the winter where both time and our hands froze - pearian (orphan_account) (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Time is constant; that is an inevitable fact. The clock’s hands tick behind you in a steady rhythm, never slowing, never stopping. You exhale slowly as each second passes, noticing the white puffs of air escaping your mouth. It’s cold, but the gun in your hands is colder.

You press your back to the wall as a shiver runs down your spine, settling deep inside your bones. You wish there was heat to warm your frostbitten fingers, but you know it’s impossible to seek warmth in an abandoned building during the coldest season of the year. Should’ve brought gloves, you note absentmindedly when a cold gust of wind rushes through the crack of a broken window. And maybe a hat...

Your train of thought is broken when you hear footsteps slowly approaching your location. A boisterous laugh echoes throughout the building, bouncing off the walls and into your ears. You scowl as the obnoxious man makes light conversation with his partner because frankly, they’re loud as f*ck. The noises gradually get closer but abruptly stop before the corner you are hiding behind. You hold your breath; they’re only a few feet away and your chest tightens in adrenaline, but you allow yourself a small exhale when you hear the familiar click of a lock.

Now, you think as you quickly tug the bandana lying around your neck up to your nose and whip out a smoke grenade with your free hand, pulling the wire ring with your teeth. The grenade noisily clinks against the ground when you toss it near their feet and explodes before the men have a chance to retaliate. You quickly dash into the mess, immediately finding the first man and co*cking the gun to his temple before firing. The sound is deafening when the bullet leaves your pistol and the man’s limp body falls to the ground.

From what you can see, there’s an obscene amount of blood on the wall now, but you don’t have much time to think before the other man attempts to grab you from behind. You slip out of his grasp before any contact is made and deliver a hard kick to his knees, effectively knocking him to the ground. The man’s back hits the ground with a loud groan and you quickly aim and fire before he has a chance to get up. His hand lifelessly drops to the ground as you watch a second pool of blood beginning to form.

Disgusting. You glance down at your feet. Some of his blood has stained your shoes and pants. Your eyebrows furrow together but you ignore it for now, choosing to proceed through the now unlocked door.

It leads you to a dimly lit emergency staircase and you notice the large scratched out number on the wall next to the door. A fire extinguisher lies on the ground near your feet, along with several shards of broken glass. You sidestep the mess on the ground, careful not to cause any unnecessary damage, and quickly make your way up the stairs.

You slowly become annoyed by the loud noises your feet make against the old, metal stairs. No matter how quietly or lightly you move, an echo resonates throughout the staircase with each step. Eventually, you make it to the top floor without any further problems, and you internally pump a fist into the air when you find that the door does not have a lock. You crouch down and press your ear to the wall, carefully listening for any activity in the next room.

There’s a quiet murmur and you estimate that there are maybe three or four people, most likely armed than not. You mull over a strategy to use, maybe another smoke grenade, but you’re tired and it’s getting late, so you decide to just knock on the door.

Any conversation inside immediately stops and you begin to question your sanity before you’re shocked out of that thought when someone is idiotic enough to actually open the door.

“Who’s ther-” Your gun is fired before the man gets a chance to finish his sentence and he falls to the ground near your feet. The door is now completely open and you’re in plain sight of the three other people in the room. Their eyes widen and then narrow in recognition, and you decide to take the chance and walk into the room.

One man hastily pulls out a gun but you fire a bullet into his calf before he gets an opportunity to aim. He drops to the ground with a scream, clutching his leg as blood seeps out of the wound. When you turn your attention back to the others, one of the men is running toward you with a knife and the other is attempting to retreat to the back of the room. The man approaching you swings his knife at your neck and you quickly duck to avoid it. You use your momentum to elbow him roughly in the stomach, sending him backward to the ground. He wheezes and coughs up blood, and it seems like you’ve immobilized him for now.

The last person hiding in the corner trembles as you approach him, hiding his face behind his shaking hands. “Y-you, th-that’s the-” he starts as he lifts a finger to point to your face. You raise an eyebrow in confusion, not understanding what he’s getting at. “The golden c-crown! You’re- you’re-!”

Ah. You slowly remember the design on the bandana covering the lower half of your face: a plain, golden crown on smooth, black fabric with a small crow in the corner. This is what represents you, a hitman, an assassin, a killer. You sigh and finally take a good look at the man’s face. He has short, brown hair and light blue eyes. There’s a mole just above his left eyebrow and a miniscule scar on his upper lip.

Yep, you decide as you point your gun at his forehead, matches the description perfectly. The man’s words become a jumbling mess when he finally realizes the situation he’s in. His limbs flail around as he desperately tries to crawl further away from you, but the walls trapping him in prevent him from getting away.

“Shizuma Kado.” He abruptly quiets down when he hears his name from your mouth. He looks to you with wide eyes and trembling lips, and you almost pity him for a second. “Any last words?”

Shizuma screeches but you silence him with a single shot to the head.

*

When you make your way back to Karasuno, you can practically feel the stares from the others as you enter the building. You ignore them but scowl anyway, hoping that they’ll be too intimidated to approach you. Aside from a rude remark from Tsukishima (“Oh look, the King has returned!”), your trip up to the top floor is uneventful. You knock on the door in front of you, and enter when you hear a gruff “Come in.”

The large door’s hinges creak as you open it and quietly shut it behind you. The office, which you’ve seen countless times before, is in the same state as it was when you saw it earlier today. You idly note the countless folders that are shelved here, no doubt organized thoroughly in each shelf. There’s a cabinet in the back corner that looks as if it could burst open at any time, and it makes you slightly uneasy. That fern that was newly introduced to this room last week already appears to be dying, not that you had even an ounce of belief that your boss would be able to keep it alive. Your gaze travels to the center of the room and you see Ukai sitting behind his desk with a cigarette in his mouth, most likely doing paperwork so he hasn’t noticed that it’s you in his office.

“Ukai,” you say and he immediately turns his attention to you. His look of surprise quickly changes into a smirk, and you’re not sure if you should be concerned or not.

“Kageyama,” Ukai presses the butt of his cigarette to the bottom of his shoe and tosses it into the trashcan by his feet. You only now notice the distinct smell of smoke in the room but you don’t particularly care and willingly let it flood your lungs. Briefly, you wonder why he didn’t just use the ash tray on his desk, but he speaks again and you refocus your attention. “You finish the task already?”

You nod and walk closer, pulling out a pouch from your pocket. Opening the drawstrings, you take out the object that’s inside and toss it onto his desk. It rattles loudly as it bounces across the wooden table, and Ukai places a palm over it to prevent the item from falling off the surface.

“Oi, be a little cautious, would ya?” He scolds you but you say nothing. Whatever Ukai wanted you to find, you did it, and you don’t really care as to what it was. You watch as he examines the thing you found – it seems to be a necklace of some sort – and he pulls out a file from the drawer under his table. Ukai sorts through a few photos, comparing the object and the images side by side. “Okay, everything looks good... And Shizuma Kado?”

“Taken care of.”

Ukai nods at this and stands up from his chair, murmuring something along the lines of ‘well that’s the King for ya,” but you pretend not to hear. He walks to the back corner of the room where the cabinet is and opens it. You’re not surprised when several sheets of paper explode from the cabinet, and you bite your cheek to erase the smirk on your face. Ukai turns back to shoot you a dirty look and you put on the best poker face you can muster.

Eventually, your boss digs out an envelope from the mess and walks back toward you with a sigh. He opens it to pull out several bills and hands you the fifteen you’ve earned. You say your thanks and tuck the bundle of bills into your coat pocket.

“I’ll call you when the next job is available, good work today.” Ukai sinks back down into his chair and lights another cigarette. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, bow, and exit the room.

Walking back toward the elevator, you shove your hand into your coat pocket and fumble around with the bills. You count them again behind the safety of the elevator doors, pressing the 4th floor button with your elbow. Once you’ve recounted them twice, a familiar ding breaks your concentration and the elevator doors slide open.

The bills are back safely in your pocket when you step out into the dark hallway and make your way to the last door on the right. You knock three times and wait, knowing the routine before a familiar face opens the door.

“Oh! Kageyama,” Sugawara smiles warmly at you and steps aside to let you in. You make your way inside the room, taking your gun out of its holster and placing it on one of the platinum tables in the room. You shrug your backpack off your shoulders and empty out its contents, careful not to let the grenades hit the floor. Patting down your pockets, you place two packs of ammo down and swiftly untie the bandana from your neck. “You’ve finished for today?”

“Hn? Ah, yeah. Thanks again, by the way.” You bow in gratitude but Sugawara just waves a hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my job.” He skillfully picks up your gun and wipes it down before securing the gun lock on it. You make your way to the back room and close the door behind you. There are several lockers here, your own at the end of the left row. As you punch the combination into your lock, you notice a hint of lemon in the room. Sugawara must’ve cleaned right before I got here... You feel a little guilty for trudging your blood stained shoes onto his pristine floor, but by the looks of it, you haven’t left any foot prints.

You quickly tug off your boots, tucking them into the corner of your locker. Your pants and shirt follow with ease, and you change into the casual outfit you wore to work today. The white long sleeve sits loosely on your shoulders and the gray sweatpants give your legs much more room to breathe than your regular uniform. You chuck the dirtied clothes you changed out of into the hamper near the back of the room, silently thanking whoever does the laundry around here.

You slip your feet into your sneakers, too lazy to bend down and retie the laces. Your left heel eventually slips into the shoe and you grab your duffel bag before shutting the locker door. It’s routine now, you realize, as your fingers dexterously twist the lock back in place and secure it with a click. As you walk back to the main room, you begin to wonder how you became used to this so easily.

But you know that in your routine packed with blood and deceit, you can always trust Sugawara. He’s the one who works behind the scenes with weaponry to ensure optimal results, and the friend throughout the years with no strings attached. So when you come back to the main room, you simply watch as he stores each lethal object in its rightful place. Sometimes you think that if this was some big, messed up family, Sugawara would most definitely be the mom. But wait, would that make Ukai the dad..? No that’s weird, he’s more like a grandpa than anything...

“Alright! Everything’s finished,” Sugawara’s voice brings you back from that increasingly weird thought. “I’ll drop your stuff off by Ukai’s before your next mission.”

“Thanks.”

Sugawara gives you one last wave in farewell before you take the elevator back down to the ground floor. You peek at the clock in the lobby once the doors open. It’s almost 11pm. You tug your jacket collar a little tighter around your neck, preparing for the icy December chill when you step out of the building. A cold breeze welcomes you immediately and you shiver almost violently. You should probably get a new jacket – these winters have become significantly harsher.

Ignoring the cold for now, you walk back in the direction of your apartment. The idea of a warm place to rest is increasingly inviting, so you pick up your pace. You think back to your small kitchenette; there should be more than enough to make dinner tonight, but you’re much too tired to actually cook for yourself. Rubbing your bare hands together, you decide to stop by a convenience store to buy a pre-packaged meal.

There’s a 7-11 just three minutes away from your apartment, and you bow to the worker behind the counter when you walk inside. He waves back in recognition. You’ve frequented this convenience store often enough that nearly every employee here knows your face. Making your way to aisle three, you’re greeted with the familiar sight of microwavable foods. You immediately grab a pack of meat buns (it’s the last package, too) before trying to decide between the yogurt drink and just plain milk.

Suddenly, you hear the slide of the automatic doors and a bright laugh reaches your ears. You glance to the front of the store and see two relatively short guys greeting the employee. One of them – the one with hair that looks like pudding and has strange, cat-like eyes – bows silently, but his friend with the bright orange hair and even brighter eyes yells a greeting. You wince, that was really loud, and you turn your attention back to your drink problem when Pudding calmly reprimands Sunshine for being too loud.

After much deliberation, you settle for the yogurt drink and walk back up to the cashier. You make your decision just in time too, right before the two others in the store walk down that exact same aisle. You silently put your items on the belt and the employee rings you up. He doesn’t try to make small talk and you’re thankful for that. Any employee that has worked here long enough knows you well enough to give you your space.

As you wait patiently, you hear a loud “AHHHH!!!” from the aisle you were previously in and you jolt in surprise. The cashier also seems to be dumbfounded by the noise and temporarily stops what he’s doing. You raise an eyebrow, what the hell was that, but you don’t get a lot of time to think about it before loud footsteps quickly approach the front of the store.

The source of the noise, Sunshine, runs toward the cashier and abruptly stops, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. You glare at him, not even trying to hide the irritation on your face. Sunshine flinches when he notices your expression but quickly turns to the cashier with a pout.

“Ennosh*ta!” The orange haired man cries out. You assume that’s the name of the employee who was bagging your items. “Where are all the meat buns?!?”

Ennosh*ta smiles sheepishly and glances in your direction. “Well, uh...”

Something clicks in your brain and you briefly remember grabbing the last pack of meat buns from the aisle. Apparently, Sunshine also gets the message through the cashier’s glance and looks to the contents in your plastic bag.

“You!” He screeches as he points a finger in your face. “You took my meat buns!!”

“HAH?” Sunshine’s remark catches you off guard. You grow more irritated by the second. “I got here first, dumbass.”

“Wha, who’re you calling dumbass, dumbass?!?!”

“Don’t call me a dumbass!”

“Well, don’t call me a dumbass!”

“You-!” Your retort is cut off when Sunshine’s pudding friend appears and flicks him on the forehead. You blink in surprise, suddenly realizing that you were having a shouting match with a stranger in a convenience store. Your face flushes slightly in embarrassment and you give the employee an apologetic look.

“Ahem.” Someone clears their voice and you turn to see Pudding bowing in your direction. He puts a hand on Sunshine’s head and pushes down, forcing him to bow as well. Sunshine sputters in protest, but he doesn’t make a move to straighten up. “I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience my friend has caused.”

“I, uh.” You weren’t expecting an apology, even if it is from his friend, and you rack your brain for something intelligent to say. “Er, don’t worry about it.”

The two friends straighten up and Pudding nods, dragging Sunshine out of the store by his ear. Sunshine complains but his ear is only tugged harder in response. You shoot him one final glare as he is hauled out of the shop and he sticks his tongue out at you before the automatic doors shut. That action only manages to piss you off even more and you’re fuming when you turn back to the cashier.

Ennosh*ta looks like he might piss his pants when he catches your expression, but you’re too irritated to feel guilty about it. You hand him a bill and tap your foot restlessly against the floor while you wait for your change. Who the hell does he think he is, that idiot... You hold out your hand for your change and shove the coins into your pocket. The cashier stuffs the receipt in your plastic bag and you bow curtly before accepting it and leaving the store.

The brisk night air hits you in the face again, and you begrudgingly trudge your way back home.

*

You drop the contents of your plastic bag onto the kitchen counter when you get back to your apartment. They nearly fall off, but you’re too exhausted to care. You flop down on your couch stomach first. The clock on the wall ticks with each second that passes by. You press your check further into the cushion and shut your eyes, listening to each click. Out of habit, you begin to count the seconds. 1, 2, 3... 46... 175... 589... 1651...

By the time you snap out of it, almost half an hour has passed. You reluctantly peel yourself off the couch, staggering slightly when you stand up. The tick of the clock still echoes in the back of your mind, but you ignore it in favour of microwaving those meat buns you bought earlier. You fumble around with the microwave before it comes to life, counting down the seconds until your meal is ready. The hum of the microwave is comforting, you find, as you poke the straw into your yogurt drink. You sip it loudly until you hear a familiar “ding!”

You nearly drop the meat bun when you pick it up from the plate; it’s a lot hotter than you expected. Once it’s cool enough, you shove it into your mouth, appreciating the delicious taste. You know you should probably be eating healthier like Sugawara suggested, but pre-packaged foods are so much simpler. Placing the plate in the sink, you decide to do the dishes tomorrow. They’re piling up but tonight, you don’t have the energy or motivation to do them.

You drag your feet to your bathroom and lock the door behind you, though you know you’re the only one in your apartment. Your hands rest on opposite sides of the sink and you look at yourself in the mirror. There are bags under your eyes and your lips are set in an almost permanent frown. Your hair is a mess, most likely from when you shoved your head into the couch. You place a hand over your eyes and sigh. You should take a shower.

Inside the shower, you find yourself standing directly under the water. The water feels good against your face, running down your shoulders and trickling down your thighs. It’s refreshing to just stand there mindlessly, with one hand on the tiled wall as water cascades down your body. You don’t make an effort to lather yourself with soap. You’ll probably take another shower tomorrow morning anyways, so there’s no point.

Twisting the handle into the off position, the water slowly drips to a stop. You dry yourself off and step out, tying the towel around your waist. Your hair leaves a small trail of water on the ground when you leave the washroom and make your way to your bedroom. It’s a plain room with minimal decoration, just the way you like it. Your pristine white bed is centered against the back wall, its black comforter messily arranged on top. A table rests to the right of your bed; the only contents on it are a small desk lamp and your laptop. There is nothing on your walls except for a window to your right and another wall clock atop the door. There is another door that leads to your closet which opposites the window. You turn to your left where your dresser lies and throw on the first pair of boxers you find. The towel falls to the ground forgotten and you tug a black t-shirt on over your head.

Walking over to your bed, you sit down and place your elbows on your knees, head in your hands. It’s times like these when you are alone, comforted by nothing but the click of an analog clock, where the memories of your mission replay in your head.

With each unmemorable face that flashes through your mind, you can’t help but remember the bloodshed that came with each death. You watch as bodies flop lifelessly to the ground, but you don’t allow yourself to scream. You can still feel the pain that comes with dagger wounds and bullet grazes, but you would die before you did something as vulnerable as crying. The pleads of your victims resonate desperately in your ears, but you never listen long enough before a bullet pierces their skin. These memories flood your mind, and it takes you to count past 400 to bring you back.

You regain control of your body again, but you notice a fresh sheet of sweat covering your body. Your fingers still tremble slightly and your breath is coming in short gasps. You stick your hands in between your thighs and take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Eventually, your hands steady themselves and you can relax again. You sigh, crawling under your sheets and resting your head on your pillow.

These attacks are getting worse. You’re lucky that they never occur during work. You’re smart enough to understand the importance of maintaining full attention while on a job. It’s the difference between life and death.

You sit up slightly to lean over the side of the bed. Your hand reaches around the underside of the bed before it locates a small notebook. Pulling it up, you grab a pen from your desk and flip to the most recent page. Inside this notebook, you can see your awful chicken scratch handwriting, along with several tally marks. You quickly scratch down three more tallies and scribble Shizuma Kado’s name into the book. Finished, you glance at the words for a moment before you toss it back under your bed.

You run a hand over your face.

That makes 109.

You shut your eyes in an attempt to forget the number, but you know you’ll keep track anyway. How can you not? The guilt lodges itself in your throat but you manage to push it down. You refuse to cry and show weakness, not even in the comfort of your own room. You scoff. The words “comfort” and “room” sound odd together. You have a house, but is this really a home? You’ve lived in this apartment by yourself for nearly five years now. You think back to the date. It’s December 4th. You’ll be 20 in two weeks, but what else is there to your name other than bloodbaths and despair?

Oh.

That’s right.

You’re the King.

You don’t remember when this alias was given to you or who it was given by, but you definitely remember the bitter feeling that came with it. You hate it. You hate the recognition that comes with that golden crown you wear so proudly. You hate the fear you see in your enemy’s eyes when they utter that wretched nickname. You hate that you stand so high at the top that others are scared sh*tless in your presence.

That title means nothing to you. You stand at the top, but once you’re there, what is there left to do?

(It’s lonely.)

You find it utterly meaningless. The recognition, the title, even the money. You don’t find happiness in any of it. And yet...

You can’t find it in yourself to let it go.

It’s become a part of you now. If you were to leave Karasuno, leave your title, what purpose would your life serve? You genuinely think that this is what you were meant to do. Because you’re good at it. So, so good at it. You were practically raised in this lifestyle, so where could you go if you left? Other than Sugawara and a few other coworkers, you’re not remotely friendly with anyone else in this neighbourhood. You can’t see yourself leading a normal life without a gun by your side and a dagger up your sleeve.

So, you’ll stay. It’s not really a decision if you didn’t have a choice in the first place, but it’s reassuring to think that this is what you want, that this is what you truly wish to do.

You heave out another sigh. You hate thinking like this because it brings out the worst in you. You’ve had this mental conversation countless times with yourself before, and it always ends in the same outcome. Getting your hopes up is meaningless, but you wonder just exactly what you are hoping for in the first place.

A groan escapes your mouth; you can feel a headache starting to come on. Pulling the covers up around your neck, you twist to your side and squeeze your eyes shut. You can’t prevent the memories from coming back, but you can try to sleep and forget.

You silently pray to no one that you will.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The next day greets you with too much sunlight and too little sleep. Your eyes squint, it’s too bright. When you accidentally look directly into the source, you realize you forgot to close your blinds last night. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as your eyebrows knit together. Glancing at the clock across the room, you can see that it’s just past 6am. With a groan, you flop back onto your bed with an arm splayed over your eyes, but you know you won’t be able to fall asleep again.

Giving up, you slowly drag yourself out of bed. You lazily scratch your stomach as you let out an unsightly yawn. Your eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the brightness yet. You make your way to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of pants from your dresser on the way out. You mindlessly proceed through your morning routine which leads to spacing out for ten minutes while you brush your teeth. There’s a dribble of toothpaste on your shirt now, and despite dabbing it with water, you know it’ll stain later. You shrug off the shirt, throwing it in your hamper. You were going to take a shower anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

15 minutes later, you find yourself in an unpleasant situation. You’re fully awake after finishing your shower, but when you draw the curtain open, you realize that your towel is missing. Racking your brain for last night’s memories, you vaguely remember leaving the towel on the ground in your room. Great. Today is going to be great.

You stand there naked for a minute. Sighing, you decide not to use your pants to dry yourself off and just run quickly to your room to grab the towel. You nearly slip when you step out of the tub but you steady yourself before you hit your head on the sink. You grab your pants on your way out and run into your room.

Later when you are fully dry and clothed, you briefly wonder why you had to sprint to your own room. You live alone. It’s not like anyone would be able to see you naked, but there’s still a hint of paranoia there. You shrug it off and make your way to the kitchen. Luckily, you have enough ingredients to make yourself an omelette for breakfast.

The pan sizzles when you pour the two eggs in. It smells amazing, you decide, as you throw ham and cheese into the array. A few minutes later, you have a well-cooked omelette on your plate and a glass of milk on the side. You wolf it down in a matter of seconds, burning your tongue on the hot food before gulping down all of the milk in one go. You let out a satisfied burp and pick the plate up to put in the sink, finally noticing all of the dirty dishes you haven’t done yet. Your eye twitches but you end up washing this week’s worth of dishes anyway.

It’s silent except for the sounds of plates knocking together under a rush of water, and the background tick of a clock. You allow yourself to be calmed by this silence, under the pretense that this somewhat amuses you. You almost drop a glass cup in the process, but you manage to finish the task. The dishes sit on their drying rack and you vow to put them away later tonight.

You walk over to your couch where you left your duffel last night. When you pull out your phone from the side pocket, you realize you should have charged it before you slept when you see that it’s at only 20%. Fortunately, you don’t have any missed calls, but a text from Sugawara catches your attention. You quickly type back a reply, no matter how late the response is. Sugawara knows of your tendencies and he means well, so you send a brief “yes, thanks” back.

No more than 2 minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response. It’s just a smiley face and you wonder if sending that text was really necessary. You tuck your phone into your pants pocket and go back into your room. From what you saw on your screen, it’s a little past 7am now. Grabbing your bag and roughly shoving your laptop and charger inside, you decide you shouldn’t be burning daylight. You shrug on your coat, patting your pockets to check for your keys. They jingle quietly in your left pocket and you remember to put on a hat before you leave.

The ride to the ground floor is relatively quiet. A few other residents you recognize accompany you in the elevator, but other than a shy smile and a weary glance, you receive no other acknowledgement. When you hear a “ding” and see the doors automatically slide open, you promptly make your way toward the exit.

As you walk outside, you tug the black beanie down to cover your ears. It’s slightly warmer today, but the crisp morning air still bites at your cheeks. You keep a moderate pace, only stopping when you notice snow falling from above about halfway to your destination.

Small, white flakes fall gently from the sky, softly blanketing the ground with a film of white. It’s not the first snowfall of the season, but when you tilt your head up and see the white puffs of your own breath against the morning sky, it might as well be. To you, nothing compares to the serene feeling of snow falling against your skin. You hold out your hands, welcoming its presence. The snow falls onto your fingertips, melting away just as quickly as they came. You curl your fingers into your palm and watch the snowfall from where you stand. You’re not exactly a big fan of the cold, but snowy days are the ones where you feel the most at peace. When you explained that to Sugawara last year, he just gave you a knowing look and ruffled your hair. You’re still not sure what he meant by that, but you don’t contemplate it any further.

A child’s laughter in the distance brings you out of your trance. You’re standing stock still on the sidewalk of a major street, and some people have given you strange glances. Your cheeks flush slightly (you blame it on the cold) and you briskly walk the rest of the way to your destination.

You push open the door to a coffee shop. You’re welcomed by the soft jingle of a bell and a polite greeting from someone at the counter. The shop, Suzuya’s, is somewhere you frequent quite often. Not necessarily because the coffee is amazing – though it is, that’s just a bonus – but it’s the perfect place for people watching.

That... sounds a little creepy. You place your order and sit down at your regular wooden table by the window in the corner of the room. You come here often enough for the employees to know your usual and they’re nice enough to keep a tab for you. The chair scrapes against the ground as you plop yourself in the seat. You pull out your laptop from your bag, plugging your charger into the USB port and the other end into your phone. It’s while you’re waiting for your laptop to boot up when an employee comes over with your coffee and a napkin. You say your thanks and bring the cup to your mouth, revelling in the warm liquid that travels down your throat and settles in your stomach. A sigh of contentment escapes your lips; this coffee is really good.

For the next hour, you spend your time alternating between surfing the internet and observing customers. You watch carefully as each person trickles into the store, but just long enough so you don’t look like you’re staring. Each person’s habits are different, you’ve discovered.

A tall, blonde woman clicks her heels together when she waits for her order and rubs her thumbs against the cup before taking her first sip. She takes her glasses off between mouthfuls, most likely to prevent them from fogging up, you assume. The woman idles by the front of the shop near the glass doors, occasionally peeking outside. You guess that she’s waiting for a significant other, and you find yourself correct when her eyes light up at the sight of a man approaching the shop. He laces their fingers together once he’s inside and she smiles warmly at him, disposing of her finished coffee in a nearby trash can. They leave the shop shortly after, and you find yourself searching for another stranger to observe.

Your eyes land on a middle-aged man in the opposite corner of the shop. He’s sitting down with his laptop, similar to how you are, but he looks exhausted. You can see the crow’s feet by his eyes and the deepening wrinkles on his forehead. His leg vibrates with each press of his keyboard. You think he seems stressed. His coffee is most likely already cold; it sits forgotten on the outer corner of the table. The man squints slightly at the screen as one hand moves to pat his left thigh, smoothing out the wrinkles of his slacks. You wonder if he is a writer or a journalist – he carries himself with a different kind of importance.

Another sip of your coffee turns into several more, and you finish your drink more quickly than you anticipated. Sighing, you decide that it’s time to head back, but something bright catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You turn your head to the front of the shop where a familiar short boy with fiery orange hair enters with a cold December breeze behind him.

It’s f*cking Sunshine.

You consider ducking your head behind your laptop, but you don’t think he’s noticed you yet. Wait, why would I even need to hide? You refuse to look at him, but you can’t help but sneak glances at him from the corner of your eye. You notice he’s wearing a large green parka that stops just before his mid-thigh.A pair of dark jeans hugs his legs comfortably, and his black boots are covered slightly in snow. He approaches the counter, brushing some of the snow out of his hair. You vaguely hear his order, some sort of vanilla flavoured drink, and you wonder why you’re paying so much attention to a stranger who pissed you off last night.

The amount of attention you place on Sunshine pisses you off even more, and you can feel your expression morphing into one of irritation. However, that doesn’t stop you from continuing to glance over at the orange haired boy, noticing the way he nibbles on his bottom lip as he waits for his drink. Your attention is drawn to how his eyes light up when he receives a new text and his inability to hide a smile as he furiously taps a reply. It’s just people watching, you tell yourself but you don’t need someone to tell you that’s bullsh*t. You don’t know why you’re so interested in this boy, and you’d really rather not find out.

Not wanting to get caught doing something embarrassing, you avert your attention back to your laptop. A jumble of words are displayed on your screen but no matter how hard you focus, you can’t seem to ignore the fact that Sunshine just got his drink and is walking in your direction.

You take a deep breath. You’ve been in hundreds of life threatening situations, yet this is somehow still able to make you nervous. Luckily, the façade you put up never fails to work. On the outside, others see you as calm and collected as ever. However on the inside, even you don’t understand why you feel anxious when he approaches the back corner near your table. Has he seen me? Why is he coming in this direction? … Wait, what is he-

Your mind registers what’s going on much too late. As Sunshine walks in your direction, he doesn’t notice the bag strap sticking out from the table next to yours. Naturally, his left boot steps into the loop and on his next step, his ankle gets caught on the strap and he’s sent flying forward. Your eyes widen as he gracelessly falls to the ground, his coffee slipping out of his hands and its contents emptying out onto your laptop.

“WHAT THE f*ck?!” You yell as you jump away from the table, avoiding the hot drink at all costs. You can literally see the moment your laptop passes away as the screen flickers once, twice, and then short circuits to nothing at all.

You scramble over to your device, careful not to touch anything that might still be hot from the drink. Frantically, you tap on a few keys, swipe your finger across the mouse pad and abuse the power button, but your laptop refuses to start up. The coffee is still hot where it was spilt in between the keys on your keyboard and you realize this is a lost cause. Sighing in defeat, you think about how much it will cost to buy a new one, and f*ck, I really liked that laptop...

Suddenly remembering how you even got in this situation in the first place, you turn your head to the orange mess on the ground. You watch as he slowly peels himself off the floor, muttering a curse as he rubs his forehead. He looks at the ground, obviously searching for the coffee he just dropped and when he meets your eyes, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pissed himself. Sunshine immediately jumps up from the floor, pointing a finger in your face.

“H-Hey!” He yells. You swat the hand away from your face, but he does it again. “You’re the guy who took my meat buns last night!”

You don’t think you’ve been this pissed off in a long time. Your blood practically boils as he obnoxiously points that finger in your face. No matter how many times you slap it away, he puts it right back. You growl; you probably look ridiculous right now, but you don’t really care because you’re livid.

“Who the f*ck cares about that?!”You yell right back in Sunshine’s face. You hope that years of intimidation have lead up to this point when you send him the nastiest glare you can manage. Mimicking him, you point a finger towards your laptop. “You spilt coffee all over my laptop, you freaking dumbass!”

Sunshine’s eyes follow the direction you’re pointing in and you think you can hear the gears finally turning in his head when he realizes what happened. Noticing the mess that used to be your laptop on the table, his shoulders tense up and he freezes in his spot. He slowly turns his head toward you with a fearful expression, his fingers jittering as he tries to stammer out an apology.

“I-I, uh, I didn’t mean, er, sorr-”

“What the hell is your problem?!” You cut him off, too exasperated to wait for him to finish his sentence. Your hands clench into fists and it takes all of your willpower not to punch him in the face.

Sunshine’s expression quickly changes from fear to one of disbelief. “Wha?! I don’t- It was just an accident!”

“Yeah, well your stupid accident cost me my freaking laptop.” You grab the tissue from under your cup and try to wipe away the liquid on the keys. It proves useless; there’s too much coffee for the small napkin to absorb. Angry, you toss the wet tissue into Sunshine’s face. “You owe me a new laptop.”

“D-don’t throw things at me, asshole!” The tissue hits Sunshine right above his nose and he jumps back in disgust. He gives you a repulsed look. You know you should probably feel bad for throwing something so unsanitary at his face, but he just murdered your laptop so you don’t really care right now. “And I told you! It was an accident, I’m sorry, jeez!”

“A sorry doesn’t replace a laptop, asshole!” You throw his insult right back at him. Sunshine’s eyebrows knit together and you can see the anger flash by his eyes. He walks up to you, grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you down so you’re face to face. He’s much shorter than you and your back strains to bend to his level.

“You don’t have to be so rude about it, you know!”

You scoff. “Okay yeah, because I’d so f*cking happy that some kid spilled his drink all over my stuff.”

His fingers tighten around your shirt. “I’m not a f*cking ki-!”

“Okay! That’s enough.” A voice brings you two out of your argument and you both turn your head to the voice. You see a dark haired employee glaring at you with a raised eyebrow. He looks irritated and you feel a little guilty for yelling so loud in a public place. Sunshine’s grip on your shirt loosens and you slap his hand away. He shoots you a dirty look. You roll your eyes.

You’re both forced to endure a ten minute lecture from the employee about public disruption and proper conduct of behaviour. Honestly, you’re only half paying attention to what he’s saying, and you even space out once or twice when he starts getting into the “characteristics of a decent human being.” You and Sunshine apologize half-heartedly multiple times, bowing with every “I’m sorry” and “It will never happen again.” The employee heaves out a sigh when he’s done, and leaves you with Sunshine by the mess.

There’s an awkward silence that hangs in the air between you two. You know that if you yell at him again, you’ll have to endure another lecture and you really don’t want that. Putting your hand to your forehead, you walk over to your laptop, pick it up, and throw it out into the nearest trash can.

“H-Hey, you-” Sunshine starts, but you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag and nod your head in the direction of the door.

“C’mon. Outside.” You walk past him, carefully listening for the footsteps that indicate he’s following. You hear them seconds later, and you both push through the glass doors. It’s still snowing, you notice. You wish you could enjoy it, but you have something far more irritating on your hands right now. Stopping where you are, you turn around to face Sunshine. He looks to you with a weary stare, fidgeting where he stands.

