Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The gym holds its breath. The ball slams on the court at the end of the third set after an impressive rally with semi-finalist Itachiyama. Hinata is splayed out on the floor, muscles aching, a pool of sweat beneath him. He can only hear the sound of his own staggered breaths as he glances across the floor to find icy blue eyes staring back at him.

Kageyama is exhausted, hands on shaky knees, his body trembling with each breath. His hair is disheveled, his gaze piercing. He looks too big for the court, like he’s outgrown it.

A silent conversation passes, Kageyama and Hinata’s eyes saying what neither has been able to in three years of confessions, arguments, and apologies: It has always been you, and will always be us in our pursuit of the top. But, I’m going on without you.

The crowd erupts but neither Kageyama nor Hinata can hear it. The scoreboard glows from their peripheral, red and bright and bleeding. A faint blow of a whistle signals the end of their high school volleyball careers. But with all the passionate, tearful points to games they’ve played, they never could have predicted that the end of a match as important as this would be so…anticlimactic.

Itachiyama 31-29 Karasuno

Match End.

*-*-*-*-*

Kageyama used to think that losing a match meant losing a piece of himself. In recent years, losing has instead left him unsatiated and unfulfilled. He’s not sure which is worse.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to lose?”

“How would I know? Is there a reason you want to eat when you’re hungry?”

Kageyama has experienced loss on and off the court on grand and granular scales, but it was rarely a matter of life and death. Loss felt like starving while blood poured out from open wounds, but he always managed to stitch himself up and seek something worth devouring.

Back at the Jaybird Inn, Kageyama sits across from Hinata, as Yachi, Ukai, and Takeda serve dinner. There is little chatter among the Karasuno first and second years outside of the clinks of silverware to bowls, the sniffles of teary-eyed juniors and an oddly emotional Tsukishima.

“I thought I had that last –”

“I know,” Yamaguchi interjects.

“Three years and we couldn’t make it to a single spring tournament finals.”

“I know.”

Tsukki takes off his glasses to wipe his wet eyes before putting them back on his face–the most emotion he’s ever seen the middle blocker express in his three years of Karasuno volleyball. Frustration, probably - from never making, and winning, a national championship with Karasuno.

“I just don’t know what more we could have–” Tsukishima stops mid-sentence as Yamaguchi’s hand moves to his shoulder.

“What more could you have done? Go back in time and add a few more two-a-days? Watch the Itachiyama game tape a third time? Stretched my limbs to have me grow another three centimeters to stand tall with you?”

Tsukishima brings a hand to cover the emotion on his face and presses his temple to Yamaguchi’s shoulder. There’s no quick retort, no eye roll. He takes a dinner roll and forces himself to take a bite.

Food has always provided comfort to Karasuno in the toughest of losses. Players eat in an effort to repair their bodies while leaders provide words to repair broken spirits. The third years know this most of all.

Kageyama has never been good with words but he understands a bit of the emotions swirling around the dinner table right now. For a long time, winning was the only thing he ever knew. Right now, he thinks about offering some words of encouragement, but he knows Takeda will chime in for him.

“There’s nothing more we could have done, but also nothing more I could have asked from any of you,” Takeda says, watery eyes full of admiration.

“We have grown exponentially in the last three years and created a powerhouse team, not only in name but in practice,” Takeda continues. “We gave it our all this weekend, as we usually do. And, this time even more than last, we were prepared up until the end. For that, and for so much more, I am so incredibly proud of this group.”

Takeda’s greatest strength is his ability to uplift and comfort his players with the words they need to hear the most. He’s used to it now. The loss. The comfort. The inspirational dialogue that’s supposed to help those with more years left of high school volleyball. Maybe they’ll go on to win nationals next year. Maybe, they won’t. But, today is not a day for grieving or sadness. Today, Kageyama is hungry.

