Set 3; 33 to 31. Aoba Johsai versus Karasuno.
Kageyama cannot relinquish the burning image of their final score. It had not been a mere loss—it had been a crushing defeat. They had fought with their might, hearts, and souls, yet Oikawa had proven himself to be, once again, one step ahead.
His feet are numb against the gym floor, and his fingers, cold. A ball is gripped tight within his hands. For once, he barely considers his own disdain for losing. It is Hinata he feels concern for—he has not witnessed his teammate lift his head since their rout.
The very moment that ball had touched the ground, Hinata had lost his spark, and it had yet to return.
He does not recall Hinata ever growing so sullen in the face of their previous losses. In the past, Shoyo had always found a way to smile and shrug it off, and had fought that much harder during their practices.
What is it that makes it so different now?
A gust of chilled wind floods the gym as its doors are opened, and Kageyama ceases all movements. Where he is thwacking the ball, it drops, and he turns his head to see who has dared to come and disturb his thoughts. His posture softens itself as he takes in the sight of that persimmon mess of hair.
Kageyama does not speak. Instead, he waits for what Hinata will inevitably say.
The smaller of the two keeps his head bowed, and his steps are unsure as he approaches. Eventually, Hinata's chin turns up. "Kageyama," he begins, voice hoarse and hurt. There are heavy bags under his eyes. Kageyama knows he did not sleep well, and any tears he may have shed beforehand would have only contributed to that.
"Kageyama," he starts again. Hinata's eyes burn red while he stares at his teammate. "I'm sorry."
Fury swells within Kageyama's chest, and it is all-consuming, flaming. Without thinking, he snatches another ball, and hurls it in Hinata's direction. It is barely avoided by the smaller, who stares now with more fright than sorrow, hands quivering.
"You know better than to apologise for what isn't your fault! Aoba Johsai won, alright?! Oikawa saw through us, not you! Nobody slipped up—we knew what we were doing... they won, and it was fair. What's the matter with you, huh? You've never acted this downcast before!"
"If it had been anyone else spiking—anybody at all—they could have surpassed that block. It's me, Kageyama. It's because I took that toss."
Kageyama does not realise he has closed the distance between them within his shouting. He stands directly before Hinata, brows furrowed, and stares down into those golden eyes before they are lowered from his view.
"You've never behaved this way," he repeats. "So why now?"
Hinata is quiet again, and it infuriates Kageyama. "Answer me!" he demands. A hand fists in the fabric of his companion's collar, dragging him up so they are eye to eye.
Clearly, the yelling proves to be too much; Hinata's bottom lip wobbles, and he chokes on a sob. Kageyama's mien grows lighter, but he does not release Hinata, nor does his grip become weak.
"The more I'm blocked, the more you'll lose faith in me as a teammate," the shorter utters. His voice comes diffident, and only when the tears begin does Kageyama release the compact hold at the nape of his shirt.
"What?"
"If I can't spike, you won't toss to me!" All careful composure is lost from Hinata's form, and he whips his head up to return the wide-eyed stare he is being given. "You'll only toss to the ones who can get past a block! Suga-san might still toss to me after that, but... he's not you. Nobody else is you, Kageyama. I'll spike any ball that's tossed to me, but if it's not yours, I don't enjoy it the same."
Hinata's voice turns weaker with every syllable, and he is soon sniveling, sobbing, scrubbing at his eyes. As if physically hit, he soon drops to his knees, and his body curls in on itself.
Kageyama does not know what to say. He bends and offers an arm out to his companion—immediately, Hinata takes it. He clings as if he fears that Kageyama will fade into thin air upon release.
"What have I done to give you that idea?" A prudent hand extends, and Hinata jerks as his hair is stroked. Soon enough, the gesture has a flood of relief thrumming through his veins. "Haven't I shown you that I—as a setter, I... need you? You know as well as I do that my fastest tosses can only be hit by you."
Again, Hinata is quiet. For the briefest of moments, he looks as if he wants to speak; as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and he remains hushed, face burrowed deep within the shoulder of his friend. Seconds later, all he musters is a weak shrug.
"You're an idiot," Kageyama manages. His fingers are still threading through the artful mess that is his teammate's hair. "I trust you, and you ought to trust me. Of course I'll toss to other people—there's others on our team. You aren't the only one who can spike."
Hinata is pushed back solely so Kageyama can look him directly in the eye. "But don't you think for even one moment that I'll ever underestimate your worth."
Hinata stares, and the setter huffs through his nose. His eyes are cast elsewhere before he continues. "And that goes beyond what we do on the court. I won't underestimate you anywhere else, either."
Kageyama does not want to look back at his friend. Whether he is afraid of Hinata suddenly laughing or growing bemused, he is afraid of something, and that something gives him an entirely crippling sensation. It is not like him to show so much care and concern, and he knows that. As of now, only Hinata has ever wrestled that out of him.
"What do you mean by that?"
The question makes Kageyama turn back, and he stills. What does he mean by that? Hinata does not appear fatigued any longer. Now, he carries an expression of curious intrigue, and his eyes, coyness. "Kageyama?"
"I don't know," the taller starts, hesitant. "I'm not—this... this whole communicating thing isn't my specialty. What I do know is that I don't appreciate seeing you sad, whether we have a game or not. I don't make friends easily, alright? I've learned to... cherish the ones I have. The one, in this case."
