Work Text:
For Luck
“I really don’t know what you’re so worried about – if the formation doesn’t work just send it to me, stupid!”
“This isn’t an opportunity for you to demand all the tosses, dumbass!”
Shouyou sighs loudly.
He does want all the tosses – he’ll always want all of Kageyama’s tosses – but what he really meant was that if things got difficult, Kageyama will be able to rely on him. He’ll get the ball over.
There’s a clatter and murmur around them as the rest of the team finish getting changed, their underclassmen filing out of the changing room under Yamaguchi’s orders. Shouyou hovers as the room slowly empties, the burble of voices getting quieter as the team files out into the hallways of the stadium. Tsukishima shoots them a glance as he also leaves, the last one of the pack, but other than raising his eyebrow, he says nothing.
Shouyou claps his hands together loudly when they’re alone, peeking up at Kageyama’s grumpy, frowning face. He gets why Kageyama is so agitated today – more so than usual – it’s their first official game as third years, the first time that they’re really the leaders of the team. And for Kageyama in particular, that brings a whole new level of responsibility.
Yamaguchi is their captain, but he’s also their main pinch server. And so, as vice, Kageyama will serve as the on court captain. It’s been going fine during practice – Kageyama’s laser focus and calm keeps everyone else on track and, well, no-one is going to fight with the guy who sets to them that perfectly.
But even now, even after everything, Kageyama worries. Just a little bit. The crown of being the king of the court doesn’t weigh so heavily on his head anymore, but sometimes Kageyama wavers - the line between leadership and being overbearing blurring.
“You really have nothing to worry about, you know,” Shouyou says simply. “You and Coach went over the strategy like, ten times yesterday. It’s going to work. And if something happens…” he trails off and crowds into Kageyama’s space, waggling his eyebrows with a grin.
Kageyama rolls his eyes with an aggravated sigh, but Shouyou can see the tension in his shoulders leaving, so he knows that he’s won.
Bouncing on his toes, Shouyou closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Kageyama’s chest tightly, delighting in the surprised wheeze that puffs out against his hair. “Your minions will do your bidding, Sir Kageyama!” he yells, and cackles when Kageyama presses his overly large hand against his face, trying and failing to push him off. Shouyou clings tighter.
“Will you be serious?” Kageyama hisses. “You- they’re- it’s a team, idiot!”
Shouyou smiles fondly against Kageyama’s palm and wiggles until the hand drops away. “Exactly,” he chirps. “The best team, and everyone is going to follow your lead. It’s going to be fine. Then you can buy us all meat buns later, as a reward.”
Kageyama’s face twists into that overly complicated frown that he makes when secretly he’s pleased and wants to smile, but is too embarrassed to do so. Shouyou feels a rush of fondness swoop through him – he’s such a dork.
But he’s a cool dork, and Shouyou sort of wants to tell him this in a burst of emotion, but the words get stuck.
“I want two by the way,” Shouyou says instead.
“Why do you get two?”
“Because I,” Shouyou says dramatically, “am your favourite.”
Then he rocks up onto his tippy toes so that he can reach Kageyama’s face, his body moving without consent from his brain. He plants a smooch – quick and playful – on Kageyama’s cheek, only just remembering to add a loud “mwah!” to make sure Kageyama knows that he’s only teasing.
Blue eyes flash, and Shouyou doesn’t hang around long enough to see what sort of expression Kageyama is making before he springs away and sprints from the locker room to the safety of the volleyball court.
Good Morning
Being the first one to wake up during trips to Tokyo training camps is not unusual for Shouyou.
He’s so used to rising so early just to get to school on time that being the first person to stir in Karasuno’s shared room is pretty much second nature. It’s always been like this, ever since first year.
The sounds of snores and deep breathing and the occasional rustle of covers fill Shouyou’s ears as he blinks his eyes open, squinting in the early morning light. Normally, if he were at home, he’d roll out of bed immediately, eager for breakfast and to get his day started. But he isn’t at home, and there’s no point leaving the warm cocoon of his futon just yet. It’s not like there’s any food to eat or anyone to play with right now.
So instead, Shouyou takes this time to do something that he never normally does: lie around lazily as the sun rises outside, until somebody else decides to join him in the land of the living.
Normally, that person is Kageyama.
Shouyou rolls over in his bundle of blankets, gathering them up where they had been spread around during the night until he’s cosy and squints in the low lighting at the futon beside him.
Kageyama is still sleeping, predictably. He’ll wake soon; he’s normally the first one up after Shouyou. But right now he’s still deeply asleep, his breaths soft and heavy against his pillow.