He curls his lips into a smile as he stares into his plate - the perfect combination of high protein and carbs. He takes a bite, trying to remember the last time he ate something without caring about amino acids and macronutrients. His mouth waters, craving vanilla ice cream. When was the last time he had vanilla ice cream?

He can’t help but reflect on what it’s taken to get to where they are now, memories of a first year Ukai, of Daichi and Suga, Ennoshita and Nishinoya, at the forefront of his memory. He has given nothing short of everything to take this team as far as he could. And what else can he do but be thankful for that?

“Victory slipped through our hands today, but it was in our grasp. Remember that feeling” he says. He takes a bite of food, his juniors looking at him with a mix of confusion and pride. They have come so far in just a few months. “I’m really looking forward to it,” he adds. He thinks he’ll treat his juniors to ice cream, the team the way Sawamura treated him to meat buns.

Yamaguchi is beaming. “Is that encouragement for the young first years I hear, Kageyama? Did my weekly captain positivity meetings actually pay off?!”

“Oh, Yes, the King learned to say nice things from the positivity meetings, and not from trying to cheer up the elementary schooler masquerading as a third year.” Tsukki’s tears have dried and he’s back to his sarcastic self. The middle blocker reminds everyone that the elementary schooler is in fact, Hinata Shoyo, who has been the shortest on the team since Nishinoya graduated (by 7.4 centimeters, but who’s counting? Probably Hinata).

“Perhaps I have needed the occasional encouragement…” Hinata closes his eyes and strokes his chin as if admitting something after pondering for a moment . “but Kageyama is usually giving it with a scary face so I feel like it doesn’t count. Encouragement is supposed to be delivered with a smile, like Yamaguchi does it.”

“You told me to stop smiling because it was too creepy…” Kageyama grunts.

“It IS too creepy!” the table shouts in unison.

Kageyama wasn’t the motivating kind. He was cold, relentless, unforgiving, honest. It was in stark contrast to the other third years.

Yamaguchi shared his fears and led by example. Tsukishima provided level-headedness and bluntness to his teachings. Yachi was a radiant supporter and incredibly organized. But Kageyama, although cold at first, never exaggerated for the sake of someone’s benefit and never lied to make someone feel better. He would lie for the sake of humbling someone, hell would freeze over before he told Hinata he had a nice serve, but most of the time you could believe him because when he said something, it was the truth.

He worked in tandem with Hinata, who more or less served an opposite role. Hinata radiated endless kindness, praising his seniors and juniors when they needed it to lift their spirits–spouting not necessarily falsehoods, but not-yet-truths.

When Yamaguchi became a starting middle blocker, Hinata was the first to calm down his nerves, chanting that he would be the embodiment of the serve and block. It didn’t matter that it was against the rules to block from the back row, Yamaguchi knew what his teammate meant–that he had skills that gave him a place on the court. Hinata praised him and smiled, even when it meant he had to learn to play outside hitter.

When Ennoshita was nervous about becoming a starter, Hinata made sure he knew how cool his senpai looked on the court. “Watch out, Nishinoya! Ennoshita might be as good as you on defense!” Hinata only was able to say it once though, before Nishinoya tackled him to the ground.

Hinata was always the one to make sure the team never sat too long with the feeling of inadequacy. He was skilled as a player in a lot of ways now, but his greatest strength has always been seeing something in people–in himself too–that no one else can. He’s bold and aspirational, confident without being arrogant, and his energy is contagious. He lifts people up. And In the handful of instances where Hinata was the one in need of lifted spirits, it was Kageyama that used every ounce of his emotional intelligence to show Hinata a fraction of the warmth he radiated for everyone else.

*-*-*-*-*

Two Years Ago

In his first spring tournament, Karasuno’s quarterfinal loss was devastating– Hinata had worked himself to the point of fever, and nearly passed out trying to prove himself a contender for the Little Giant title.