“Oi,” you say suddenly and he jolts before meeting your eyes. “What’s your name.”

“Wh-what?!”

“What’s. Your. Name.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.Your glare hardens. You wonder where all of Sunshine’s bravado from your previous argument escaped to.

“H-Hinata Shouyou,” he says. Ah, so that’s Sunshine’s name. He gives you a suspicious look when you nod after hearing his name.

“Alright, Hinata,” you start walking in the other direction, “you’re going to buy me a new laptop.”

“Wha- But!” You turn around and shoot him a glare that immediately shuts him up. Hinata slumps his shoulders in defeat and slowly trails behind you. “Okay...”

The nearest electronics shop in this neighbourhood is about a 20 minute walk away. Although you’d really rather not spend an extra third of an hour of your life with someone who just ruined your day, public transit isn’t an option with the snow that’s slowly piling up. You walk in silence, occasionally glancing back to the orange haired boy. Hinata follows closely behind you, but you can tell that he has something he wants to say by the way his mouth opens and closes ever so often. It irritates you, but as if you’re going to go out of your way to ask him what’s on his mind. If he has something to say, then he should just say it.

“Um!” Hinata suddenly shouts, despite being right next to you.

You turn around to face him. “What.”

“What’s your name?!” he all but screams in your face. You raise an eyebrow, somewhat surprised by the question. That’s what he’s been fidgeting about for the last 5 minutes?

You open your mouth to state your name but a shrill ring cuts you off before you have a chance. Hinata seems stunned by the sudden noise, jumping back slightly into a defensive position. You scoff at him, but it takes another loud ring for you to realize that oh, that’s my phone.

It vibrates against your hand when you reach inside your coat pocket to pick it up. You glance at the screen; it’s Ukai. He probably has another job for you. Giving one glance to Hinata, you slide your finger to the green circle on the screen and press the phone to your ear.

“H-hey, wait, you didn’t answer my-”

“Hello?” You blatantly ignore what Hinata has to say, watching with disinterest as he sends you a glare.

“It’s me,” Ukai’s voice booms in your ear. You hold the phone slightly farther from your head. “Report to Karasuno ASAP for debriefing.”

“Got it.” You hear a click from the other end and lower the phone from your ear. Hinata looks slightly pissed off when you turn your attention back to him. You guess you would be too, if he cut you off in the middle of a question to take a phone call. But in your defence, you probably wouldn’t live to see another day if you purposefully ignored one of Ukai’s calls. You quickly check the time on your phone; it’s almost 9am. You should hurry.

“Hey, give me your phone.”

“Huh?!” Hinata’s expression is quite laughable and you might’ve smirked if he wasn’t being so difficult right now. You hold out your hand. He stares blankly at your upturned palm and you think something’s seriously wrong with this kid.

“Are you an idiot? Give me your phone.” Hinata snaps up at your harsher tone and you think you finally might’ve gotten through to him.

“What? No way! Why the hell would I give you my-”

“Just do it.” You growl at him and take a step closer. He inches back just as quickly and gives you one last sceptical look before he digs his hand into his pocket and places his phone on your palm. He watches you like a hawk as you quickly unlock his phone and open his contacts app. You punch in your number into a new contact profile, and quickly send yourself a text. A small ring resonates from your phone and you hand Hinata’s back to him. He swipes it from your hands and carefully examines it, as if he were checking to see if you had done something bad to it.

“I put my number into your phone and nothing else, quit worrying.” You take out your own phone again and check to see if the text went through. You quickly add his number into your contact list (you put his contact name as “f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop”) and look back to Hinata. “Something came up, so I’ll text you later about the laptop. Don’t think you’re getting off the hook for this.”

“I- Uh.... Okay?” You’re already running late, so you walk past him right after you hear his acknowledgement. You think that you probably shouldn’t have given your number to a complete stranger, but he owes you a damn laptop so you suck it up for now. In fact, you can always make him delete the number afterwards, and both parties can move on happily.

Your walk back to Karasuno is somewhat stressful. The snowfall has increased significantly since you left Suzuya’s and it makes navigating through crowded streets much more difficult. Although you would generally appreciate this sudden blanket of snow, it’s a different situation when you’re not curled up in your comforter with a hot cup of tea to keep you warm. Your nose is starting to run and the snow is seeping into your shoes, slowly soaking your feet. It feels horrible.

You hike your bag a little higher up your shoulders when you finally reach the building doors, breathing out in relief when heat engulfs your entire body. The snowflakes that lay on your hair slowly melt away, dripping onto your face. You stomp your feet against the floor mat to remove the snow that gathered around the edge of your shoes. Pressing the button on the elevator, you quickly hope that Ukai won’t be too mad that you’re late.

*

Your dagger easily sinks into the skin of your victim, his ruby blood sheathing the blade as you pull it out. He falls to the ground with one final groan, fingers twitching before they stop all together. You kick him lightly once on his side with the toe of your boot. When he doesn’t shift for more than 12 seconds, you confirm that he’s dead. You grimace; this would have been much easier if you could still use your gun. It sits mostly unused in its holster, practically mocking you because you forgot to bring more ammo.

Crouching down by his side, you reach into his coat pocket to look for the key to the safe. As you pat around for the piece of metal, you think back to earlier at Karasuno. Ukai thoroughly chewed you out for “taking your sweet ass time,” completely ignoring your attempt to comment that the roads were blocked by the sudden snowfall and it would have been impossible to make it there in less than 20 minutes. He vowed to cut your pay (though you know he wouldn’t) and quickly ran you through your mission.

“Your next job is similar to the one you completed before,” Ukai slaps a yellow folder onto his desk, sliding it over for your eyes to see. You flip it open to the first loose page, waiting for further instructions. “Eliminate the enemy, retrieve the object and get out. ...Actually, I lied, it’s pretty much the exact same.”

You nod, picking up the folder to quickly skim over the information. There is a small photograph of a burly man, most likely in his mid-thirties. His face is unshaven and the shadows under his eyes closely mimic your own. You commit his face to memory and pull out another page clipped underneath. The next photo is of an intricately designed wooden box. Gold streaks intertwine with one another in a lace-like fashion, ending just before the clasp. There is some sort of symbol on the lid that somewhat resembles a cat. You aren’t sure what exactly the value of this object is, but it’s not your place to ask.

After you’ve finished reading the important details of the mission, you slide the folder back to Ukai. He nods at you before reaching under his desk and handing you a large, black tote bag.

“Your stuff,” he clarifies. You tug the straps over onto your right shoulder and give your boss one last bow before leaving the office. You’re halfway out the door when you hear him suddenly call out to you that “oh, the last company bus leaves in about five minutes, so you’ll have to hurry!” The panic settles into your skin; if you miss that bus, you’ll have to walk to your destination.

You run over to the elevator, frantically pushing the down button. When it doesn’t arrive instantaneously like you’d like it to, you dash over to the emergency stairs. You feet barely skim over the steps as you make your way down to the fourth floor, threatening for Sugawara to open the door immediately or you will kick the door down.

Bursting into the room when the door cracks open, you hurry to the locker room to change into your uniform. You think you hear Sugawara mutter a “seriously, again?” but you’re too busy trying to button your uniform pants up and zip up your sweater to listen. You quickly change back into your boots, noting that approximately 113 seconds have passed as you stuff your gun into your backpack. Slamming your locker shut, you beg Sugawara to lock it for you, racing out the door just as quickly as you came in.

The bandana in your pocket sits unloved until you safely make it onto the company bus with 14 seconds to spare. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you slump down into a seat and try to catch your breath. The driver gives you a questioning look, but he knows not to ask. Once you’ve calmed down, you tie the black cloth loosely around your neck, the golden crown contrasting against your all-black attire. You lean your head against the glass and close your eyes. You count by 7’s while you wait for your stop.

After much digging around, you reluctantly find the metal key in the man’s butt pocket. You swing the key around your finger by its chain, standing up to walk over to the safe in the back corner of the room. The key slides into the lock with ease, the door opening with a loud click. Just as you saw in the folder, a medium sized wooden box sits in the middle of the safe. You reach inside to grab it but before your hands make contact, a loud gasp catches your attention.

You whip your head around in the direction of the noise and see an unexpected accomplice by the room’s only exit. He pulls out his pistol and fires it in your direction with a scream. Anticipating it, you’re already moving by the time he pulls the trigger, but you cry out when you feel a sharp pain glide across the side of your thigh. You roll on the ground behind a thick metal divider, trying to ignore the sting in your leg. sh*t, f*ck, it grazed me.

There’s most likely blood trickling down your leg but you don’t have time to patch it up. You rummage through your bag, biting your lip as you grasp around for the smoke grenade. The man by the door is still shooting at the metal divider. He’s clearly inexperienced and you revel in the empty clicks of his gun when he realizes he’s out of bullets. You take this opportunity to toss the grenade in his direction, waiting until you hear the familiar hiss of smoke escaping the capsule. The man gasps in surprise and you leap over the divider, running toward him with the blood drenched dagger in your palm.

It slices into his skin just as easily, but you try to make it as painless as possible. When the smoke eventually dissipates, you don’t look back at the mess you’ve made. The rush of adrenaline numbs the pain from the graze as you retrieve the box, but you know it’ll hurt like a bitch later tonight. You don’t think about the men you’ve killed today when you overstep their bodies on the way out, because you know it will come back to haunt you in your sleep. You banish away any thoughts of the notebook that slumbers under your bed, because you already know you have two more ticks to add to your collection. And when you step out into the evening sun with a wooden box cradled in your bloodied hands, you wonder if you were really meant for anything else.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

A burning sensation on your left thigh is the first thing you feel the next morning. The whimper that escapes your lips is embarrassing, but you allow yourself a moment of weakness in the confines of your own bed. Your hand travels down to the wound, jolting back when the pain amplifies with the simplest touch. You remember carefully treating the wound last night, biting through the sting of the antiseptic as you wrapped a loose dressing around your thigh.

You’re lucky it was just a graze. If you hadn’t anticipated the shot last night, you would probably be dealing with a much more serious issue in the hospital. Just thinking about the overwhelming scent of disinfectant in a blindingly white room brings a foul taste to your mouth. Well either it’s that or your breath tastes like sh*t right now.

Deciding to go and brush your teeth, you carefully lift the covers off your body and scoot off your bed, careful not to agitate the wound. The pain swells slightly when you stand, but it’s bearable. As you limp your way to the washroom, you try to put as little weight on your left leg as possible. You get there without much difficulty, the pain slowly easing into the background. It gets easier to ignore as you rinse your mouth, spitting out foamy toothpaste into the sink. Changing proves to be more of a challenge; even with your loosest sweats, you can’t prevent the pain that shoots up your thigh when you bend your leg to step out of the pants.

Eventually, you end up lying back on your bed, limbs splayed hazardously across the sheets as you listen to the steady tick of a clock. You already told Ukai that you wouldn’t be able to accept a mission today – his reaction to you nearly getting shot was mediocre at best – so you laze about with your phone by your head. Sugawara texted you earlier, asking if you were feeling alright, but you haven’t gotten around to texting him back. You fiddle around with your phone, holding it with both hands above your face as you flip through the calendar app.

Something has been bothering you since you got up this morning, but you can’t figure out what. You didn’t notice it as much when you woke up, but after lying back down on your bed, you can practically feel an insistent buzzing at the back of your mind. You swipe through the app; you don’t have any appointments or meetings, so why do you feel like you’re forgetting something important?

Your phone buzzes with another text. The preview in the notification bar shows that it’s from Sugawara, saying something about how he lost his laptop charger so he needs to borrow your-

My laptop.

HINATA.

The sudden realization causes you to jerk, effectively letting the phone slip between your fingers and fall flat onto your face. It hits you right on the nose and drops next to your shoulders. You groan in agony as you cradle a hand to your nose because f*cking hell that never gets less painful...

After your face stops stinging, you grab your phone and twist onto your side so the same incident doesn’t happen again. Fingers tapping furiously across the screen, you type out a quick message.

To: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Laptop (10:13am)
Hey. You still owe me a laptop.

You hit the send button with your thumb and wait for a response. You sneak a glance at the time; it’s already past 10am, so he should be awake by now. Your right arm is starting to numb but you can’t flip over to your left side in fear of irritating the graze. Although lying flat on your back is another option, you’d really rather not take any chances with dropping your phone on your face again. What should I do...

By the time you settle into a position that has you half on your back and half on your side without squishing your arm into oblivion, Hinata still hasn’t texted back. You glare angrily at the screen. Is he purposely ignoring your message? You type out another text and hit send.

To: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Laptop (10:24am)
Don’t ignore my messages.

Hinata doesn’t reply to your texts until an hour later when you’re sitting at your desk, writing down all of the horrible things you’re going to do to him if he didn’t text you by lunch. You guess he’s lucky when you hear your phone vibrate violently against the table, alerting you of a new text. The paper sits forgotten on your desk as you quickly unlock your device.

From: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Laptop (11:39am)
chill i was in class >:(

You stare blankly at the screen. Class?

To: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Re:Laptop (11:39am)
What.

Probably not the most eloquent message you’ve ever sent, but you don’t exactly care. You’re still confused; he’s not in middle school or something, right? Your phone buzzes again.

From: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Laptop (11:40am)
what do u mean what. i go to university???

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

You vaguely remember your landlord telling you that there was a university in this area when you moved in, but that was years ago and you haven’t stopped by there once. Haven’t needed to, you guess, because hitmen don’t exactly attend school like other people around your age. Wait, around your age? Suddenly, you begin to wonder just how old Hinata is because he definitely does not give off the impression of a university student. You think about asking him, but you’re not that curious.

Before you have a chance to send your next text, you receive another message from Hinata.

From: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Name (11:42am)
btw u never told me ur name, jerk!!

To: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Name (11:43am)
Do you still have classes?

From: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Re:Name (11:45am)
hey u cant just not tell me ur name!!! and no, y

To: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Name (11:46am)
Meet me at Suzuya’s in 20 minutes.

You press the lock button on your phone and stuff it into your sweater pocket. Placing one hand on your desk, you slowly stand up from your chair. The pain still hasn’t subsided but you’re pretty sure you can stand to be on your feet for a few hours if necessary. You shift your weight from one leg to the other, testing the limits of your left leg. Once you feel comfortable enough, you make your way into the kitchen to grab your coat from the counter, slipping it over your shoulders. Out of habit, you pat your coat pocket to check for your keys, satisfied when you hear the familiar jingle of metal.

The door clicks behind you when it shuts and you quickly lock it with the key. Your limp is still present when you get into the elevator, but it shouldn’t hinder you too much. Some residents in the lobby give you a concerned look when they see you walk down the hallway, but you don’t allow them to approach you before you leave the building.

You can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing that it’s not snowing today – good because the snow will definitely slow you down with your limp, bad because you quite like snow. Regardless, you trudge your way down the street in the direction of the coffee shop. Ten minutes into your walk, you realize you haven’t covered even close to the same distance you usually would’ve within the same time. You haven’t noticed until now, but the limp slows your pace considerably. On the bright side, it doesn’t hurt too badly. The cold numbs the pain in your thigh to some extent, but you can still feel a slight sting with each step.

I’m gonna be late, you realize as you stuff your hands in your pockets. The keys are cool to the touch against your fingers and they jangle slightly as you fiddle with them. Some pedestrians look in your direction; you probably sound like a walking Christmas carol, minus the music.

Eventually, Suzuya’s appears in your line of vision. Walking up to the shop, you take a peek inside through one of the windows – Hinata is already sitting at a table with some sort of suspicious brown paper bag in his lap. He looks irritated as he taps out a message on his phone, slumping in his seat. Deciding not to make him wait any longer, you push your way in through the doors and call out his name as you walk toward him.

Hinata looks up at the sound of his name and shoots up from where he’s sitting with a glare. As you make your way over to his table, you notice that he’s wearing the same green parka from yesterday with the addition of a black scarf. Two bright orange mittens sit on the table top where he’s placed that strange brown bag – seriously, what the heck is that bag for?

“H-hey! You’re like,” he calls out to you when you stop in front of him and checks his phone, “15 minutes late!!”

“Uh, yeah.” You don’t really feel like explaining why it took you so long to arrive. Hinata gives you a displeased look at your answer (“What the hell is ‘yeah’ supposed to mean?!”) but you find your attention drawn back to the bag on the table. You nod your head in its direction. “What’s with the bag?”

Hearing your words, he swipes the bag off the table with an intense speed and cradles it to his chest like a newborn baby. Okay, now you’re really curious.

“None of your business!” He all but screams in your face. You glance around in fear of seeing the same employee from yesterday. Luckily, he doesn’t appear to be in sight, but some customers have started to give you two strange looks. You should probably get going.

“Okay,” you let him have his way but you guarantee that you’ll find out what the contents of that bag are later, “let’s go.” Hinata gives you a smug look before he realizes that you’re leaving. He scrambles to collect his things before chasing you out the door. You snort, is he an idiot?

This time, you walk side by side to the electronics shop. At this point, you realize that you are significantly taller than him. The top of his head (including his hair) probably reaches just below the bottom of your eyes. When you first saw him at the convenience store, you knew he was short, but you didn’t think he was this short. You would have to crouch down quite a bit just to be eye-level with him. Thinking it over, you decide it’s probably best not to bring that fact up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hinata giving your leg a scrutinizing look. You didn’t think your limp would be that noticeable by this point – though you may have just gotten used to walking like this – and you subconsciously try to even out your steps. Your face contorts into a wince as you put more pressure on your left side. Sunshine’s still looking at your leg like it’s some sort of alien from outer space, so you don’t think he’s noticed that you’re completely aware of his not-so-discrete staring.

“Oi,” you snap at him and he meets your eyes with a surprised look, “quit staring at me.”

“I wasn’t-!” Hinata protests and you raise your eyebrow, clearly not believing him. He tries again. “You, uh. Your leg.”

“Yeah, I know you were staring at my leg, you dumbass. So stop.”

“But you’re limping.” When you take a look at his expression, Hinata actually seems to be genuinely concerned. You’re somewhat dumbfounded; why would he care so much about a stranger’s wellbeing? Suddenly, his eyes narrow as if he just realized something. “And don’t call me a dumbass!”

It’s too easy to rile him up. “So? And I can call you what I want, dumbass.”

“Shut up! Don’t call me that!!” Hinata says in a mixture of anger and exasperation. “Hey that reminds me, you never told me your name, jerk.”

“Why should I have to tell you my name, huh?”

“Because you know mine!! It’s only fair,” he pouts and tightens his grip on the brown bag against his chest. Oh right, that bag. Suddenly, you think of an idea.

“I’ll tell you my name,” Hinata’s eyes light up at that, but you continue, “if you tell me what’s in that stupid brown bag.”

You watch as his shoulders slump down and his eyebrows furrow in disappointment. To be honest, you wouldn’t really mind telling him your name, it’s not that big of a deal. But if you have something to draw on as leverage to find out what’s inside that goddamned paper bag, you’ll use it to its upmost ability. At his silence, you assume that he’s not going to tell you its contents.

“Well,” you mutter, trying to hide your own curiosity, “I guess I won’t tell you my name.”

For the rest of your walk, a silence looms over both of your heads. Neither of you say a word, both too stubborn to give into the other’s request. Normally, you’d appreciate the fact that Sunshine’s keeping quiet, but this just feels so... Awkward. You sigh, this is why I don’t like being around people.

You’re eventually saved when the shop comes into view. A large sign that says “Future Shop” hangs above the main entrance and the automatic doors slide open when you approach it. You walk in, Hinata trailing in just behind you. He lets out a breathy “whoa” when he sees the wide variety of electronic goods, eyes instantly locking on the video game section. The way his hands rub together in excitement and how his eyes glow at the sight remind you of a child getting their first Christmas gift or something.

“I’ll be in the laptop section, come find me when you’re done,” you gesture helplessly at the gaming section, “with all that.”

Hinata nods his head energetically at you and within the blink of an eye, he’s racing down the aisles with a bright smile on his face. You scoff as he nearly knocks down an employee on his way there, bowing profusely before bolting back to his destination. When you can’t see a head of orange hair anymore, you slowly make your way to the laptop section.

Browsing around, you see that there’s quite a wide variety at this store. As you swipe your finger across one of the mouse pads, you realize that your old laptop was extremely outdated in comparison. Some of the functions are confusing; you find yourself stuck on a blue screen with colourful boxes, unable to get back to the window you were just on. You hit the buttons in frustration, how the hell does this work? Several different gaming and weather apps open, but you still can’t figure out how to get back to the webpage.

Eventually, a worker dressed in red takes pity on you and explains that this laptop runs on the “8th window” – or something along the lines of that – so it also functions as a touch screen. Usually, you would refuse any help from the workers due to sheer stubbornness, but you’re sure that you’d never be able to figure out how to use such a complex system by yourself. You assume that your confused face looks fairly intimidating when the employee moves to stand a good metre away from you. He points out that the display also functions as a touch screen tablet, and your eyes widen when he detaches the screen from the keyboard. You’re about to yell that he broke the goddamned laptop, but you’re taken aback when he easily swipes through the tabs on the still-functioning device. After he finishes his explanation (“So this laptop comes in both 13inch and 15inch models, but if you buy a- hey, are you listening?” “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. 13” and 15”. Sure.”), he clicks the tablet-screen-thing back into the keyboard and it locks with a click. This amuses you greatly; who knew technology could evolve like this??

He asks you if you need any more assistance with your shopping and you decline politely. After he leaves, you fiddle around with the laptop, trying to execute the same actions he showed you before. When you successfully navigate back to the webpage you were on before, you mentally pump a fist into the air. This is probably the coolest thing you’ve ever seen ever since you discovered touch screen cell phones. Thinking back, it took you a while to get used to your phone as well. You remember having to ask Sugawara how to make a phone call and feeling embarrassed when he laughed at you and called you a grandma.

“Hey, dumbass!”

You turn your head instinctively to the voice, recognizing it as Hinata’s from across the store. He makes his way over to you with a hand over his mouth, no doubt covering an arrogant smirk. “Wow, you actually looked.”

“W-what the- I didn’t, your-”

“Well you never told me your name, so I guess that’s just what I’ll have to call you from now on!” Hinata skips down another aisle before you get a chance to slap him upside the head. This whole not-telling-Hinata-your-name-thing- is starting to come back and bite you in the ass; if he wasn’t buying you a new laptop, you would have definitely chased him down to seek your revenge.

Instead, you focus back on the laptop in front of you. Taking a look at the price tag, you deem it reasonable for all of the interesting functions you just learned about. You take a look around you and when you don’t see Hinata in sight, you pull out your phone to send him a text.

To: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Done (12:53pm)
Come back. I’m done now.

From: f*cking idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: Re:Done (12:55pm)
kk

A few seconds after you read Hinata’s text, you see him bouncing back down the aisle with some sort of video game in one hand and the brown bag in the other. You still really want to know what’s inside that bag but you ignore that desire for the time being.

You point to the laptop you were looking at before. “I want that one.”

Hinata peeks around your shoulder to look at the laptop. His overall impression of the device seems satisfactory (judging by the way he keeps nodding his head), but when his eyes reach the price tag, he turns to you with an incredulous stare.

“This- this is almost $900 after tax!!” If it wasn’t winter right now, you think that a fly would definitely flutter into Hinata’s mouth by the way his jaw has dropped.

“So?”

“That’s way too expensive! Are you crazy?!”

“You spilt coffee on my laptop,” you remind him with a growl, “so you owe me a new one.”

“Yeah, but your old laptop looked like a piece of sh*t!”

“Hah?!”

“Well, not exactly a piece of sh*t, but it definitely wasn’t worth the same as this one!!”

“You little-”

Apparently, your argument does not go unnoticed. By the time you have a death grip on Hinata’s head and he’s squirming to get out of your grasp, one of the employees approaches you two with a sheepish look.

“Uhm-”

“What?!”

“What.”

You two say at the same time and then glare at each other as if both were brutally offended that you said the same thing. The person who spoke out coughs once and you whip your head in her direction, breaking the staring competition you were having with Hinata.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the employee continues once she has your attention, “but we do have a special discount for university students. That is, if either of you do attend one.”

“Ah,” Hinata’s demeanour instantly changes at that. He pinches the skin on your hand that’s gripping his head, and you unwillingly let go with a yelp. You spit curse after curse at him, but he doesn’t stop pinching the back of your palm. “I go to university!!”

The employee smiles at that and you take the opportunity to grab his wrist and forcibly pull his fingers away from your hand. You pinch him once in return, mumbling about the crescent shape nail prints now etched into your skin. He squeaks and pushes you away; you glare at him and push him back even harder.

By the time the worker returns with her scary looking manager in tow, you and Hinata are rolling around on the ground, fingers gripped in each other’s coats and legs awkwardly intertwined. Hinata tries reaching around to the exposed skin on your neck to pinch you, but you slap his hand away before he gets the chance. You retaliate by pinching him once under his chin and he jerks in pain, abruptly elbowing you in the side. You wheeze out a curse and slap him on the back of his head, revelling in the “oof” that escapes his lips.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU TWO ARE DOING?!” A large, booming voice echoes past your ears and you both stop fighting to stare guiltily at the brawny manager in front of you. Suddenly realizing the compromising position you two are in, you push away from Hinata at the same time he does from you, scrambling to stand up.

“Uh, well-”

Hinata tries to explain as he straightens out his jacket but you both find yourselves being dragged by your coat collars toward the front of the store. You try to fight back but the manager is not-so-surprisingly strong, so you let yourself be pulled out of the store as you watch Hinata wriggle around in the man’s other hand.

When you reach the exit, the manager throws both of you onto the ground and yells at you for disrupting store peace and causing unwanted attention. As he spits in both of your faces, you find that ever since you met Hinata, these lectures are happening more often than they should be. You look over to Hinata once and he catches your eye, subtly waving his index finger in a circle near his head. You nod carefully in response, keeping in mind of the fact that you’ll probably get in more trouble if the man finds out that you’re not paying full attention to his lecture.

Fifteen excruciatingly long minutes later, the manager is still yelling at you two outside and some of the customers leaving and entering the store are giving you weird looks. By now, neither you nor Hinata are paying any attention to his frantic gestures and reddening face. When you glance over to Hinata again, he points in the man’s direction and then makes a face that strangely resembles the expression the manager just made. You snort in surprise, clearly not expecting that ridiculous imitation.

Unfortunately, your snort doesn’t go unnoticed and the manager officially flips his sh*t.

“THAT’S IT!!!” He bellows and Hinata glares at you, most likely for snorting and getting yourselves noticed. You glare right back, it’s not my fault you made a stupid face. When you look back to the man, his face is bright red and you think he’s just seconds away from exploding. “YOU TWO ARE BANNED FROM THIS STORE! FOREVER!!”

“What?!”

“Hah?!?” You exclaim at the same time. Honestly, you knew that you would be kicked out of the store for fighting, but getting permanently banned is a whole other story. Before you know it, you’re being dragged back into the store and forced to take a picture for “security purposes.”

Five minutes later when you and Hinata are thrown out of the shop again, both of your faces are taped to the automatic doors with large red lettering that says “BANNED” underneath it.

“We... just got banned from Future Shop.”

“... I guess we did.”

Hinata turns to you with a blank expression until a grin slowly appears on his lips. Suddenly, that smile bubbles into laughter, and even you can’t prevent the grin on your face. People are definitely giving you two looks right now and you can’t help but let out a small chuckle at this ridiculous situation. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before, being able to come even close to smiling without a care. It feels like an invisible weight has lifted off your chest – one that used to push down and imprison you until you were drowning in your own despair. It’s still there, suspended by a thin thread above your heart, but even if it’s temporary, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

It’s kind of hard to believe that just moments earlier, you were literally seconds away from punching Hinata in the face, and now you find yourself smiling with him as if it’s the most natural thing to do. But it’s not, something screams at you from the deepest parts of your heart and you push it to the back of your mind for now. You don’t want to think like this, not right now. Not when something finally feels right and the overbearing pressure of life isn’t weighing you down. You think that this feeling is something you can’t even begin to describe; you never would have thought that being banned from a store, with Hinata of all people, would make you feel something you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

By the time you return to your normal expression, Hinata is still giggling, wiping at the tears that have gathered at the corner of his eyes. He looks over to you with an endearingly cheerful smile and you feel like someone’s just slapped you across the face.

Before you have the chance to berate yourself for that thought, your stomach lets out an extremely loud and long rumble, immediately surprising the both of you into silence. Feeling a blush creeping up your neck and settling bright on your cheeks, you look down at your feet and avoid Hinata’s gaze at all costs.

“Oh my god,” Hinata bursts out laughing all over again and you can feel the tips of your ears heating up. He drops to his knees in front of you, clutching his stomach as if he were in pain. The laughter never stops, and you’re sure that tears are falling out of his eyes. You cover your face with one hand. This is so embarrassing.

“Sh-shut up, asshole!” You half-heartedly kick him with the side of your shoe. “I didn’t eat anything yet, so this is normal!!”

Hinata’s slamming his fist repeatedly against the ground now, trying to blubber out something that sounds like a mix of “holy sh*t” and “I’m dying.” To cover up your embarrassment, you kick him for real this time against the side of his thigh, and he gasps in pain before going straight back to laughing again.

It’s probably another 5 minutes of giggling and utter nonsense before Hinata finally calms himself down and catches his breath. He’s still sitting on the ground, weight leaned on the hand he has placed behind his back as he wipes the remaining tears away. You scowl at him – the blush finally faded away, though the embarrassment did not – but he just smiles at you and asks, “So do you want to go grab lunch?”

His question shocks you and you think that today is definitely one of the strangest days of your life. You stay silent, not exactly sure how to respond. All of a sudden, Hinata’s eyes widen as if he just realized what he said and quickly stammers to clarify.

“Er, like, well,” he starts awkwardly, “you haven’t eaten yet and I didn’t eat lunch before this, s-so it would make sense, right!! Lunch, I mean. Not, like, y’know.”

You, in fact, do not know, but you suppose that Hinata’s right. If you’re hungry and he’s hungry, you should go get something to eat. That makes sense, right?

“Okay.” You agree bluntly and the expression on Sunshine’s face is something akin to relief, you think. Hinata picks himself up off the ground, eyeing the brown bag that fell to the ground with him earlier and picking it up. You notice that he’s not cradling it to his chest anymore and he gives you a pensive look before shaking his head.

“Let’s go?” He suggests and you nod. Unexpectedly, the walk to whatever restaurant Hinata has chosen is not awkward. There’s hardly a moment of silence between you two and although that silence is filled with arguments (“Why are you making that face?” “Huh? What face.” “You know, that face. Like you’re perpetually pissed off.” “OI.”) and stupid comments (“Whoa, it’s pretty cold.” “It’s December, you idiot.” “Okay yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s cold.” “... That’s true.”), it somehow feels natural.

After several intersections and getting lost twice – Hinata swears he’s good with directions, but you think otherwise – you finally arrive at a small ramen restaurant. The waiters greet you loudly and it’s only when you slide into your seat that you realize that your left thigh really hurts. Thinking back, it probably wasn’t a good idea to get into a half-fight when you were still recovering. You’re not really sure why you never noticed the pain until now and your hand clutches your thigh tightly in an attempt to lessen the burn. Glancing up, you see that Hinata is focusing intently on the menu so you allow yourself to let the displeasure show on your face before you quickly cover it up again.

“Hey,” you sit up a little straighter at Hinata’s voice, but you don’t think he’s noticed anything, “you ready to order??”

The menu still sits unopened on your side of the table and you quickly flip it open to the first page. “Does it look like I’m ready yet?”

Hinata mumbles something that sounds like “I was just asking, jeez, asshole” as you skim through the dishes. You mainly focus on the pictures instead of the actual words themselves, and you eventually decide on a dish that looks really appetizing. When one of the waitresses comes to take your order, you both say the same meal number at the same time and she laughs when you give Hinata a nasty glare. You end up getting the same thing as Hinata anyway and he complains that you’re copying him. You reach over to grip his head across the table, only letting go when he pinches your hand again.

Your noodles come shortly after, steaming hot and delicious. Neither of you speak when you eat, too busy slurping down the ramen and trying not to burn your tongue at the same time. When you both finish, Hinata ends up paying for both of your meals (“... I don’t have my wallet.” “What?! You owe me next time!!” “Well you still owe me a laptop.” “... Fine, just this once, okay?!”) and you leave the restaurant with a full stomach.

Standing around outside, you find yourself at a loss of what to do. Hinata said he needed to use the washroom and you kick around at the snow on the ground while you wait. You’ve been banned from the only electronics shop in this area and you’re satiated; now what? When Hinata pushes through the doors and sees you lingering outside, he walks over to your side, also seemingly confused of what to do next. You open your mouth to say something, anything really, but Hinata’s eyes catch on something behind you and he says, “Look!”

Turning behind you, there are several flashes of bright lights from a large Christmas tree in the center of a pedestrian-only road. Lining the snow-white streets are vendors and assortments of red and green decorations. Ah, right, it’s that time of year, isn’t it? The importance of holidays never really stuck with you, especially Christmas, so you don’t exactly see the value in celebrating these kinds of events.

You face Hinata with disinterest, but you find it hard to tell him to stop looking in that direction when his eyes are shining with child-like desire and his hands are balled up into fists at his sides. You sigh; you know you’re going to regret this later and you’re not really sure what compels you to do so, but you turn to him and ask quietly, “Do you want to go check it out?”

