Kageyama is still unsure whether things wouldn’t have cannonballed into hell and beyond if he’d decided to not attend the usual team sleepover at Tanaka’s house for once.
In the end, he still goes, and that’s how everything turns from perfectly normal to absolutely and definitely not okay.
Because Hinata greets him with the brightest smile and an enthusiastic wave of his small hand, eyes glowing with the colours of Kageyama’s favourite sunrise – which isn’t out of the ordinary, but something else catches Kageyama’s attention. He freezes, and stares.
Hinata is wearing a skirt.
It’s a pretty one, black with red and white flowers, and those little curves at the lower rim that Kageyama’s short-circuiting brain can’t remember the name for. He feels Suga slam his elbow into his ribs, painfully hard, and the air knocks out of his lungs. “Don’t you dare say something mean,” Suga whispers. Kageyama doesn’t understand. How could he be mean when Hinata looks so – so –
“Shit, you’re really pretty.”
Hinata stares back at him. Suga makes a choked noise in the back of his throat. Asahi squeaks, Noya and Tanaka blink in absolute paralysed confusion, and Kageyama wishes himself to someplace very cold and very, very lonely.
“Thanks,” Hinata says. Kageyama hates how his voice is so cute when he’s nervous, how a dark blush crawls onto his cheeks and his soft neck. He wants to kiss him.
“You should wear them more often,” Kageyama hears himself say. Oh God, he thinks right after, shit. Fuck. Holy shit, no. Why is he so dumb.
“Okay.” And Hinata smiles, pulls him onto the couch, and loudly demands that he’s getting the first pick on a movie for the night.
In the end, Hinata holds his hand while they all stare at the tv screen, and his naked foot may or may not have touched Kageyama’s socked toes here and there. Maybe he imagined it. But he sure didn’t imagine the way Hinata leaned against him, and quietly mumbled: “I’m glad you like it. I’ll wear them more often for you.”
And maybe, hell isn’t too bad, Kageyama thinks. If hell is Hinata curling on his lap while falling asleep and asking his opinion while buying a soft pink skirt the next day, then Kageyama would give up any heaven for another minute with that bundle of sunshine and joy.
Kuroo finds him on the balcony. He stares at the stars, fingertips tiny and ice-cold, and he’s so beautiful even when he hurts so badly. Kuroo doesn’t move. He drinks Kenma in, the softness of his tears, the warm sound that his mouth makes when it opens into a symphony of syllables that turn into Kuroo’s name.
“Tetsurou.”
And Kuroo’s body says yes. He walks over, sits, melts into Kenma through a trembling embrace that echoes into the broken core of his bones. Kenma’s lips are incandescence, and they’re worth all the prayers that Kuroo’s never dared to speak, all the holy adoration he wants to pour over Kenma’s glowing soul like gold, gold, gold.
“Can you stay tonight?”
His hands are tiny. Kuroo’s lips fit into the valleys of their ivory knuckles like someone carved him to be Kenma’s, and his alone.
“Yes. And the night after, and the night after.”
Kenma curls into the warmth of his arms – and stills, heart beating, and his eyes alight.
“Could you come over this afternoon? We need to talk.”
And just like that, Daichi had turned Suga’s bright school morning into an anxious hell of ‘oh god he found out that I’ve loved him ever since he walked into my life like all I never knew I needed’. Suga spent the day by not eating anything, thinking about everything he’d said to Daichin within the last few weeks and playing so horribly in practice that coach Ukai put him on the bench.
But there was no way around it, and so Suga went over to Daichi’s place right after school, his chest so tight and dark that it hurt deep into his heart. Daichi’s mother let him in with a soft smile that looked like she knew too much about something, and Suga hurried up the stairs, taking a last deep breath before opening the door.
I’m hurting, baby, I’m broken down I need your loving, loving, I need it now
Suga hadn’t know that Daichi could play guitar, and he had much less known about the fact that his crush had a rich, warm voice that sounded so goddamn perfect in English that Suga couldn’t do anything but lean back against the door -and stare.
When I’m without you, I’m something weak You got me begging, begging, I’m on my knees
He knew that song. Oh God, that was – Sugar. It was called Sugar, and his cheeks were heating up, bursting into fire, his knees giving in so he sunk down against the door. Suga swallowed and dropped his bag so he could bring both hands to cover his mouth, and then he stared some more at Daichi’s long fingers thrumming the guitar, his soft voice singing its way right into Suga’s heart, where the rest of his stupid everything already loved Daichi more than he could say.
Your sugar Yes, please Won’t you come and put it down on me I’m right here, ‘cause I need little love and little sympathy
When Daichi hummed the last note and looked up at Suga, the soft smile on his lips immediately faded. “Oh God, was I that bad? I’m – I’m sorry – “ “You are an idiot,” Suga said, grinning like an idiot, and didn’t bother to wipe the tears off his cheeks when he stumbled over to Daichi and caught his lips in a kiss. “You could’ve – could’ve said somethin’, God, I l-love you.”
Daichi’s eyes glowed when he pulled Suga closer, and kissed him again. “I’m sorry, sugar. I guess I didn’t know how to tell you other than – well, this. And I love you, too.”
The guitar made a sad, dissonant squeak when it was kicked off the bed, and Suga allowed Daichi to find out just how sweet his lips were, over and over again.
This drabble is sooooo sweet !!!! >A<
(had to use a ref for Daichi’s pose with the guitar x_x)
OH MY GOD!! This is such beautiful art! Suga’s socks make me lose my mind, they’re so cute, and his tiny blush too, ahhh ❤ Thank you so, so much for this, it’s absolutely perfect.
1. lithesome or lithe, especially of body; supple; flexible.
2. agile, nimble, or active; moving with ease; limber.
3. elegant and thin.
Etymology: variant of lithesome, Middle English lith(e), Old English līthe; cognate with Old Saxon līthi, German lind, “mild", from Latin lentus, “slow”.
Moami 