Kageyama kept his composure on the court, even when Hinata was inconsolable, tears muffling his pleas to Takeda. How ironic it was that the most tears shed were by the only teammate not on the floor when the last point of the match was scored. Whether it could be blamed on Hinata’s fever or Tsukishima’s leg cramp, for one reason or another, or no reason at all, Karasuno lost. And the world still turned. Peering through a crack in the door back at the inn, Kageyama watched quietly as Hinata ate in silence, eyes tearful and misty. He throws a glance over his shoulder, ensuring Ukai and Daichi were safely out of sight before putting on a hospital mask and sliding open the door to step inside.

Hinata looks up in surprise before frantically putting his own mask back over his face.

“Kageyama - you can’t come in here. I–I have a fever, you’ll get sick.”

“I don’t care.”

Kageyama moves across the room and drops his backpack to the floor before crouching to his knees and wrapping his arms around Hinata.

“Why…are you hugging me?” Hinata asks, softly.

“You need it.”

Hinata doesn’t protest.

When it came to Karasuno’s #10, Kageyama’s judgment was a bit…skewed. Hinata’s battery seemed endless, always giving more than anyone thought possible, and always rising beyond Kageyama’s expectations of him. It seemed that Hinata was capable of doing anything asked of him.

Run faster. Jump higher. Attack. Attack again. Attack again. He did it all. Although, maybe it was naive of Kageyama to expect him to do it all in the same weekend.

The two stay in a silent embrace until Kageyama pulls away, arms moving to grip the sides of Hinata’s arms, like he is worried he might float away.

“I wanted to apologize to you.”

Hinata looks perplexed, head cocked to the side with dry eyes and concern.

“Apologize? For what?” Hinata’s voice was dejected, and Kageyama knows he must be blaming himself.

He could have said a number of things. I let you run your body into the ground. I let you play too long. Kageyama cradles Hinata’s face in his hands. He seemed so small like this. He settled on apologizing “for not knowing your limits.”

“Oh. That’s not your fault. I didn’t know my limits either, Kageyama.”

That much was true, but it didn’t make Kageyama’s chest feel any lighter while his brain worked overtime.

I should have known your limits, he thinks.

I know everyone else's. I used you relentlessly. And what’s worse is, I’d do it again.

He’s selfish, it seems. But it was still their best chance at winning. He doesn’t know what more he would change except for maybe bullying Hinata to properly rest between games and eat something more than a granola bar.

It won’t happen in the future,” he promises.

Kageyama released Hinata, moving himself into a seated position before pulling his backpack into his lap and unzipping the largest pocket.

“It’s o–”

“And if you tell anyone I apologized to you, I will deny it, you scrub,” he spits, hands shuffling through his bag’s papers and books.

“Your apology sucks,” Hinata playfully groans.

“Shut up. You suck.”

Kageyama moves his bag to the side after pulling out a black leatherbound book. His hands flip through the pages without giving it a second thought. He didn’t want to talk himself out of this act of compassion. He tries not to think about the embarrassment of reading the text aloud.

“Raw athleticism, unnerving tenacity to win, but no proper training,” he reads. Kageyama looks away as a blush makes home to his face. He brings his hands to shield over more words from the entry from May 14, 2011, exactly 1 year, 7 months, and 26 days ago.

“I wrote this about you ...in my volleyball journal…” he mutters.

“In middle school? You wrote about me?”

“I did,” he admits. “I still do.”

Hinata’s eyebrows are scrunched as Kageyama tries to decipher his expression

“I figured my game didn’t matter all that much to you. Except for when you told me that I hadn’t done anything in the last three years…which is rude by the way! I can’t believe you yelled that in front of everyone on the court…”

Kageyama feels…confused. He uncovers the entry and traces the ink with his index finder, treating the words from his past like scripture.

“I said ‘what have you been doing the last three years,” he clarifies.

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Kageyama is rarely understood, but he desperately wants Hinata to see himself the way others do.

“I meant like, where had you been the last three years,” he tries to explain.