Unlike Shouyou, Kageyama doesn’t seem to move at all in his sleep. Whereas Shouyou usually wakes up with his blankets in a tangle and in a completely different position than what he passed out in, Kageyama seems to lie on his side, close his eyes, and fall into a motionless coma for eight hours.
Shouyou finds it fascinating.
He shuffles closer, right to the edge of his futon, until he’s almost encroaching on Kageyama’s and stares closely at that still sleeping face.
It’s remarkable how much it’s changed.
Back in first year, only two years ago, Kageyama always seemed to be frowning. Even while asleep, his brow would be troubled and lips pursed into a petulant pout. And it might be from maturity or the rose tinted glasses that are getting a little too permanent these days, but Kageyama doesn’t really look like a surly, gangly teenager at all now.
He still is one, Shouyou knows this, but he can also see the lanky boy disappearing and a man stepping into his place, and it does things to his heart rate.
Shouyou mashes his cheek into his pillow with a morose sigh and lets his eyes drift over Kageyama’s sleeping face, his pulse starting to quicken right on cue.
It really isn’t fair: Kageyama’s skill in volleyball may be borne of hard work rather than simple, pure talent, but it cannot be denied that physically he hit the genetics lottery. Tall, broad, and classically handsome – too handsome, really – it’s no wonder that half of their year at school gawk at him in the hallways.
And the attention had only increased following his recent haircut. Just before the end of second year Kageyama’s fringe had gotten long enough that it was falling into his eyes in a way that made him look shadowed rather than mysterious. But then third year had begun with the majority of it chopped away - messily, clearly done by himself, but instead of looking ridiculous it had the audacity to look sort of good. Rugged.
Shouyou has never been so taken with another person’s forehead before.
He puffs out a sigh, his breath rustling the blankets.
It really isn’t fair: Kageyama should be drooling or talking in his sleep (he does that sometimes) or snoring or something embarrassing. But instead he’s just deeply asleep, relaxed and serene and handsome and it makes Shouyou stomach do somersaults against his will.
Lifting his head, Shouyou glances around the room, peering through the gloom to ensure that everyone else is still asleep. Satisfied, he lowers himself back down, wiggling the rest of the way across the gap between himself and Kageyama.
He waits, just in case Kageyama isn’t really sleeping, before inching forwards and pressing a small kiss to his sleep warm forehead.
His face flushes immediately after his lips make contact and he rolls away in a flash, his covers rustling nosily as he buries his burning face into his bed roll.
Behind him, he distantly hears a quiet sigh as Kageyama finally starts to stir.
“Good morning!” Shouyou sings into his bedding, using it to muffle the volume of his voice and he kicks out behind him without aim, striking true on what he thinks is Kageyama’s shin.
There’s an annoyed grunt and more rustling as Kageyama starts to wake properly, and Shouyou takes the opportunity to worm his way out of his futon to get a head start for a morning shower, wrestling the morning back to normality.
Out of Greed
“No, use the file like this, dumbass…”
Shouyou resists the urge to roll his eyes at the muttered instruction as Kageyama takes the nail file from him and changes its angle across Shouyou’s nails in demonstration.
It started out as a fairly innocuous question: “Hey, Kageyama, can you show me how to trim my nails better?” because Shouyou always seems to get a hangnail somewhere no matter how hard he tries, and Kageyama’s nails are – naturally – perfect.
It had only taken two minutes for Kageyama to whip out his nail care kit with a glint in his eye.
Shouyou tilts his head as he watches Kageyama file his nails, mildly surprised at how gentle his touch is. He’s normally so rough. Which Shouyou usually appreciates, honestly, because it’s nice having someone who doesn’t care that he’s smaller. Kageyama wrestles with him the same way that he would if Shouyou was eight feet tall.
It’s so peaceful, sitting on the gym floor as the rest of the team takes a break around them, having his nails taken care of under Kageyama’s meticulous eye. So much so that Shouyou starts to feel his eyes droop, even though he’s supposed to be paying attention to what Kageyama is doing.
“I want a go,” he blurts out, mostly just to try and keep himself awake. He reaches out and grabs the file from Kageyama’s slackened fingers and gently tugs his hand free – taking a brief moment to admire how nice his nails look now. Then he grasps Kageyama’s hand and holds it securely in his, wielding the nail file and ready to practice.
It’s a little pointless, because Kageyama’s nails are already immaculate, but Shouyou wants a turn anyway. It’s good for practicing, he tells himself.
Surprisingly, Kageyama doesn’t protest, or even seem to mind that much as Shouyou tilts his hand this way and that, running the file over his nails in what he hopes is the right angles.
The soothing feeling comes back, settling over Shouyou like a favourite blanket. But now he’s the one in charge, he doesn’t feel sleepy. He’s very awake now, alert, as he zones in on Kageyama’s hands in his.