Hinata meets your eyes with a glimmer in his own and he nods furiously. You tilt your head in the direction of the lights and he races off, practically jumping with excitement. Following behind him, you watch as he stops by each street merchant, happily accepting the freebies they hand out to him no matter how ridiculous they may look. They then try to hang their silver bells and stick plastic red balls onto you, but you decline politely. Hinata notices you trying to escape their clutches, and he skips over and personally slides an antler headband onto your head (you notice that he had to get on the tips of his toes to do so).

You give him a hard kick on the butt when he tries to take a picture of you with the antlers, but he manages to get the shot anyway. Ripping the headband off your head, you chase after Hinata as he laughs and runs away, obviously to save his life (“Get back here, you idiot!!!” “HAH! Never!!”). You eventually catch up to him after following him around the large evergreen tree 5 times, but when you finally grab onto his coat pocket, you’re too out of breath to make him delete the photo or even yell at him. Leaning your hands on your knees, you cringe at the pain that shoots through your left leg.
Apparently, Hinata notices this too and asks if you’re okay but you brush him off. You don’t need him or anyone else worrying about you, so you feign nonchalance and continue walking.

Hinata leads you through the rest of the street, pointing out where you can make your own ornaments and get your face painted for free. Though you know you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those stupid looking stands, you listen to Hinata ramble on anyways. You tell yourself it’s because he’d probably pinch you again if he caught you not paying attention, but you won’t admit to yourself that you don’t really mind him talking, really. He strolls over to one of the stands he pointed out earlier, buys something and makes his way back.

“Here,” he thrusts something into your palm and you take it with a confused face. You didn’t think he’d buy you something after complaining about you forgetting your wallet back at the restaurant. Tearing open the red and green wrapping, you find yourself face to face with a circular, orange ornament. You hang it on your index finger; its colour reminds you of Hinata.

You mean to thank him for buying you this little gift, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Hinata’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Wait, what? You don’t?! sh*t wait, is this a religious thing or-”

“No, you dumbass,” you cut him off before he starts sweating too, “I just, don’t.”

Hinata gives you a look that screams how can anyone just not celebrate Christmas before you sigh and tuck the ornament safely into your coat pocket.

“Wait, I thought you said you didn’t celebrate,” Hinata protests.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to just turn away a gift someone bought for me,” you mutter. You hope that the cold hides the slight blush on your cheeks, and if Hinata notices, he doesn’t say anything. In fact, he just smiles brightly at you, and for some reason, you feel like you owe him something. In the end, you settle for grumbling out a quiet, “... Thanks.”

Hinata does a double take at your word of gratitude, and you would have smirked if you weren’t already embarrassed. He gives you another blinding smile and a chirpy “No problem!!” before a song suddenly plays. This time, you know that it’s not your phone (you wouldn’t have such an odd ringtone) and Hinata rummages around his pockets before pulling out his cell. He puts his index finger to his lips when he picks up, and you glare at him. I wasn’t gonna talk anyways...

From his conversation, you pick up bits and pieces of “late” and “ok coming” before Hinata hurriedly hangs up and stuffs the phone back into his coat pocket.

“I-I forgot I had an evening class at 5 and it’s already almost 4:30, so I have to go,” he fills you in and you nod at him. You don’t know why, but a sudden rush of disappointment runs through your chest. The feeling doesn’t leave as you watch Hinata try to stuff all of his freebies into a plastic bag he found earlier, pausing when he sees the brown bag in his hands.

Turning to you, he reaches into the bag with one hand (you’re finally finding out what’s inside that bag, holy crap) and pulls out a meat bun, shoving it in your direction.

“J-Just so we’re clear!” Hinata yells in your face as you stare blankly at the piece of food in his hand. It looks good, admittedly, but that’s what you’ve been stressing over? A meat bun? When you look back to Hinata, you’re almost positive that the reason his cheeks are red isn’t due to the cold. “I bought this earlier for myself, b-but since we didn’t end up getting your laptop, you can have one okay?!”

You’re frozen to your spot, speechless at Hinata’s words.

“H-Hurry up and take it, you asshole!!” He thrusts it at you again and when your brain remembers how to function again, you clumsily accept it into your hands. The meat bun sits cold and stale in your hands, but strangely enough, you can feel its warmth seeping into your fingers. You look at Hinata and try to say something, but he cuts you off before you get a chance. “Okay, I really have to go now, so uh. I’ll see you later, I guess?”

You blink at him once, twice, and then nod before he turns around and starts running off in the other direction. It’s when you look at his slowly retreating back that you remember your words from earlier today.

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me what’s in that stupid brown bag.”

Your feet are running toward Hinata before you even realize it, his name escaping your lips. He turns around in surprise and when you finally stop in front of him to catch your breath, he’s bombarding you with a flurry of questions (“Hey, are you okay?” “Did you forget something?” “Oh crap, did I drop a bag?”). You straighten up once he’s in front of you and steel yourself for what’s to come. You have a promise to uphold, and you’re not going to break it.

“... Kageyama,” you mutter quietly, trying to squash the embarrassment down until later. Hinata tilts his head in confusion – he probably didn’t hear you. You squeeze your eyes shut and reopen them, gathering up all of your nerve. “I’m Kageyama.”

Hinata’s mouth is open in a silent “o” before it splits into a wide grin when he remembers what you said earlier. A giggle finds its way past his lips and he nods twice before giving you one last grin. You watch as he runs off again, turning around to yell “Alright, bye Kageyama!!!” before disappearing around the street corner.

You slump against one of the vendor carts, the cold meat bun still in your hands. Your thigh is hurting again, probably from when you ran after Hinata, but you ignore it in favour of tilting your head up to the sky. Small, white puffs begin to fall softly from above; it’s snowing again. You watch as one of the flakes lands gently on the meat bun, managing not to melt against it.

In the end, you realize that Hinata never did buy you that new laptop, yet oddly enough, you find yourself not caring. Of course you’re still going to make him buy you one in the near future, but you feel like you’ve gained something else today. The promises of a next time linger in your mind and as you replay Hinata’s words over and over again, you wonder what this feeling is. Besides Sugawara, you don’t think anyone has ever come close to accepting you this easily before. Of course, it’s not like Hinata knows who you really are (the words assassin, killer, murderer, leave a bitter taste on your tongue), but he was definitely able to see you for who you think you want to be.

Mulling over it, you decide that you would want to be around him again. It’s a strange, foreign feeling, but Hinata makes you feel comfortable despite the arguments and stupidity. Even though he’s rash, too loud and undeniably stubborn, you don’t find yourself particularly put-off by that.

Sighing, you think you understand what those earlier feelings were a result of.

You tilt your head upward again, holding the meat bun in one hand and gripping your left thigh with the other as you watch the snow fall little by little from the sky.

I think I made a friend.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Sugawara looks to you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. You’re back in the 4th floor weaponry room at Karasuno, lounging on a couch with a hand over your face and your bad leg on the arm rest. You can feel a blush slowly creeping up your face, settling bright on your cheeks and burning against the skin on your ears.

“I said,” you say through your teeth, thoroughly embarrassed, “... I think I made a friend yesterday.”

When you slowly take the hand off your eyes, you instantly regret it when you see Sugawara looking at you with teary eyes and a proud, mother-like smile.

“Oh my god,” you groan, you knew this would happen but really hoped it wouldn’t, “stop.”

“Kageyama! This is A Big Deal!” He emphasises. You want to crawl into a hole and never come back out. You cover your face with your hands again, not wanting to meet Sugawara’s eyes. Burrowing yourself farther into the cushions, you try to shrink away and disappear. After hearing your silence, he sighs and even without looking, you know that he’s rolling his eyes at you. You feel a weight sink into the couch near your head and you scoot farther away to give Sugawara some more room.

“You know,” he starts softly and then pauses. You know this tone – it’s the one he uses when he’s being completely serious – so you reluctantly take the hands off your eyes. Sugawara looks down at you with a kind smile, his eyes crinkling into moon-like crescents. “I’m really happy for you.”

You stay silent at his words. His sincerity leaves you speechless in every way you can’t possibly comprehend. You’re aware that you’re not the best when it comes to social interaction, especially when words of such kindness are directed at you, but you really don’t know how to respond. Your chest swarms with a million different feelings all at once and your mind finds it hard to concentrate on a single one.

Though out of all those feelings, the one that shines crystal clear to you is thankfulness towards Sugawara. Despite you being socially awkward and hostile to others, he’s always stuck around for your mundane complaints and indifferent behaviour. You’re pretty sure that in the beginning, his thoughtfulness was out of obligation to a fellow colleague at Karasuno, but now you know that Sugawara would not do something he truly did not want to do.

So when you hear those words, you can almost feel the pride oozing out of Sugawara’s expression. This is what reminds you of the times he’s watched with a sad expression as you apathetically completed mission after mission, and later, when you thought you were alone, let the guilt of murder (destruction) slowly eat away at you. And now, you probably can’t even begin to understand the relief that Sugawara feels from seeing you improve and...

And for you to finally make a friend.

You slap a hand to your forehead. The thoughts that previously clouded your mind are suddenly cleared when you think of the f-word for the umpteenth time today; it still makes you feel uncomfortable in the most pleasant way. You’ve always thought that you were capable of being in full control of yourself, but now you’re not sure what these unfamiliar feelings are doing to you.

Sugawara raises an eyebrow, probably confused as to why your palm made contact with the skin just above your brow. Right, you suddenly remember that you still haven’t said anything in reply. Not wanting to let Sugawara think that you’ve become totally socially inept, you try to mumble out something like “thanks” or “okay.”

“Huhgghkahg,” is what comes out of your mouth instead, and you’re already mentally berating yourself for pretty much proving that you’ve become totally socially inept. The gargle of syllables obviously surprises Sugawara and he blinks at you twice before bringing a hand up to cover his smile.

“Oh, Kageyama, you have such a way with words.”

“S-Stop embarrassing me!”

“But it’s like my job to embarrass you.” He teases you, but you’re just grateful that you don’t have to come up with some sort of meaningful response to Sugawara’s words. You wouldn’t know how to verbally express those feelings anyway – “Huhgghkahg” being a first-rate example – so you definitely prefer sacrificing (most of) your dignity instead.

Sugawara flicks you on the forehead. You glare at him in annoyance and you find that the smile on his face is suspiciously innocent. “So..?”

“... So what.”

“Tell me about your friend!”

You scoff. “What the hell? No.”

“C’mon, please, Kageyama? Don’t you think I deserve to know?” Sugawara pouts and you swear he’s actually tearing up. But you’re not as gullible as you used to be; you’ve known him long enough to know that these are fake tears.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Gross, no.”

“...”

“...”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-”

“God okay, okay! Ugh, you suck.”You mentally slap yourself for forgetting that he knows that you hate his whining-little-kid-voice. Sugawara smiles brightly at you and you glare at him; he’s secretly a little devil despite his outward appearance. He nods once, signalling for you to explain.

Scratching your head, you’re not really sure where to start. How do you even begin to describe Hinata? You pause for a few seconds before deciding with, “Well first off, he’s stupid.”

“Hm, maybe opposites don’t attract.”

“Sh-shut up!!!”

Sugawara’s laughter rings throughout the room, but when he sees your expression he quickly apologizes and asks for you to continue. You briefly describe Hinata to him (“Well, he has really bright orange hair. And he’s short.” “Wow, I’m getting an extremely specific visual here. I could probably draw him just from this description.” “...”) and complain about his personality (“He’s probably the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” “Really?” “... No, I take that back. Tsukishima is the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” “Ah.”).But when Sugawara asks you how in the world did you two even meet, he chokes on his spit to try to cover up his laughter when you begrudgingly tell him about your laptop.

“Oh my god," he wheezes out, placing a hand over his chest to try to stop his coughing fit. You don’t even try to help him, as he doubles over, clutching his stomach because he’s still laughing through all of that. Well, as close to laughing as sounding like a dying whale gets, you suppose.

A few minutes later when Sugawara comes back with a half-empty water bottle, he sits back on the couch and leans his head against the backrest, a serene smile on his face. “Ah,” he says with a sigh, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in a while.”

“Shut up. You suck.”

Sugawara just laughs again but it quickly dies down and a silence settles between you. When you glance up at him, you think you see a hint of sadness hidden behind his eyes as he reaches up to scratch the back of his ear. Suddenly, you’re struck with vague memories of a colourless hospital room and a bloodied body with black hair lying stock still on a too-white bed. You remember standing just outside the entrance of the room, completely helpless as you watched Sugawara clasp a limp, pale hand between his own, tears streaming down his face. You remember his desperate cries of “don’t leave me” and “you promised,” and having to look away to stop the sinking feeling in your chest.

The ring of a phone brings you back before you can think too far about memories of all-black attire and bouquets of lilies decorating a slate of grey. It’s yours, and Sugawara glances at the screen before passing it to you with just the word, “Ukai.” You nod and sit up, groaning at the soreness in your back as you press the phone to your ear.

“Office. Now.” Ukai only says two words – probably too lazy to say more in favour of sticking another cigarette in his mouth – before he hangs up and you hear a shrill dial tone in your ear. You bring the phone back down and stuff it in your pocket before swinging your legs to a regular sitting position. You stand up, ignoring the slight pain still throbbing on the outside of your left thigh. It hurts considerably less compared to yesterday, so before you came into Karasuno today, you sent Ukai a text that you could accept a mission if he had one for you.

Sugawara reaches around his side of the couch, lifting up your duffel bag and handing it to you. “Going already?”

“Mm,” you grunt out as you take the bag from his hands. You swing the strap across your shoulders, stumbling when the sudden weight of the bag nearly topples you over. Sugawara looks pensive as you send him a questioning look. He claps his hands together and his face lights up in recognition. Reaching over into your duffel, he unzips the largest pocket and pulls out two concrete bricks.

“... What...” You can’t possibly think of a rational reason for why Sugawara put two f*cking bricks in your bag.

Sugawara just shrugs his shoulders and looks at you as if the reason were completely obvious. “I needed a paper weight.”

A paper weight?! You want to yell at Sugawara because that was totally not evident, but Ukai is probably going to slaughter you if you arrive any later. Shaking your head, you zip up the pocket and make your way out of the room. As you open the door, Sugawara’s voice catches your attention and you stop at the entrance.

“Kageyama,” you feel Sugawara’s hand pulling on your sleeve and you turn your head to indicate that you’re listening, “just, be careful. Alright?”

You slowly nod, closing the door behind you. As you make your way back to the elevator, you know that he’s not talking about the mission. Without an explanation, the real meaning behind Sugawara’s words ring clear to you.

Don’t get too close. It’ll only hurt more in the end.

I know, you clench your fists, thinking of hospital beds and the drone of a heart monitor.

I won’t.

*

“You’re pairing me up with that asshole Tsukishima?!” You clench your hands into fists at your sides, willingly letting your displeasure show despite said asshole currently being in the same room. You can see Tsukishima from the corner of your eye, sitting in a chair to your right and looking just as irritated with his signature headphones secured over his ears.

“It’s just one time,” Ukai pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously not pleased with your reaction. Though really, he should have expected this; why on hell would you want to work with Tsukishima of all people and vice versa?

“Don’t think I’m enjoying this anymore than you are, your majesty.” Tsukishima sneers from his seat and it takes all of your willpower not to throttle him right here and right now. “But even we peasants have to step down and obey when necessary.”

You’re about to call him every obscene insult you can think of, but Ukai gives you a hard look that tells you to behave. Breathing out harshly through your nose, you settle for a “Fine, but don’t get in my way.”

Tsukishima leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, glaring right back at you. “And don’t get in mine.”

“You f*cking-”

“Okay,” Ukai steps between you two, effectively blocking your view of Tsukishima’s stupid arrogant face. “Let’s move on.” You’re practically seething with anger – that stupid blonde glasses bastard never fails to get on every single one of your nerves – so you count by 13’s to calm yourself down. Ukai hands both of you a thin yellow folder and you reluctantly flip it open. There’s only one sheet of paper inside (usually there are at least 4 or 5 pages, so this is new) and you cast a glance at Tsukishima, noticing that he also seems caught off guard by the lack of sheets. The one piece of paper only has a few paragraphs on it and one photograph. You quickly skim it over, waiting for an explanation.

“As you both can probably see, this is one of the shortest requests we’ve ever received, but,” Ukai pauses mid-sentence, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing out gray puffs of smoke, “it doesn’t mean it’s any less important.”

You watch as your boss manoeuvres around his desk, lifting up a medium-sized cardboard box from underneath it. The box drops onto the table with a thud, its contents rattling loudly. You notice that there is a “this side up” sign on the box, but it’s currently pointing downward. That’s probably not good, but the contents of the box aren’t any of your business.

“As part of Karasuno’s Speedy Shipping Services,” Ukai continues and you abruptly remember that despite being involved in the matters of the underworld, Karasuno is publicly known as a post office and delivery service, “you two will be personally delivering this box to its recipient.”

“... And why would delivering a cardboard box require the efforts of myself and his majesty?” Tsukishima speaks up and though the nickname infuriates you (your hand instinctively reaches for where your gun would normally lie in its holster), you can’t deny that you were wondering the exact same thing.

Ukai paces behind his desk as he rolls the cigarette between two fingers. The smoke slowly rises and you watch it with mild interest. He takes one final drag before squashing it into the ash tray with a grimace. “Because I have my suspicions. Take a look at the requester section.”

Your eyes fall to the sheet again, carefully skimming the document until they land on-

“The H.A.?!” Your eyes widen. From your first years at Karasuno, you learned that the Hitman’s Associates, H.A. for short, were one of the most powerful underground businesses existing today. You remember a few conflicts that the infamous group had with some other black market organizations, and all of them ended in mass bloodshed and the H.A.’s victory. But despite their large influence in the underworld, they have never directly caused a conflict between themselves and Karasuno – Ukai assumes that it’s because of his own company’s growth in both number and success. But if that were the case in the past, what the hell does the Hitman’s Associates want with Karasuno now?

“That’s right,”Ukai says distastefully, “and it was submitted in the publicized delivery format. No special requests, no implied behind-the-scenes work necessary. Just a simple shipping request form.”

“.. This doesn’t make any sense.” Tsukishima says, finally fully removing his headphones until they rest around his neck. He leans forward and you notice that he’s finally taking this seriously. “Why would they request something like this from us?”

“It’s probably a trap.” Ukai rubs at his chin in thought. “No, it has to be one, and that’s why I’m putting our best on this mission.”

“... So Tsukishima is coming along because...” You gesture aimlessly at the cardboard box.

The wary glance Ukai sends to that box confirms your suspicions, but you wait to hear the words from his own mouth. “Yeah, this thing here is most likely some sort of bomb and our best chance of disarming it before it blows is with Tsukishima.”

From across the room, you already know that Tsukishima is smirking at the compliment without you even having to look. You hate acknowledging it, but he’s probably the most capable bomb squad member you’ve ever worked with. Well, it’s not like you’ve ever worked with him more than twice (that first group mission that ended with two escaped elephants, a swarm of deadly bees and too many zip-lock bags is something that both of you never speak of, ever) but he’s still proved to be extremely competent.

“But if this is a trap, why don’t we just open it and diffuse the bomb right away?” You ask. You’ll admit that you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, but even you’re able to see that walking right into their hands is not a wise decision.

“I know that this is taking a risk, but I can guarantee you that H.A. knows that we’re not idiots.” Ukai leans his weight on the box and your eye twitches violently; that’s probably not a good thing to do when you’ve most likely got a bomb on your hands. “They know that we’ll figure out that this is a trap, but that’s what makes it even more suspicious. It’d be useless to us if we were to just dismantle it and waste an opportunity to see what’s going on.”

Tsukishima snorts. “Regardless of essentially sacrificing your two best men?”

“Not sacrificing,” Ukai clarifies with an index finger pointed to the ceiling. You look up, wondering what he’s pointing at, but when you see nothing, you realize that he was just making a hand gesture. Oops. “I’m allowing you two to be selectively kidnapped. There is a big difference.”

You sigh but after knowing Ukai for so long, you’d expect nothing less from your rash yet cunning boss. “Alright, so after we’ve been selectively kidnapped,” you curl two fingers from both hands in a quoting gesture when you repeat Ukai’s words, “what’s the objective?”

There’s a moment of silence before Ukai pulls out another cigarette, lights it and says, “Figure it out.”

“HAH?!”

“Although you’re on orders to be willingly kidnapped, that doesn’t mean I’m completely aware of what will happen to you.” You’re stunned by his words. It’s not as if you don’t think that you’re capable of getting yourself out of a life-threatening situation, but this is the first time you’ve been sent on a mission without a clear objective. You think that your boss is somewhat insane for potentially sacrificing – as per his words – two of his best. But though this is incredibly risky, you know that Ukai wouldn’t send you and Tsukishima to do this if he weren’t positive that you would be successful. Ukai breathes out a slow string of smoke, sighing as he puts the cigarette back in between his lips. “Analyze your surroundings. Know your enemy. Improvise a solution.”

You and Tsukishima nod at the same time. You stuff your hands into your pockets, feeling around for your signature bandana in the left. Your thumb slowly rubs against the fabric, noticing the slight change in texture when it traces over the golden crown. It’s time.

“Alright,” Ukai says. “The company bus leaves in 20 minutes. Get changed and get out of here.”

*

Standing in an elevator with Tsukishima was probably the most suffocating two minutes of your life, you decide as you both make your way to the weaponry room. You lead the way (so you can’t see him and you can imagine that his annoying and arrogant presence doesn’t actually exist) as Tsukishima follows not-so-closely behind. You knock once, hoping that Sugawara will quickly open the door so you can get this over with. However, you’re definitely not prepared for Sugawara laughing his ass off again when he sees both you and Tsukishima outside of his door. He clutches his stomach as he asks if this is some sort of joke, and you mumble that you wish it was. Tsukishima looks relatively uninterested in your conversation, quietly slipping past the two of you to the locker room. You don’t know why, but that pisses you off too. Everything about Tsukishima just pisses you off.

You give Sugawara a look that you hope says “help me” but he just gives you his signature smile anda thumbs up. Trudging into the locker room, you avoid that blonde bastard at all costs as you don the uniform provided. It’s different from one you usually wear – instead of the all-black sweater and pants combination, you find yourself in a black, long sleeve polo lined with two orange stripes and a pair of black slacks. There’s also a cap with the words “KARASUNO POST” in large, bolded lettering and it sits nicely on your head when you slip it on.

You’re about to stuff the clothes you changed out of into your locker when you notice something orange sticking out from the bottom shelf. Curious, you pull it out and you can feel your stomach sink when you figure out what it is. The abomination in your hands is a bright orange fanny pack, complete with 4 different sets of zippers and a large crow in the middle. You can feel your eye twitch; this is probably the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen, and you wouldn’t be caught dead with that thing around your waist. Of course it had to be the most noticeable part of the uniform too...

A slam of a locker causes you to turn around and you see Tsukishima across the room with the exact same outfit as you. He’s also holding the fanny pack with extreme distaste, but once he catches you glaring, he clips it on with a “tsk.” That little remark infuriates you – you definitely won’t lose to Tsukishima – so you reluctantly secure the bag around your waist as well.

When you both walk out of the locker room, Sugawara’s eyes are instantly drawn to the bright fanny packs. He stops mid-explanation of the new additions to Karasuno’s artillery before breaking out into laughter again. He tries to convince you two to stand together so he can take a picture on his phone, but you’d rather let Sugawara tease you about Hinata (that f-word still gives you a strange feeling in your chest) a million times than be caught being “matchy-matchy” with Tsukishima.

By the time you’ve made Sugawara swear that he won’t try to take any pictures of you, Tsukishima is already halfway out the door, muttering about this being a pain in the ass. Unfortunately, that’s also your cue to leave or else you’ll miss the company bus (and you have no doubt that Tsukishima would leave you behind). You tell Sugawara that you’re leaving and he sends you off with a wave.

Before heading to the company bus, you head to the front lobby to pick up the box. Ukai had sent the box down instead of letting you carry it with you to the locker room – probably out of fear that some sort of argument would occur between you and Tsukishima, which could potentially set the bomb off. As you watch Tsukishima reluctantly take the box into his hands (you won the coin flip in the elevator ride down), you think that Ukai might not have been too far off with his assumption by the way he’s glaring at you.

“C’mon, King,” Tsukishima emphasizes the nickname when he walks past you and you grind your teeth together, “hurry it up.”

You tell him to shut up, but he just ignores you because he knows that you’ll follow him anyway. Egotistic, stupid, f*cking glasses bastard...

The company bus idles at the stop in front of Karasuno, waiting for any further passengers. Tsukishima walks to the end of the bus to store away the box with the rest of the deliveries and you stand in your spot, rubbing your hands against your arms. The uniform long sleeve is much too thin for this winter weather and you’re practically shivering despite only being outside for a minute.

Suddenly, you feel a strong hand grasp onto your forearm from behind. No more than half a second later, you instinctively use your opposite hand to reach over and grab the perpetrator’s wrist, twisting your forearm out of their grip. With your now-free arm, you reach behind to grasp in between their armpit and, bending your knees, throw whoever grabbed you onto the floor. As your arms swing forward along with the body you flung, a familiar flash of bright orange hair flies past your head and onto the ground.

“H-Hinata?!” You yell in surprise. Hinata is sprawled face down on the concrete, one hand under his head and the other on his side. His limbs twitch slightly as he groans before lifting his head. When Hinata’s eyes meet yours, they instantly snap into annoyance.

“Hey!! What the hell?! What was that for?!” He screams at you as he picks himself off the floor. “Why’d you flip me, asshole?!?!”

Though you’re still taken aback by Hinata suddenly showing up in front of Karasuno, you have more important matters at hand... like arguing with Hinata. “W-well why’d you sneak up on me?! This is your fault!”

“My fault?!” Hinata’s eyes bulge out from their sockets. “You’re the one who flipped me over his back!!”

“You grabbed onto my arm from behind like a maniac! Who the hell does that?!”

“I just saw you and I did it without thinking!! Don’t blame me for this!!”

“Yeah well obviously you didn’t think, you idiot!”

“Argghh, I told you to stop calling me that-!”

“Hah, what the hell is this?” You hear Tsukishima sneer to your left. Though his stupid voice snapped you out of your argument, you hadn’t realized until now that you and Hinata had gotten progressively closer with every shout. You quickly take a few steps back, trying to create some more space between you two, and send Tsukishima a glare. The blond bastard looks unfazed as usual as he tilts an eyebrow at you with a smirk. “I knew you weren’t good with people, but who knew you’d be the one arguing with a stranger on a public road?”

Before you have a chance to reply, Hinata pipes up with, “Oh, we’re not strangers! I know this asshole!”

“Oi-”

“Oh?” Tsukishima doesn’t sound convinced (you don’t know why, but that pisses you off) and he turns to face Hinata. “So what, are you his friend or something?”

There it is.

The f-word again.

Apparently, you’re not the only one who gets uneasy when the topic of your... whatever this is gets brought up. You watch as Hinata freezes up at Tsukishima’s words, clearly not expecting that to be his response. Well, you sure as hell aren’t replying to that question (you wouldn’t know what to say in the first place, are you two even friends?) so you watch as Hinata’s expression twists from confusion to anger and then back to confusion.

Tsukishima still looks unimpressed by his silence and you want to throttle both of them (though the desire to launch Hinata off a catapult is significantly less compared to Tsukishima’s). Suddenly, Hinata looks straight into Tsukishima’s eyes and nods vigorously before saying, “Yeah! I’m his friend!!”

You feel like someone’s just punched you in the stomach and you end up choking on your spit. You look away in embarrassment; Hinata coming out and bluntly saying that was not on your list of expected outcomes. When you glance at the orange haired boy, the slight blush below his determined eyes just causes your own embarrassment to increase tenfold.

If Tsukishima suspects the validity of Hinata’s words, he doesn’t say anything about it and just tugs headphones back onto his ears. As he walks away and loads himself onto the company bus, you find yourself alone with Hinata on the sidewalk. You don’t dare meet his eyes, not when you’re sure that you can still feel the heat lighting up your cheeks.

“H-Hey!” Hinata’s voice immediately captures your attention and you reflexively turn to face him. He’s pointing at you again, the other hand clenched into a fist at his side and his knees slightly bent. You can see that his bottom lip quivers slightly, but when you meet his eyes, his unwavering gaze makes it hard for you to look away. “We-we’re friends, right?!”

“Wha-!” The tips of your ears heat up as you glare to cover up your own awkwardness. “Wh-Who the hell just asks that?!”

“Well, I do!!So, we are, right?!”

“I-I don’t know! That’s a weird question!”

“Okay, Kageyama! We’re friends!” Hinata says resolutely as he waggles his finger in your direction. Before you can even open your mouth, Hinata scrambles to pick up his bag (you hadn’t noticed he had dropped it earlier) and quickly runs away in the opposite direction. You stand there, confused as you watch his small body retreat into the distance. That definitely wasn’t on your list of expected outcomes, especially not that last foreign f-word. You can’t help it as your mind repeats a mantra of friend, friend, friend, friend friendfriendfriendfriendfriendfrien-

“Yo, King,” Tsukishima pokes his head out from the bus window with an annoyed expression, “hurry up and get on the bus. We’re leaving.”

The blond bastard’s voice brings you back to reality, though you’re not sure if you’re annoyed or grateful that it did. Clearing your mind of any other unnecessary thoughts, you quickly make your way over and climb up the steps onto the bus. The doors shut behind you slowly and the driver shifts gears as he counts off the last passenger. You grab a seat near the front (as far away as possible from Tsukishima) and when you sit down, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You shut your eyes, too tired to take out the cell, and make a mental note to check the text when you arrive at your destination.

*

It’s around 40 minutes later when you finally step off the bus. Your neck is stiff from resting in an uncomfortable position, so you massage a hand into it, trying to work out the kinks. While you ignore Tsukishimagrumble about having to carry the box again, you open your phone to check the text message you received earlier.

From: the idiot that spilled coffee on my laptop
Subject: HEY (4:23pm)
HEY u no u never sedsry 4 flipping me

Looking at the contact name you have saved for Hinata in your phone, you feel that at this point, it’s a little inappropriate. Since you guys are... f...friends now (Hinata’s words, not yours), you think that you should change it to something more civilized. Once you’re satisfied, you type out a reply.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re: HEY (5:01pm)
It wasn’t my fault, so why should I?

When you glance back up, Tsukishima’s already walking toward the warehouse, box in tow. You tuck your phone into that wretched fanny pack and unenthusiastically catch up to him, finally taking in your surroundings. The building is located in a secluded area just on the outskirts of the city where hardly any people reside in. It’s mostly just dirt and rocks at the bottom of your feet, but a few hundred meters to your left, you can see the beginnings of a forest. The trees appear thick and sturdy, their abundant years of existence obvious in sheer size. However, the building itself appears to be recently built. You can recognize the distinct differences in architectural design between the older buildings within the city and this one. The warehouse is probably at least 20000 square feet, stretching from silver to silver wall. It’s nice, you suppose, but everything about this place just screams suspicious.

As you approach the main doors, you knock once after Tsukishima muttered that he can’t do it if he’s holding the box. You insult him under your breath and when you hear the click of a lock from the other side, you tug your cap down a little further to hide your face. A man that reeks of pizza and cigarettes cracks open the door, eyeing the both of you suspiciously until he sees the logo on your hat.

“Ah, you two must be the delivery guys.” He opens the door a little wider and he steps back, gesturing for you two to follow him. “Come on in.” You can feel Tsukishima’s hesitation at your side – he’s not as experienced as you are in these kinds of situations – so you internally smirk and take the lead. As you follow the man in through the door, you find yourself in a narrow, dimly lit hallway. Despite the building looking pristine on the outside, you can see the watermarks on the walls and the grime in between the floorboards. You grimace; if this is what the hallway leading into the warehouse looks like, you don’t want to know the state of the main part of the building.

Eventually, the hallway leads to another door at the end. The man takes out his keys and while he unlocks it, you quickly glance back at Tsukishima. He just sends you glare that says “I don’t need your help” and it takes all of your effort not to show the displeasure on your face. You turn back to the front right when the door opens, stepping further into a pitch black room. The pizza-and-cigarettes guy places his right hand out to feel for the wall, pressing a few times until a small light flickered on in the center of the room.

This must be the main area, you think as your footsteps echo throughout the large room. From what you can see, there are several boxes similar to the one Tsukishima has in his hands in here. They’re piled up along the edges of the walls, some opened and pieces of cardboard scattered across the ground. Your gut tells you that there’s something off about this place, but none of your senses have picked up anything out of the ordinary.

A loud vibration resonates from your orange bag and you curse yourself for not putting it on silent earlier. You mutter a small apology and the man nonchalantly waves you off, so you take that as an okay to check your texts.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:HEY (5:06pm)
Bc u still fliped me!!!!!!!! >:(

Tsukishima snaps at you with an, “Oi, what are you doing,” and though you’re aware that you are currently on a mission, you refuse to let Hinata think that he’s won this stupid argument. Besides, the point of this job was to get kidnapped wasn’t it? The sooner, the better, so your thumbs tap furiously across the screen as you type a reply.

It sends a few seconds later – the service in this warehouse isn’t the greatest – and when you look back up, Tsukishima is giving you the stink eye. You keep your poker face just to irritate him, and the man has stopped walking when you turn your attention back to him.

“If you guys could just put the box on the table over there,” he points to a lone table in the middle of the room, “I’ll be back in a sec with the money.”

The man goes back out through another exit and the door thuds loudly when it closes behind him. This is probably the enemy’s cue to come out and kidnap you, chloroform you, whatever, so you stay on high alert. Your stance changes into a defensive position, ready to strike if necessary. You glance over to Tsukishima, and give him a warning glare. He sends you one right back, and the rest of the time, you both remain quiet, listening for any signs of movement or shifting.