“I was… at my middle school? In Miyagi? Are you trying to make my brain hurt while I have a fever? This is cruel.”

Kageyama doesn’t want to be cruel, so he tries again using his own words, those from his present, to explain.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He remembers the first look Hinata gave his teammate when their team of 6 was backed against a wall, only a few points away from defeat and his teammates have said they won’t win. A 163 cm short, athletic, joyous, crazed captain cocks his head to the side at his first high school tournament and says “but we haven’t lost yet”.

Why the hell didn’t he have a proper coach? A real team? A setter?

“I wrote, or at least I meant,” he clarifies, “that I wished we had met earlier. You had everything I wanted in a volleyball partner and it had taken me so long to find someone like you. You.. went for every ball, were thankful for every set. You never gave up or complained, and you had resolve.”

Kageyama opens his eyes to meet wide brown ones. He can’t tell if Hinata’s fever is spiking again or not, but the tops of his ears turn a beautiful pink. He shifts forward onto his knees and extends the back of his hand to try to place it on Hinata’s forehead.

“I’m… okay.” Hinata squeaks, as he kindly swats Kageyama’s hand away.

Kageyama sits back on his feet, not sure where to put his hands now that they feel clammy so he brushes them onto his track pants before bringing them to Hinata's face and rattling on about the future.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m really glad we’re on the same team now, and I plan to take this team further. I plan to take you further. I’ll learn how to keep you on the court, so you should focus on getting better. Then, you can practice your jumps. You should probably also work on your receives. Your blocking could use some work too…”

“Way to kick a man while he’s down, Kageyama” Hinata gripes.

Kageyama stands up, backpack and journal in hand, towering over the spiker with a new air of confidence. He’s thankful Hinata rarely takes offense to anything he says (even in moments when he means to offend him).

“Don’t be too sad for much longer. There’s more volleyball left to play. And we’ll need to practice a lot if we want to play Hoshiumi again.”

Hinata smirks under his mask, eyes less puffy as he glances, eyebrow raised to Kageyama. “Raw athleticism, you say?”

“I also said no proper training.”

“I bet you also said incredibly handsome.”

“I’m leaving.”

As he turned to leave, his mask hid the smile to himself at the realization that his words were powerful enough to bring light back to the eyes of the boy who manifested the sun. Maybe he was a King. A God? His chest fluttered. He vowed to spend the next two years ensuring Hinata’s light was never too dim for too long.

Kageyama returned his backpack to his room and abandoned his mask before joining his teammates back at the dinner table. Despite having scarfed down a plate of food before visiting Hinata, his stomach growls and he grabs a plate for seconds.

*-*-*-*-*

Karasuno’s loss to Kamomedai in the quarterfinals was the only time Kageyama ate his seconds alone, Hinata isolating in the other room.

After their loss to Inarizaki last year, Hinata and him sat side by side at the dinner table, eating their second helpings in sync.

This year, they ate their seconds along with the rest of the team, then their third helpings. Kageyama treated the team to ice cream before the night was over, despite Tsukishima’s complaint that it was too cold. They ate it anyway, and then loaded up the bus.

The hum of the air conditioner helped to distract from the soft snores across the aisle on the long ride home. Streetlights illuminated the window seats long after the sun had set, and snow dusted the streets in the late hours of a cold January night. Unable to sleep, Kageyama pulled out his phone and caught up on his unread text messages.

Sugawara: Third in the nation is an incredible accomplishment, but I’m sure it stings either way. Great game, Tobio - me and Daichi are very proud senpais!

Reply: Thanks, Sugawara-san.

Miwa: What time are you getting back to Miyagi? Back door is unlocked.

Reply: Late. I have my key so you can lock up.

Tanaka: City boys were looking like real shitty boys with you and Shoyo running laps around them in that second set. Tough match.

Reply: Thanks, Tanaka-san.