They’re so much larger than his own – something Shouyou has had plenty of time to realise already, from high fives to arm wrestles. Nearly everything about Kageyama is, well, bigger, but his hands are particularly poignant. Shouyou supposes it’s because his own are fairly small and Kageyama’s are particularly… large.
They’re nice though, for shovel hands. Elegant almost. Except for when they’re curled tightly in Shouyou’s hair.
Kageyama has very little calluses, despite playing sports all day, and Shouyou knows that he moisturises them daily. They’re never nicked, or bruised, and very rarely dirty. To Kageyama, his hands are as important as his eyes.
Shouyou should be jealous. He doesn’t take care of his own nearly as well, even though he’s trying. His fingertips are a little rougher, his palm slightly tougher from hitting leather balls all day, and in comparison his nails are appalling.
He should be jealous, but he isn’t.
How can he be, when these are the hands that give him all those perfect sets? It’s hard to feel negatively towards something that gives him what he wants constantly.
“I like your hands,” Shouyou says suddenly into the quiet of the gym as he finishes with the nail file.
“What?”
Shouyou nearly drops Kageyama’s hand to the floor abruptly. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
His grip on the nail file tightens instead.
“I mean… they set to me!” Shouyou scrambles to explain, feeling a flush starting to creep up his neck.
When he peeks at Kageyama, he finds his friend is only blinking at him, looking somewhat puzzled.
“I set to everyone,” Kageyama says blandly, clearly not understanding.
I don’t care about those sets, Shouyou thinks to himself, but manages to bite his tongue just in time. He really should – every set is important, even if it’s not going to him – but he’s never going to stop wanting them. It’s greedy of him, he knows, but he doesn’t think that’s a bad thing. He thinks that it’d be weirder if he didn’t want all of Kageyama’s perfect tosses.
“But you set to me the most,” Shouyou says quietly, almost possessively, knowing that it’s true. He’s seen the stat sheets.
He drops his gaze to stare down at the hands that in the beginning had refused to set to him. Made him learn, made him demonstrate that he deserved it. Now they set to him whenever he wants – all he has to do is ask.
Emotion wells within him – he cannot name it, but it feels stronger than just simple affection – and he lifts the hand in his grasp to press a kiss to Kageyama’s palm. The skin there is warm and soft, and the muscles beneath twitch minutely at the sensation, but not enough to pull away. Shouyou tingles. He really can’t get enough of these hands.
Kageyama’s fingers do flex then, just once, but the movement is enough to shake Shouyou out of his reverie of gratitude and catapult him back into the present.
He swallows roughly, eyes flitting between Kageyama’s hand to his face – not angry… good, perhaps still a little confused. Dropping the nail file to the ground, Shouyou lets go of Kageyama’s hand abruptly, feeling his face burn as he scrambles to get to his feet.
That had been weird. That had been so weird of him-
“Receives!” he chokes out, the first thing that pops into his brain, and he almost trips over himself scurrying away to a group of first years under the pretence of helping them.
He feels Kageyama’s eyes bore into his back the entire way.
Discreetly
“Uwahhh… that was so cool! Play it again!” Shouyou demands, leaning a little further over Kageyama’s shoulder in his excitement.
Kageyama grunts, but he doesn’t shove Shouyou away, obligingly tapping the replay button on his phone screen, the video that he’d loaded playing again.
They really should be doing homework – that’s why Shouyou came round to Kageyama’s house in the first place – but like most study dates where their friends aren’t there to supervise them, they’d quickly gone off topic. Their forgotten maths worksheets lie scattered on the floor, the textbooks shoved out of the way, as they sit pressed together on Kageyama’s bed, huddled over Kageyama’s phone watching volleyball videos.
It had started as Kageyama mentioning, probably out of boredom, that he’d seen a new combo that he wants them try. Shouyou, equally as bored and eager for any excuse to ignore algebra for a bit, had jumped on the topic, and now here they were. Down the rabbit hole of volleyball YouTube.
“So am I doing the spiking?” Shouyou asks eagerly as he watches the spiker in the video leap for the ball. He leans into Kageyama’s side a little harder, close enough that he can feel Kageyama’s chest expand as he breathes. Kageyama doesn’t move away though – and he’s warm and comfortable, so Shouyou stays exactly where he is.
“No,” Kageyama says instantly, and the corner of his mouth twitches just slightly when Shouyou pouts sulkily. “The set is better for the outside hitters… second tempo. I think you should do the receive instead.”