From above, the small, sole light flickers once, leaving you in darkness for a split second. It flickers again, the darkness lasting almost a full second this time, and you start to get wary. As the bulb wavers multiple times, you try not to let the repetitive switch from light to darkness bother you. But by the tenth flick, it’s really starting to put a strain on your eyes. You squint, keeping your focus on anything that may be lurking behind the shadows.

After the twenty-third flicker, the light comes back to its full luminosity. Nothing has happened, despite the suspicious seizure the bulb was just having. You wait, prepared for an ambush, but nothing continues to happen. From the corner of your eye, you see Tsukishima straightening up and turning toward you.

“Yo, King, what’s going o-”

Suddenly, the light turns off and you’re both enveloped in darkness. Something muffles Tsukishima’s words until they disappear a second later. You can feel yourself starting to panic; you can’t see a thing and you still haven’t felt a different presence anywhere in this room. In the dark, you stay as still as possible, not wanting to make any possible threats aware of your location. Five seconds pass, and still nothing happens to you. It’s weird as hell, and you have no idea what’s going on-

The bulb is illuminated again. You wince from the sudden onslaught of light, shielding your eyes with your hand. When you’ve adjusted, you hear the faint tick of a clock. Weird, has that always been there? You turn to Tsukishima to ask him about it, but he isn’t there. You whip your head around, scanning what parts of the room you can see for his body. You don’t see him anywhere and you can start to feel the sweat rolling down your back. How could he have possibly disappeared without me sensing it?!

That tick you heard earlier slowly gets louder and louder. You can’t pinpoint its direction exactly, but it sounds like its coming from somewhere behind you. Cautiously, you turn around, scanning the perimeter of the room. Nothing seems out of the ordinary to you or different from before the flickering lights. But something’s wrong, something is....

Your chest tightens when you realize what you failed to notice earlier. You look down at the table in front of you, the cardboard box sitting perfectly in the middle. You’re nervous and you can feel your hands shaking, but you reach out and tear the box open anyway. The material easily rips away at the will of your frantic hands, but when you see a ticking time bomb at the bottom of the box, you almost forget how to breathe.

It’s etched with blood red, and you’ve got less than 5 minutes.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Not good. You tear the rest of the cardboard away, leaving just the bomb sitting on the middle of the table. As each second ticks away, a loud click from the device echoes throughout the large room. Your hair is starting to stick to your forehead from perspiration and you can feel your hands shaking in front of you. This is not f*cking good.

Your eyes are glued to the red numbers on the small screen. 4:48... 4:47... 4:46...

You start to feel your breath quicken rapidly. Your heart thumps faster and faster against your chest until you can feel it pounding in your ears. It’s getting harder to focus your eyes on the digits in front of you. Your legs tremble slightly, but not enough for them to give in. You place both hands on the table in front of you, leaning your weight forward. Taking deep breaths, you try to calm yourself down. A small, enclosed room suddenly flashes through your mind and your eyes widen at the memory you tried so hard to forget.

No, you plead. You screw your eyes shut, but the scene – one that you know all too well – plays vividly behind your eyelids. You remember placing your small hands over your ears and squeezing as hard as you could, trying to shut out the sounds of ticking and your own cries. You remember the two people in the room with you, one man and one woman. They were people you knew well, though in your memory, they’ve both become faceless. You remember the woman crouching down next to you, and taking your small, feeble body into her gentle arms. You remember her quietly singing a song into your ear and rubbing circles on your back, but your tears had drowned out any soothing words of comfort.

You remember watching as the man on the other side of the room pulled his hair in frustration, pacing front of a large, black device. You don’t remember his words, but you remember the woman pushing you toward an air duct and yelling at you to go. You remember rubbing your tears away as you crawled out of the vent and into the winter air, running as far as you could from the building. You remember hearing the deafening explosion behind you and turning around, watching as the debris and fire lit up the night sky. You remember dropping to your knees, ignoring the sting of the cold against your skin, and screaming in agony as you watched everything you had crumble into nothing.

Stop it, you think furiously before the memory can replay. You force yourself to push away the thoughts you locked away years ago. Now’s not the time. As you look down, you can see that your grip on the table has caused your knuckles to drain of their colour. You slowly release the table from your grasp, choosing to place your palms on the surface instead. Your breathing has calmed significantly, and you no longer find it difficult to focus your eyes on a single object. Letting a long exhale out of your mouth, you find that your heart rate has returned to normal – you’ll be able to do this properly, now.

3:32... 3:31... 3:30... You click your tongue against the back of your teeth when you look back at the timer. More than a minute has passed, wasted on useless emotions that you never should’ve let resurface. The cogs in your head turn in every direction, trying to figure out a solution to this problem. You know that though trying to escape would be the most logical solution, you can’t afford to waste time on checking for an open door when you’re almost 100% sure that they’ve all been locked. You curse at yourself; you have no idea what you should do.

This wasn’t supposed to be my job, you think stingily as you open the zipper on your fanny pack and dig through its contents, that’s what Tsukishima was f*cking here for, but the useless bastard had to go get kidnapped... You think back to what happened during the flickering lights. The enemy was somehow able to infiltrate the room and escape without you noticing their presence. But that’s impossible, you’ve been trained thoroughly to be able to, when fully focused, sense anyone and anything. There’s no way that they could have naturally evaded your senses without somehow drugging you.

You scowl; you can figure out how they managed to do so later. Though you should probably be concerned about Tsukishima’s whereabouts, you have to stop this ticking time bomb before even thinking about saving him. After emptying out the bag, you find that you have your gun, dagger, and a wide variety of small tools, including a set of diagonal cutting pliers.

You cautiously observe the bomb on the table, checking for any wires in plain sight. On the side to your left, you find an outline of something that resembles a small compartment. Bingo. You carefully lift the cover, peeking inside to see multiple coloured wires twisting and intertwining within. They’re tangled loosely together, but each wire has enough free space between itself and the next to safely cut it. You grab the pliers with your dominant hand and stare at the inside of the compartment. Now, this is the hard part.

Which one do I cut?

2:54... 2:53... 2:52... Despite being under a time limit, you know you can’t afford to rush this. You have to think this over carefully.As you glare at the wires, you regret not attending your bomb squad training sessions more often back before you were an official member of Karasuno. Back then, you preferred the physically-draining aspects of training over anything analytical and pressure-bound. Your eye twitches when you remember how adamant you were about not attending those classes, despite Ukai’s threats. I should’ve just listened...

You carefully count five different wires, each with their own colour. From left to right, they intertwine in an array of blue, black, orange, red, and green. You take a deep breath and begin to think this over carefully. Based on your knowledge from the sparse sessions you actually paid attention to, one of these wires should be dead. If you manage to pick correctly, it should disconnect the entire current and safely disarm the bomb. Theoretically of course, because you never really stuck around for more than three of the 40 minute sessions.

Using your free hand to pick at the skin on your bottom lip, you look over at your choices. Blue, black, orange, red, green. Those classes you did attend were definitely not enough to give you clues on how to figure out which is the dead wire. Though, something in your gut tells you that it’s not the red one. Doesn’t red usually stand for danger or something like that? So on that completely subjective basis, you’ve narrowed it down to four choices.

You glance at the timer.

Tick.

1:59.

sh*t, you’ve wasted too much time. At this point, you’ve got less than 2 minutes left to figure out which wire you’re going to cut. It might just be you, but you swear that the sound of the countdown has gotten louder. Each second that ticks by places more pressure on you. The burden of choosing correctly and not f*cking up weighs heavily on your shoulders, and you can feel yourself starting to sweat again. You wipe the back of your hand across your forehead, grimacing at the beads of sweat that collect on your skin.

Tick.

1:43.

You stare at the wires, your eyes flitting back and forth between the black and the green. The decisions you make right now are irrationally based, but you really don’t have another choice. In normal situations, green would be the “okay” or “good” choice. But, you feel as though it’s too obvious. Too easy, you think. You won’t fall for a trap like that. Confident in your judgment, you cross the green wire off your mental list. That leaves three.

Tick.

1:26.

Your dominant hand tightens and loosens several times around the diagonal cutting pliers. The grips have become slippery; the sweat from your palm dampening the tool. You wipe it against your slacks, keeping your gaze locked on the bomb in front of you. Out of the three colours left, the blue wire captures your attention the most. Despite that, you don’t feel that the vibe you’re getting from that wire is a positive one. Somehow, it’s extremely distracting and you feel uneasy staring at it. That’s probably not good, you conclude and decide that the blue one is not the dead wire you’re looking for.

Tick.

1:02.

There’s a minute left – no. Less than a minute now, and you’ve got to make one more choice. The black and orange wires intertwine next to each other in a simple, twisting pattern. You stare at them, trying to decide how to pick between the two. You don’t feel any partiality toward either colour, so if you’ve guessed correctly so far, you’re left with a 50/50 chance.

Tick.

0:49.

The hand holding the pliers instinctively reaches toward the orange wire. This is the one you should cut. You’re not sure why, but that’s what you feel that the gesture is telling you. It’s weird and it doesn’t make sense, but for some reason, your brain is practically lighting itself on fire to scream at you, cut the orange one.

Tick.

0:37.

You clamp the blade of the pliers around the orange wire, ready to cut, but you pause. You glance at the black wire, noticing the way it loops around the others, but only intertwines with the orange.

Tick.

0:29.

You swallow heavily. Something about that black wire makes you feel uncomfortable, like an itch that you can’t get rid of. You can’t explain it but it’s just-

Tick.

0:17.

You have less than 20 seconds to make a decision. The voice in your head is still yelling at you to cut the orange, cut the f*cking orange wire, but a smaller voice at the back of your mind whispers to you, trust me. Cut the black.

Tick.

0:09.

What should I do?

Tick.

0:07.

I have to decide.

Tick.
0:05.

I have to...

Tick.

0:03.

As quickly as you can, you unclamp the orange wire from the blade of your pliers and position it around the black. You inhale deeply and squeeze your eyes shut as you push the grips together to cut the wire.

...

...

When you don’t feel yourself being blown to bits, you slowly open one eye to stare at the timer.

0:01.

The red digits on the screen are frozen at the very last second. I did it, you think as you let out the breath you were holding just seconds ago. Relief washes over your entire body and you collapse to the ground, having lost all feeling in your legs. The pliers that were once in your hand clink loudly upon impact with the floor. You hold a hand to your forehead and close your eyes, I f*cking did it.

You take a few minutes on the floor to catch your breath. The pressure you felt finally dissipates, allowing you to relax for even just a short amount of time. Once you regain the feeling back in your legs, you pick yourself off the ground. You shove what you emptied onto the table back into your bag, though you keep the gun in your hands. From another pocket of the fanny pack, you pull out a familiar bandana. With haste, you tie it at the back of your head so it covers everything just below your eyes. You zip up the bag and give one final glance back to the table. You don’t know the specifics of bomb disposal, so you suppose you’ll leave that up to someone else. Besides, you’ve got other issues at hand.

A calm air settles over you, and your fingers mould naturally around the shape of the gun.

You make your way to the nearest exit, in search of your first victim.

*

Leaves crunch underneath your feet as you run, your staggered breaths coming out harshly against the night air. You turn your head to both sides, squinting to look for a way out of the darkness. Thin tree branches that grow in your path slap against the skin on your cheeks, and you ignore the blood that drips from the cuts on your face. Your calves burn from exhaustion, but you can’t stop here. You’re not safe here, where your sins can skin you alive and feed you to the darkness. You squeeze the blade in your hand tighter, wincing when you feel the handle digging into the wound on your palm.

I can’t die here, you think frantically. Your eyes begin to water in desperation. Tears slowly spill over and stream down your face, mixing easily with the blood already present. Your head is pounding in an urgency to escape, to forget, to be free. Your bottom lip trembles in fear of not knowing what to do; all you know is to run and not look back. Never look back, because that means remembering, regretting, surrendering...

In the darkness, your right foot catches onto the root of a tree, sending you toppling over yourself and rolling into the dirt. Your body stings all over as you collide with the ground, leaves sticking in your hair and against the sleeve of your shirt. The mud soaks through the leg of your pants, and you shiver as you feel the cold seep into your skin. It’s painful, but you ignore the burn on your knees as you peel yourself off the ground. You stagger slightly, evening out your weight onto both legs, before breaking out into a run again.

Ignoring the sting in your ankle, you run as fast as you can. You have to get away, you can’t get caught, you can’t go back, you have to survive;

You have to...

You jolt awake with a gasp. Your hands rapidly clench and unclench the sheets underneath you. You breathe in and out harshly, reality slowly catching up to you. A dream... Just a dream... Looking up at the ceiling with wide, unfocused eyes, you slowly realize that this is not your room. A bright, oval-shaped lamp hangs from above and you can smell a vague scent of disinfectant. You scrunch your nose in distaste; you deduct that you’re in the Karasuno infirmary. But why?

A sigh escapes your lips and you throw an arm across your eyes. You grimace when your forearm comes into contact with the sweat atop your brow. It’s sticky and unpleasant, and you’re sure that the back of your shirt has been thoroughly soaked as well. Peeking out from under your arm, you look at the other and see an IV attached at the inside of your elbow. It’s taped down and connected to a clear sac hanging on one of those moveable steel rods. From where you’re lying on the bed, you can see a trashcan just across the room. You can see a few empty clear sacs similar to the one connected to you in there and you wonder just how long you’ve been in this bed.

You hear a muffled voice, probably coming from outside of this room. It gets closer and closer until you see familiar silhouette outside of your door. The doorknob rattles loudly before it opens and you’re greeted with Sugawara’s surprised face.

“Kageyama!” He rushes over to your side and you wince at how loud he is. “You’re awake!”

“Of co- ahck,” the hoarse sound of your own voice surprises you, and the burn in your throat causes you to cough hazardously. Sugawara just smiles warily and hands you a glass of water from the side table. You drink it slowly, savouring the smooth slide of the liquid down your throat. When you finish, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try again. “I, uh... How long have I been here?”

Sugawara pulls up a chair next to the bed and plops down into it. He rests his elbows on his knees and twiddles his thumbs. You notice that he isn’t answering right away, but you don’t question it. With a sigh, Sugawara looks you straight in the eye and says, “About two days.”

“Two days?!” You sit up in shock but instantly regret it. A sharp pain shoots through your stomach and you groan as you lie back down. It hurts like hell, and you have a hard time relaxing back against the mattress. Looking down at yourself, you notice that where your shirt has ridden up slightly, there are bandages wrapped around your lower torso. You lightly trace a finger over the dressing, what happened..?

Sugawara nods. “Do you remember anything?”

You search your memories for anything that could have lead up to being half-hospitalized, but nothing comes up. No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember anything past disarming the bomb. You relay this back to Sugawara. He frowns and scratches the back of his ear, murmuring something but you don’t quite catch it.

“What?”

“Hn? Ah, nothing...” Reaching down beside him, Sugawara pulls out a small notebook from his bag. You watch as he slowly flips through the pages, biting his lip as he reads over the contents. The words are too far away for you to see, so you don’t attempt to sneak a peek. After a minute, Sugawara snaps the notebook close with one hand and turns back to you. “So you can’t remember anything past the bomb?”

“No.”

“I see... Ukai had said that this would be a possibility, but for it to actually happen, well.” He pauses in thought. “Alright, although I am concerned about your wellbeing, the main purpose of my visit today was to fill you in on what you ‘missed,’ as per Ukai’s words.”

You nod carefully. It’s not the first time someone (Sugawara) has had to come and fill in fragments of memories that you forgot, but it’s been a while since the last. Your hands ball into fists at your sides; you hope the reason for your memory loss isn’t what you think it is.

“First things first,” Sugawara leans his body weight into the back of the chair, “Ukai asked me to inform you that yes, it was the Tyranny.”

With your suspicions confirmed, you look away in shame. The “Tyranny” was the nickname given to a special condition you have. According to other witnesses at Karasuno, in times of extreme necessity or danger on a mission, your humanity switches off and you become a ruthless murderer. From what you’ve heard, you show no mercy in that state, even to the point of becoming oppressively cruel and sad*stic. That’s why they call you a King, a small voice echoes from the back of your mind, but you quickly push it away. You squeeze your eyes shut. Just thinking about the monster you unwillingly become scares you. And the worst part of it all is that you can never remember a thing after it.

A hand rests gently on your shoulder. You turn your head slowly to see Sugawara giving you a small, sympathetic smile. He squeezes lightly and you gesture for him to go on.

“But the weird thing is that you were only in that state for about half an hour, and then you knocked out for two days.” Sugawara retracts his hand to cross his arms in contemplation. You notice that he still has that habit of bouncing his leg when he’s deep in thought. “In the past, you’ve been in the Tyranny for significantly longer periods of time, but you’ve never slept for more than 15 hours continuously following them.”

You hate hearing and talking about this... condition of yours, but you know that Sugawara is only trying to help. And to help, he has to understand. You know all of that, but you’d really rather just figure out what actually happened on the second half of that mission. “So... What actually happened?”

Sugawara gives you a look that says fine, but we’re going to have to talk about this eventually. You just shrug your shoulders. He flips open the small notebook again. “Well, Tsukishima’s report was bland at best. ‘I could see, and then I couldn’t see. Got selectively kidnapped. Tied and stuffed in closet for about 20 minutes. His Majesty came and did his job. No signs of H.A. executives on site.’”

You scowl at Tsukishima’s report. You could practically hear his voice in your head as Sugawara read out what he wrote. Sugawara turns the page, scanning the words diligently for the important points.

“The rest is from the formal investigation report.” Good, you think. After each successful mission, Ukai sends out an investigation team to retrieve any information that was missed and perform any necessary enquiries. This report should provide statistics and factual information about the mission, unlike that stupid blonde bastard. “There was an estimate of 20-25 possible personnel at the location, judging by the amount of equipment that needed to be handled. Besides the main area of the warehouse, 15 other small, enclosed rooms were found. One of which included the closet where Tsukishima was found, and another storage room filled with a wide variety of chemicals. Several were identified as either toxic or explosive, and collected for future use. An explosive was found in the main area, suspected as already disarmed, and was safely disposed of by the bomb squad.”

He clears his throat and continues. “But despite the information we gained from this investigation, the team was unable to deduct a precise conclusion as to why this request was put in. Some members have speculated the chance of sabotage, but records from previous assignments have proven otherwise... A separate crew is now working on this case, but we shouldn’t expect that they will arrive at a concrete answer. So at this point, though the mission was an overall success, there weren’t any major gains for Karasuno.”

The information makes sense, from what you do remember about the warehouse. But there was something suspicious about that place that you can’t quite remember...

“Ah!” Sugawara suddenly pipes up and turns to you with a steady expression. “I have a question. While you were inside the warehouse, do you recall a dulling shift in your senses?”

You nod vigorously; that’s what it was. “I couldn’t feel any of the enemies’ presences at one point.”

“Looks like they were right...” You raise an eyebrow and he elaborates, reading off the page.“After an offhand comment from a member of the investigation crew, they immediately began work on gas samples at the location. Results just came back a few hours ago, but they wanted me to check with you before confirming anything. Turns out, they released a very mild opiate gas into the air after you two entered the main area. It’s nothing deadly, but it does have a slight dulling effect on the human senses. That’s probably why you were unable to recognize their presences, despite being completely focused on your task.”

Sugawara looks back up to you once he’s done. That definitely explains why you had felt so uneasy back then, but something else is bugging you now. Other than what he’s already told you from the formal report, you know that he’s missed something. You wonder if he did it intentionally – you’re sure that Sugawara is more than capable to not forget such a crucial part of the report. “... Body count.”

“H-Hm?”

You don’t fail to notice his slight stutter. This is something you absolutely hate, but you won’t be able to rest easy if you don’t find out (though you’re not sure you’ll be able to do so even after you find out). “What was the body count?”

Sugawara shakes his head and tucks the notebook back into his bag. “Kageyama, you’re still recovering and-”

“I have to know.”

“... I know, but it’s not-”

“Please,” you plead quietly, desperate to hear that dreadful number. You look Sugawara straight in the eye with what you hope is an earnest expression. “...How many did I kill? ”

The chair scrapes against the ground as Sugawara stands suddenly. He presses his lips together until they form a thin line. You watch as his eyes burn holes into the ground. He clenches his fists tightly and doesn’t dare look you in the eye when he whispers, “18.”

It feels like someone’s just dropped an anvil onto your chest; all the air escapes your lungs and it’s like you can’t breathe. Something heavy constricts around your throat and you don’t miss the feeling of your stomach dropping. You can feel a slight sting behind your eyes, but you know that your tears will never fall. Not when you’ve taken away so many other people’s privileges to cry their own tears. Not when it’s so beautifully cruel that to live, you must kill. You hang your head in disgrace. 18...

I...

I killed 18.

I murdered 18 futures that day.

I’m...

...

I’m a monster.

You know that Sugawara would tell you otherwise, but the thought doesn’t go away. It roots itself into the core of your mind, repeating itself over and over again. Monster. It grows and feeds off the sins you’ve already committed, and nurtures them until they bloom just as disgustingly. The words sting terribly, and the part that hurts the most is that you know that it’s true.

You’re sickening.

“... I see.” You croak out. You can still feel the burn in your chest. It feels like someone is setting you on fire, though you think you’re doing a fine job of jumping into its flames yourself.

Sugawara opens his mouth to speak but shuts it after he catches your expression. You want him to leave. You don’t need those meaningless words of comfort, not when you know that he’s just as scared as you are. You hate it. You hate it so f*cking much that you can’t control this demon sleeping inside of you. Your hands tremble as they clutch the sheets near your waist. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you quietly ask Sugawara to leave.

He gives you a downcast look, but doesn’t protest when he stands up and makes his way to the exit. The door shuts quietly behind Sugawara when he leaves, and you listen to his footsteps as they slowly disappear down the hall.

When you’re sure that you’re alone, you dig the end of your palms into your eyes. The guilt is eating you alive. You hate this stupid condition because you can’t even remember the faces of the people you killed. How cruel and unfair, you think spitefully, and how easy it would be to blame it just on that. But you know better. You know that although this Tyranny of yours is what influences your actions, you’re still the one who took their lives in the end.

(You’re a killer.)

And so, so bad, you want to be able to justify what you’ve done. It’d be easy to say that doing this was part of your job as a hitman; it might even give you some peace of mind now and then. But you know that unnecessarily taking away lives is not part of your quota. There wasn’t a requirement or request to murder eighteen different people mercilessly. And you know for a fact that they didn’t go painlessly; there’s a reason why your higher-ups never read you the body count reports in their entirety. You don’t think you’d be able to take the thought of knowing that you did those horrible things, that you were capable of remaining expressionless, not even blinking as you repeatedly slit the throat of your enemy.

I don’t want this, you yell into every crevice of your mind. You never wanted to be involved like this. You never wanted to be able to hold someone’s life in your hands. You never wanted to be the one to decide whether they would live or die. Life is so unfair, you cry out, but you know that no one will hear you. In order to keep walking down this path, you need to keep those feelings locked away. You must hide every weakness and abuse every strength.

When you finally take your hands off your eyes, your vision spins and swirls from too much pressure. Even when your sight returns to normal, you find yourself extremely drowsy. Your eyelids feel heavy, and you can already feel sleep tugging at you from behind. You fight it restlessly, you don’t want to give in just yet, but eventually you succumb to its pull. As you slowly drift off, you struggle endlessly to not forget this feeling, to not forget what you promised yourself. You surrender to the darkness with one last thought.

You have to keep on living for every breath you took away.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Six-thousand four-hundred and twenty-nine.

Six-thousand four-hundred and sixty-one.

Six-thousand four-hundred and ninety-three.

Six-thousand five-hundred and...

Twenty-six?

...

No.

(Make it stop.)

That’s not right.

...

Twenty-five.

...

Six-thousand five-hundred and fifty-seven.

(I...)

Six-thousand five-hundred and eighty-nine.

...

(I don’t...)

Six-thousand six-hundred and twenty-one.

(This isn’t...)

...

(I’m...)

...

...

I am alive.

*

Your shoulders crack when you stretch your arms back behind your head. Letting out a content sigh, you bring one hand to your neck and rub small circles into your nape. After spending three days in the Karasuno infirmary beds, you’re finally starting to feel the effects it has on your body. The kink in your neck has been bothering you all morning and no matter what you do to alleviate the discomfort, it doesn’t go away. You groan; you’re finally being ‘discharged’ today after Sugawara insisted that you stay another night in the infirmary.

The mattress springs creak unpleasantly as you stand from where you sat on the edge of the bed. Your legs feel a bit weak and you shift your weight from one to the other, trying to adjust. When you’re confident that you won’t accidentally tip over, you walk over to the opposite corner of the room to pick up your bag. Ukai had dropped the bag off earlier when he came to check on how you were doing. You told him that you were feeling fine and you’d be leaving Karasuno later today, but you think you should have expected that his reaction would be an exasperated “Finally.” Though, you’re not really sure if his response was one of relief or impatience.

Shrugging on your bag, you give a brief glance around the room. You don’t think you’ve forgotten anything, and it’s not like you had many belongings with you in the first place. Satisfied, you quietly slip out of the room after writing a quick memo to whoever is due to check up on you in the afternoon.

You punch the elevator button and lean your back against the wall as you wait. After not having moved for a few days, walking that short distance from the infirmary has you feeling weak. You make a mental note to go for a run later, but you remember that it’s winter and a run will be impossible without slipping and falling on your ass. Running in the snow would be nice though, you think as the elevator doors slide open.

They reopen on the 4th floor and you make your way to the weaponry room. Pulling out a key from your pocket, you unlock the door and quietly go inside. You know to not expect Sugawara to be here; he told you that he was going Christmas shopping later today (“Even someone as bitter as you should remember Christmas.” “Shut up.”). Your locker opens with a creak and you dump the belongings in your backpack into the duffel lying on the bottom shelf. The zipper gets stuck 3 times when you try to close the duffel, getting caught on your sweater more than once.

Eventually, you leave the room, locking the door behind you and stuffing the key back into your pocket. You take the emergency stairs down to the lobby and exit the building before anyone gets a chance to see you. When you step outside, you zip up your coat a little higher to keep your neck warm. You start walking back to your apartment, noticing the tiny puffs that your breath makes against the air. It’s not snowing today either, though you wonder if it did during your stay in the infirmary.

Not too long after, you feel hunger gnawing at you. Your stomach growls loudly and you place a hand over it, as if it will quiet down just from that action. You realize you haven’t eaten a proper meal in a while. Though the nurses at the infirmary had offered you some of the standard “health-benefiting” food, you’d really prefer not to put something so unappealing in your system. Looking around, you decide to stop at the convenience store nearby for a snack or two.

The automatic doors slide open and you notice it’s the same worker at the counter as the other night you were here (his name was Ennosh*ta, you think). He gives you a sheepish look but keeps his lips shut. You make your way to the snack aisle, in search of something to fill your stomach. As you ponder over which flavour of drinkable yogurt you should buy, your eyes land on a bag of packaged meat buns. The buns stare back at you blankly as you’re suddenly reminded of the other day you spent with Hinata.

Well, not really spent the day with, more like tagged along with, you tell yourself in an effort to fend off the swirl of confusing emotions that threaten to pour in. You shake your head, trying to erase the thought, but now you can’t help but think back to that night you chased Hinata over and over again around that Christmas tree. Your mind is flooded with memories of snow-covered streets decorated with gentle Christmas carols, and that stupid brown bag with the anticlimactic meat bun inside. Hinata’s bubbly laughter rings clear in your ears as if he were standing right next to you and you can still remember how you felt when he bought you that little gift from one of the vendors.

You drop the two yogurt containers in your hands out of shock when you abruptly remember that small, orange ornament. Cursing, you crouch down to pick up the drinks up, breathing out a sigh of relief when you see that they haven’t spilled. You turn your head to the side frantically. Luckily, it seems like no one noticed you drop the yogurt, so you’ve saved yourself a little bit of embarrassment today.

Carefully sliding the strawberry flavoured yogurt back onto the shelf, you remember that same little ornament that you hung up on your bathroom doorknob later that night. You didn’t really have anywhere else to put it (you don’t have a tree and you don’t plan on getting one) so that’s just... where it ended up. It’s not like it was anything special, it’s just an ornament, you think, but you’re not really sure who you’re trying to convince.

Still, that warm, swirl of emotions doesn’t leave you as you make your way to the front of the store, snacks in hand. You mentally tell yourself, hey, stop that, but the feeling won’t go away. You scowl lightly when you drop your items onto the conveyor belt, patting down your pockets. Cut it out, you try again as you fish out your wallet, handing Ennosh*ta a crinkled bill. As he quietly counts your change, you still haven’t thought of a way to get rid of that weird feeling. You place a hand on your chest; it’s not what you would call a suffocating feeling, but it makes you uncomfortable. Since meeting Hinata, it’s not the first time you’ve felt this, but you thought that it would go away if you left it alone. Kind of like a mosquito bite; if you ignored it and didn’t itch it, the bite would eventually stop irritating you.

Ennosh*ta hands you a plastic bag and your change, and you leave the convenience store with a thankful nod. The bag rustles lightly as you walk back to your apartment. You sigh; it most definitely isn’t like a mosquito bite. This “itch” in your chest won’t go away, despite your efforts (or lack thereof) to do something about it. You never really noticed it until now, but you don’t think it ever did go away since that evening. It was just pushed to the back of your mind until something reminded you of it, and when you did remember, the feeling would hit you stronger than a hurricane.

And despite realizing all of that, you still choose to do nothing about it. Thinking it over, what would there be for you to do anyway? You don’t even know why those memories have you feeling so overwhelmed. You’re not really sure you want to know, either. But besides, how can you begin to fix a problem that you haven’t even found?

With a note of finality, you decide to stop mulling over something so irrelevant. Your gut tells you that this won’t be the last time you experience something like this, but you push it from your thoughts for now. I can cross that bridge when I get there...

A shrill ringtone cuts through the air. You turn your head slightly to the right to see a smartly dressed woman, rummaging through her large designer purse. You assume that it’s her phone that’s ringing as she purses her lips in frustration, probably unable to find it in that black hole of a bag. Seconds later, she pulls out her mobile and immediately presses it to her ear. Her heels click against the sidewalk as she quickly shuffles away, muttering something about an appointment into the device.

Seeing that woman reminds you of your own phone, which you haven’t used in days. You doubt that there’s even any battery left in it, but it doesn’t hurt to check. Sliding your duffel slightly lower off your shoulder, you unzip the smallest pocket and pull out the cell. Pressing the lock button with your thumb, the screen flashes to life. Looks like you didn’t run out of battery, after all. You unlock the screen with a slide of a finger, and you’re bombarded with an array of unread text messages. Confused, you pull down the notification bar to see that you have 19 missed texts; one from Ukai, another from an unknown number and 17 from Hinata alone.

Your eyes widen. Why did Hinata send you so many messages? You briefly skim over the other two messages (Ukai messaged you about another information update on the mission, and the other was probably a wrong number, judging from the way-out-of-context information about lip gloss) before opening the first.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re: HEY (5:33pm)
ur still an asshloe

You raise an eyebrow. You briefly remember texting Hinata the day of the mission, but you don’t see what could have happened in your conversation for him to have sent you 17 texts. You quickly check the date – it’s already December 10th – before opening the next few messages.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: dont ignore me (11:23pm)
he y u cnt just not repli

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: wat (2:49pm)
huh?? hospitalised>

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: None (2:50pm)
w8 r u srs

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: None (2:54pm)
y r u in the hospiatl??/

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: WTF REPLY (4:12pm)
HEY DNT MAK E ME WORRIED

The rest of the messages follow the same tone, and that weird feeling comes back a lot earlier than it should have. Reading text after text, you can imagine Hinata’s anxious voice in your head with every word. He shouldn’t even be worried, though. You briefly skim through the rest, and it’s not until you hit the bottom of your inbox when you realize something important. Wait... How did Hinata find out that you were in the hospital? Puzzled, you quickly scroll through the messages in your sent folder. Inside, there’s a text from a two days ago that you clearly do not remember sending.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re: dont ignore me (1:12pm)
Hi, this is Kageyama’s friend. Just in case you were wondering, he’s hospitalized atm so he probably won’t be replying for a while!

Your eye twitches when you read the text “you” sent out. You can practically hear Sugawara’s apologetic tone just from seeing his words, and you make a mental note to yell at him for using your phone again. Though you’re sure that he didn’t have any malicious intentions, that doesn’t mean you like having Sugawara or anyone else snooping around through your things. And as a result of said snooping, now Hinata knows a little bit too much information that you’re not particularly enthusiastic about clearing up. Exasperated, you punch out a quick text and hit send.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Yeah (11:47am)
Yeah.

It would take too much effort to come up with an excuse for your not-really-hospitalization, so you settle for what you hope will end the conversation. Besides, as if you’d ever let anyone find out about what happens to you on your “jobs,” or what those jobs even are in the first place. Despite being (self-admittedly) socially awkward, even you know that those kinds of subjects aren’t exactly the type of things you can bring up in a normal day-to-day conversation.

The rest of your walk home is uneventful, minus the one girl that tripped over her own shoe and fell face first onto the icy pavement (you felt a little bad when you saw the bits of snow and gravel on her cheek, but she played the fall off spectacularly with a follow-up tuck and roll, so you didn’t let it bug you as much). Your stomach groans as you step into the warmth of your apartment complex, rumbling even as you stand in waiting in the elevator. You roughly shove your key into the lock on your front door and the hinges creak slightly when you open it. You make a mental note to oil them later, but you know you’ll probably just end up forgetting.