Kageyama returned his cell to his jacket pocket before glancing at Hinata beside him in a tee-shirt and black track pants, his head looking out the window across the aisle, arms folded and head tucked against the headrest.

Hinata wasn’t the same hyperactive kid that walked through those doors three years ago, and he certainly wasn’t someone who collapsed from fever or defeat anymore. Over time, he refined his skills and had changes in his physical features. Third year Hinata’s muscles were more defined, his hair longer and less crazed, his skin slightly more tanned. He always looked like spent too much time outside, appearing sun-kissed even in the middle of winter.

His chest rose and fell at a tempo too quick to be asleep, too slow to be anxious. Kageyama stared for some time, wondering if he could peer into what highlights or mistakes were replaying in Hinata’s head. His gaze must have lingered too long, Hinata having turned his head in response to a greeting never spoken aloud.

He looked upon the face of both a boy and a man, someone both holding onto memories of an old journey ended, and eager to set off on an unmapped one ahead.

“You didn’t suck today.”

Hinata chuckles softly. He speaks in a whisper, probably quieter than necessary for those still asleep. “Thanks, Bakageyama, neither did you.”

Kageyama drops his voice volume to a whisper, too. He feels an achy intimacy in his voice as he responds. “But…I’ve never sucked at volleyball.”

Hinata smirks. “Yeah, but you’ve sucked at a lot of other things.” Kageyama doesn't ask him to elaborate.

Shoyo shifts to curl up into place, placing his head in Tobio’s shoulder and lacing the setter’s fingers through his own. Kageyama squeezes Hinata’s hand playfully.

“I know.”

Kageyama was almost as bad with his feelings as he was with academics. For his entire first year, there wasn’t room for anything in his brain besides volleyball. To be honest, there’s still not room for much else. “You’re such an airhead,” Hinata used to say.

It has always been you, he thinks. Truly, there has never been anyone else.

Just as Hinata learned to receive and block and serve, Kageyama learned to identify what it was he was feeling, how to express himself, how to love Hinata Shoyo, and how to let him go. Even though they only dated officially for a few months in the months between their second and third year, their connection was unmatched.

It will always be us in our pursuit to the top.

But loving Hinata was dangerous and all-consuming. There was an unspoken agreement to not talk about where they stood in terms of their relationship, and neither talked about their post-college plans. For all intents and purposes, it didn’t matter. Because even though their love for one another was great, their love for volleyball was greater.

Kageyama’s jacket pocket is illuminated, having received a text. He pulls it out, expecting congratulations or condolences.

Kotaro Hitaki (Japan YNT): Check your email when you get home.

Kageyama pockets his phone without responding, in an effort to stay in the moment. He glances to the window looking at the reflection of him and Hinata, matching third place medals poking out of the bags at their feet. He holds Hinata close, both the boy and the man, his greatest teammate, greatest rival, greatest lover, and greatest obstacle on the way to achieving his olympic volleyball dream.

But, I’m going on without you.

Chapter Text

The bus arrived back at Karasuno around 1AM. Weather reports showed a 99% chance of snow. None had fallen yet, but there would be several centimeters soon. The dry chill in the air was enough to assure the local prefectures closed schools– a decision that was met with relief from the arriving players. To avoid a 30 minute bike ride home in the cold, Hinata stayed at Kageyama’s.

Kageyama dragged his feet up the steps, Hinata in tow, before dropping his volleyball bag inside his bedroom door and collapsing face first into the bed.

He was tired from playing every minute of every game this tournament, from the months pushing his body and mind to the limit in preparation for this weekend, from all the conversations with college coaches and V-league scouts. He was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Hinata is the only person who he allowed to see him like this.

“Kageyama, at least shower before you go to sleep.”

“Can’t move. Too tired.”

“I’m not going to share a bed with you if you don’t shower.”

“Then sleep on the floor,” he groaned.

Hinata grabs hold of Kageyama’s jacket and yanks him off the bed by force.