He replays the video for a third time, letting Shouyou watch as a player dives for the ball – falling into a tricky spot in the corner of the court – and arcs it up, straight to the setter on the other side. The angle is so sharp, the receive would be made almost blind, sending the ball up in the hope that the setter is in just the right place.
It looks hard, it looks really hard, and the fact that Kageyama wants Shouyou to do it, after so many months of declaring that his receives are terrible, shoots warmth right down to the tips of his toes.
It’s not as flashy as the spike, but everyone who really gets volleyball would know, and Shouyou buries a grin briefly in Kageyama’s shoulder. It feels good, being trusted like this. Kageyama isn’t very fussy with receives – his requirement is simply ‘get them up’ – because he’s skilled enough to handle them even if they’re messy. They just have to be high.
But this is a hard move, and it feels like their quick with the level of trust involved. And it means a lot, that Kageyama trusts him with this. That he trusts him with all of their combos, really. That he’s confident they can pull it off – whether it’s something pre-planned like this, or spontaneous on the court.
Happiness bubbles pleasantly in Shouyou’s chest and he shifts so that he’s draped over Kageyama’s back, plonking his chin down on his shoulder.
“Play it again?” he requests, and Kageyama does so without argument.
Shouyou kind of wants to wrap his arms around Kageyama’s waist, just to really get comfortable, but that feels like a step too far. It’s enough that Kageyama is allowing him this much – as he starts to explain his plan for trying this out in games, head tilted slightly towards Shouyou, his gaze is pointed down towards his phone.
That same, not-quite-affection feeling rises up within Shouyou once more, and he turns his face, brushes his lips over the soft skin across Kageyama’s hairline, just to expend some of the energy, before settling in to listen.
On a Falling Tear
Shouyou watches Kageyama closely as he stuffs his practice clothes into his bag, zipping it up ready to go home after practice.
Today had been, for all Shouyou is aware of, a completely normal day.
But Kageyama has been acting strange ever since this morning and Shouyou just can’t figure out why.
It’s like something’s distracting him: he’s been lost in his thoughts, even more unaware than he usually is, and whenever someone tries to break him out of it he’s snappish and prickly. It’s not spiteful, and Shouyou doesn’t think he’s angry per se, but there’s this cloud of ‘I want to be left alone’ that’s clinging to him like a foreboding second skin.
Their teammates and friends have already gotten the message, have probably chalked it up to Kageyama just having an off day and giving him space. Yachi had looked a little more worried, as had Yamaguchi, but they both had left well enough alone when all they got was monosyllabic grunts. Tsukishima had been keeping an eye on Kageyama, assessing, like he was preparing himself for any potential outbursts.
People have off days, and Shouyou knows that their friends are hovering on the margins between enquiring and giving Kageyama space to breathe.
But Shouyou likes to think that he knows Kageyama better – probably the one who knows him best – and this isn’t just an off day. Nothing bad has happened that he knows of – there have been no tests to fail, no class deadline looming over him, and it’s not like volleyball ever really goes badly for Kageyama.
“Do you want to practice English?” Shouyou asks as they’re filing out of the clubroom, Yamaguchi locking the doors behind him.
They don’t have any concrete plans to study this evening – Shouyou is merely asking the question to test something. He would ask for more tosses, but with everything locked up, it’ll be harder to convince Kageyama to open it all back up again if he’s this wound up.
“No,” Kageyama grunts immediately, and Shouyou scrutinises his face.
He’s frowning, but Kageyama is always frowning, so that’s nothing particularly new… Shouyou looks deeper, grateful that Kageyama is so lost in his own head that he doesn’t notice him staring. There’s a tightness there, around his eyes and mouth that suggests something is roiling just beneath the surface, and Kageyama is only keeping it at bay through sheer force of will.
The silence in the air is heavy as they make their way out of the school grounds, the only sounds being their friends’ muffled chatter up ahead and the gentle clicking of Shouyou’s bike as he pushes it along beside him. Kageyama is stony, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing at all, and while he’s not actively distancing himself, there’s an aura about him that warns: stay back.
But, well, Shouyou’s never really been very good at following instructions.
He bids farewell to the others as they reach the point where they need to take their separate routes home. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima leave together as Yachi scampers for the bus stop. Kageyama says nothing as he takes his own path, and Shouyou swings onto his bike in the direction of the hill that he usually needs to climb on the way home.
He makes it halfway up before pulling the brakes and chaining his bike outside a nearby shop.
Retracing his path, it’s not hard to find Kageyama along one of the streets on his usual route. Shouyou would normally chase to catch up – or simply run ahead, inciting a race – but today he’s being stealthy. That’s why he left his bike behind - Kageyama is lost in his head, but he’s not totally deaf.