Kageyama's words are more of an utterance than anything—they can barely be heard. He keeps his eyes elsewhere, but from the corner of his vision, he is able to make out a grin spreading across Hinata's cheeks.
"No matter what, you'll still give me tosses?" Hinata's question still contains the faintest ounce of dubiety, of uncertainty. His fingers have come to tug on the hem of his companion's shirt. "Even if I get blocked over and over again?"
"Of course," the taller grumbles. He attempts to shove Hinata off of him, and it fails, given that Hinata has grown to be rather good at sticking right by him. "Would you get off of me?"
Hinata shakes his head, and a giggle makes his shoulders tremble. It quiets down soon enough, and he instead watches for the setter's change in posture. Kageyama has his head turned, eyes averted, and there is a barely visible tinge of red gracing the tips of his ears. He moves without thinking; the gentle touch of lips against cheek makes itself known, and Kageyama whips his head round again to gape at Hinata.
"You said you wouldn't underestimate me," Hinata offers, and tucks a strand of pumpkin spiced hair behind his ear. His eyes are abashed, but he is watching Kageyama regardless. "Whether on or off the court. No matter what it is I'm doing, it's not quite right if you're not around."
Each brings out the other's best performance and ability.
"When you toss, Kageyama, I want to be there to hit it."
Receives, tosses, and spikes. It's best that I do them all myself. I can receive the serve, I can toss the ball, and I can hit it. 'Move faster! Jump higher!' And when I tossed the ball up behind me, no one was there.
"And if I am there to hit it, I want your toss directed towards me."
I'm here! I was right there to recieve the ball! I don't care about any of that stuff from junior high! For me, no matter what kind of toss it is, it's one that I really wanna recieve! I'll jump anywhere! I'll hit any kind of ball! So keep on tossing it my way!
Kageyama is swarmed by his own thoughts and the heavy sound of beating in his chest. He hears little other than blood rushing in his ears, but the careful way Hinata speaks is more than understandable. He is not sure if they are truly speaking about volleyball anymore, but for a moment, he peaks upon a mountain of realisation, and finds that acceptable. He has never trusted anyone to the immeasurable level that he does Hinata.
"Come here," the taller urges, fingers twisting at the back of Hinata's head. It's a tender push that eases both of them into an embrace (albeit awkward, given their differentiating heights) and Hinata sighs his anxieties away. His own hands are already wrapped around one of his teammate's arms, and so he leaves them there, clinging now out of affection rather than desperation.
Hinata is not sure if their shared clinch is acceptance or denial of his previous actions, but he does not worry about that, and enjoys the warmth and clean scent Kageyama's closeness offers. He knows very well how standoffish and distant his companion is; Kageyama rarely gives away any measure of thought beyond what can be read upon his face. He is aloof and cold, yet here he is, sharing the cordial heat that nobody else thinks him capable of.
Kageyama is in control of how much others can see of him, Hinata thinks. If by some amount he can see past the avoidant wall before Kageyama, it is only because the setter wants him to.
"You're spacing out," Kageyama starts. Per usual, Hinata jolts, but the hand at the back of his neck averts him from pushing away.
"So what if I am? You're just—being quiet. Not that that's anything new, but after that... don't you have anything to say?"
"What needs to be said?" Hinata feels bound when Kageyama's eyes are upon his, smouldering. There is that cautious wall, but after just one moment, it falls, and Hinata can see the fondness that shines through. He is not given time to think about it, as Kageyama is soon yanking him close again, drawing a startled yap from his throat. There are warm fingers on his cheeks, and he cannot so much as breathe before they are kissing again.
It is not half as endearing or idealistic as a kiss on the cheek; rather, Hinata finds it is too deep, and he appreciates that and returns it. The trust between friends is shown in a multitude of ways, but he knows that this is not one of them. They hold credence in one another, and it goes far beyond the gestures within their sport.
When they part, it is only because both teammates can no longer breathe. Hinata is allowed the valuable sight of a red-cheeked Kageyama, and it brings a kind smile to his face. "That settles it, then," the shorter murmurs, and burrows that much closer to his partner. "And you have to be my tall, scary boyfriend, now. Take responsibility for your actions."
Kageyama grimaces, as if the idea somehow displeases him, but Hinata can see past that subconscious veil, and it is more than obvious his teammate would be proud to take on such a role.
"Promise me you won't get discouraged anymore. I don't like it, and I'll have to smack you if you do." Inwardly, Kageyama considers how unsentimental it appears to glare at a newfound beloved, but he gives a stern look regardless.
"No tact whatsoever," the shorter sighs, but nods swiftly before the threat has an opportunity to turn into reality. "Besides, now I know I'll have you at my side forever. Why would I ever be discouraged about that?"
Hinata returns to an all-smiles demeanour, giddy, and Kageyama only grunts in a bashful fashion.
A/N: I totally started getting into Haikyuu, and, well, this is the result! I managed to watch all the episodes in a few days and now I'm far into the manga, so I'm enjoying it quite a bit! The episode where Karasuno just barely lost to Aoba Johsai KILLED me, and I could hardly stand seeing Hinata's sad face. Thank you for any support; it means more to me than you know!