The plastic bag rustles loudly as you drop it onto the couch. One of the yogurt containers rolls out of the bag, but stops before it falls off the cushion. With a shrug of your shoulders, you take off your winter coat and drape it over one of the chairs in the small kitchen. You walk around the couch to sink yourself into the cushions. A sigh escapes your lips; walking the distance from Karasuno to the convenience store and then back to your own home was tiring. You should have resisted when Sugawara demanded that you stay another night in the infirmary. Maybe you wouldn’t have felt this exhausted if you got back on your feet a day earlier.

There’s not much you can do about it now, you decide as you twist the cap off the yogurt container you picked up. You put the bottle to your lips, chugging down its contents in one go. You exhale in satisfaction when you finish, wiping your top lip with the back of your palm. You reach a hand into the plastic bag to rummage around for some of the chips you bought earlier. Though your original purpose of making a visit to the convenience store was to get a somewhat proper meal, you think that you might’ve completely missed your target. You don’t really care though – you can eat healthy another day – as you pull open the chip bag and shove one into your mouth. It crunches loudly and tastes just as bold. You haven’t had junk like this in a while; Sugawara always encouraged (forced) you to make green food choices, so you never really had a chance.

As you munch away, your phone vibrates loudly in your pocket. You pull it out and unlock your phone to find a new message from Hinata.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Yeah (12:02pm)
whT DO U MEAN “Yeah” THAT DOESNT ANSWR MY QUESTIONS

Well, you thought it was fairly self-explanatory, but apparently that feeling was not mutual. The chips in your mouth grind against your back teeth and you grimace as you type out another text.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re: Yeah (12:03pm)
It means what it means.

Your phone makes a whoosh sound when the text sends. You recently discovered that a certain setting on your phone can allow for different notification noises, so you turned up your ringer before sending the text. Technology is so amazing.

Another text interrupts you mid-thought.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re: Yeah (12:04pm)
NO IT DOENST WTF

And another.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: YO (12:04pm)
IM GUNA CALL U & U BETTER PICK UP & EXPAIN

What? Call? By that, does Hinata mean that he is going to actually dial your number and talk to you? You stare at the screen, confused by his text. You shake your head back and forth. No, there’s no way he would-

Sure enough, your ringtone cuts through the silence in your apartment. The default contact image pops up on your screen under Hinata’s contact name. Your phone vibrates vigorously in your hand. You groan, what should you do? You’re tempted to just slide the button over to the red side and end the call, but he’ll probably just call back (though since when were you able to predict what Hinata would do?). With a scowl, you swipe your finger across your screen to the green side. You press the phone against your ear and say, “What.”

“Hi- wait, is that how you greet people over the phone?!” Hinata’s voice travels from the speaker and into your ear. Just from his tone, you can imagine his shocked expression in your mind. Wow, I need to stop doing that.

“What’s wrong with the way I greet people over the phone?”

“You-!” He splutters, clearly unsatisfied with your response. “It’s just disrespectful! You’re supposed to say something like “hello,” or “hi,” or... or whatever!”

You raise an eyebrow, and it’s only after a second that you realize he can’t see you do so. “I don’t really see how that’s disrespectful.”

“I-You, jeez, what the hell?” You hear the sound of a car driving by over the line, and you speculate that Hinata is probably not indoors right now. He sighs before continuing. “You can’t just- okay, I’m getting off topic right now.”

“And what is on topic, then?”

“...Are you stupid or something?”

Your eyes narrow. “Oi-”

“Why the hell do you think I called!?” Hinata yells and you tilt your phone slightly further from your head so he doesn’t burst your eardrums. “I get a text from you – but not you – saying that you’ve been hospitalized and then you don’t text me back for, like, 2 days!!”

“Hey, well, I wasn’t technically hospitalized per say-”

“Then what did that text from your friend mean?! You can’t just expect me to believe you after reading something like that!”

You tuck your legs up to your chest and wrap your free arm around them, resting your head on your knees. Hearing Hinata yell at you is quite exhausting, you discover. You sigh internally; you want to hang up, but there’s one thing that’s been stuck on your mind this entire call. Curious, you voice your thought. “Why do you even care?”

“Because I was worried about you!” Hinata practically screams into the phone. Your eyes widen slightly, not expecting such an instantaneous answer and definitely not one of...that extent. Worried? Over the past few years, you don’t think that anyone other than Sugawara has ever been genuinely worried about you. Ukai, maybe, but you know that he cares more for you as an employee, not necessarily as a human. So, you don’t know how to respond to Hinata’s sudden words. You stay silent, gripping your phone tighter as Hinata’s voice slowly trickles back.

“A-And...” His voice is calmer this time around. Shy, even, but you don’t think shy would be the right word to associate with Hinata (again with the assumptions, huh?). “And because... we’re friends, right?”

Hinata slowly gets quieter when he finishes his question, almost as if he were unsure about it. Heck, even you’re unsure about this whole f-word business. You start to feel dizzy just from hearing those words from his mouth again, and you wonder if this reaction will ever go away. What are you even supposed to say in reply to that? Why does this keep getting brought up? And more importantly, are you even friends? Well, that’s what you called Hinata when you (reluctantly) told Sugawara about him, but now that you’ve been put on the spot, you’re not exactly sure.

And besides, this isn’t exactly a normal question, right?! You think you might be overthinking this whole situation, but it’s not going to leave you alone until you find yourself a solid answer. Even so, it should be fairly simple. It can either be a “yes” or a “no” response. However, your problem lies in the fact that you don’t know which one is correct.

“...” Neither of you have said anything since Hinata’s question. There’s an awkward silence hanging between you two, and though Hinata was the one who asked, you feel like this stillness is something you need to fix.

“I,” You mutter out, placing a hand over your eyes, “I don’t know... Sure...?”

You hear a sharp intake of breath in your ear.

“O-Okay! Okay.” Hinata bursts out a second later. His tone sounds relieved, almost as if he were reassuring himself with those words. The sigh he releases afterward makes your ears heat up from embarrassment. What the hell?

“...You didn’t have to call.” You say after another beat of silence. Even if now you’ve “confirmed” the fact that you two are friends (is this even how friendship works?), you’re bothered by the fact that Hinata would go out of his way to check up on you. Though it’s just a phone call, you don’t want to be a burden to him or anyone else.

“Did you even hear anything I said?” Your eye twitches when you hear how quickly Hinata’s tone can change from relieved to irritated. It kind of pisses you off, but he continues before you have a chance to retort. “I’m not going to repeat what I said before, but you still owe me an explanation!”

You don’t think you owe Hinata anything, but it’s not like you can just pretend you didn’t hear what he said. Biting the inside of your cheek, you realize that you don’t necessarily have to tell Hinata the truth. Actually, why would you even consider telling him the truth? There’s no way that you would, not if you want to keep this “friendship” borderline normal. You could just tell a little white lie. It’s not like Hinata would know, anyway. But then you’ll actually have to think of something believable to tell him...

You settle for, “I kind of got hit by a car.”

“What?!” Hinata screeches and you wince. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best excuse to use, but you can’t exactly take it back now. “You got hit- wait, how do you ‘kind of’ get hit by a car?!”

Crap, you probably shouldn’t have worded it like that. “It just... sort of bumped me.”

“Bumped you?! It still hit you!!” Well on the bright side, it seems like Hinata is buying your little lie. You’re thankful that he’s somewhat gullible – anyone else probably would have been more disbelieving about the “kind of” part.

“Yeah, well.” Obviously, you didn’t actually get hit by a car so you’re not really sure how to proceed next.

“Don’t ‘yeah, well’ me!” You think that Hinata sounds even more irritated now. He lets out a small huff over the line and you can’t help the thought that flashes through your mind. Cute.

...

Wait.

What.

You sit up ramrod straight, phone still pressed to your ear as Hinata complains about how much of an asshole you’re being. Though, you don’t hear much of it because you’re too busy freaking out about what you just thought. The phone nearly slips out of your hand as you run the word through your head again. I did not just think Hinata was cute. No. What the hell. Where did that even come from? You swear you were just trying to weasel your way out of explaining things to Hinata, and now you think he’s cute? No. Absolutely not. You might not be completely sane, but you have enough reason left to know that isn’t normal.

Hinata’s still rambling on as you place the back of your palm against your forehead. It doesn’t seem like you’re running a fever and you don’t have any other sickness-related symptoms, so that rules out the illness possibility. You think that it might be sleep deprivation, but you quickly cross that out as well when you remember that you just spent the majority of the past 3 days sleeping in the infirmary. You’re not experiencing anything abnormal, so what else could it be?

Maybe it was just a momentary loss of sanity. Yeah, you think as you nod to yourself, that makes sense, right? Sometimes people don’t think straight and weird things happen. Yeah. That must be it, you decide confidently. There’s no other way something like that would cross your mind, anyways. With that settled, you slowly turn your attention back to Hinata’s words.

“And the least you could do- hey, are you still there?” Looks like you tuned back in just in time to save yourself from another lecture. He must’ve noticed that you hadn’t said anything in a while.

You hum in response, hoping that he hadn’t asked any questions during the period in which you weren’t paying attention. After hearing your reply, Hinata just continues until you distantly hear another voice on the line.

“Ah, sorry, one second.” You assume that Hinata put his hand over the receiver because both his and the other person’s voices are muffled. They’re yelling (well, Hinata is yelling, the other person is just sort of muttering, really) about something you can’t quite understand, though you can make out the words “mall” and “appointment.” It’s not enough to decipher their entire conversation and as you think that, you wonder why you’re so intent on knowing what they’re talking about.

“But you said! Okay, fine, bye... Sorry, Kageyama?” You jolt in your seat when Hinata calls you by your name. You hadn’t noticed that Hinata’s voice came back, and you assume that this means that the other person had left.

“Who was that?” You don’t know what compels you to ask, but your curiosity has recently been getting the best of you.

“Hn?” There’s a sound of ripping Velcro on Hinata’s side, and you wonder if he has one of those Velcro wallets. How distasteful. “Oh, that was Kenma. You remember him right?”

The image of a boy with pudding-like hair flashes through your mind. “Yeah?”

“Well, we just met up to go shopping but he said he forgot he had to go do something, so now I’m stuck on a bus alone...” He trails off like he’s contemplating something.

“Oh,” you say. You didn’t ask for details, but you won’t deny that you were wondering about them. And despite the circ*mstances, it doesn’t hurt to get some more information. The more you know, the better, right?

“Hey!” Hinata exclaims suddenly. “You’ve been safely discharged, right?”

You nod, but remember that he can’t actually see you. “Yeah,” you say after a beat.

There’s a little more rustling in your ear. It sounds like the bus has made a stop, and passengers are either getting on or off. The background noise increases significantly, and Hinata speaks a bit louder into the microphone. “...Do you want to come to the mall with me?”

“Huh,” you say eloquently.

“I said,” Hinata raises his voice even higher, “do you want to come to the mall with me?”

“You’re going to ask someone who got hit by a car to come shopping with you?” If you’re going to lie, you might as well keep the story up.

Hinata sputters. “W-Well if you’ve been discharged, then you’ve got the okay to do normal-people things, don’t you?”

He’s got a point there, but you don’t know how you feel about meeting up with Hinata. Would you have to pretend that you’ve injured something so you can keep up that little lie?

“You know the last time we went shopping together, we got banned for life from a store, right?” You deadpan.

“Okay yeah, but as long as you don’t piss me off, that won’t happen, right?”

“Oi-”

“So, will you?” He cuts you off with hopeful words. There’s sincerity behind his words; you’re not sure why, but Hinata seems extremely desperate for you to agree. You can’t imagine why he would need you to come shopping with him. Literally nothing good would come from it, as proven from the last time you two were together. And there would be no benefits on your part either – you could doing much more valuable things with your time, rather than accompany Hinata to a mall you’ve been to countless times. You know all of that, and yet the only word that leaves your mouth is,

“Okay.”

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

It’s almost 1pm when you find yourself getting squished by tens of people on a bus on-route to the mall. There’s little to no space between you and the five other shoulders you’re pressed up against, making you increasingly uncomfortable. Someone next to you coughs loudly and you wince in disgust. You’re probably close enough to be able to smell everyone’s deodorant (or lack thereof) within a 2 metre radius. You look up at the ceiling of the vehicle. Why am I even here...

You scoff. Because you’re stupid, you tell yourself. Thinking back, you still have no idea why you even agreed to Hinata’s stupid request. There was literally no reason for you to have said yes, and look where you are now. You should’ve just denied the entire call in the first place. Then, maybe you wouldn’t be stuck on a bus with the rest of this city’s population. And now that you think about it, why would Hinata need someone to come with him? It’s not like going to the mall really requires more than one person. Your eye twitches. If he’s going to make me hold his things, I’m going home.

An automated voice announces your stop over the intercom and you sigh in relief. You manage to squeeze through the crowd of people to get to the doors just before the bus pulls up next to the stand. The cold winter air hits you as you step out, making you realize that you were considerably warmer a few seconds ago. It must’ve been the body heat, you think as you wipe away the cooling sweat on your forehead. But despite it being colder, you’re just glad to be out of that bus.

Taking a look at your surroundings, you find yourself in another over congested area. Though it isn’t as bad as on the bus, you wonder why so many people are at the mall on this particular day. As you walk down the street, it’s not until later when you see the multiple decorations that you realize that everyone is here to do Christmas shopping. You’ve never come to the mall during this season, so you’re slightly taken aback by the increasing number of people here.

You fumble around your pocket for your phone to check the time. Pressing the unlock button, you see that it’s almost 1:10pm. Hinata had texted you to meet him at some toy store inside the mall at 1:30, so you still have some time to kill.

It only takes a few minutes to walk to the main entrance of the mall from the bus stop. The number of people continues to increase from here on out; when you step through the automatic doors, a loud buzz of constant chatter invades your ears. There are people walking about in every direction and your mind swirls from all of the commotion. You thought that the bus was bad, but being inside this mall is even worse.

Looking around, you see that there are several stores in every direction, and you’re not sure which path to follow to get to that store. You wander for a bit (bumping into a few rude shoppers along the way) until you find a large sign that has “Directory” written on it. You skim the sign, searching for a store with a name along the lines of “bear” and “build.” It only takes a few seconds for you to find it (the store is actually called “Build-A-Bear Workshop” but you don’t really care) and you search for its coordinates on the map. Your eyes narrow when you see that it’s located on the other side of the mall and you’ll have to do a lot of walking.

With a click of your teeth, you begin making your way to the shop. You make a few wrong turns – who knew the mall layout was this confusing? – before you find yourself in front of Build-A-Bear. The outside of the shop is a bright, contrasting combination of yellows and blues, similar to what you can see of the inside. There are two giant teddy bears sitting in opposite glass cases, staring at you with their beady eyes. Creepy, you think as you walk inside the shop.

There are shelves lined along the walls of the room, all neatly stocked with different assortments of stuffed animals. In the back corner of the room, there’s a large contraption that looks like it’s filled with cotton. Multiple tubes stick out of the machine, and you watch as the kids in the store happily stick the tube into their toys. You tilt your head in confusion; is it supposed to just inflate them or something?

A kid runs by you, stuffed animal in hand as she shoves it into her mother’s arms with a pleased grin. The woman ruffles her hair, smiling softly as she playfully caresses the toy with her other hand. The little girl’s smile widens, small dimples indenting her cheeks. It’s not until the girl turns her head in your direction that you realize you’re staring. She gives you a curious look, but just flashes you another smile before grasping her mother’s hand to pull her to the cash register.

You’re left a little confused by the display. Seeing the mother and daughter together made you uneasy; it was too innocent, too pure. A lump lodges itself in your throat. You turn your head away, focusing your attention on a deflated duck-toy nearby to avoid watching their retreating backs. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth, and a worse word in your mind. Tainted...

You pull out your phone again to check the time. There’s about 5 minutes until your meeting time, and you’re left hoping that Hinata comes early to save you from this kid-paradise...

From the corner of your eye, you see a kid run in your direction, only to stop about a metre from your left. It’s that same little girl from earlier, you realize, as she stares at you from where she stands. You think that if you ignore her, she’ll eventually leave, but you’re proven wrong when she continues to burn holes into your side. What the heck does she want?

You whip your head around to face her. She seems a little startled by your glare, but her eyes don’t leave yours. In her small hands is a large white and blue box, the stuffed animal from earlier sticking out slightly from the opening. The girl rolls her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes, and back again. She puffs her cheeks out, and raises an eyebrow at you.

You lift an eyebrow in return, confused by her behaviour. What is she doing? Even as you continue to hold this staring contest with her, she doesn’t back down and avert her eyes. You start to feel your eyes watering slightly from not having blinked in a while – despite her being a little kid, you’re not about to lose this staring contest.

Unfortunately, you end up blinking and losing. The girl doesn’t seem to notice though, and keeps staring at you. Exasperated (though you’re not sure if it’s directed toward her or yourself), you turn your head back to the shelves. Even after another minute of staring, she still won’t leave, so you side step once to the right. To your frustration, she takes one step toward you, closing the space just as quickly. Your eye twitches as you take another step to the right, still refusing to look at her. Of course, she follows suit by moving another step closer, not saying a single word.

This repeats another 3 times before you realize that the employees are giving you strange looks. You suppose that anyone would, really, if they saw a suspicious person side stepping a little girl in Build-A-Bear. You can feel yourself starting to sweat out of nervousness; why won’t she just go away?!

“Hey Mister!” A tiny voice suddenly calls out to you. You look down at the source, only to see the same girl with her hands on her hips and the box at her side. She co*cks her head to one side. “What are you doing?”

“...What am I doing?” You realize that you probably shouldn’t be speaking to a 6-year-old so rudely, but you can’t help your curiousity. Scanning the store, you can’t find her mother in sight. Is that why she’s here? “What are you doing?”

The little girl holds her chin up high and puffs out her cheeks again. It’d be kind of endearing if you weren’t so irritated right now. “I asked you first, Mister.”

You sigh internally; why are you even talking to her in the first place? Though you can hear the genuine interest in her voice, even you know that little kids shouldn’t be speaking to strangers. You repeat that thought to her.

“But if you’re at Build-A-Bear, you’re not a stranger!!” She exclaims, eyes practically glittering. “Everyone is a friend here! That’s what my mommy tells me!”

Your mommy needs a reality check, you think blatantly.

“Hey Mister, do you wanna know how to make one?” The girl tugs at the hem of your jacket and you reflexively flinch. You know better to not slap her hand away, but that doesn’t eliminate the urge to.

“Make what?”

She glares at you like you’ve just said something offensive. “A Build-A-Bear!”

“No,” you reply immediately. Regardless of trying to spare a little girl’s feelings, you refuse to be sucked into whatever mess she’s trying to drag you into.

“But I saw you looking at Ducky and you looked like you really wanted one!!” She says with determination. You groan; she mistook your irritation for materialistic desire instead. You open your mouth to tell her that no, you don’t want one, but she simply turns, tugging you along by your jacket behind her.

She lapses into an explanation of the process behind building a Build-A-Bear, and you can’t find yourself to tell her to stop. You listen with mild disinterest as she elaborates about the different material the bears can come in, dragging you across the store to feel up every bear she can find.

“Here!” She thrusts a black one into your hands and you take it reluctantly. As you cradle it in your hands, you have to admit that it’s pretty soft. The material feels nice against your skin as you run your fingers across it. Turning the toy around in your hands, you can’t help but think that the bear is kind of... cute. You look up at the girl and when she has her attention elsewhere, you quickly squeeze the bear to your chest. It’s cute.

“Kageyama?” A different voice calls out to you and you throw the bear as far away from you as possible. It flies over the little girl’s head, landing in one of the sale-section buckets. An employee gives you a dirty look, but you’re too busy to notice because Hinata is walking into the store with a hand over his mouth, no doubt covering the grin on his face.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Hinata giggles and you try your best to fight the blush creeping up your neck. You can’t believe that, of all people, Hinata saw you do something as embarrassing as that.

“N-Nothing.” You curse yourself for stuttering like an idiot. Hinata’s still smiling as he walks up to your side, a small plastic bag in hand. You give him a onceover; he’s wearing that same green parka, though this time with a black scarf and jeans. There’s a peek of grey fabric sticking out of his coat pocket, probably gloves or a hat. Bringing your attention back up to his face, you notice that Hinata is eyeing the toy you threw across the room earlier. To cover up your embarrassment, you call his attention back with a, “You’re late.”

Hinata turns to you with a smirk. “Actually, I’ve been here for a few minutes now. But you were too busy in la-la land with that toy over there to notice- ow! Hey!”

You grasp his head in your right hand and squeeze just hard enough to make him shut up. He flails around for a bit, trying to pry your hand off his head as he complains. In retaliation, you squeeze a little harder, your fingers threading into his hair. Your eyebrows rise in surprise. Hinata’s hair is usually soft for its unruly appearance. The thin, orange strands are like silk between your fingers, much like that stuffed bear you picked up earlier-

You quickly pull your hand back from Hinata like you’ve been burned. He lets out a sigh when you do, rubbing his temples in relief. Your mind blanks again as you feel the same blush returning to your cheeks. Where are these thoughts coming from? You shouldn’t be thinking of things like this, not about Hinata or anyone else, so why does this keep happening? You gulp; Hinata’s mouth is moving, forming words, saying something to you, but the lingering feeling of his hair between your fingers drowns out his voice.

You must be losing your mind. First you thought that he was c... cute, and now this? You mentally slap yourself across the face. Maybe you still haven’t fully recovered from that day you went under the Tyranny. Maybe Sugawara was right and you should’ve stayed longer in the infirmary for the checkups instead of leaving immediately. Maybe you’re not as sane as you had originally thought.

Or maybe...

What?

“Kageyama!”

You snap out of your thoughts when Hinata calls your name. He looks mad, probably because you weren’t listening again. It’s not really my fault, you think, though you’re pretty sure that it is.

“Y’know, it’s pretty rude to not listen when someone’s talking.” He sticks his tongue out at you and you’re tempted to grab his head again, but the memory of his hair against your skin prevents you from doing so. Stop it.

“I was listening.” No you weren’t.

“Oh?” Hinata leans one arm on the shelf next to him, effectively knocking over one of the stuffed animals. You reach out to catch it before it falls to the ground and set it back in its rightful place. “What did I say then, huh?”

Your eye twitches. He’s challenging you with a smug look on his face, and it sucks because you know that you’ve lost (this time, at least). “Okay fine, I didn’t hear you.”

Hinata lets out a victorious laugh and waggles a finger in your face. “Hah! I knew it.”

You grimace. “Can we go now?”

“I don’t know,” he rubs his chin in thought, “are you sure you don’t want to buy one of these Build-A-Bears?”

Hinata gets a stuffed animal in the face for that one, and you don’t even feel bad about it when he topples over into one of the displays.

“Hey! No fair!” Hinata picks himself up, righting the display along the way as he grabs a toy and throws it in your direction. You duck before it hits you and you smirk until another stuffed animal follows suit, smacking you right in the face. The toy bunny falls flat to the ground and you glare at Hinata. He takes one finger and pulls down on his lower eyelid, sticking his tongue out at you in the process. You spit out the fluff stuck to your lips with a growl.

“Oh, it is f*cking on. ”

*

Twenty minutes, multiple flying stuffed animals and one lecture later, you and Hinata find yourselves thrown out of Build-A-Bear Workshop. Hinata skips out of the store in front of you, clearly unfazed by the fact that you two just got banned from another store. Frustrated, you stop in your tracks.

“Why...” You mutter, staring at the space between your feet.

“Hm?” Hinata halts too, turning around to face you.

“Why does this keep happening?!” You exclaim, exasperated. Both of you were only within each other’s presence for a good 3 minutes before you ended up getting kicked out of yet another store. It’s kind of pathetic, really. Getting kicked out of Build-A-Bear? Really?

“Well I told you not to piss me off,” Hinata grumbles, crossing his arms, but you’re too tired to argue back. You shouldn’t have agreed to come with Hinata in the first place. And now that you have, you’ve successfully gotten yourself banned from a stupid toy store. You should have just stayed home in the comfort of your own couch and multitude of snacks, where none of this stupid sh*t could happen. The anger boils your blood and you find yourself questioning why you were even needed here.

“Why am I here?” You say bluntly. You’re not particularly in the mood for beating around the bush, so you’d rather just get a straightforward answer.

“What do you mean?” Hinata’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “I told you before, Kenma couldn’t make it so I needed someone-”

“But why did you even need someone to come with you in the first place?” You can feel your ears heating up in frustration. It didn’t make sense to you when he said it the first time, and it still doesn’t. “What kind of shopping would possibly require more than one person?”

Hinata shuffles around, rubbing the toes of his boots together. “I just- I didn’t wanna go by myself, okay?”

You narrow your eyes. “You made me come here because you were lonely?”

“Well, you agreed to come! So why are you complaining now?” You’ll admit that he has you there, but you don’t like the fact that the blame is being shifted on to you.

“Because this was unnecessary,” you bite out. Hinata looks slightly offended at your words and a pang of guilt hits you. You think that you could have worded that a bit better, but it was your honest opinion.

“Okay,” Hinata mumbles after a pause. “Fine, you can go back. I’ll just go by myself.”

Hinata clutches the bag in his hands closer to his sides, shoulders visibly slumping. With a small sigh, he turns around and starts in the other direction. You stand there, watching blankly without a word as he disappears farther into the crowd.

And it’s as you watch him walk away that you realize that you probably shouldn’t have said those things. It’s confusing, you think as your feet suddenly start moving to push through the crowd and chase Hinata down, that someone can make you feel something so foreign. Several shoppers give you disgruntled looks, but you ignore them in favour of not losing sight of that green parka. You call out his name, but he doesn’t quite hear you through the constant chatter. You click your tongue in annoyance, struggling to get closer and out of the crowd. Before meeting Hinata, you know that you never would have done something like this; chase down someone so desperately just to fix what you’ve done, no matter how small the problem. You never would have gone out of your way to do something like this. It’s weird, it’s different, it’s...

“Hinata!” You call out again and luckily, this time he hears you. With one last shove, you manage to push your way out of the throng of people, nearly tripping over your own feet as you do so. You watch as Hinata’s head perks up in surprise, turning around to look at you with a shocked expression.

“K-Kageyama, what-”

“I’ll go with you, okay?” You interrupt, partially out of breath. You’re aware that you probably look desperate right now, hair mussed up and ears blossoming red, but you can’t find it in you to care. The only crucial thing on your mind is to fix this, fix this, fix this.

“You will?” Hinata’s eyes light up at your words, only to dim again a second later. “But you said-”

“I know what I said,” you grind out, averting your eyes and rubbing your hands against your sides. You berate yourself internally for not preparing something to say. Now, you have to think of something on the spot and you really wish you weren’t such an idiot three seconds ago. “I, I’m already here, so it’s a stupid idea if I just go home right? So...So I’ll come. Shopping. With you. Yeah.”

And if your cheeks weren’t already red enough, you think you could compete with a tomato by the way your face heats up when you stumble over your words. It’s completely embarrassing, this side of you, and you’re mortified that this is happening in front of Hinata. How f*cking lame.

When you look back up, Hinata’s face is frozen in shock. After a few seconds, you start to get a bit worried that not a single muscle on his face has moved. You’re just about ready to call someone for help when he suddenly blinks, a grin soon following and splitting his face. Hinata nods furiously, eyes lighting up immediately. Awkwardly, you rub the back of your neck. You hope that he understands your silent apology, and you think he has by the way the skip in his step returns and the way his laughter rings clear when he tells you about his day. The guilt from before quickly fades away, leaving you with a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

As he glides through the crowd, you follow just a few steps behind. Surprising even yourself, you listen carefully when he tells you about his morning classes and what he had for lunch. You don’t zone out when Hinata tells you the story about how his professor accidentally clicked on a p*rn site during a lecture, even allowing yourself a small smile when his hands flail all over the place to gesture his feelings. At that very moment, Hinata whips his head around to look at you mid-sentence, only to pause and gape at you.

It makes you a little self-conscious, the way he’s blatantly staring at you. Your expression immediately morphs into one of discomfort. “...Why are you looking at me?”

“You, uhrmp-” Hinata slaps a hand over his mouth, silencing himself. You think it might just be a trick of the light, but there’s a slight flush on his cheeks.

“What?”

“Uhhhhhhh-” He drawls from behind his palm, and this time you’re sure that you can see him blush. “I- Nothing. Nothing!”

Your eyes narrow. He can’t just start a sentence and then not finish it. You can’t fight the curiousity that itches at you, prickling your skin like thorns. You grab onto his wrist, prying the hand off his mouth. Hinata gives you a bewildered look, eyes darting between your hand and his own. “Tell me.”

“Wha-No!” His left leg rises to kick you, but even at this distance, you evade it with ease. Hinata’s definitely not the best fighter you’ve come across and this is a walk in the park. His answer, though, pisses you off, and you don’t understand why he’s being so difficult.

“Tell me.” You repeat with a more serious tone. Normally, you wouldn’t be so concerned about something that someone almost said, but really, since when has anything involving Hinata been normal?

“No!” Hinata screeches in your ear, causing you to wince and loosen your grip. Apparently, Hinata notices this opportunity and slips out of your grasp, darting off in the other direction with a cackle.

“O-OI!” You yell, quickly running off as well to chase him. Hinata weaves through the shoppers with ease, laughing loudly as his elbows thrash about, hitting several bags along the way. It’s a challenge, you think, as you push yourself to run faster and chase him down. It’s stupid, you think, as he rounds the corner to evade your grasp, causing you to bump into a group of elderly woman (who give you extremely dirty looks). It’s pointless, you think, as Hinata jumps through the mall fountain, each step splashing you with multiple drops of water.

It’s f*cking fun, you think, as you finally get close enough to grab onto the hem of Hinata’s sleeve and tug, pulling him backward. The change in momentum sends you forward as well, and you meet Hinata’s eyes for a split second before you’re both tumbling to the ground.

Hinata’s laughter doesn’t stop even as you two roll hazardously on the floor, landing near the garbage can in the corner of the mall. You end up with your stomach down, limbs splayed in every direction. When you turn your head to look at Hinata, he seems to have gotten the shorter end of the stick – his cheek is pressed roughly into the ground, knees tucked close to his chest and his back arched like a cat. It’s laughable, really, how ridiculous he looks with that same smile on his face, even in that position. He’s still laughing, and through the commotion and ambiguous stares, you manage a small laugh under your breath.

Fun. You repeat the word in your head again, the single syllable rolling sweetly and unspoken between your lips. It’s something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. You want to hold onto it, no matter how selfish that sounds, because it’s valuable to you. You don’t know when you’ll be able to feel as carefree as this again, so you don’t want to let go of this moment just yet. You’ll take your time to engrave it in your mind, with hopes that it can erase the bad with the good.

When you turn your attention back to Hinata, you notice that he’s already looking at you, a content grin on his face. It’s now that you remember why you even chased him in the first place, and you open your mouth to bring it up.

“Hey-”

“You should do that more often,” Hinata cuts you off with a quiet voice. It’s unlike him to be so timid, you think.

You’re still confused, though. “Do what more often? Chase you around malls?”

A giggle escapes his lips. “Wha- huh? No! Haha, oh my god, no. Well, that was pretty fun, but not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“What I was saying before,” he says, a light blush returning just below his eyes that glimmer with mirth. With a groan, Hinata peels himself off the floor, legs partially folded underneath and weight leaning forward on his arms. You do the same, sitting up and leaning your back against the wall, legs bent slightly in front of you. Once you’re comfortable, you meet Hinata’s eyes again. You realize that he’s talking about what happened just minutes ago, which led to that vigorous chase scene. “When I said you should do that more often.”

A few shoppers stare when they pass by where you two are seated in the corner of the mall. They’re probably confused as to why you’ve chosen the ground as opposed to the row of couches just a few metres away. Obviously, they did not witness the event that led up to your present position on the floor. You ignore the judgemental gazes from the corner of your eye to see Hinata cross his left leg over the other and push himself to scoot over to the same wall you’re currently leaning against.

He stops just about arms length away from you, resting his own back against the wall.

“When I said you should do that more often,” he repeats, blush still present as he tilts his head against the wall, “I meant that you should smile more often.”

“Wh-Huh?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt your cheeks heat up so quickly in your entire life. You wish you’d worn your beanie today so you could crawl into it and disappear. You should smile more often. What is that even supposed to mean? The words make you visibly cringe (though warmth blooms in your chest like daisies in spring) and you find it unbearable to look Hinata in the eye. Not after he’s said something as embarrassing as that.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, okay!” From the corner of your eye, you see Hinata’s blush increase tenfold. You think that the flush on both your cheeks resembles a shade similar to a pack of tomatoes. Hinata waves his hands out in front of him, shaking his hands back and forth. “It’s just- you always seem like.. Like you’re mad or something or angry but apparently you’re really not and it’s just your normal face-”

“Wha-”

“-but how am I supposed to know when it literally looks like every other face you make and I don’t know but then this happens and,” Hinata runs out of breath as he rambles on, choking on nothing but his own words. You watch awkwardly as he thumps his chest, coughing and gasping for air.

When he’s calmed down, you prompt him. “And...?”

“And just,” Hinata covers his eyes with both hands as he says, “it...it suits you. Smiling.”

If someone could win an award for saying stupidly embarrassing things, you think that Hinata’s got that in the bag. Mortification is just a mild way to put this feeling, you realize as Hinata tucks his knees up to his chest and leans his head on top. Your eye twitches. You have to physically turn your head away to stop yourself from watching the creeping flush below Hinata’s hands, trailing down to what you can see just below his chin. An image pops up in your head; one of rosy skin where neck meets collarbone, paired with familiar, silky orange strands and okaaay that train of thought has just derailed to the next century.