Keeping a good few feet behind and darting behind a house whenever he thinks Kageyama might catch sight of him, Shouyou follows. The route stays the same as always, and Shouyou is just coming up with a viable excuse for turning up at Kageyama’s house a few minutes later, when Kageyama takes a different turning than usual.
And it’s not like he’s taking a longer route home to clear his head – he continues in the completely the wrong direction, never correcting himself whenever he turns onto a new street. Shouyou continues to follow at a safe distance behind, curiosity building as Kageyama walks along. The amount of houses around them start to drop away, their surroundings becoming more rural, forcing Shouyou to come up with more elaborate means of keeping himself out of sight.
He’s just peeking out from behind a particularly large tree when he realises that they’ve arrived at a park, Kageyama slipping through the gate and along the dirt path, hands in his pockets and his head down. Shouyou feels like he’s going to burst from the intrigue growing inside him as he too slips through the gate and tiptoes along the path. He would think Kageyama is here for exercise, but he changed out of his practice gear into his uniform again back at school, and Kageyama isn’t the sort of person to swap clothes in a public place like this.
The path continues on – the park rather barren and kind of boring, with only a few sparse trees and swathes of grass to look at, until the surroundings change rather suddenly. There are more trees around now, but they’re arranged, planted in a deliberate pattern. And all along the grass are stones – in neat lines and rows, curated and cared for, many with bunches of flowers, incense and offerings beside them.
Shouyou swallows thickly. This is a graveyard.
This is a graveyard, and he probably, really shouldn’t be here.
“You followed me? Really?”
Shouyou jumps, startled.
In his building realisation that he’d stumbled onto something deeply private for Kageyama, he’d completely forgotten to be stealthy. And now here he is, in the open, in plain view on the path only a handful of feet from Kageyama.
He fiddles with the strap on his bag, sheepish and slightly ashamed, before he shoves the feelings aside.
“I was worried,” he says, opting to be honest. Usually, he feels the urge to tease, to have fun, but nothing about this situation is fun. “You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Kageyama scowls hard, and everything about his face says that he’s angry, but his eyes don’t flash like they do when he’s really mad. So Shouyou stays where he is, awkward in the building silence, as Kageyama hunches his shoulders and storms towards the gravestones without another word.
Shouyou hovers, unsure. He wants to follow, but everything about Kageyama’s body language is screaming that if he tries Kageyama really will snap. He’s not truly angry, not yet, but he will be if Shouyou pushes it.
So he stays put, and watches – with a touch of guilt – as Kageyama reaches a stone and kneels. Pulls off his bag and rummages around inside and draws something out. It looks like an envelope. A letter, perhaps. He leaves it on the ground by the headstone and sits, and Shouyou can see him trembling even from a distance.
He contemplates leaving. Giving Kageyama the privacy he was clearly originally seeking. Shouyou doesn’t know who the grave is for, or what they meant to Kageyama, but whoever it was must’ve been rather special.
But before he can come to a decision, Kageyama is up and on his feet again, bag askew across his torso as he all but stomps from the grave, past the other stones until he reaches a bench beneath a thicket of small trees and flops onto it.
Shouyou looks at him for all of a second before his feet start moving, and before he knows it, he’s sinking down on the bench beside him.
Kageyama says nothing. Doesn’t even react as Shouyou sits down. His arms are folded and his shoulders are raised, his whole body stiff and sullen. But his face is almost carefully… blank. Like he simply doesn’t have the energy to frown anymore.
Shouyou swallows hard. “You don’t have to…” he starts to say quietly. “But you can talk to me, if you want.”
For a quite a while, Kageyama says nothing at all. Doesn’t move, doesn’t even really blink. He’s silent for long enough that Shouyou starts questioning himself, that he’s read this all wrong, read Kageyama wrong, when, finally, he starts to speak.
The sentences are short, the words clipped. Kageyama talks in careful, restrictive tones. But Shouyou can tell that it’s self-preservation. The need to keep reserved, lest the dam break. Because everything that Kageyama tells him about a man called Kageyama Kazuyo is nothing short of respectful, loving, and longing.
Shouyou utters not a single word as Kageyama tells him about the man who introduced him to volleyball, and when Kageyama finishes and stands at the same time, he struggles to think of the right thing to say. Normally, it comes so easily to him with Kageyama; he never has to think. But now, exposed to a part of Kageyama that he’s never seen before, something raw and painful that’s only just starting heal, the words just don’t want to form.
He wants to sympathise, but also he feels like Kageyama wouldn’t want that. That he didn’t share this part of himself for some murmured “I’m sorry” or any other platitudes.
“I wish I could have met him,” Shouyou says at last.