“Baka-geyama! Get your sweaty ass up, and go clean yourself.”

“Fine.”

Kageyama sleepily puts one foot in front of the other and walks down the hall to the bathroom. He strips and turns the water on, ensuring it’s hot enough to relieve some of the soreness from his muscles. He steps in and puts his back to the stream, opening up his shoulder blades as he lathers his hands with soap and runs his fingers down his neck, pressing firmly into his pressure points.

Each inhale brings warm air into his chest and clears his lungs as the room slowly fills up with steam. He raised his arm above his head and folded it back to stretch his right tricep, leaning into the stretch and pressing the opposite of his body against the cold tile. He’s sore, to say the least, which is no surprise given his impressive weekend.

The King, vice-captain and starting setter to the third team in the nation, had 14 service aces and 30 points over 5 games. The number of sets he made was difficult to count. The number of minutes sat was easy–zero.

Kageyama wonders how his body would feel if Karasuno had actually made it to the finals. He’s sure he would have found the energy to play another three, five sets if necessary. Hinata and him are always able to pull energy out of nothing in part due to their love for the game, in part due to their desire to fight alongside each other.

Scalding hot showers after big performances were one of Kageyama’s favorite traditions, but they used to be a once-in-a-while event. He used to follow tournaments with ice-cold showers, as they were good for muscle fatigue and would lead to faster recovery. They were uncomfortable, forcibly tensing his body for the first several minutes before he managed to adjust to the chill. But even though Kageyama hated them, he hated losing more. He took an ice-cold shower after every tournament loss in middle school, every fumbled practice match in his first year, and every major tournament knockout until the beginning of his second year.

*-*-*-*-*

Second Year - August

Kageyama exhaled out of his mouth as the stream of water fell over the front of his face and wiped his hair away. Shiratorizawa must have still been upset about their loss last year, since they assigned Karasuno the smallest locker room available to teams at the Miyagi prefectures. Kageyama decided to shower first, half in effort to secure a spot in the shower, but half to avoid the looks on the faces of his disappointed seniors. Karasuno had just lost the inter-high finals in the worst way possible - a blocked spike.

He wouldn’t have been so upset if it was his own spike that had been blocked, but it was Tanaka’s, the third year ace with astounding mental fortitude who didn’t crack under pressure. Kageyama wouldn’t have even had to rely on his ace if he had been able to read Date Tech’s blockers in the third set, but he couldn’t. Date Tech didn’t feel like an iron wall. They felt like a titanium fortress.

Nishinoya had been working overtime on his block-receives, saving 12 balls from being blocked in the third set alone. He created 12 extra chances for Karasuno to score, gave 12 extra balls that Kageyama could set, and they still lost. They got used to Hinata’s minus tempo attacks, and their new stack-blocking was hypnotizing. He tried to set higher and faster, then slower and with perfect precision. Nothing worked. They read him like a book.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, in part due to the cold water. He felt like an idiot.

Kageyama lays his forehead against the tile and guides the water over his back as the rest of the team starts to arrive.

“AH! COLD!” Hinata jolts.

Kageyama looks up just as Hinata shivers, towel still wrapped around his waist.

“Did you take all the hot water?!” Hinata hadn’t turned on his shower yet but some of Kageyama’s water splashed in his direction.

“Oh, sorry. No, I don’t think so.”

Hinata turns his shower on and and raises an eyebrow in Kageyama’s direction before hanging his towel and stepping into the stream and wetting his hair. Kageyama turns around underneath his shower-head, back now to the water, and folds his arms.

The hairs on his arms start to stand, goosebumps forming down his arms, chest, and back.

“Is that shower broken or something?”

Kageyama glances up to see Hinata, hair wet and cheeks red, steam hovering around the floor.

“No…”

He hoped his body would start to numb soon. The first few minutes were the worst - ice raining painfully against his skin, his lips losing sensation. He imagines they are starting to turn blue.