You swat at the air in front of you, as if it will erase that putrid thought you just had. What the hell was that? The fact that your own mind was able to conjure an image of such detail nearly sends you off the deep end. If you weren’t already feeling confused from Hinata’s words, you’re definitely feeling it now. You’re grateful that Hinata still has his head cradled in his hands, eyes covered so he can’t see your inner turmoil unfold.

What the hell what the hell what the hell what the hell WHAT. Your mind repeats the phrase over and over in a panicked mantra. No matter what you try to reason yourself with, it just doesn’t make sense. Nothing can explain why you nearly had a weird-ass fantasy about Hinata’s f*cking neck, let alone in the middle of a public mall and wow, are you some sort of pervert? You’re just about to reprimand yourself for being a sicko when Hinata suddenly shoots up from the ground and yells “Oh!”

A few people glance over at Hinata’s sudden outburst, though they quickly turn their attention back to their own tasks. He has his index finger pointed upward, feet staggered shoulder width apart. You raise an eyebrow, blush completely faded and replaced with surprise. “What?”

Hinata looks at you before bending down to pick up the plastic bag he dropped earlier. “I still have to go buy something.”

Right. That’s why you’re here, right? Hinata has to buy something. You came to the mall because Hinata needed to buy something. You...

Sigh.

“Okay,” you get up from where you’re seated on the ground, knees popping as you stand. Well, you did agree to go, so there’s no backing out now. “Where?”

Hinata leads the way with a jump and hop. “Well, I still need to do some Christmas shopping- oh, and I have to grab something for class so I’ll need to...”

You follow half a step behind as Hinata makes his way around the mall. Now that you’re in a sort of lull between not angry and not embarrassed, there’s an awkward silence that settles between you two. Even with the constant buzz of your surroundings, it’s awkward that neither of you have spoken a word for a few minutes. You’re not sure what to say, or if you should even say anything at all. From your peripheral, you see Hinata open and close his mouth a few times, so you assume he’s in the same position. Though you won’t admit it, you secretly wish that you two were still fighting or saying embarrassing things. Or really, anything else to fill this silence. You’re starting to feel somewhat desperate when Hinata suddenly speaks up.

“S-So, you seem to be walking fairly well for someone who got hit by a car, though.” sh*t. Hinata was probably just trying to make conversation, but now that the topic has been brought up, you’re starting to reflect on your mistakes. You hope that Hinata doesn’t also realize that you pretty much chased him throughout the entire mall without any physical issues, or that you aren’t currently showing any post-injury symptoms.

“I told you I recovered,” you say, hoping that Hinata will settle for a bullsh*t answer, “and I said it wasn’t that serious anyways.”

“Well, I guess it might’ve been, since you were so slow when you were chasing me-”

“Oi, I could’ve caught you earlier if-”

“Ah, it’s here!” He interrupts, pointing at the store sign. You’re somewhat relieved that Hinata dropped the subject so quickly, but the fact that he thought you were slow irritates you. When you glance up, you’re greeted with the name “GreenEarth” engraved on a wooden board. Hinata walks inside, waving vigorously to one of the employees behind the counter. She waves back, a timid smile on her face.

As you walk into the store, you find yourself surrounded by several different trinkets, ranging from oddly shaped mugs to intricately designed coin jars. You walk down an aisle, careful not to knock anything over. Every product screams fragile to you, and you’d really prefer not to be held responsible for damaged goods. On one of the shelves, a bright green paperweight catches your eye. It’s quite unique, really, with strange thorns and strings sticking out of it and- whoa, okay, it’s moving, nevermind.

You quickly make your way to another aisle as you try not to think about how you almost touched an extremely suspicious living object. Looking around, you find yourself in a slightly more normal section of the store. On your left are shelves of key chains and lanyards, some with common name engravings, others with accessory options. On your right, you find a shelf of outdated Reader’s Digest magazines and a copy of some volleyball manga. What the hell is this store even?

“Hey!” You turn your head to the voice to see Hinata poking his head around the end of the aisle. He skips over to you, hands full with different trinkets and a smile on his face. One of the objects in his hands nearly slips out of his grasp, but you quickly grab it before it hits the ground. You place it on a nearby shelf for now, shooting Hinata a displeased look. He bends down, places his items on the ground, and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah, thanks.”

You nod in reply. “Why do you have so much,” you pause, gesturing to the ground – what the hell do you even call this stuff, “crap?”

“Hey, it’s not crap!” Hinata whines. You shrug; you would have used a better word if there was one for this insane variety of things. “I’m looking for a birthday gift for one of my friends, so I need you to help me choose.”

Peeking at the pile, you see a strange array of coffee mugs and scented candles. Hinata picks one up and explains what’s special about the object. He repeats this with every single knick-knack he selected along the way, and by the eighth time he’s mentioned glow-in-the-dark abilities, you’ve completely tuned out his words. Your eyes focus on a loose strand of hair dangling just above his left eye. Though you think that it’s not unusual for Hinata’s hair to be uncombed and wild, the stray hair is extremely distracting. Subconsciously, you reach out a hand to push it back and-

“So! Which one should I buy?” Hinata’s bubbly voice brings you back to reality. You quickly retract your arm, and judging by the way he looks at you expectantly, he hadn’t noticed you reach out. Good, you think, because if you had gone through with that, you’d probably find yourself in a very, very uncomfortable position.

“Uh.” Hinata blinks once, twice. You feel yourself start to sweat. Maybe you should’ve actually listened to what Hinata was saying. “The purple one?”

“Ah, really? Okay! I was thinking that one too,” he rattles on, picking up said purple mug and pushing it into your arms. You reluctantly take it as Hinata gathers the other goods and runs off to put them back in their rightful place. Now that you have the item in your hands, you take the time to actually read about the gift you accidentally helped choose. Apparently, this is one of those glow-in-the-dark mugs that everyone (according to Hinata) has been raving about. It’s kind of cool, you’ll admit, though you don’t really see why a mug would need to glow in the dark...

Hinata calls your name from somewhere else in the store. You go in the direction of his voice, purple mug in hand. When you find him, he’s waiting at the register and motioning for you to come over. You make your way over, gently placing the mug on the conveyor belt as you wait for Hinata to pull out his wallet. The employee smiles warmly at you and you’re about to mumble a greeting in response before a loud, scratchy ripping-noise interrupts you.

You look down at the source of the sound, the thing in Hinata’s hands.

Oh, god.

He has a Velcro wallet.

You audibly groan when you see the atrocious accessory. Hinata just shoots you a glare, like he doesn’t even care that his wallet is probably from the stone age. And you think that the worst part of it is that the wallet looks well-loved; the black edges are worn down, strands of fabric slowly coming apart at the seams. You wonder how many years Hinata’s used that wallet for and how many disapproving stares he’s gotten from others like yourself.

“You know what,” Hinata says once the employee hands him his change, turning to you with his chin tilted upward, “I like this wallet, so I don’t care about what you or other people think about it.”

So other people have commented on his wallet. You don’t say anything in reply; you’d probably just get into another argument for no good reason. The both of you leave GreenEarth with a final wave to the girl behind the counter. Hinata opens the plastic bag containing the gift, happily humming to himself about getting good deals by buying them in advance. Now that you think about it...

“When are you going to be giving that gift?”

“Hm?” Hinata turns to look at you. “Oh, their birthday is in February.”

“February?” It’s December, and he’s buying a gift for someone who was born in February? “Why would you buy it so early?”

Hinata scratches the underside of his chin. “Ah, I tend to forget things so I usually buy things really early and just store them somewhere until the date comes around... It’s a lot easier that way for me!”

You don’t understand Hinata. Everything about him is just strange to you, including the way he thinks. It’s just... weird. “You’re weird.”

“I’m not weird, you’re weird.” He sticks his tongue out at you and you flick him once on the forehead. He grumbles in complaint, rubbing the patch above his brow with his palm. “Anyway, since we’re on the topic, when’s your birthday?”

You almost stop walking in surprise. “Mine?”

Hinata gives you a look that screams, really. “Did you think I was talking to anyone else? Of course I meant yours!”

Now that you think about it, your birthday is coming up in less than two weeks. However, it’s not something you really think about, much less tell other people. “I’m not telling you.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Cause,” you mumble, “I just don’t want to.” If you remember correctly, today is the 10th, which means your birthday is coming up in 12 days. You don’t want to tell Hinata your birthday because you don’t want to cause any trouble for him; or worse, have him buy you a stupid trinket from GreenEarth and be forced to pretend to like it. You’d much rather just pass that day like any other insignificant day of the year – curled up in your bed with a cup of tea and your laptop-

“Hey,” you say suddenly, remembering something you should’ve brought up much sooner, “you still owe me a laptop.”

Hinata nearly drops the plastic bag when he hears your words. “Oh, sh*t, you’re right. Uhm. I don’t really have enough money on me right now. So, another day?”

You hum in response. It’s odd, you think, that you can agree to that without getting angry. With anyone else, you’re sure you would’ve been tempted to pin them down and threaten them until you got what you wanted. But for some reason, you find none of that aggression here with Hinata. Even the words “another day” make you feel hopeful for reasons you can’t understand. Again, you find yourself thinking that this is weird. Hinata is weird. Everything about this is just weird.

Hinata wanders off to ask a stranger for the time and nearly trips on his way back when he gets a response. His eyes look panicked as he runs over and grabs your wrist. “I- I’m going to be late for my bus!”

You wince when he screeches in your ear, pulling you along as he runs in the direction you came from. “O-Oi-”

“Just hurry up!” He drags you through the mall, weaving through crowds of people. The blurs of the shops are familiar, you realize; you probably remember them from when you had chased Hinata earlier. Hinata nearly causes you two to crash into a middle-aged couple (they look at you with scorn in their eyes, clearly thinking something about the “waste that is this generation”) before you finally make it to the bus stop.

You’re both heavily out of breath, hands on your knees and head tilted downward. Your wrist stings slightly from Hinata’s grip, but you’re too busy trying to get air back into your lungs. It seems like Hinata is the same, but he manages to ask another person for the time, pumping his fist in the air when he discovers that you made it here with 4 minutes to spare.

With a wheeze, you make your way over to the seats under the bus stop roof. You plop down into the chair, feeling relieved immediately when your limbs relax into the seat. Hinata follows suit, taking the seat beside you. The heat from his arm next to yours is a bit unsettling, even through the fabric of your coats. Though, you don’t have much time to think about it when you spot an elderly woman standing at the stop next to yours.

From what you can see, she’s got two large bags of groceries at her feet and a walking cane at her side. You start to feel bad immediately; you shouldn’t be occupying one of these chairs when there’s someone else who needs it more. Despite how tired you are, you get up and walk over to the old woman.

“Uh,” you say, not really sure how you’ve gotten yourself into this mess, but now you have to follow through, “you could- uh. Please take a seat?”

The old lady turns to you in surprise before a grateful smile splits her lips. You walk her over to the chairs, her grocery bags in your hands. Hinata covers his mouth, no doubt hiding a smile underneath his hand. She takes the seat you previously occupied with a sigh, rubbing her back. “Oh, thank you so much! What a nice young man, and cute, too.”

She adds a wink at the end of her sentence and it causes you to blush profusely. Hinata nearly bursts out laughing when you set the bags down by her feet, and you shoot him a glare. Shut up.

About a minute of awkward blushing and stifled giggles passes before a bus pulls up next to the stop. The old lady sits up from the chair, thanking you again before getting onto the vehicle. Hinata also gets up, plastic bags in hand as he teases you about the woman’s words.

“‘What a nice young man,’” he repeats in a mock-old woman voice, skipping toward the bus before you get a chance to flick him on the forehead again.

“Shut up,” you grumble. Hinata just giggles again, stepping onto the bus. You watch from the sidewalk as he pauses before turning back to you just before the doors close.

“You know,” he says, laughter still bubbling from his lips, “she was right. It was pretty cute.”

The doors shut after Hinata finishes his sentence. He blinks in surprise, then waves goodbye to you through the glass. The bus speeds off after that, leaving you standing stock still on the concrete. You know that you probably shouldn’t stand so close to the edge of the road but you’re too busy repeating Hinata’s words in your head.

Cute. What the hell is up with that word? You were embarrassed enough when the old woman used it, but hearing it from Hinata is a whole other story altogether. It’s confusing, you think. What did he mean by that? Did he think that you helping that woman was cute? Or did he think that...that you were cute? Oh, god. You think that you’ve blushed more times today than you have in your entire life. The skin on the tip of your ears heats up, its colour probably matching the flush on your cheeks and neck. You bring your hands up to your face, palms lightly slapping your cheeks in an attempt to tame the red. With an exhale, you decide that you shouldn’t think too much of this or let it bother you.

And yet, as you sit on the bus on-route to your apartment, you find yourself unable to forget it. You lean your head against the window, eyes looking but unfocused on the blurs of cars and people that pass by. His words repeat in your head over and over, and you think you’ll never be able to forget how they sound.

You start to wonder if that would really be a bad thing.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

“Hey Sugawara...”

“Hm?”

“... Do you think I’m cute?”

Sugawara spits out his drink.

“Wh- I’m sorry, what?”

You give Sugawara a serious look. “Do you think I’m cute?”

He looks at you like you’ve gone crazy – you think you might’ve, too – before he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Sugawara leaves the room with a frown, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his palm. When he comes back, he sheepishly wipes off the mess he made with a paper towel. It’s only after he sees your unamused expression that he looks up thoughtfully before responding. “Well, if you think knives are cute, then I guess you’re kind of cute.”

The noise that escapes your mouth is nowhere near human. You slink farther down the couch, your back slumped between the cushions. You avert your eyes, the embarrassment of even asking that question finally settling in. From the corner of your eye, you see Sugawara put his hands on his hip as he raises an eyebrow.

“So what brought this up?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not like you to ask something like this,” Sugawara points out, crouching down next to the table. He places an elbow on the surface, leaning his head against his hand.

“It’s nothing.”

Sugawara squints his eyes at you. He drums his fingers against his cheek, a small smile soon unfolding on his face. “...Is this about Hinata?”

“No,” you say immediately, though you know it’s a lie. The expression on Sugawara’s face says he’s thinking the same, but he drops the subject with a shrug. You’re grateful that he won’t press the issue; there’s really no way for you to explain why you had asked that question without totally embarrassing yourself, despite the fact that you think you’ve already done a pretty good job of that.

But the fact of it is, is that you can’t stop thinking of what happened three days ago. The memories won’t leave you alone no matter how hard you try to ignore them. Over the past few days, you’ve found yourself absentmindedly remembering the way Hinata smiled when you both were splayed on the ground, content and without a care. His energetic laughter resounds in your ears every time you stumble across something that reminds you of him; whether it be the orange ornament still hung on your bathroom door or a meat bun you snacked on, it simply doesn’t stop. And worst of all, the memory of the words “it was pretty cute” spilling so easily from his lips is what hits you the hardest.

f*ck. You slap a hand over your eyes. Even when you’re busy with something else, your mind always wanders back to this. It’s a never-ending cycle – one consisting of spinning around in circles of remembering until you’ve forgotten, repeating over and over again. But recently, the gaps between start and end have gotten significantly shorter, and you’re not sure if you should be worried about that or not.

“Are you alright?” Sugawara asks, tilting his head to the side. You must’ve spaced out again – you find that this has been happening more recently as well – and you nod in reply. Sugawara doesn’t seem convinced, but he just gives you another concerned look before letting out a sigh. “Okay, but you know you don’t have to deal with anything alone, right? We’re here for you.”

“Mm.” You’re not sure who Sugawara is referring to when he says “we” but you’re not really in the mood to ask. There are bigger issues at hand, you think.

Your grey haired friend suddenly stands, reaching for his coat by the armrest and patting down his pockets. “I have to get going, need to pick up the new package before the people downstairs get mad at me again. You can stay though, you have the key to lock up, right?

You shake your head. “Left it in my apartment.”

Sugawara gives you a look of disdain. “You really should keep that on you, with how often you come here, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, waving a hand in dismissal. He puts on his best “stern-mother” face because you and he both know that you won’t do it. The majority of the time you come to the 4th floor of Karasuno, Sugawara is here, so you haven’t really found a need to carry the key around with you.

You drag yourself off the couch as Sugawara shrugs on his jacket. You do the same with your own, picking up your phone from where it laid on the coffee table. There’s an unread text from Ukai; you figure that he’s calling you for another mission. Not wanting to make him wait, you decide that you’ll head straight for his office.

The door shuts behind you two as you leave the room, the familiar turn of a lock following shortly after. With a final wave and word of goodbye to Sugawara, you slowly ascend the stairs to the top floor.

*

It’s dark.

You turn your head from side to side but the cold, pitch-black eradicates any possible light. Draped in darkness, you place your hands out in front of you and cautiously grope around for a wall. Each slow step releases a creaking noise, the floorboards underneath your feet slowly giving into your weight. Your fingertips meet concrete sooner than expected, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. You lean your head against the wall, relishing in being able to find something solid in this never ending darkness.

The sound of scampering feet echoes down the hall, fading quickly as they disappear around the corner. A door slams not too far away from where you are now, and the silence that follows is deafening. You reach a hand to your right, patting your gun where it sits routinely at your side. It slips out of its holster with ease, the familiar weapon gripped strongly between your fingers. You wait, holding your breath so as to not make a sound.

Minutes pass without the slightest noise. The stillness in the air is suffocating and at this point, you start to feel sceptical as to whether or not anything will happen. You slowly lower your gun, still keeping your ears peeled for any sounds of movement. Though your sight has been eliminated from use due to the darkness, your other senses, including your hearing, have heightened considerably. You listen for any sounds of shuffling, of shoes squeaking or of floorboards creaking. When you still hear nothing, you almost click your tongue in irritation.

What the hell-

Suddenly, a soft click echoes from the end of the hall. A small beam of light peaks out from behind the wall you’ve hidden behind, waving around in every direction. You wince; despite the light not being very strong, your eyes have been engulfed in darkness for a long period of time so it burns slightly to look directly at the source. The ray of light swings around in a few more successions before pointing perpendicular to where you’re facing. You tuck yourself in tighter, gun close to your chest and chin resting just above where your thumbs grip the handle.

“Hurry the hell up,” a gruff voice barks in the direction of the light. The beam shakes slightly before stabilizing again, followed by the sound of a door creaking loudly against its hinges.

“Shut your f*cking trap, this sh*t’s heavy,” another voice mumbles back, strain obvious in their tone. There’s a loud thud and an “oof,” and you think that the one carrying the load must’ve bumped into something.

“Hey, be careful with that!” A third person soon joins the conversation, their footsteps quickly approaching the other two. “We can’t afford to damage what’s inside these boxes, do you want the boss to kill us?!”

The other two murmur something, but it’s too soft-spoken for you to piece together what they’re saying. Regardless, now you know that you’ve got three people to get rid of and only so much time to do so. You wait patiently, not wanting to ruin any chances by firing too early.

“You know,” one of them wheezes, “you guys could at least help me carry this.”

“You know,” another mocks, “maybe if you weren’t so f*cking weak then you wouldn’t have to ask us to help you carry it.”

“What the hell did you just say?”

“You f*cking heard me, you useless twig-”

“I’m gonna shove a pole up your f*cking-”

“God, shut up, ” the third member interrupts, though their voice is somewhat muffled by something. “Can’t a guy eat his meat bun in peace without two idiots fighting over something so f*cking stupid...”

So that’s what had muffled his voice, you discover. But despite learning that, you find yourself distracted by something else entirely. It’s kind of crazy, really, how your mind suddenly wanders off to thoughts of Hinata immediately after hearing the words “meat bun.” Though you’re currently in a completely irrelevant situation, your thoughts are suddenly flooded with memories of that snowy night, and the way Hinata had tried so desperately to hide something so insignificant from you. You’re reminded of the way he eventually presented the meat bun to you, embarrassed and cheeks flushed a rosy red. You remember the way the stale meat bun had felt against your fingertips, cold and frozen and completely incomparable to the burning heat that bloomed feverishly in your chest.

And then these thoughts drift off to events more recent, like Hinata’s smug smirk when he first saw you at Build-A-Bear Workshop, or his bright orange hair contrasting against the blinding grey and white of your surroundings. Remembering these little things nearly sends you off the deep end; it’s like some sort of disease that you can’t cure with just a good night’s rest. It infiltrates your daily life, disrupting you from living out your life like you always have with random bursts of memories. Even if you can’t find a way to prevent them, you can’t help but wish that they didn’t impact you so much; it makes you feel so different, so weak, so-

“-there’s this really goo- Hey! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Surprised, you whip your head in the direction of the voice. The three men are less than 2 metres away from where you are now, and you barely have time to say “oh sh*t” before one of them is running at you and his fist collides with your jaw. You take a few steps back in retaliation, groaning when you feel a burning sting to the side of your cheek. That’s probably going to bruise tomorrow morning, but by the time you regain your balance, another one of the men swiftly kicks the gun out of your hands. The pistol clatters loudly as it falls to the ground, sliding somewhere to the side. It’s still too dark for you to be able to clearly pinpoint where it is though, and you’ve got bigger problems at hand – one namely being the men in front of you.

Since one of them took the initiative to disarm your gun, you assume that none of them have lethal weapons on them. Good, you think as you bring your fists up to your chest, staggering your feet. Haven’t fought hand-to-hand in a while. You ignore the burning pain on the side of your face as two of the three launch themselves at you, fists swinging at your head. You duck quickly to dodge one before sidestepping to evade another. One of the men stumbles when he misses, nearly falling to the ground as he loses his momentum in the punch. He fumbles with the flashlight in his other hand as this happens, the tool eventually dropping and rolling to the ground. You take advantage of this by dropping to the floor and sweeping his feet out from under him with a kick.

A wave of satisfaction washes over you when he falls to the ground with a groan, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before the second man approaches again, this time a dagger in his hands. Oh f*ck, you think before jumping out of the way as fast as you can, just barely clearing the swing of his blade. You roll on the ground, your back landing on top of something solid. With a pat, you realize that you’ve found your gun again – lucky – and you quickly pick it up and aim. The man hasn’t seemed to notice that you’ve rearmed yourself, carelessly running in your direction with his fist raised. Like routine, your fingers quickly find the trigger and fire, the bullet piercing straight through the enemy’s throat. He falls to the ground with a strangled gasp as blood pools quickly around his neck. You wince; he’s making a mess everywhere, but you suppose that’s really your fault, though.

You stand, swaying slightly before you get back on your feet. That punch did more to you than you thought it would’ve and you should probably get to icing that soon. With a sigh, you walk past the blooming pool of blood on the ground, pausing when you see the other man you knocked out earlier. You had only swept his feet out from under him, but he seems to be out cold. Maybe he hit his head on the way down? You’re not really sure, but you can’t afford to make any mistakes on your job. You take a step back and close your eyes as you fire a bullet into his skull. His body convulses from the impact before falling still, crimson quickly staining the floor just as quickly as his partner. That was unpleasant, you think as you tuck the gun back inside of its holster. You’re about to leave the room when you suddenly realize something important.

There were three men.
Your eyes furiously scan the dim room, but no one is in sight except for the two you’ve already killed. You swear under your breath, picking up the flashlight that was dropped earlier. How could you have let this happen? Though protecting yourself was important, you shouldn’t have allowed for the object to slip out of your grasp. You bolt through the dark hallways, frantically searching for a sign of the third person. From what you briefly saw, they had a large crate in their hands so they couldn’t have gotten too far...

At least, that’s what you told yourself. You lean against the main entrance of the building with stinging calves and laboured breath. Even after 30 minutes of searching, you didn’t find a single sign of the last member. A groan escapes your lips, the pain in your jaw hitting you full blown as you feel your body starting to crash.

Ukai’s going to f*cking kill me.

*

“What the hell, Kageyama?”

Ukai slams his palms down onto his office table and the room shakes slightly from the action. You wince at his words; Ukai’s never used this kind of tone with you, even when you were being a “stubborn dip-sh*t,” as per his words. He pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth in front of the dying fern near the back of the room. “Jeez, do you have any idea how important this job was?”

You bow solemnly, back bent 90 degrees. “I’m very sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be sorry,” Ukai mumbles under his breath and from where you’re bowing, you can see him plop down into his office chair. The chair squeaks lightly from the added weight, its wheels worn from years of use. He leans his head in his hand, elbow resting on the table as his other hand sorts through the mess of sheets on his desk. Ukai pulls out a red folder from the pile, throwing it in your direction. You reach down to pick it up from where it landed by your feet, flipping to the very first page.

“Madam Roseweld, 49, self-proclaimed leader of The Grande, blah blah blah,” Ukai reads off the page in a dull slur. You remember bits and pieces of The Grande. It’s a fairly infamous underground association rumoured to be run by a seven misfit women, most of whom are now pronounced either missing or dead. Madam Roseweld, however, is one of the most well-known from the group, mostly for her interchanging sweet and devilish demeanours. If the case you just f*cked up was associated with her, then you’re definitely in for some trouble. Ukai’s eyes skim across the paper, biting the inside of his cheek as he continues. “Yaddayadda... Ah, here. ‘One of the richest female figures in the business.’ ”

Ukai slaps the paper with the back of his palm and turns his attention back to you. “One of the richest, Kageyama. We had a sh*tload of money riding on that case, so I entrusted it to our best. But then look what happens...”

“I’m very sorry,” you repeat, “it won’t happen again.”

“Damn f*cking straight it won’t. You know, I had to call in one of my favours just to convince her to let it slide. sh*t, we could’ve used that for other sh*t in the future.”

You bow again. “I’m extremely sorry.”

“And what the hell even happened?” Ukai’s anger disappears just as quickly as it came, soon replaced with confusion and suspicion. “You and I both know that it isn’t like you to not finish a job, especially not one of this calibre.”

“I...” You don’t know if you should respond truthfully – how are you supposed to explain that you failed a mission because you were thinking of a certain orange haired boy? It still perplexes you to this moment, and frankly, you’re disappointed in yourself. “...I was distracted.”

Ukai raises an eyebrow. “Distracted? By what?”

“I-I don’t know,” you lie quickly and you hope that your boss won’t notice, “I just, wasn’t at the peak of my performance. I apologize.”

He scrutinizes you for another moment before relenting. “Alright, but if this happens again-”

“It won’t.” You promise, cutting him off. Ukai gives you one final nod before pointing you out of the door. You leave the office with a sigh of relief. Somehow, you managed to escape one of Ukai’s lectures without any serious bodily harm; you like to think that he went easy on you because of the purpling bruise underneath your cheek. You lightly touch a finger to it, pulling back immediately when you feel the familiar sting of pain. Last night, you iced the bruise immediately after you got home, but you should have expected that you would wake up the next morning with another organism growing on your face.

You walk out to the elevator and press the button, leaning your back against the wall as you wait. You think back to the conversation you just had with Ukai, and he’s right. It’s definitely not like you to get distracted on a job. Sure, have other thoughts maybe, but not to the point where it causes a threat to the completion of the mission. Throughout your entire career, you don’t think you’ve ever failed a mention as spectacularly as you did last night. And that’s unacceptable on both of your parts – Ukai because he expects certain things of you from this job, and yourself because you expect certain things of yourself from this job. It’s disappointing that you would allow yourself to be distracted by something so easily when lives are at risk. And what makes it worse is that those distractions were directly related to memories surrounding Hinata.

The elevator dings before the doors slide open. You quietly step inside, relieved that no one else is in the elevator with you. You hit the 4th floor button with your elbow, too lazy to actually use your finger to do so. The contraption buzzes to life, descending downward to your selected floor.

You sigh; you’ve decided to go pay Sugawara another visit. With all of these distractions surrounding you recently, you think that it’s best to ask someone about this. Even if you’re super reluctant to, you know that consulting Sugawara will (almost) always be your best choice.

The doors slide open once again and you make your way to the room you know all too well.

*

“Hey Sugawara...”

“Hm- Wait, lemme finish drinking my juice first.”

“Uh, okay.”

Sugawara quickly chugs down the rest of his carrot juice, slamming the glass down onto the coffee table in front of you. This situation is somewhat familiar, you realize as you lounge on the couch just as you did yesterday before the mission. Sugawara gulps down the last mouthful, releasing a satisfied sigh. He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm before turning back to you with a smile. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Er,” you manage, slightly taken aback by Sugawara’s undivided attention on you. You know that he’s just curious, but his stare is starting to get a little creepy. Maybe he’s looking at that bruise on your face, but he hasn’t brought it up so you hope that he isn’t. “So.”

Sugawara continues to look at you with expectant eyes. “...So?”

Your cheeks unwillingly heat up when you think of what you’re trying to ask. How do you put this into words without being too specific? “Uh.”

“Uh...?” He prompts, leaning forward slightly. Don’t rush me, you want to say but even you can recognize that you’re stalling. You inhale deeply before rushing through your words;

“Whatdoyoudowhenyoucan’tstopthinkingaboutsomeone.”

“Uh, what? Sorry, can you repeat that?” Sugawara tilts his head to the side, a look of confusion on his face. You suppose you wouldn’t be able to understand the gibberish that just came out of your mouth either, but you groan at the thought of having to repeat what you just said. The grey haired man waits patiently for you to go on and you have to avert your eyes to ask the question again.

“What,” you choke out, embarrassed from head to toe, “do you do when you can’t stop thinking about someone?”

When you glance back, you see Sugawara’s eyes widen slightly before returning back to normal. He picks up the glass again, running his index finger over the rim of the cup. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“No,” you say immediately. If you reveal anything else, Sugawara is bound to catch onto whatever turmoil is going on inside your mind and you’d prefer to keep it somewhat obscure. Hell, he might even be able to guess correctly without having any other information revealed to him, so f*ck that.

Sugawara taps his fingernail against the cup twice, a pleasant sound resonating from the glass. He purses his lips, eyes focused on the table in front of you two. It’s quiet for a minute or two as you wait for Sugawara to finish thinking – you didn’t think it would take him this long just to answer your question. You don’t really mind though. This gives you some time to rid yourself of that disgusting blush you know is present on your face.

“Well,” Sugawara says suddenly, immediately capturing your attention, “if you can’t stop thinking about someone, it probably means you care a lot for that person, right?”

You don’t respond, choosing to stuff your hands in your pockets and wait for Sugawara to continue.

“It’s likely that they’ve taken enough importance in your life for you to constantly have them on your mind. And that’s not your own fault, either. They could cross your thoughts at any point and time, and really, we don’t exactly have any control over those kinds of things. Once you think of something about someone, don’t you think that it’s hard to force yourself to forget it unless something else comes along to distract you? Whether it be just little things like their favourite colour or preferred types of food, it’s difficult to forget those kinds of things when it concerns the people we care about.”

He turns to you afterward like he said something as simple as “it’s cold outside” to you. But it’s really not that simple. Not to you, at least. Sugawara’s words left a deep impact on you, causing the gears in your head to turn in a completely different direction. If what he’s saying is true, then it must mean that you care about Hinata, whether you comprehend it or not. And the Hinata-centric thoughts that you’ve been having recently are a direct result of this caring and not because you’re going insane. You almost breathe out a sigh of relief because you’re finally able to reassure yourself that yes, this is normal, and no, you’re not f*cking crazy. You turn to Sugawara to thank him for answering you, but you pause.

Wait.

If caring about someone means having them constantly invade your thoughts, then why haven’t any of those thoughts been about Sugawara? You know that Sugawara is probably one of the people you care about most in this world because of everything that he’s done for you, past and present. This doesn’t make sense. The words that had previously assured you have become more confusing than ever. Why, if you care about Sugawara, have you only been thinking of Hinata and not your grey haired friend as well?

Before you can dig yourself into another metaphorical hole, Sugawara speaks up.

“You know, you’ve been asking some pretty...interesting questions as of late. Not that I mind,” Sugawara quickly adds on, shaking his hands out in front of him when he sees your glare, “it’s just different. A good different, I think.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why is it a good different?”

Sugawara just shrugs, standing up with his glass to make his way into the kitchen area. “It just means you’re being more open compared to before,” he calls out from the other room. You hear the sound of liquid pouring into a glass, and he comes back with another cup full of juice. Sugawara offers you some, but you shake your head. “Though I wish you’d be a little more specific.”

You nearly snort at that. If Sugawara found out that Hinata was the one you were having these thoughts about, you’re almost 100% sure that he would never stop bugging you about it until he got all of the details. So, you’ll never provide him with more information than necessary, and even that will be in extreme cases (like this).

A buzz vibrates against the coffee table. It’s your phone, you realize as the familiar notification tone rings loudly to your ears. You quickly unlock it, flipping through to the text you just got from Ukai.

From: Boss
Subject: Job (1:37pm)
Come to my office ASAP.

Already? You just got a lecture about not completing a mission about 20 minutes ago, and he’s calling you back for another job? It’s a bit petty of you to be complaining about getting missions, because cases means money to pay for that apartment you own, but you’d appreciate it if you got even a little bit of downtime in between.

With a sigh, you relay what Ukai demanded of you to Sugawara. He just smiles, telling you to be careful and you promise that you will. It’s routine now, you think as you shrug your coat back on, careful not to forget your keys or phone in the room. Sugawara closes the door behind you, and suddenly every word from your conversation comes flooding back to you. Though you managed to clear some things up, you’re still not 100% sure of what these thoughts mean to you. You thought that speaking to Sugawara would immediately solve your issue, but you guess that things aren’t as simple as that. How annoying.

Your phone buzzes noisily again, no doubt another text from Ukai. You suppose that this isn’t the time to be thinking about these kinds of things. You quickly type out a reply and press send, begrudgingly ascending to the top floor.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Your tiny feet carry you recklessly across the floorboards and you nearly slip when you turn the corner. The small toad cradled between your hands croaks quietly as you rush down the hallway, head flitting side to side in search of that familiar smile and warm embrace. Just as you arrive at the entrance to the kitchen, a singing voice reaches your ears, causing you to stop in your tracks. With a muted gasp, you quickly hide behind the door, back pressed straight against the wall and ears listening curiously to the sound.

