“Why don’t you fucking understand! I can’t – I just can’t let myself love you. ‘cause I ruin every damn thing, every relationship. And you… you’re too important for me to hurt. Hin – Shouyou, I couldn’t hurt you even if my life depended on it.” A deep breath. His voice shakes, and then Kageyama pushes Shouyou out of their warm embrace, hands still oh so gentle even now.
“You deserve better. You deserve so, so much more than just me.”
And there it is. Kageyama is crying. Shouyou doesn’t know what to say, because this is horrible and all of his nightmares, that this stupid boy (no, young man) he’s fallen in love with cries before his eyes. That it should be ugly – Kageyama burying his face in both hands, hurt little noises coming from the back of his throat. He hasn’t cried since they were first years, the whole team quietly mourning along a dinner table with food tasting bitter in their mouths.
“Oh, shut up.” Shouyou takes a step, two, his hands finding the salt-wet skin of Kageyama’s cheeks. And when Shouyou kisses him, soft and tiny and so utterly different from all the wild energy he usually is, Kageyama fucking sobs.
“You – you – Hin… Shouyou. Shouyou.”
“We’ll be okay,” is what Shouyou whispers against Tobio’s trembling lips, kissing him again and again until his own warmth vibrates in Tobio’s chest, blood rushing skin on skin, fingers lacing up into a net of forever, always, yes. Yes to him, goddamn yes. “We’ll be good. You’re all I got and all I want. Now really, learn to shut up and kiss me.”
And Tobio laughs, breath hitching, and carefully cups Shouyou’s head before kissing him once more.
When Hinata kisses his cheek at the end of their third year, at the end of their volleyball and the Nationals, his cheek that’s salty from tears of happiness and excitement and bittersweet sweat, Tobio remembers that old song his parents always dance to on their anniversary.
For I can’t help falling in love with you. Tobio smiles when he lifts Hinata up, letting him cry into his shoulder and burying a hand in the warm, soft hair of his teammate. Yes, he can’t help it. And maybe it’s always been like this, Tobio thinks when he lifts Hinata’s chin and steals his breath with a shy touch of his own lips and fingers dancing along Hinata’s neck.
Maybe it had always been them, forever, even after goodbyes and third years and victories. Hinata would stay, and Tobio couldn’t help loving that little bundle of sunshine, loving him with everything his heart could offer to a miracle like… Shouyou.
in case you’re wondering if Hinata grew any higher by his third year: he didn’t.
the I-decided-to-change-my-life-by-changing-my-hairstyle duo
^ Shouyou was too stubborn to listen to his mom saying it’s still cold in April. Kageyama pays the price.
Excuses for date: “I need a new volleyball.” “Help me choose new knee pads?” “My sneakers are really worn.” “I won the last race so you need to buy me ice cream.”
(They’re boyfriends, they just don’t know it yet.)
Kageyama isn’t good with words. He’s not like those girls who send him love letters full of metaphors and pretty poems about his eyes. He’s not romantic or creative.
But when it’s about Hinata, Kageyama finds himself thinking that he kinda likes how that morning light catches in his hair. That he likes how sunshine radiates from Hinata’s eyes, liquid gold dancing in the air like a fire’s sparks when Kageyama catches his glance.
He isn’t good with words, but it doesn’t matter when Hinata smiles at him like the sun itself, takes Kageyama’s hand into his own and kisses his cheek. His own personal sunrise.
Moami 