“I can’t believe you like the cold water! Hot showers always feel better for me. My muscles get pretty achy and it’s the only thing that helps. But the baths are always hot, do you really prefer the cold??

“No one likes cold showers, dumbass.”

Hinata was in decent spirits despite the loss to Date Tech. While they shared the desire to win and grow above all else, this was the first time their post-game reactions were so radically different. Hinata had evolved faster than anyone Kageyama had seen - not only in terms of volleyball skills, but in terms of mentality, leadership, and self-reflection. He was now more resilient, seemingly less devastated by loss, more hungry to improve, and each day more thankful than the next to spike any ball tossed his way.

And when Kageyama started to fall apart at the seams, it took just a single phrase, a roundhouse kick, a boisterous laugh to make Kageyama feel whole again. It was that same fiery personality that attracted other classmates to Hinata at the beginning of their second year. Sure, being the lead scorer on an athletic team that went to nationals helped his social standings, but it was instances just like that - of Hinata being unrelentingly kind, being the one to say exactly the right thing at the right time, that captivated the attention of everyone around him.

When Hinata started dating a girl from class 2, Kageyama was surprised. Not because it was a girl, or that Hinata wasn’t likable, but because Kageyama didn’t seem the appeal in dating at all. What’s so special about it? It’s some arbitrary claim to someone and their arbitrary claim to you. It doesn’t really mean anything.

Their relationship didn’t last long. She wanted more of Hinata’s time than he could give, and he wanted to remain as dedicated, even more, to the game. ‘My girlfriend and I broke up’ Hinata had said in passing. Kageyama didn’t really care. Even when she was your girlfriend, you were still my spiker–he’d say to himself.

Kageyama took a soap bar in his hand, looking down at it in his palm. Should he take a cold shower every day? Had nothing really changed in the last year, even with their going to Nationals? He lathered soap across his body, eyes closed in an effort to disassociate. His fingers felt numb. Stupid muscles. Stupid Date Tech. Stupid water.

Slowly, release came. His jaw unclenched and though he could breathe again, it was too comforting too soon.

He opened his eyes and turned to discover the temperature handle covered in suds positioned pointing towards the left. Hinata was still shampooing his hair, back and naked ass to Kageyama, ensuring plausible deniability until he spoke.

“Stop punishing yourself.”

Love was still foreign and arbitrary to him, but in moments like these, Kageyama understood just a little bit how someone, not necessarily him but someone, could want to have claim to Hinata in a way that was more than a friend.

He angles his chest towards the shower stream, letting steam work its way into his nostrils, and forgiveness, compassion, and admiration warm his chest.

“Okay.”

*-*-*-*-*

The bathroom door opens abruptly.

“Kageyama!” Hinata speaks as loudly as was comfortable with Miwa asleep down the hall. Hurry up, you’re gonna take all the hot water!”

“You’re the one who told me to get in the shower, now you want me to hurry up and get out?”

“Either that, or move over!”

Kageyama’s eyes widened, knowing that this moment would be the first time he would follow his shampoo directions to the letter–wash, rinse, repeat. He loaded up his hand with hair product and furiously lathered, suds coating his hair and down the back of his neck as Hinata draws back the curtain and steps inside.

“Oh, you are still cleaning yourself…” Hinata mutters.

“Yes, the directions say you have to repeat,” he scoffs.

“When have you ever washed your hair more than once.”

“It’s kind of weird that you don’t.”

“Whatever, can you pass me the face wash?”

Kageyama rinses the suds from his hands before passing back the bottle and does his best not to stare. He’d seen Hinata naked before–there wasn’t much left to the imagination after years of locker rooms and stall showers, but they didn’t shower together like this. In an effort to limit his flustered appearance, Kageyama faces the tile as he rinses his hair, eyes closed as he takes the time to gather his thoughts. Freckles and tan lines cloud his imagination, and Hinata’s gaze is so intense, Kageyama can feel Hinata staring at him with a provocative intensity, despite not being able to see him..