There’s a shuddering sigh from above him and he looks up, getting to his feet slowly.
“I wish you could have met him too,” Kageyama whispers, his gaze looking off into the distance.
He blinks once, and a lone tear slips from the corner of his eye and down his cheek.
Shouyou watches it descend, and is rising up on his toes before Kageyama can palm it away. He leans in, and kisses the droplet away, trying to absorb this tiny little piece of pain.
“I’ll… wait by the entrance,” Shouyou murmurs, feeling the distant clamour of embarrassment start to clang in his head.
That now familiar feeling of not-quite-affection wins out though, as he pulls away and drops down to the soles of his feet, watching with a twisting heart as Kageyama moves back towards his grandfather’s headstone to pay his respects without another word.
In Relief (+1)
The moment at the graveyard replays in Shouyou’s head for the rest of the week.
He’s not entirely sure why at first. He’s seen Kageyama cry before. He’s seen him vulnerable in all sorts of ways; he’s grumpy, not made of stone. Perhaps it’s because it was vulnerability borne not from volleyball, but from something more personal than even that. An area of Kageyama’s life that very few people get to see.
But more than the tears, it’s the quiet “I wish you could’ve met him too” that plays again and again on loop.
Shouyou has always felt close to Kageyama. It’s easy to - they have the same passions, the same goal. Nobody else really gets volleyball like Kageyama does. But also Shouyou never really has to worry about what he says or how he acts, because Kageyama just understands. He likes to think that he understands Kageyama too. Everything is just… easier with him.
But for the first time, it felt like Kageyama was letting him into a place that was a little bit further beyond something that you share with a friend. Something very personal and private, and Shouyou’s head has been aching with trying to work out why it holds such weight.
Groaning, Shouyou stretches out on his bed, and buries his face into his pillow. It’s Sunday, and they’ve already had practice today. Right now he should be focusing on school work, but he’s just too distracted to even glance at his textbooks.
Scrunching his face up against his bedding, Shouyou wracks his brain. Why did that evening tug at his heart so badly? He’s still aching now from the memory of it.
Go from the beginning. It’s Kageyama, right? This is should be easy. He’s easy enough to figure out, he’s a simple creature.
Shouyou rolls over with a grunt and stares up at his bedroom ceiling with a thoughtful frown. From the beginning…
Kageyama is his best friend, that much is simple. Shouyou has lots of friends, and he’s very lucky to be close with many of them, but if had to pick one person to hang out with, it would be Kageyama. Partly because of volleyball, because no-one else will play with him for as long as Kageyama will, giving him toss after toss after toss. But outside of volleyball too - silly competitions that look stupid to everyone else but are fun to them. Races, arm wrestles, anything that can measured against each other… Kageyama will join in every time. Half the time he’s the one that starts it.
It’s the quiet times too. When they’re studying, or sitting next to each other on the bus to matches or training camps. On the occasional phone call when Kageyama actually bothers to pick up his phone. Shouyou always feels like he’s enjoying himself, in some way, when he’s with Kageyama.
But Kageyama isn’t just a best friend, and the moniker doesn’t really… sound right. He’s a rival too. Shouyou’s goal at the top of the volleyball ladder. The final boss that he’s desperate to beat fair and square one day. He’s not ready yet, he still has so much to do, but one day, he will. And he knows that Kageyama is waiting for him, wants him to hurry up and reach his platform so that he can try and beat him right back.
So in that sense, he’s not just a rival either.
Shouyou’s nose scrunches. Kageyama is as much his partner in volleyball as his opponent, and not just because he’s a setter. It’s true that their positions on the court make them a duo, but it’s not just that.
From the very start, Kageyama has never ever mentioned Shouyou’s height as a flaw.
He brings it up sometimes, but only in relevance to what he has to do with it. Kageyama has criticised almost every aspect of Shouyou’s volleyball skills, but never his height. To Kageyama, it simply isn’t a problem. It doesn’t matter that he’s short; what matters is how he plays, and how he utilises the talents that he does have to his full advantage.
Even people who are fully in his corner, people like Yachi, have brought up his height as a point of concern. But not Kageyama.
Shouyou’s never said it out loud, not to anyone, because the belief Kageyama has in him means more than he can express out loud.
He thinks back to their first year, how Kageyama had been so firm that he should let go of being a tiny giant. That he shouldn’t compare himself to these other players, or mimic them. That he should only be himself, and carve out a space that he settles into perfectly. Even if it doesn’t sound as cool, it was cool to Kageyama. And, slowly, it became cool to Shouyou too.
Shouyou sighs wistfully.
So Kageyama is his friend, a goalpost, the person who is most supportive of his volleyball ambitions. But Shouyou knew all of this already. He’s always known Kageyama is important. But still… it feels like he’s missing something.
