.
Her gaze flicked back over her shoulder, lingering on Kiyoko for just a moment too long. Hinata followed it. Kiyoko was laughing now, brushing something off Tanaka’s sleeve, her smile soft and casual.
It only lasted for a moment before a big smile cracked on her face. Big and fake just like Hinata’s.
Yachi’s hands curled into her sleeves.
“…Okay,” she said softly, her voice cracking a little, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
He smiled anyway. Because that’s what you do when you’re trying to outrun the things inside you.
And Yachi smiled too. Because sometimes, pretending is easier than admitting your heart is already somewhere else.
Hinata’s hand brushed Yachi’s.
He startled a little — like he hadn’t meant to, like maybe it had just happened because their arms were swinging too close. But then, after a beat, he let it linger. Kind of. His pinky barely touched hers, twitching with indecision.
Isn’t this what people who were dating did?
Yachi glanced down at their hands. She didn’t move away. She didn’t move closer either.
Hinata laughed, a little too loudly. “Heh. Guess we’re really dating now, huh?”
“Y-Yeah,” Yachi said quickly, eyes flicking to the sidewalk. “Totally.”
The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable.
They kept walking. Step, step, step. Sneakers on pavement. Cherry blossoms overhead. Should’ve been a scene out of a shojo manga. Felt more like background noise to a bad karaoke cover of a love song neither of them knew the words to.
Hinata tried to fill the air.
“So, uh, your project for art class — that flower thing with the ribbon? That was cool!”
“Oh, thanks,” Yachi said, voice soft. “It… wasn’t really anything special.”
“It was!” he said too fast. Too loud. “Like — seriously. You're really good at drawing stuff! I can’t even draw a proper cat, mine looks like a potato with legs.”
That got her to laugh. Just a little. Just enough.
But it felt… small.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. And Hinata felt a weird pang in his chest. Guilt? Maybe. Maybe just… the sinking feeling of wrongness he kept trying to outrun.
Still, they kept walking.
Their hands never really held. Just hovered near enough to pretend they could.
Hinata looked up at the sky and forced a grin. “You ever think this is what being in a relationship would feel like?”
Yachi blinked. “What… do you mean?”
“I dunno,” he said with a shrug, stuffing his hands in his pockets now. “Like. It feels weird, right? Not in a bad way. Just… new.”
Yachi looked ahead. “Yeah. New.”
Neither of them said the part that echoed in both of their heads:
This doesn’t feel like love. But it's right.