He was making a move, right? He must want to–no, nevermind Hinata is just that dumb. Plus, even if he did want to do anything sexual, Hinata couldn’t just get naked in front of Kageyama and expect him to pounce. He isn’t that easy. Sure, Hinata was still flirty on occasion and the two of them had hooked up with other people in the last year, but the last time they even kissed had been accidental and more than 8 months ago. And in the short time they were together, the two had never done anything worth writing home about. Sure, there was cuddling and hand-holding and a few clumsy kissing sessions, but there hadn’t been any lines crossed outside of that. And yeah, Kageyama thought about it (a lot) but nothing ever had indicated that Hinata even wanted to–

“Want to fool around?”

Kageyama’s eyes shoot open. He responds by placing one soapy hand on the small of Hinata’s back and hungrily pulling him in and smashing their lips together. “Yeah” he whispers. He can feel Hinata’s smirk beneath his own.

Warm water rains down Kageyama’s back as he gives into desire. Hinata’s breath feels hot, their bodies pressed against one another–scalding. Hinata takes them both in one hand, stroking eagerly as Kageyama works to smother the sounds they make together.

It is the hottest shower he has ever taken.

—

Kageyama changes into a t-shirt and shorts retreats to his bedroom as Hinata stays behind to actually shower for a few minutes.

He opens his phone to a few more congratulatory texts and then skims his unread emails - graduation details, some follow ups from college scouts, and a new one sent this afternoon from Banjo Suzaku, the head coach of the Adlers.

Clicking into the message, he sees that the Adlers are actively looking for young, promising players to fill their roster for the upcoming season and would be holding invite-only tryouts two months from now. The message was sent to him and a few others, most of which he recognized from team Japan camps.

Kageyama was nearly asleep, skimming tryout details on his phone when Hinata returned from the shower. He decides to hold off on reading the email in full until he has more functioning brain cells, so he marks the it as unread and sets his phone on his nightstand. It's dark now, only the window illuminating Hinata’s silhouette in his baggy black t-shirt, Kageyama’s memory painting details like crazed, damp hair and golden eyes.

Kageyama shifts the covers over and invites Hinata to join him, but Hinata dries off his hair and hangs the towel on the back of the door first. He moves hurriedly before stopping at the foot of the bed, where he leans his weight on the mattress, runs his thumb over Kageyama’s cheek, opens his hand to cup the side of Kageyama’s face, leans in, and kisses him.

Thoughts of tryouts and their undetermined futures fade as Kageyama inhales scents of Hinata’s breath, his skin, his shampoo. His heart is a flame, his cheek tingles under Hinata’s palm. Hinata had kissed him in the shower moments before, but that one was far too rushed and less intimate. This kiss wasn’t frantic or hungry. This one was gentle and longing, the kind reserved only for old lovers reuniting or soulmates being torn apart. Seeds scatter throughout his belly. Flowers bloom, bursting upwards through his lungs. He tastes fruit on his tongue.

Hinata pulls away and chastely kisses Kageyama’s forehead before offering a silent sigh and crawling into bed. Kageyama encloses him in covers and pulls him close. He holds him gently, like a bouquet, but the warmth from where his lips were fades too quickly.

“What was that for?” Kageyama asks.

“Just a goodnight kiss,” Hinata says.

As Hinata dozes off, Kageyama finds himself unable to drift off to sleep. A goodnight kiss. He was just saying goodnight. But, why did it feel like goodbye? He held the boy he loved in his arms as tight as he could without waking him, knowing that no matter how hard he held on, he’d have to let him go in the morning.

Shadows dance along the walls of the room as branches from the trees outside sway and snowflakes fall. He wonders whether the snow will stick to the ground, how long it will take to melt. He doesn’t like the cold. He doesn’t like the snow. But, he is glad Hinata is here because of it. He is glad to be snowed in with company.

For now, it is warm.