Shouyou shuts his eyes, and tries to envision Kageyama in his mind. Serving. Setting. Running around the gym with him. Running around town with him. Going to Sakanoshita’s. Studying. Sprawled on a bedroom floor. Pouting because he doesn’t remember the vocab for English. Staring off into space instead of looking over his equations. Scowling because Shouyou teased him. Smiling because he’s got a volleyball in his hands and it’s his turn to serve. Grinning because his set reached Shouyou just right and they scored the crucial point.
The way his hair is always glossy. The way his eyes normally look sort of grey, but when he’s happy they shine the brightest blue. The way he’s so straight forward, how he’s funny without realising it.
Letting Shouyou get close, emotionally, physically. Letting Shouyou be as tactile as he wants, including-
Shouyou’s eyes fly open and he presses a fist to his mouth in a sudden, earth shattering realisation.
Oh.
He likes Kageyama.
He likes Kageyama.
His fist unfurls, and he presses both his palms to his face and screams into his hands, heart clamouring in his chest. Then he sits up in one smooth motion and grabs for his pillow, stuffing his face into it and screaming into that as well. Releasing the sudden wave of emotion that builds within him until he feels somewhat stable again.
Sagging, Shouyou scrunches every muscle in his body into one tight little ball before relaxing everything at once, flopping back onto his mattress and blinking hopelessly up at the ceiling.
Now what?
One by one, the memories of all the tiny kisses start to pop up in his mind’s eye and Shouyou groans again, embarrassment burning in his belly. Why does his body always act before his brain?
He wriggles on his bed in a brief indulgence of a tantrum before sitting up again, swinging his legs over the side and planting his feet firmly on the floor. No more. He’s just had a revelation and this time he’s going to do something about it without letting his body take the wheel. This time, he’s going to be prepared.
Fuelled by inspiration and the sort of boldness that leads him to make all of his best decisions, Shouyou clambers to his feet, grabs his phone and keys and all but sprints for the entryway for his shoes.
He’s outside and on his bike within five minutes.
And twenty more minutes later, his brakes squeal as he comes to a halt outside of Kageyama’s house. Flexing his hands over his handlebars, Shouyou takes a minute to catch his breath and let his heart rate settle down into something resembling normalcy before swinging off his bike, clumsily kicking down the stand.
Wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts, he trots up to the front door, hesitates for a moment, before rapping his knuckles smartly on the wood. He has a brief moment of panic that one of Kageyama’s parents will answer the door and he’ll have to ask to see him and by that point his confidence will be waning - but then he remembers that both of them work long hours.
Hopping from foot to foot impatiently, Shouyou contemplates banging on the door again when there’s a noise from inside instead, and then the door is swinging open, revealing a confused looking Kageyama, who was probably not expecting guests.
“Why are you here?” Kageyama asks – demands, really – in that tone of voice that really should be rude but isn’t, because Kageyama doesn’t mean it that way. He’s just abrupt.
Shouyou gathers his fleeting courage and puffs up his chest. He’s done scarier things than this before. Faced down giants and Coach Washijo.
“I have some extremely important news,” he announces boldly, “so get back inside.” He makes a shooing motion at Kageyama, ushering him back into the house.
Baffled, Kageyama retreats, leaving the door open for Shouyou to slip inside as well.
They hover in the entryway, Kageyama being a terrible host as usual by not inviting Shouyou further inside, instead standing before him with folded arms and a suspicious squint.
“So? What do you want?”
Shouyou curses Kageyama’s ability to see straight through him. He could’ve claimed that he just wanted to hang out on this lovely late Sunday afternoon, but Kageyama wouldn’t have believed a word of it. There’s only one thing for it: he has to be honest.
Bouncing on his toes as restless energy builds up inside of him, he scrambles for the words that he wants – the right words. Preferably in the right order too. He has a tendency to blurt out everything in a mess when he’s excited or nervous. And in this case he’s both so he has to be extra extra careful.
“I like you!” he yells into the hallway. His voice echoes back off the walls.
Perfect.
Kageyama’s dubious frown melts away in an instant, morphing into surprise and something resembling hope. Shouyou is suddenly viscerally reminded of the very beginning of first year, when he had ranted to Kageyama that he would hit any set he gave him, even blind.
Dropping back down onto the souls of his feet, heart flip flopping in his chest, Shouyou gnaws at his lip before adding, somewhat lamely: “In, umm, the more-than-friendly-way.”
Wide, big blue eyes blink at him soundlessly for a moment. Shouyou feels the urge to kick him in the shin, just to get him to react already so that Shouyou can be put out of his misery, when Kageyama finally comes back online.