“Spirits flying at the speed of light,
travelling like a dream one night;
This hole in my heart is proof of life.”

Ah, you realize as you peek your head in around the side of the door, Mama’s singing again. You watch timidly as her feet shuffle across the kitchen floor, milling about with pots and pans in her hands. Her midnight hair flows gently behind her, tousled slightly by the breeze from the open window. It seems like she hasn’t noticed you watching her as she continues to rinse off the dishes in the sink.

It’s nice like this, you think. You don’t get to hear your Mama sing very much, anymore. She used to sing for you every night, her hands softly carding through your hair as you slowly drifted off to sleep. Though that doesn’t happen as often now – Mama had said something about being too busy because of work, didn’t she? – you relish in this moment where you can listen to her voice tenderly flowing through the air with every word.

“Life goes on,
and the people sing their song.
Love and hate together,
they can make harmony.”

“Tobio?” The singing suddenly stops and yours ears are met with the sound of your own name. You quickly duck your head out of sight, embarrassed to have been caught. The palms of your hands start to feel clammy and you doubt it’s just from the toad still sitting in between your fingers. Somehow, it feels wrong to have been listening to your Mama sing, like you were eavesdropping on something you shouldn’t have heard. You’re about to run away again, original intentions forgotten, but her voice calls you back once more.

You shyly step out from your hiding spot, feet toeing nervously against the ground. She smiles and beckons you over with the tilt of her head. You walk over to her open arms, giggling when she picks you up by your armpits and sits down, settling you in her lap.

“Mama, look,” you say, carefully cracking open your fingers to show her the toad. You don’t want to open your hands too wide, or else it’ll jump out and you’ll have to spend another half an hour chasing it down again.

“Oh, how adorable!” With a grin, you glance up to look for the smile you hear in her voice, but you’re taken by surprise when you’re greeted with the sight of her lips and nothing more. The shadow that looms where her eyes and nose should be frightens you and a chill runs down your spine as one word crosses your mind;

Faceless.

“Tobio? Sweetie, are you alright?” A hand cradles your cheek, the warmth from her fingers pressing into your skin. The familiar gesture makes you forget about the thought you just had, replacing it with another large grin and the nod of your head. She smiles at that, rubbing her thumb in small circles just below your eye. With her opposite hand, she taps your nose teasingly before pressing a light kiss to your temple. You squeal when she does it over and over again, secretly enjoying the attention and love she showers you with.

“Can I keep it?” You ask when you both settle down, your hands still cautiously caged around the toad.

“You know how your father feels about animals,” she responds with a frown. You pout; you are aware of how Dad feels about animals. Suddenly, you wonder if you could make a cure for that allergy disease he has.

“...I’ll go put it back.” You say dejectedly, pushing yourself off her lap. Your feet hit the ground with a small thud before you’re racing down the corridor again to the main entrance of your house.

“Be careful!” Mama’s voice calls out to you from the kitchen and you yell back to say that you will. The toad croaks again between your fingers and you quietly tell it to shut up. You come to a stop at the front door, stepping around the shoes that have been scattered across the mat. It’s when you’re trying to squeeze your heel into your runners without using your hands when Mama’s singing echoes from down the hall.

“Plunging back into the darkness,
it’s not pain it’s just uncertainty.
I know my heart’s missing a piece,
but it still beats.”

I hope Mama sings for me again, you think as you nudge open the door with your elbow. The hinges creak loudly as it opens, and the last thing you hear before the door shuts is the sound of that soft singing voice. You puff out your cheeks, holding tightly onto the toad in your hands before your feet take off running.

*

And despite you previously telling Ukai that you getting distracted on a mission wouldn’t happen again, well.

It happened again.

It wasn’t intentional, you try to tell him, and it never would be. But Ukai isn’t hearing any of it and you’re forced to sit through lecture after lecture about slacking off and not paying full attention on the job. You protest that you were actually able to complete the main objective of the missions you were assigned, although there were distractions along the way (one of which almost involved you losing a limb, but you choose not to mention it). He just tells you to shut up, focus on your missions and get your head out of the clouds, sending you out of his office with a pointed finger and a reduced paycheque.

You frown as you walk down the hall; the bundle of bills in your hands is significantly thinner than it usually is. A sound of frustration escapes your lips. The lecture had put you in a bad mood. Not just from being yelled at by Ukai, but also because you’re agitated by your own behaviour. Following the first failed mission involving Madam Roseweld, you were intent on not allowing yourself to get distracted by anything else in the future.

But I guess things never really work in my favour, you think as you descend down the emergency staircase, your shoes clunking loudly with each step. You’re aware that it’s not exactly something you can control, those wandering thoughts of yours, as Sugawara had reassured you a few days ago. But, that doesn’t mean you don’t wish you could. It’s mentally exhausting to have something (or someone) infiltrate your mind for long periods of time, especially when you’re stuck in a situation that requires upmost focus and concentration. You rub your chin lightly in remembrance; the bruise on the underside of your jaw is just starting to fade away, and you’re not exactly in favour of getting another one to match. In fact, you’re lucky that those men didn’t have any proper weapons on them. If the first one that noticed you had a gun, you’re pretty sure that you wouldn’t be standing here today.

When your foot hits the ground from the last step, you push your way through the door on the first floor, finding yourself in the Karasuno lobby. The receptionist gives you a dirty look – you’re not actually supposed to use those stairs unless it’s an actual emergency, and you’re quite well known for sneaking around and disobeying that rule. You bow curtly in apology, both for this case and every other time in the future you’ll continue to use those stairs. The receptionist pushes her glasses higher on her nose and turns back to her work, a grimace on her face. You don’t really have a good relationship with that employee, and you think that maybe you should have just taken the elevator today.

Then again, it’s not really something you should be concerned about. As you step out of the building, a cold gust of wind hits you in the face, causing a shiver to crawl down your back. It’s cold, you think as you shove your hands into your coat pockets, your shoulders tensing from the chill. You begin walking in the direction of your apartment, silently wishing that you had worn something warmer today. Glancing up at the sky, you’re greeted with grey, stormy clouds that blanket the city. You pick up your pace, not wanting to get caught in the storm that is bound to follow.

You manage to make it back to your apartment without losing any of your toes to the cold. Just as you step inside of the building, a cold twitch in your nose causes you to sneeze. You grimace when you feel snot trying to come out of your nostril and you try to tilt your head back slightly to prevent it from falling out. This is so gross, you think as you push your floor number in the elevator, ignoring the strange glance you’re getting from the old lady that lives on floor 3. When you reach your floor, you make a dash to your apartment number, quickly unlocking the door before rushing inside to get a tissue.

When your sinuses are all clean, you flop belly-first onto your bed, not caring that you’ve still got your winter coat on. Your mattress and comforter are too welcoming for you to deny them and you’re exhausted. You haven’t been getting a lot of sleep recently, and when you did, your dreams consisted of nightmares or faint memories that you can’t quite recall when you wake up.

You burrow your head farther into your bed, sighing when you find a comfortable spot. But there was also that other dream, you think, the one that strikes the most vivid to you of all. In that dream, you found yourself in a softly lit meadow, surrounded by lush grasses and flowers. The sweet smell of honey drifted through the air, slowly stimulating your senses. You were sitting down with your legs open in front of you and a hand picking away at the grass underneath your palm. You repeated this motion over and over, watching as the threads of grass slowly slipped through your fingers and flew away in the warm, calm breeze. When you looked up, your eyes were met with clear blue, the only other thing in the sky being the radiant sun that cast its rays upon your skin. And when you looked back down, a small silhouette in the distance gradually came closer and closer to where you sat. As it neared you, you began piece together different things; the small, petite structure that you could easily identify as a boy, the bubbly laughter that left the space between his lips, the strands of gold and orange that lovingly adorned his head-

You let out a yawn, your eyes watering slightly from the action. You’re too tired to think right now, and all you want to do is sleep. And that’s what you’ll do, you decide. You close your eyes, revelling in the warmth pressed against your body. It’s calming, and you’re fast asleep in minutes.

*

You stumble down the hall, one sock worn loosely on your left foot and your favourite stuffed bunny in your arms. You bring a fist up to rub the sleep from your eyes, ensuring that you don’t bump into anything. Something loud woke you up earlier, and instead of falling back asleep like you usually do, you decided to go check it out. Before, your Dad had mentioned something about any strange noises at night just being the house settling, but you never know for sure. Maybe there’s actually a ghost that’s trying to haunt your family, or a monster in the basem*nt that’s trying to steal your cookies, or-

“We shouldn’t risk it.”

“But if we don’t-”

“And if we do? There’s too many ‘buts’ and ‘ifs’ involved, dear. I don’t want to see you or anyone else hurt.”

Hushed whispers from the living room immediately capture your attention. Your thoughts about monsters and ghosts forgotten, you quietly stumble toward the direction of your parents’ voices. When you walk in, you see that they’re huddled near the dining table, postures tense where they stand.

“Mama? Dad?” You call out quietly, confused as to why they’re awake so early. Maybe you weren’t the only one who woke up from that strange noise, either.

“A-Ah, Tobio!” Mama turns to you suddenly, a warm smile on her face. She opens her arms and you sleepily run toward them, letting out a yawn when she picks you up. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Sum’in woke me up,” you say groggily. Mama kisses you lightly on the cheek before you turn to face your Dad. “What are you guys doing up so late?”

Your Dad chuckles when he hears you repeat the question, reaching over to rustle your hair. You tilt your head to the side. Just like your Mama, the only thing visible on Dad’s face is his mouth, a shadow replacing everything else above. You don’t think much of it though, maybe you’re just tired. He kisses you on the cheek opposite to your mom, giving you a small smile. “We were just discussing some things, Tobio. You should go back to sleep.”

You shake your head furiously. “Don’t wanna.”

“C’mon, Tobio,” your Mama urges you, squeezing you lightly in her arms. You hug the stuffed bunny closer to your chest as she speaks again, another yawn escaping your lips. “Let’s all go to bed now. Your dad and I are both tired, so you should be too.”

“Mmm...” You mumble, your eyelids getting heavier by the second. You try your hardest to keep them open, but you’re fighting a losing battle. As you hear your Mama and Dad walking up the stairs, your eyes slip shut, giving into sleep.

You feel your Mama tuck you into bed, both of them kissing you lightly on the forehead before shutting the light in your room. The last thing you hear before you slip away into your dreams is a small conversation between your parents.

“Do you understand now? We have too much to risk.”

“...Yeah. I understand.”

*

Three loud raps on your front door jolt you from your slumber. You groan, not wanting to leave the comfort of your bed to check who is at the door. The sheets pressed against your cheek are warm and comfortable, and oh, how easy it would be to just fall asleep again...

Your visitor knocks again, this time even louder than before. You’re about to ignore them again in favour of taking another nap, but your eyes shoot open when you hear the voice that calls out to you.

“Kageyama! I know you’re in there. Hurry up and get the door!” You recognize Sugawara’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. As you slowly push yourself off the mattress, you wonder why he’s at your apartment. You trudge your feet over to your front door, eyes still not completely adjusted to the light. The door swings open when you turn the lock and you’re greeted with a too-cheery Sugawara at your doorstep. You frown. What’s he doing at my apartment?

“It’s not very polite to frown at your visitors, you know.” Sugawara says pointedly as he walks inside, shrugging off his coat. You suddenly notice the grocery bags in his hands, though now he’s placed them on your kitchen counter. You raise an eyebrow as you shut the door, following behind him into your kitchen.

You raise a hand to gesture at the bags. “What’s with all this stuff?”

“Hm? Oh,” Sugawara peeks his head out from the cupboard he was digging into to respond to you. “I’m making us dinner.” He goes back to rummaging right after, taking out your good pan and the cutting board and- what the hell, how does he even know where you keep everything?

“Dinner?”

“Yeah,” Sugawara replies, standing up to scan your counter for other ingredients, “it’s almost 6pm. Were you taking a nap?”

You nod, though Sugawara probably won’t see you do so as he flies across the kitchen, bowls and utensils in hand. Have you really been sleeping for that long? You pull out your phone from your coat pocket (which you’re still wearing, you should probably take that off) and you’re surprised when you find that Sugawara is correct; it’s 5:48pm. You sigh. Though naps do feel amazing, too much time passes when you’re unconscious and even after that 4 hour nap, you don’t feel nearly as rejuvenated as you should.

A whirring sound comes to life and you glance over as Sugawara hits a button to control the fan, soon after tossing in several different ingredients into a pan. You turn your attention back to your phone, your stomach rumbling slightly when a delicious scent drifts through your apartment. It smells amazing, whatever Sugawara’s cooking up over there. Ignoring your deprived stomach for now, you swipe a finger across your screen to unlock it. There are 3 unread messages in your inbox and you quickly pull open the first two.

From: Sugawara
Subject: None (4:20pm)
Hey Kageyama. Are you at home?

From: Sugawara
Subject: 8) (5:16pm)
I’m coming over!! Have you eaten dinner yet? If not, don’t.

Ah, so he did text you. You were wondering how Sugawara could just appear out of the blue, but you suppose that he did sort of give you a fair warning in advance despite you being asleep during that time. Still, that doesn’t explain the reason why he’s here, cooking dinner for the both of you in your apartment. You make a mental note to ask him about it later, preferably when you’ve got some substance back in your stomach.

You flip open to the next text, your eyes widening slightly when you see who sent the message.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: qeustion (5:34pm)
do pineaples grow on trees

...What the hell? It’s one thing for Hinata to send you a text (you’ll deny that you felt something odd stir inside your chest when you read the contact name) but it’s another when he sends you one that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Does he just expect that you’ll know the answer to such a stupid and random question?

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:qeustion (5:55pm)
Why.

You hit the send button with your finger and glance back to the kitchen. Sugawara seems to be playing around with the minimal spices you own, adding whatever’s available to the dish he’s making. You hope that the food will be ready soon; you’re starving.

The device in your hand buzzes with your notification tone. You unlock it to see a new message from Hinata.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:qeustion (5:57pm)
just answr it im tryna win a bet

You wonder why of all things Hinata would bet someone on the growing methods of a pineapple, but you choose not to question it any further.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:qeustion (5:58pm)
No, they don’t.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:qeustion (5:58pm)
wha srsly????????

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: wtf (5:59pm)
dammit i lost :(

The smirk that forms on your lips is inevitable. You can practically imagine Hinata’s shocked expression when he realizes that he’s wrong and subsequently lost the bet. There’s no doubt in your mind that his voice would take on a whine similar to when he complained about you not telling him why you were hospitalized. And though you know all of this, you start to feel a little weirded out by the fact that you do. How can you be so sure that the image in your head reflects exactly what Hinata would do or say? Are you that confident in how well you know him? Why did that thought even come up in the first place? God and why am I thinking about him again?!

“Kageyama, the food is rea-” Sugawara calls out to you but pauses mid-sentence to stare. You turn your attention back to the kitchen, where Sugawara has set up utensils and plates on the dining table. You probably should have helped out, it is your house, and a guest is already cooking for you. But what’s done is done, and when you look back at Sugawara, he still has a perplexed expression on his face. “Kageyama, why are you blushing?”

“Huh?” You make a strange noise when you hear Sugawara’s question. I’m blushing? Usually, you can tell when your cheeks heat up, causing red to bloom across your face, but this time you didn’t feel it at all. You raise a hand, pressing the back of your palm to your cheek. To your surprise, it feels much warmer than expected and you pull back like you’ve been shocked. What’s going on?

“I-I don’t know,” you manage, just as confused as Sugawara is. There wasn’t a reason for you to have been blushing, so why did it happen?

Sugawara just looks at you once more before dropping the subject, telling you to come over and eat dinner. You take a seat across from him, saying your thanks when he places a heaping plate of pasta in front of you. The scent causes your stomach to grumble loudly and you don’t waste any more time before picking up a fork and digging in.

It’s relatively silent between you two when you eat, the only sounds that are made consist of the clank of forks against plates and the creak of a chair when you habitually shift your weight. You think that this sort of awkward air transpired due to Sugawara’s question earlier, but when you sneak a glance at him, he doesn’t appear fazed by the silence. Maybe he doesn’t feel awkward about it, like it was a natural thing to ask, and you’re the only one who feels bothered by it. But you don’t think that his question was something not-out-of-the-blue, so you’re left with confusion in your head and a half-eaten plate of pasta in front of you.

Five minutes later, Sugawara sets down his fork and wipes his mouth with a napkin. He leans his elbow on the table, head leaning on his hand as he breaks the silence. “In case you were wondering, Ukai told me about what’s been going on with your missions.”

“...Mm.” You mumble back, mouth stuffed with a spoonful of pasta.

“He asked me to find out ‘what the hell was going on with you,’” he continues, raising two fingers in quote signs when he repeats what Ukai told him, “but you don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

You wipe the side of your mouth with a napkin, staring down at the pasta still left on your plate. It’s not like you’re not comfortable with telling Sugawara the reason why you’ve been getting so distracted on your missions. But, it’s more so the fact that you don’t know why those distractions keep on occurring during times when you need absolute focus.

“...I don’t know how to explain it.” You settle for something vague. You had already asked Sugawara a risqué question a couple of days ago, and you don’t really want to have to bring it up again.

Sugawara taps his finger lightly against his cheek, just below the mole underneath his eye. He purses his lips together, as if contemplating something. A moment later, he asks, “Is this related to the question you asked me a few days ago?”

Well, sh*t. Sugawara’s really too good at observing people. Or, maybe he just knows you too well. Either way, he was able to pinpoint your dilemma with an extremely minimal clue. Reluctantly, you nod. There’s no point in hiding it any further now that he’s already figured it out.

“I see,” he says, and you notice a slight surprised change in his tone. It’s like he wasn’t expecting his own guess to be correct, and was taken aback when you agreed. You push around the leftover pasta on your plate with your fork, somewhat embarrassed that you even have to talk about this.

Sugawara doesn’t say anything after that, though for the rest of your meal, he looks extremely pensive. Over what, you’re not sure, but you have a feeling he’s trying to piece together whatever you’ve told him with the assumptions that are running around in his head. You’d be thoroughly amazed and mortified if he were able to figure it out, though. Still, you hope he doesn’t.

After dinner, you help Sugawara clean up, washing down the counter and drying the dishes he passes to you. When you put away the last plate, you let out a sigh of relief. You haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time, and despite the extra effort it takes to prepare it and clean up, it was definitely worth it. Sugawara suggests that you two watch some TV; apparently his favourite show is airing soon. You think it’s just an excuse for him to keep an eye on you though, probably out of Ukai’s request.

It’s 5 minutes into the show when your phone buzzes again. You weren’t really paying attention anyways (you’re not particularly interested in vampires and werewolves), so you quickly pull it from your pocket to see another text from Hinata.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: D: (6:36pm)
i just lost $30 cuz of u

You snort out of disbelief that Hinata would blame you for a fact that he was unaware of. Despite that, you find the entire situation fairly amusing. You begin to wonder how and why this bet was even made in the first place, and why Hinata and whoever else decided to put up a whopping $30 for it. You definitely wouldn’t place money on something as unimportant as this, and especially not such a large sum at that either.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re: D: (6:38pm)
It’s not my fault you’re stupid.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re: D: (6:39pm)
HEY im not stupid ur stupid

You lift a hand to hide the smile on your face. Hinata’s text is laughable at best, but it’s so utterly him that you can’t help but be entertained by it. You quickly type out a reply before turning your attention back to the TV. It’s on commercial now, and when you glance over to Sugawara, he’s already looking at you with that same perplexed expression again.

“What?”

“Who are you texting?”

“H-Huh?” You stammer, taken aback by his question.

“Who are you texting?” Sugawara repeats with the same calamity he had the first time he asked you. You stay quiet, your eyes drilled to the speck of dirt just below your feet. Though you can hear genuine curiousity in his voice, you feel extremely reluctant to tell Sugawara that Hinata is the one he’s inquiring about.

Neither of you say anything for a while, voices from the TV filling the silence. You shift your weight around, tucking your legs up to your chest. You’re looking at the screen in front of you, but you’re not paying attention to what’s happening. Your mind is elsewhere, occupied by thoughts of what had happened earlier.

“Wait,” Sugawara says suddenly like he’s realized something. You glance at him and see that he’s got one hand on his chin, eyes focused on a spot on the wall before flitting over to you. “Is it Hinata?”

Why does Sugawara know literally everything?! You scream in your head and you commend yourself for not accidentally yelling it out loud. But, you can’t prevent the widening of your eyes when he hits the bullseye directly. A smile splits on Sugawara’s face when he sees your reaction.

“So it is?” He says, the excitement in his voice far surpassing one of a kid on Christmas day.

You immediately get up from the couch, walking over to the kitchen. You take a glass, fill it up with water and take a big gulp. The water is soothing as it slides down your throat, temporarily relieving you of the inner turmoil you’re experiencing. This time, you can feel your cheeks heat up, though you’re not sure why you’d blush just from the mention of Hinata’s name.

Sugawara quickly gets up and follows you into the kitchen, and when he sees your face, he immediately stops, his eyes widening like saucers.

“Wait,” he says again, eyebrows furrowed before they rise in surprise, “Kageyama, do you like Hinata?”

The water in your mouth sprays everywhere when you choke after hearing Sugawara’s question. You splutter, spit still dripping from the corner of your mouth. If your cheeks weren’t red already, they’re definitely beyond that now. The heat radiating from your face could probably burn down a whole house, in fact, because what the hell did Sugawara just say?

“What,” you manage to croak out after catching your breath. The word comes out hoarse, and you clear your throat repeatedly after wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You wipe down the counter with a paper towel, cleaning up the mess you accidentally created. When you look back at Sugawara, he just has a smile on his face and you find that oddly suspicious.

“Nothing,” Sugawara hums before walking over to where he placed his jacket. It’s clearly not nothing though, because that same smile is still plastered on his face, as if he knows something that you don’t. He glances at the clock on the wall before shrugging on the coat. “Ah, I actually have to head back to Karasuno now. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you say just as Sugawara is toeing on his boots. How can he just say something like that and then suddenly leave? He turns back to you with curious eyes. “I-I, uh. It’s-”

“It’s okay,” Sugawara cuts you off with another one of those smiles, “you don’t have to say anything. And don’t worry too much about it, alright?”

Sugawara steps out of your apartment with a goodbye, the door shutting loudly behind him. You stand at your front door, still shocked by what just happened. You bring a hand to your forehead, surprised when you find that even the skin above your brow is just as warm as that of on your cheeks. And the reason that this flush is still present on your face is...

He thinks that I like Hinata?

You shake your head vigorously, like the mere thought of it was taboo. It could be, really, because hearing that from Sugawara was like sending an electrical shock throughout your body. It’s impossible, you think as you walk past the kitchen and into your room, lying back in your bed. There’s no way that you see Hinata in that way, no matter how you think of it. Even the idea of someone like you having... feelings for someone else is plain ridiculous. There’s just no way, never, impossible...

The strangled groan that escapes your lips gets muffled into the sheets. As if you weren’t already confused by your own situation, now it’s like the weight on your shoulders has increased tenfold. It’s all just confusing and irritating and you don’t know what to do. And the thing that confuses you most of all is the fact that Sugawara had even come up with that assumption in the first place. It’s one thing for him to find out that the person you were texting was Hinata, but for him to suddenly presume that you like him? That’s just totally random.

You shuffle around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. And I don’t like Hinata, you think definitely. You’ve only known Hinata for less than two weeks, and you’re not exactly an expert on feelings and relationships, but you’re pretty sure that’s way too soon to be developing romantic feelings for someone. And besides, why would you like someone like him? Hinata’s reckless and overly spontaneous and essentially, your complete opposite.

But somehow, you can’t seem to totally write those traits off as a bad thing. Sure, he can be excessively loud and idiotic, but you find yourself thinking that those traits are exactly what makes Hinata, well, Hinata.

And honestly, he has some pretty good traits about himself as well. Though you’d never admit it, Hinata is fun to be around. Whenever you two were together, there was always some sort of situation that made you realize you were actually having fun, whether it was chasing him around the Christmas tree or getting banned from life from an electronics store. Remembering all of that makes you realize that Hinata is a very warm person; someone who is outgoing and friendly and unafraid to step out of their bubble. In reality, you actually enjoy his presence. You honestly didn’t think you would at first – though that might’ve been because he broke your laptop – but now, you really wouldn’t mind spending the day with Hinata again. And it’s those traits of his that influence you like this, because really, it’s quite...

Likeable.

That word sends another wave of frustration through you. No, you don’t like Hinata, you’re just listing off his characteristics that make him likeable. There’s a difference, you stress to yourself, because liking someone would mean appreciating the little things that person does subconsciously. If you really did like Hinata, then you’d remember the way his face lit up when he ate his favourite foods, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. If you really did like Hinata, then you would never forget the way that miniscule dimple on his left cheek accentuated his features every time he flashed that big smile. If you really liked Hinata, then you would crave once more the feeling of his hair between your fingers, his head lying in your lap like it belongs there, his own hand reaching out to your cheek and-

And...

...

...

And, what?

That train of thought leaves you even more confused than ever. One second you’re providing yourself with reasons why there’s no way that you could possibly like Hinata, and the next, you’re suddenly thinking of things like... like that? You groan again, irritated by this feeling of not knowing and uncertainty. It’s frustrating that you can’t stop these thoughts, even when they completely derail and head straight toward things that you’d like to leave untouched.

Maybe you’re just tired from all of the stress of not properly completing your missions and the sudden questions that Sugawara had sprung up on you. Maybe these strange thoughts are the result of a combination of not enough sleep and the pressure of meeting expectations. Maybe you’re not actually going crazy, and this is just some sort of bump in life that you have to get over.

But maybe, just maybe, all of those are wrong.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

“Isn’t this a bit too much?”

“Hm? What’s too much?”

“All of,” you gesture wildly at the cart in front of you, “this.”

“Kageyama, do you even understand what ‘Christmas spirit’ means?” Sugawara says before tossing another box into the trolley. You let out a sigh; that makes four cases of decorative lights. You knew you shouldn’t have let Sugawara convince you to come Christmas shopping with him. It’s much too deep into the season, so the shop is crowded with last minute shoppers just like yourselves. Besides, hasn’t Sugawara already gone shopping for holiday-related goods? What else could he possibly need?

“I think you’ve got more than enough Christmas spirit for the both of us,” you mutter. Sugawara turns back from his cart to give you a reprimanding look before making his way down the baked goods aisle. Exhausted by the overwhelming amount of people inside this department store, you take a seat on the bench near the main entrance. You’d rather be forced to defuse another bomb than willingly throw yourself into the throng of people around you. How Sugawara does it, you have no idea, and you’re not set on finding out.

As you wait for Sugawara to finish clearing out the store of their entire inventory, you find yourself observing the sea of shoppers.

A family of five passes by you, the daughter tugging restlessly against her mother’s sleeve and pointing at the dolls on display and the two twin sons clinging onto their father’s legs. The mother just smiles, tells her daughter “maybe next year” as she stares longingly at the shelves and shelves of toys. On the other hand (or leg), the father tries to pry his kids off before he trips over them, attempting to bribe them with festive chocolate and promises of a new gaming console. One of the boys lets go at the mention of new games, and the other follows suit immediately. They cheer loudly, pumping their fists into the air. All three children effectively miss the glance the mother gives the father, biting her lip when he meets her eye. He bites the inside of his cheek, nodding solemnly to his wife, I know, as he thumbs the zipper of his wallet. She smiles lightly, pressing a soft kiss against the underside of his chin before they move on to the next part of the store.

Something warm bubbles inside you after witnessing that small sign of affection (and really, it feels quite nice) but you quickly push it away, focusing on the next few people that pass you by.

Your eyes land on a group of middle-aged women near the shelves to your left. One of them laughs boisterously, patting her friend teasingly on the back. Said friend smiles back, nudging her back lightly with her elbow. The group continues to joke around, poking fun at each other and exchanging cell phone numbers until one, the tallest of them, declares that she needs to get going. Shoulders slump and complaints arise, but she protests that she has to go pick up her kids before the gathering, it was great to see them again, and that they’ll definitely keep in touch. She slings her purse over her shoulder, mirth in her eyes as the other women pull her in for a group hug. She nods, wiping the corner of her eyes before leaving with a wave. The rest of the women sigh, finish exchanging cell phone numbers and eventually dissipate with promises of seeing each other again.

After they leave, you stand up with finding Sugawara in mind; sitting here and watching people when you could be doing something productive makes you uneasy. Luckily, you don’t end up searching for very long when you find your friend in the arts and crafts aisle (again). Sugawara waves at you, cut outs of Christmas trees in hand, before announcing that he just finished gathering everything he needed. You glance down, your eyes bulging when you see the mountain of goods inside his cart. For the sake of his wallet, you try to convince Sugawara to only buy the necessities (“Do you really need the glow-in-the-dark Santa’s Elves decorative set?” “Of course! Who doesn’t have elves that glow in the dark around their house?” “...Normal people.”) but he only brushes you off with the wave of his hand.

Though you’re not the one paying, your own wallet hurts when you see the final price at the cash register. Sugawara just whips out his credit card like he’s paying for something as simplistic as groceries, humming along to the Christmas carol that’s playing on the intercom. You’re tempted to facepalm; even the cashier seems put-off by the amount of gingerbread house-making kits and snowflake streamers he’s purchased. When all of Sugawara’s things are bagged, you lug your way out of the store and into the rest of the mall.

“I’m glad I got the rest of my Christmas shopping done today,” Sugawara grins, the numerous plastic bags rustling against each other in his hands.

“Finally,” you mumble, glancing around the mall, “and you better actually be finished this time-”

The words in your mouth fall short when your eyes land on two very familiar people just a couple of metres away from you. A bob of blonde hair with dark roots and another of fierce orange catch your eye between the sea of people, and your feet stutter to a stop when you realize it’s Hinata and his friend.

What do I do? You can feel yourself start to panic, Sugawara’s chatter of Christmas plans fading into background noise. Should you say something? No, wait, then you’ll actually have to think of something to say. Should you just wait for Hinata to say something first? What if he’s already noticed you and thinks you’re being weird for staring? You’re not (kind of), but you assume you probably look like you are. Or maybe you should just keep walking and pretend you didn’t see them? Yeah, that seems like a good plan, okay-

And despite you finally coming to a conclusion as to what to do, Hinata turns and catches your eye through the crowd before you get a chance to escape. His eyes widen, as if in disbelief that he would see you coincidentally, before he starts waving a hand in your direction.

“Kageyama!” He calls out to you. Some passerbys turn their heads at the sudden outburst, following Hinata’s gaze to your direction. You feel your cheeks heat up slightly by the unwarranted attention – this wasn’t part of your plan.

Unfortunately, the shout of your name also does not go unnoticed by Sugawara. He stops in his tracks, turning in the general direction of the voice with a confused expression. You don’t think he’s noticed Hinata yet, good, and you’d really prefer if it stayed that way.

However, nothing seems to go as you’d like. Just as Sugawara opens his mouth to question you about all of the commotion, you notice Hinata dragging his pudding-like friend toward you two from the corner of your eye. His friend mumbles something in protest, tugging back on his wrist, but Hinata’s grip is strong and he continues to pull him in your direction.

“Hey Kageyama!” Hinata calls your name again, this time closer and much more unnecessary because he already has your attention.

You meekly lift a hand in response, not so sure how you’re supposed to respond to such a lively greeting. Hinata stops just an arm’s length in front of you, his friend nearly colliding into his shoulder from the sudden halt. You take a step back reflexively, wanting to avoid being accidentally trampled over.

“What are you doing at the mall?” Hinata asks. You almost do a double take. It might just be a trick of the light, but you swear Hinata’s eyes glow when he looks at you, wide-eyed and innocent. They’re fiery and passionate, his eyes, hiding behind tamed embers and-

“Shopping,” you reply lamely before your thoughts get any more carried away. You really need to stop doing that, letting your mind wanders until it drops itself down a cliff you’re much unprepared for. And what’s even worse is that you’re in public right now with people you associate yourself with fairly often (does Hinata’s friend count? Whatever, you’ll include him anyways). What will you do if they notice you spacing out in the middle of a conversation? How can you explain that no, I wasn’t staring at Hinata, I was just thinking about him and then I ended up accidentally looking at him in a not-creepy way?

“Ah, us too!” The orange haired boy grins, nodding his chin toward his friend. Pudding-hair just barely narrows his eyes at you when your gazes meet; you’re left wondering if the action was done in remembrance or scrutiny. You don’t think much of it though as Hinata continues. “We were just getting some last minute gifts before everything sold out.”

Hinata jostles the plastic bags in his hands in front of your face with a smile. You think you see the packaging of a familiar gingerbread house-making kit in the bag as it sways by, nearly hitting you in the face.

You reach forward to flick Hinata on the forehead. “Hey, don’t hit me.”

“Gwah,” Hinata sputters, rubbing the skin above his brow with a pout, “I didn’t hit you!”

“You almost did.” You protest, glaring at Hinata before flicking him on the same spot again. Hinata’s eyes narrow competitively before he reaches up to flick you back on the nose. It hurts more than you had expected it to, and you vow to get revenge by flicking him again, but he dodges before your fingers meet his skin-

“Ahem,” someone clears their voice from behind you. You already have the collar of Hinata’s coat bunched up in your hand when you turn in the direction of the voice; it was Sugawara. He has his hand in a fist in front of his mouth and you swear you can still see the corner of the smile he’s trying so hard to bite down. You meet his eyes and he’s giving you a knowing look, like he’s aware of something you aren’t, or-

‘Wait, Kageyama do you like Hinata?’