“Oh,” he says, eloquently, before adding: “I know. I kind of gathered.”
Shouyou gawps at him, jaw dropping open. “What?” he all but shouts, embarrassment and disbelief screaming through him. Kageyama, who normally struggles so badly with relationships, knew? Before Shouyou did?
Kageyama fidgets, a large hand coming up to wrap around the back of his neck as pink blooms on his cheeks. “You… kept kissing me,” he says quietly around pouting lips.
I may simply die of embarrassment, Shouyou thinks to himself in despair. He drags his hands down his face with a humiliating groan, before shaking them at Kageyama. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
The hopeful gleam to Kageyama’s eyes doesn’t leave, but he pouts further, looking somewhere between sulky and desperately unsure. “I didn’t know what you wanted,” he says simply.
Shouyou’s hands drop to smack against his thighs as he stares up at Kageyama, suddenly feeling like a massive, absolutely colossal idiot. There he was, letting his emotions and instincts take control without giving them any sort of proper thought, and he’d been so proud of himself earlier for finally figuring things out. But in all that time, Kageyama had been on the receiving end of what must have been a very mixed message.
Kageyama is a very literal, straight forward person. Nuance is often lost on him, and he takes almost everything at face value. If he can see it, he’ll believe it. But he also hates to rock the boat, doesn’t like to challenge the status quo unless he must, for fear of losing what steady ground he has managed to find footing on.
No wonder he didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry,” Shouyou says, earnestly, because he really does feel sort of terrible for confusing Kageyama so badly. “I just… kept getting distracted.”
His hands rise up and he presses the tips of his index fingers together as another bout of nerves renew themselves in his belly. “And, uh… what about you?” he manages to ask, because that really is the crux of the matter, isn’t it?
Getting the words out is only half the battle, and Shouyou is starting to realise that he’s entered this war entirely too unprepared.
The pink in Kageyama’s cheeks darkens further, and he hunches his shoulders so much that they almost brush his ears. “Umm…” he mumbles, his voice nearly unintelligible with how hard he’s pursing his lips. “Same. I guess.” The hand around his neck tightens further and he glances away, frowning so hard that it almost looks painful.
Shouyou is temporarily mesmerised that someone so big can go to such efforts to look so small.
Then he snaps out of his endearment, because Kageyama had said-!
“Yeah?” he demands, feeling a grin spread wide across his face, his cheeks already aching with how hard he’s smiling. He suddenly feels completely and utterly bulletproof. His feet start moving and within seconds he’s crowding close into Kageyama’s space, peering up excitedly into that cherry red tomato face. “The same, Yamayama?” It feels like there’s a flock of birds in his chest.
Kageyama’s hand falls away from his neck and twitches by his side, like he wants to stuff it in Shouyou’s hair and pull, or mash it against his face. He doesn’t though, he just stands there all horribly stiff and embarrassed and Shouyou thinks that just won’t do. He’s practically about to burst with happiness, shouldn’t Kageyama be the same?
“Come here, doofus,” Shouyou says, a laugh in his voice, as he bounces up and loops his arms around Kageyama’s wide shoulders and hangs off of him, similar to the way he does when he’s being really whiny for more tosses. Kageyama lets him, because of course he does, watching him closely and still very red in the face, though some of his frown is starting to melt away.
Nerves flicker temporarily, before they are drowned out by excited anticipation and, more importantly, relief. Shouyou licks his lips, waits for any sign that he should not do this, before pulling Kageyama down and mashing their lips together in a very clumsy, very uncoordinated, and very deliberate kiss.
And it is, without doubt, the best one so far.
When Shouyou finally breaks away for air, Kageyama isn’t frowning at all anymore. In fact, he looks like he’s trying very hard not to smile, the red in his cheeks now more of a pleasant blush than a humiliated burn. Shouyou wiggles in victory and peppers his rosy skin with tiny kisses, delighting in his newfound freedom.
“You can tell me too, you know… right?” he needles, rising up on his toes when Kageyama straightens so that he can keep his arms around his shoulders.
“Tell you what,” Kageyama grunts, with that glint in his eye that he gets when he thinks he’s being funny. He does loop his arm around Shouyou’s waist to press a large palm to the small of his back to steady him though, so Shouyou can’t be too annoyed.
“Tell me that you li-“ Shouyou starts to say, before Kageyama is crashing down and kissing him again, hard, with a slightly better angle than before.
Shouyou’s toes curl in his socks at the sensation, even as competitive fireworks explode in his belly.
It’s alright. He’ll let Kageyama have this one, then he’ll come back twice as hard to win this kissing war – he’s had more practice, after all.