Your hand immediately flinches, releasing its grip on Hinata’s collar when you remember Sugawara’s words from last night. Hinata tilts his head slightly to the side, almost as if in confusion that you would so willingly let him out of your grasp. You find it impossible to meet his eyes. There’s no way that you would be able to without the inevitable blush creeping up your neck – you can even feel it beginning to rise at this very moment.

When you look back at your grey haired friend, your eye nearly twitches when you see that he’s still smiling. You hope that the flush of red isn’t obvious on your face; he’d never let you live it down. Sugawara raises both his eyebrows once, eyes flitting over to Hinata and his friend. With a silent groan, you take that as your cue to introduce Sugawara to the people whose names he’s unaware of yet.

You turn your head, gesturing toward Sugawara. “Uh, this is-”

“What happened to your face?!” Hinata cuts you off before you’re able to breathe even a syllable of Sugawara’s name.

“What the f*ck?” You whip your head back to the orange haired boy, your eyes narrowing at him because frankly, that’s kind of insulting.

“W-No, not like that,” Hinata stresses, “I mean, why is there a bruise on your chin?”

Ah.

You gingerly rub the spot Hinata pointed out, wincing at the slight touch. To be honest, you had completely forgotten about the bruise beneath your jaw; it doesn’t particularly hurt unless you aggravate it. You suppose that anyone else would be surprised by the bloom of purple and blue decorating your face too, but you didn’t think Hinata would point it out so...extravagantly.

He waits for your response, eyes curious and worried. You have to look away before you’re sucked into a trance of amber, your eyes landing nervously on the space between your feet. Oh crap, what should you say?

“I accidentally elbowed Kageyama in the face,” Sugawara jumps in with a smile. You’re relieved that he saved you from that situation, but really? Elbowed in the face?

“Oh,” Hinata says. His expression clearly depicts surprise, probably out of confusion from wondering who the person who just spoke up was. Now’s probably a good time to introduce him, you suppose, though you were cut off the first time you tried.

“This is Sugawara,” you tell Hinata, nodding your chin in his direction. Sugawara smiles gently at Hinata and shorter boy grins back widely.

“I’m Hinata!” Sugawara’s eyes flicker over to you before focusing back on the orange haired boy. You hope he can feel the glare you’re currently drilling into the side of his head. “And this is Kenma!”

Right, his name was Kenma. You almost forgot that he was even here – he was being so quiet that you wouldn’t have noticed him if Hinata hadn’t pointed him out. Kenma looks at Sugawara blankly, though the latter returns the stare with an almost blinding smile. You’re getting a strange feeling from that miniscule interaction, but you quickly push the feeling of suspicion away. You’re probably just over-thinking again.

“It’s nice to meet you two.” Sugawara smiles once more before meeting your eyes. Uh oh, you think as you spy the mischievous glint in his eye, he’s planning something isn’t he-

“So,” Sugawara starts again, turning back to Hinata and Kenma. He claps his hands together and at this moment, you realize it’s too late to stop him, “since we’re all here, why don’t we get acquainted? If you’re not busy, of course.”

“Uh-”

“No, we’re not busy!” Hinata says immediately. You see Kenma shoot him a glare, but it goes unnoticed. Kenma’s eyes glance over to yours before trailing to the ground, his shoulders slumping slightly in annoyance.

“Great!” Your grey haired friend turns to you with his hands still clasped together. This is anything but great, oh god. “Kageyama, Kenma, why don’t you two go grab us some drinks from the vending machine? Hinata and I will watch our stuff over here.”

“What.” You’re taken by surprise that Sugawara would send you with Kenma of all people. Not that you have anything against Hinata’s friend, it’s just that you assumed that since Sugawara thought that you...liked Hinata, he would try to pair you two together. Maybe he dropped the topic after all, you think as you and Kenma awkwardly make your way to the vending machine across the hall. It’s weird; you can’t help the wave of disappointment that rushes through your body. Disappointment from what, though, you don’t know. Maybe being forced to get drinks for everyone? Having to be here when you’d much rather be at home?

Being paired up with Kenma instead of Hinata?

You shake your head to clear that thought, sliding a coin into the slot of the vending machine. No one had really specified what drinks they preferred, so you just press the button for the first item on the list. The machine groans before you hear a loud thump from the bottom. You reach down, finding a bottle of co*ke in your hands. You pass it off to Kenma – he takes it without a word, this is really awkward – before you repeat this process another three times.

When you make your way back to the others, you barely have time to hand Hinata his drink before he points a finger in your face, nearly stabbing you in the eye.

“You!” He yells, invading your personal space with each step closer. You try to inch away, but he makes up for every step back with one forward.

“Me?” You raise an eyebrow. What’s Hinata going on about?

“Why didn’t you tell me that your birthday was on the 22nd?! That’s like 3 days from now!” Hinata’s eyebrows furrow angrily, a pout evident on his lips. You turn accusingly to Sugawara, shooting him a glare. Besides obtaining that information from him, there’s no way Hinata would have been able to find out when your birthday was. Sugawara just whistles innocently, his eyes wandering everywhere but toward your glare. You should’ve known when he told you and Kenma to go to the vending machines that he had some sort of plan in mind. Of course, you didn’t think that he would tell Hinata your birthday of all things but now that he knows, you’re mildly irritated at your grey-haired friend.

You sigh, averting your attention back to the small, angry person in front of you. Hinata’s still got his finger in your face, waiting for your answer. You take a step to the side, wanting to create a little more space between you two (and fight down the urge to reach out and find out how the warmth of his cheek would feel pressed against your fingertips – but that’s not really important, you think).

“It just slipped my mind,” you reply coolly.

Hinata snorts, clearly not pleased with your answer. “I’ve totally asked you when your birthday was like a week ago and you wouldn’t tell me! ‘Slipped my mind,’ my ass. Who could forget their own birthday?”

You grumble in response. You do remember Hinata asking you about that and you pointedly avoiding having to answer. But even so, why is he even making such a big deal out of this? To you, birthdays – your own, at least – have never really been an occasion where you’re required to celebrate on a large scale. Before Karasuno, maybe it was bigger of a deal, but you were young and the past is too far behind you to remember exactly what you did for your 5th birthday.

In your opinion, it’s quite redundant, really. Being congratulated for living another year doesn’t have any real meaning to someone like you, who kills and takes away life every day. You’ve never thought that you should celebrate your birthday like others do, because you’d be commemorating the deaths that you’ve caused in order to see the next day. It just wouldn’t feel right, being joyous and blissful over another year passed of night terrors and unavoidable regrets. Since beginning at Karasuno, you don’t think you’ve “properly” celebrated your birthday even once. Other than birthday wishes from your colleagues and Sugawara, nothing about December 22nd was particularly significant to you. In fact, you’re surprised that you haven’t forgotten that date altogether.

“Okay, I just didn’t feel like telling you.” You admit because it’s partially true. The other part of that truth would consist of too many explanations that you’re not willing to give.

Hinata just holds his chin up higher, huffing out in defiance. “Well, I know now so I’m going to get you a gift!”

“No.” You say immediately. You don’t want to be a burden, and a gift is really unnecessary. Besides, what could Hinata possibly give you as a present?

“Too bad,” Hinata decides, his eyes glinting with something mischievous and a smirk appearing on his lips. “So, what do you want?”

“Nothing.” You reply stubbornly. It’s not just you being modest; you really don’t need anything for your birthday. Though you’ll admit that knowing Hinata wants to give you something causes a warm feeling to bloom in your chest, you don’t want to make him go through the trouble of looking for and buying a present.

“C’mon,” Hinata whines, siding up to you, “there’s gotta be something you want.”

You turn your head away in embarrassment – even through your coat you can feel the warmth of Hinata’s arm pressing against your own and it’s thoroughly distracting. “There isn’t.”

Hinata nudges you in the side with his elbow. “Don’t be difficult!”

You nudge him back even harder. “I’m not being difficult.”

“Oof- yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are too!”

“Am not.”

“Are t-!”

“Hinata.”

Your little argument is interrupted by Kenma’s (honestly, you kind of forgot that he was here again) voice. Hinata stops mid-whine to turn to his friend, his eyes widening when Kenma murmurs something and points to the watch on his wrist.

“Oh, crap,” Hinata swears, “it’s going to sell out soon, isn’t it?”

Kenma nods furiously. They exchange a few other words before Hinata turns back to you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry! I forgot that we needed to go grab this video game before they ran out, so I have to go now.”

You nod in reply; you didn’t really need to hear the reason but you suppose it’s better than Hinata just running off with just a “bye!”

Hinata grips the plastic bags in his hand tightly before waggling a finger in your direction again. “And don’t think I’m gonna forget about this! I will get you a present, whether you like it or not!”

You open your mouth to protest but the pair of friends take off running before you get a chance (more like Hinata dragging Kenma by his wrist again and Kenma trying to keep up with his pace). It’s difficult, you find, to take your eyes off Hinata’s retreating back as he disappears into the crowd. You manage to do so eventually, and when you turn back to Sugawara, his mouth is upturned in possibly the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“...What?”

“It’s like you two were in a world of your own,” Sugawara muses.

You feel a flush rising to your cheeks. “S-Shut up.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen you that worked up in a while.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please stop talking.”

Sugawara just laughs, picks up the rest of the plastic bags before gesturing toward the next store. He spends the rest of your shopping trip teasing you about Hinata (“You two seemed fairly close.” “We’re not.” “Mhmm, yeah sure, whatever you say.”) or teasing you even more about Hinata (“Soooo, are you excited for your gift?” “...You suck.” “I’ll take that as a yes.”).

You vow to burn Sugawara’s favourite Christmas album in the very near future.

*

Later that evening when you’ve finished eating dinner, your phone buzzes noisily from where it lies on the couch. Placing your dishes lazily in the sink, you make a mental note to wash them after you’ve checked who sent you the message on your phone. You walk over to the couch, plopping belly-down onto the cushions with a sigh. With the tap of your finger, you unlock your phone to find a new text from Hinata.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: gift (7:02pm)
soooooooo what do u want

You didn’t think that Hinata would actually remember to pester you about this, but you guess it stuck in his mind. Great, you think sarcastically. You meant what you said before and it still stands now – you don’t want a gift for your birthday. And that means you’re definitely not providing Hinata with any sort of assistance for buying you said gift. You quickly type out a response:

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:gift (7:04pm)
Nothing.

You press send before pressing your forehead into the couch cushions. It’s been a long day filled with unexpected circ*mstances – most of which concern Hinata, and you don’t know if that’s really a bad thing or not. You’re tempted to fall asleep but your phone buzzes again before you can even shut your eyes.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:gift (7:05pm)
y r u so difficult!!!!! jeez

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: fdjjsd (7:05pm)
ok... how bout u just ansrwe some of my questions

This time, there are two messages, one sent immediately after the other. Your eye twitches slightly just from reading what Hinata wrote; his typing is horrendous. Hasn’t he ever heard of spell check? A sigh escapes your lips. You suppose that being asked questions is a little better than being pestered about what gift you specifically want for your birthday. Begrudgingly, you agree (you’re actually kind of curious as to what kind of questions he’ll ask you and how he’ll use your answers to find you a present, but as if you’ll ever admit that).

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:fdjjsd (7:07pm)
Fine. Just don’t ask anything stupid.

Your phone vibrates again.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:fdjjsd (7:08pm)
ok cool :^))

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:fdjjsd (7:08pm)
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: question 1 (7:11pm)
whats ur favrite hobby

Hobby? Really? He took three minutes just to think of such a basic question? You almost snort, but you suddenly realize that you can’t think of an answer. Well, that’s a little bit sad, you muse. It’s not exactly like you’ve had time for hobbies, especially when you’re busy with missions and other situations that are more important than meaningless activities. Even so, you need a response. After thinking it over, you suppose that the closest thing to something being your favourite hobby would be...

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:question 1 (7:15pm)
Staring at strangers from a safe distance.

Okay, maybe you didn’t answer his question 100% seriously, but your response is kind of true. In a not creepy way, of course. You do a lot of people-watching, more than the average person at least, but that’s not something you can normally declare as your favourite hobby. You’d probably just weird Hinata out (that’s a bad thing, apparently) and you don’t want that to happen.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:question 1 (7:17pm)
HEY u need to answer seriously ok >:(

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:question 1 (7:17pm)
Then ask a better question.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:question 1 (7:18pm)
ugh fine

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: question 2 (7:20pm)
if u were stuck on an island wat 3 things would u bring with u

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:question 2 (7:21pm)
That’s a horrible question.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:question 2 (7:22pm)
Knife, hat and water bottle.

The rest of your evening passes with you constantly checking your phone for Hinata’s next message, anticipating what kind of stupid question he’ll ask you next. You’ve even begun to answer his questions more seriously – if he’s going to be serious about this, you figure you should be too. Though some of the things he’s asked you are borderline insane (like when he asked if you’d rather be stung by 300 jellyfish or have to eat 100 spiders), you don’t find yourself ignoring him like you thought you would’ve. However, you do begin to wonder whether or not those questions are really related to Hinata’s original intentions to get you a birthday gift.

Eventually when you bother check the clock again, it’s just past 12am and you realize that you’ve been texting Hinata for the past 5 hours straight. It definitely didn’t feel like it – maybe an hour or two at the longest – but you suppose that time passes faster than you originally thought it did (an idiom pops in your mind at that very moment, “time flies when you’re having fun”).

You’re leaning against the kitchen counter (you’ve relocated quite an amount of times this evening) when Hinata texts you again. The time gaps between his messages have slowly been increasing, and you suddenly remember that Hinata’s still a university student. You don’t need to be one yourself to know that people who pursue post-secondary education constantly have work and readings to do in their spare time. A sudden wave of guilt washes through your body – what if this is distracting Hinata from the work that he’s actually supposed to be doing? Shouldn’t he be sleeping soon? What if he has morning classes to go to? You finally become conscious of the fact that maybe you shouldn’t be going along with Hinata’s desire to get you a gift if it’s going to take away from more important things he could be doing.

It’s also then that you realize that you don’t actually know very much about Hinata. Other than his phone number and the fact that he goes to university, you don’t have the slightest clue as to who Hinata really is. Sure, you know that he has this unfathomable love for meat buns and an uncanny desire for all things festive, but what else is there to that? You know what university he goes to, but he’s never once mentioned his major. You know that he’s somewhere around your age, but you don’t know his birthday despite him now knowing yours. You know that he’s a genuine and honest person, but you don’t know if there’s anything beyond the layer that you’ve already seen of him. Really, you don’t know anything about Hinata at all.

But maybe you’re just over-thinking things again. Maybe you don’t have to know every little detail about Hinata, like his favourite drink brand or his worst habits, because it doesn’t change what you already think of him. You don’t need to know whether he prefers astrology or astronomy to know that you think of Hinata as someone that you genuinely enjoy being around. And if you do find out more about him, whether it’s the little things or something big, you know that it’ll only add onto the growing list of reasons why you find yourself more and more interested in Hinata.

Just as you finish that thought, your phone buzzes again. It’s another text and you’ll deny that you nearly fumbled your phone in a rush to unlock it.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:question 29 (12:18am)
mayb the duck was just tryna get ot its ducklings ok

...What were you two even talking about again? The conversation has definitely derailed from the original topic; you wonder how you didn’t notice this earlier. You’re in the middle of typing your reply when your phone vibrates loudly in your hands.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: yo (12:19am)
hey i have class tmrw so i need to hit the sack now!!

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: yo pt.2 (12:19am)
i still have a few days 2 find out wat to get u, so dont think i gave up ok

His first message causes you to frown. You had a feeling that Hinata would be busy with classes, and the guilt from being a distraction comes back immediately full force. However, that feeling of guilt is soon washed away by the curiosity of what Hinata will do in order to find your “gift.” Not that you want a birthday present now – you’d still prefer that he didn’t make the effort at all – but that doesn’t diminish your interest in what other methods Hinata will think of to find said gift.

You send back a short reply, though you doubt that he’ll see the message until the next morning. Oh well, you think.

You find yourself anticipating what Hinata has in store for tomorrow.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

The frost that’s frozen your fingers.

The bitter cold biting at your cheeks.

The heap of snow piled atop your head.

...

You’re not exactly sure how things turned out like this.

(But that’s a lie.)

With his hand tugging yours along.

With his head turned back to yours, a smile perched on his face.

With the snow falling between you two like the very first time this year.

...

Ah, you breathe out.

Yeah.

You know exactly how things turned out like this.

*

True to his word, Hinata does not forget about his self-made promise to find you a birthday gift. But really, with 2 days left until the actual date, you doubt that he’ll even have enough time to both pester you and get the gift.

But of course, you’re proven wrong when your phone rings at six-f*cking-am the next day and Hinata’s contact info lights up on your screen. Your groan is muffled into your pillow, sheets bunched up around your chin. Why me, is what crosses your mind when the shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through the morning air, effectively waking you up. You reach a hand out of your comforter, blindly patting down the space next to you until your palm hits a familiar piece of metal. Without looking at the screen again, you immediately end the call with a swipe of your finger.

Your phone is lazily thrown across the room, landing atop the pile of clothes you’ve forgotten to put in your hamper. It’s too f*cking early for this sh*t and you burrow deeper into your blanket to try to fall back asleep.

It’s only 10 seconds later when you realize that maybe you should’ve put your phone on silent mode before chucking it across the room.

Your phone rings again, just as obnoxious as the first time it happened this morning. Unfortunately, the pile of clothes doesn’t seem to stifle the noise at all; the phone probably landed with the speaker facing upwards. At this point, you start to rethink every decision you’ve ever made in your entire life, and yes, that’s how bad you don’t want to get up right now. But by the 4th time your ringtone has replayed itself, you’re fed up by your own laziness and end up dragging yourself out of bed to the other side of the room.

A pile of sweaters in your path nearly causes you to trip, but you manage to safely make it to your phone. Picking it up, you press the device against your ear.

“What.” You growl, leaning your forehead against the wall.

“Good morning,” Hinata’s voice chirps from the other side, seemingly unfazed by your not-so-polite greeting, “were you asleep?”

“What do you think?” You deadpan.

“Well, maybe you just weren’t by your phone...” He trails off but quickly jumps back on topic. “Anyways, I have class in like an hour-ish and I wasn’t sure if I should’ve called after or before because there might not have been enough time and-”

“Hinata.” You interrupt, covering your face with your free palm. It’s way too early for you to have enough of an attention span to remember any little details that Hinata will say. You also think that it’s because it’s too early that the taste of his name on your lips feels warmer than it should. “Just get to the point.”

“Geez, I was just getting there, asshole...” You nearly smirk when you can hear how evident the pout is in his voice. “Okay, my classes finish at about 12:30, so meet me at Suzuya’s then!”

“Huh,” you say intelligently. “Why?”

“Do you not remember anything I say?” Thinking it through, you seriously don’t remember Hinata actually planning anything out for today. “I told you that I’d find you a gift! So today we’re going to do things to help me figure out what to get you.”

Well, you suppose that makes a little more sense, but you’d have liked it if you had a little bit more forewarning (and preferably not at 6am of said date). “Couldn’t you have just called me after your classes or something?”

“I forgot to ask last night and I wasn’t sure if you were going to make plans later!”

“So you called at 6am.”

A slight pause. “Yeah, so I called at 6am.”

You sigh into the receiver. If Hinata made the effort to wake up early to call you and make sure you were available later, it’s not like you can just make up a lie to not go. And honestly, you don’t really think that you’d mind it all that much. Maybe you’ve just been cooped up in your own apartment for too long, but something in your bones itches to jump out and break the routine you’ve followed for so long.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” And you suppose it’s that same feeling that compels you to agree so easily to Hinata’s request.

“Really? Okay, good!” The tone in Hinata’s voice resembles relief, almost as if he were expecting you to say no.

“At 12:30, right?”

“Yeah! 12:30 at Suzuya’s!”

“Okay,” you confirm, thinking for a second before tacking on, “and don’t call me this early ever again.”

A familiar giggle echoes from the speakers and into your ears. Maybe it’s just too early in the morning, but the sound burns itself over and over into your memory. “Yeah whatever, I make no guarantees though.”

You make a somewhat displeased noise and Hinata laughs once more before you end the call. Bringing the phone back down to your side, you close your eyes and let out another sigh. With a grunt, you push yourself off the wall and walk back over to your bed. You flop back onto your sheets; the comfort of your body against the mattress is like sweet relief. Before you can fall back asleep though, you set an alarm on your phone so you don’t accidentally oversleep – not that you would, but it doesn’t hurt to take some precautions.

It doesn’t take you very long to burrow back into your sheets again, ready to fall back asleep. And with heavy eyelids and the heat of your comforter surrounding you, you’re too tired to even think about whether you should have even agreed or not.

*

“You’re holding your chopsticks upside down, you idiot.”

“What? No I’m not.”

“It’s clearly the skinnier end that’s supposed to be picking up the food.”

“That’s the side I’m us-! Oh.”

You roll your eyes as Hinata sheepishly rights the chopsticks in his grip. Soon enough, he’s back to digging into the bowl of ramen in front of him. You amusedly turn back to your own noodles, relishing in its savoury taste. These noodles are pretty damn good, you think as you glance around the shop. Hinata had dragged you here for lunch, bragging about how amazing this place’s food was and you have to admit that he was right, you’re impressed.

When you met up with Hinata at Suzuya’s earlier, you didn’t expect to be pulled out of the cafe and in the direction of this restaurant so enthusiastically. Hinata had greeted you with a smile, his eyes lighting up in recognition and his nose flushed red from the cold, before announcing he was hungry and that he’d already had a restaurant in mind if you hadn’t eaten yet. And since you hadn’t, you allowed yourself to be pulled along by his pace, and here you are now at possibly one of the best ramen shops you’ve ever been to. It’s kind of a wonder why you haven’t been here before, really. Maybe it’s a good thing to just go along with the flow sometimes.

Hinata’s bowl hits the table with a loud clunk, a content sigh soon following the clattering noise. You take that as a sign that he’s finished and you quickly wolf down the rest of your food as he calls for the bill. You both pay for your own portion (Hinata not-so-subtly brings up that time he had to pay for you because you forgot your wallet; you just flick him on the forehead in reply) before leaving the store with full stomachs and satisfied appetites.

He leads you down a path until you reach a very familiar street. You don’t think that there’s another Christmas tree this large anywhere else in the entire city, and especially not one decorated as extravagantly as that one. The bright lights and decorative wreaths remind you of a night not too long ago – it was the very first time you had done something like this with Hinata, wasn’t it – but the missing street vendors and lack of snow is a silent reminder of a different time.

“The vendors don’t usually come out until early evening,” Hinata pipes up from beside you. You glance down at him, surprised that he somehow knew what you were thinking about. He just smiles and continues walking with a self-satisfied look on his face, like he was able to discern your thoughts just from a mere glance.

“I-I wasn’t wondering or anything.” You mutter.

“Yeah, right.” Hinata laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly from the action. You’re tempted to smooth down the creases with your fingers, but you fight the urge in favour of trying to be normal. “Then what were you looking around for?”

“Nothing,” you say stubbornly. Hinata gives you a pointed look that says suuure, but he drops the subject for now.

As Hinata leads you to different parts of the district, you begin to wonder what any of this has anything to do with him finding you a gift. When he brings you to a little shop that sells little volleyball-shaped trinkets, you try to voice that thought to him. But when you see the way his attention is so enraptured by the small key chains (the way his mouth falls open slightly as he stares at the object in his hands, the way his eyes practically light up when he fumbles around with it in his fingers, the way a smile so uniquely him unfolds on his lips so effortlessly), your mouth runs dry and you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud.

And when his eyes meet yours from across the store, you quickly avert your gaze to the shelf in front of you. Normally, you wouldn’t feel shy about accidentally locking eyes with someone – these kinds of coincidences are unpreventable, really – but being caught staring is another thing altogether. It’s like someone noticing that you were eavesdropping on something you shouldn’t have heard, or getting burnt while trying to steal a cookie fresh off the tray – something that you really shouldn’t have been doing and yet still did anyway.

It takes all of your willpower to fight back a blush and act normally when Hinata skips over to your side. He doesn’t seem deterred by the incident earlier, asking you if you see anything around the store that you like. Maybe he thought it was just a coincidence, you think as you tell Hinata that there wasn’t anything here that particularly caught your eye. Honestly, you didn’t get a very good look anyway; your eyes were a bit preoccupied with...something else, but as if you’d ever say that out loud. Hinata doesn’t catch onto your little white lie however, and simply drags you out of the store with a grin on his face and the next destination in mind.

The rest of your day continues like this, store-hopping across the district and exploring different parts of the city you don’t regularly visit. Hinata takes you to areas new and familiar, old and recent, all the while with a smile on his face. He shows you his favourite parts of the city, swinging around the lamp posts and tip toeing around the puddles of slush on the ground. He points out the best places to see the stars in the fall and where you can find the best hot dog vendors in the summer. He tells you which parts of the city you can see the flowers first bloom in the spring and the best places to watch the sun rise in the winter.

Hinata tells you a lot of things today, most of which you had never known about this area you’ve lived in for so many years. But the thing that sticks in your mind isn’t any of the little facts he’s shared with you about the city he loves so dear. No, the one and only thought that’s in your mind when Hinata tells you that the best florist around the block lies in front of the university, or that the local library is hosting its annual charity book sale this week, is...

I’d like to go to all of those places with you.

The realization doesn’t really come as a shock to you. Not when you’ve acknowledged that you don’t mind being in Hinata’s presence, not at all. So it shouldn’t be a big of a deal to want to do the things Hinata’s rambled on about with him, right? It’s natural, you think as Hinata points excitedly at the bronze statue across the street, to want to do things with other people. Even if those things are strange and completely different from your normal routine, you think that change could be a good thing if it were with Hinata.

It isn’t until later on in the evening when you realize how quickly night has fallen. With winter already in full stride, the sun seems to set earlier every day with each dropping degree. Hinata points this out to you as you pass by the park near his university, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to stay warm. He breathes hot air into his palms, the white puffs easily visible against the dark sky. You say something back, though you’re too distracted by how slender Hinata’s fingers are to remember the words that leave your mouth. He giggles, seemingly amused by your response, and you’re suddenly hit with the desire to keep that smile on his face. No matter the situation, you think that the times when Hinata smiles are when you feel the most comfortable; like routine, like the sunrise, like it’s always belonged there.

And it’s at this point where you start to wonder if maybe this is more than what you had originally convinced yourself it was.

What is this? You think as Hinata flashes you another teasing smile before running off the sidewalk and stopping just in front of the snow bank.

What is this? You wonder as he brags that he can climb farther up the pile than you can, even flicking a bit of snow in your face just for emphasis.

What is this? You question as you fall for the taunt just as easily, racing to the top with both hands and feet until Hinata slips just in front of you and takes you down with him as he tumbles to the bottom.

It’s Hinata’s laughter echoing across the empty street when he lands splayed across your lap, the back of his jacket warmly pressed against your thighs. It’s the feeling of your own back against the cold concrete being drowned out by the bright, bright sun in front of you. It’s how his hair glistens under the glow of the streetlamp, the bright orange locks dampened slightly by bits of snow. It’s the difficulty you find to look away when he slowly picks himself up, dusting off his jeans with the palm of his hands. It’s the blush that you have to fight back when he holds out a hand to help you up. It’s the warmth that still seeps through his frozen fingers when they meet your own. It’s the need to fight the urge to grab his hand once more when he lets go as you stand. It’s the slight feeling of disappointment that comes when he continues walking down the path, his head turned back to gesture you to follow.

And it’s as you walk side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally, that a strange feeling hits you like a tonne of bricks. A flooding warmth spreads across your chest to the very tips of your fingers. Your ears pound with the deafening sound of your own heartbeat. You feel the flush already on your cheeks darken, and not just from the cold. All of it overwhelms you, almost to the point where you feel sick to your stomach. What’s happening?

“Hey!”

But when Hinata suddenly speaks up next to you, the confusion is pushed to the back of your mind for another time.

“Sooo,” Hinata drawls, pointedly stepping over all of the cracks on the sidewalk. He nearly trips once in the process and you have to bite back a smirk. “Will you be doing anything for your birthday?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, doing anything with your friends?” He elaborates, co*cking his head to the side as he continues to skip along by your side. “Or are you going to be celebrating with your parents?”

You don’t know what causes you to be so frank – maybe it’s this weird lack of filter that’s plagued you recently – but you end up blurting out, “I don’t have parents.”

“O-Oh,” Hinata says awkwardly, halting in his tracks. He toes his boots nervously against the ground, eyes flitting to the side. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Don’t apologize.” You mentally slap yourself across the face for saying something so stupid. And really, you only have yourself to blame when an uncomfortable silence falls between you two. You shouldn’t have even brought that up in the first place, what were you thinking? You could have just vaguely skipped around the question like you usually would’ve and this never would have happened. But now, you’ve probably just made Hinata feel incredibly awkward, good job. “It’s in the past.”

“A-Ah, okay,” Hinata rubs his elbow timidly, his eyes still refusing to meet your own. “Sorry again, I, er, shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I told you not to worry about it,” you mutter. The last thing you want is for Hinata to feel bad for something that didn’t even involve him. Before you can stop yourself, you reach over and gently ruffle his hair. “Don’t apologize for something that wasn’t your fault. Stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” he pipes up, patting down his hair after the damage you’ve done to it. And though a pout is still evident on his lips, you think that he seems a little more relaxed than he did before. Good.

“Then don’t say stupid things.” You say, and that’s that. Hinata doesn’t push the topic any further, instead choosing to lead you both in the direction of his campus. And whether it’s out of courtesy or discomfort, you're thankful that he drops it without another thought. Honestly speaking, the subject of your parents isn’t something you ever think you’ll be prepared to talk about, so you’re glad when Hinata changes the topic to something less heavy and more light-hearted. Even if you two end up discussing something completely idiotic (“So there was this picture of a really large bat inside a cave and- wait, are bats mammals?” “...” “...” “I...I don’t know.”), you wouldn’t particularly mind.

And so your day spent with Hinata ends when you arrive just outside of the main entrance to his residence. It’s a fairly sizeable building, standing at around 6 stories tall. He tells you that he lives on the second to highest floor with a perfect view of the sunrise every morning. You tell him that the only thing you can see from your windows is your neighbour’s laundry and he nearly snorts in surprise. Just as he skips up the last step to his res, he turns back to you with a smile and suggests that you should come over sometime to see it. Without really thinking, you nod and the grin already on his lips widens at your response. He gives you a final wave and a “bye, Kageyama” before he disappears behind the automatic doors.

You let out a long breath, one of which you weren’t aware you were holding until Hinata had vanished from your sight. Now that you’re outside by yourself, the air suddenly feels colder and you shove your hands into your coat pocket to prevent getting frostbite. Your eyes glance to the building one more time before you turn and leave the campus.

The only sounds you hear as you walk down the street are the crunches of snow underneath your boots and the occasional car that passes you by. All is silent, except for the raging storm inside your head, filled with mixtures of confusion and contentment, and doubts and decisions. This sea of emotions makes you dizzy; like you’re spinning around in circles and there’s nothing to stop you from flying out of control. It’s destructive and overwhelming, and there’s nothing more you want than to just stop thinking for once.

But you know that this is what you do – think and think and think, over and over again until you’ve worn yourself down. And so it’s with that decision, as your feet carry you home on this unfamiliar path, that you let your thoughts run free with no limitations.

What was Hinata thinking about today?

The blinking red of the pedestrian stop sign flashes in the blurs of the background.

How can he smile so easily at everything around him?

A child passes by you, her hand locked tightly with her mother’s.

Why is it that a light follows him wherever he goes?

The sound of a Christmas carol plays softly in the distance.

How is it that I find myself gravitating more and more to him every day?

Two dogs bark excitedly as you pass them by.

Why does being around Hinata make me so...

A ring resonates as quiet as the drop of a pin.

Happy?

*

You don’t hear anything from Hinata the next day.

No missed calls, no unread texts.

Nothing.

You try to fight it, but the feeling of disappointment that washes over you is plentiful and overflowing.

It’s not like you were deliberately anticipating being woken up at 6am again, but you can’t help but feel let down when the entire day passes without a single word from Hinata. The lack of notifications on your phone mocks you throughout your day, a (very) silent reminder that he hasn’t sent you any messages.

Though it might’ve been wrong for you to assume, you were convinced that Hinata had something else planned for today. With how dead-set he was on finding you a gift before your birthday, you had thought for sure that he would take the opportunity to “find out more” on the day before the actual date.

But it seems like you were wrong.

You don’t know why this has you feeling so bitter, like a spoiled child silently fuming when they’re denied the toy they want. But maybe you have been spoiled; not necessarily with gifts and material things, but with Hinata’s presence and unwavering attention. You became so accustomed to his quirky texts and random phone calls that it feels like you’re breaking routine without them.

And now that it’s gone, you’re left feeling somewhat empty. And maybe you’re being a little melodramatic – it’s not like Hinata has been a part of your life for so long that you’re not sure how to change without him – but the anxiousness doesn’t fade away.

It’s later in the evening as you’re lying across your couch and staring at your phone when you wonder if you should text him first.

You narrow your eyes at the new text message screen you pulled up, thumbs hovering just over the keys.

What am I supposed to say? You groan; you don’t even have anything you want to say in mind. And it’s not like you can just bring up something random like Hinata usually does. So why do I even want to talk to him so bad?

Frustrated with yourself, you quickly type out a short “hi” in the text box. You think that, yeah, this seems like a safe enough message, but your hand pauses just before you press send.

What if he’s busy?

What if his phone is dead?

What if he lost his phone somewhere?

All of the possible scenarios as to why Hinata could possibly not text you back pop up in your head. You shake your head, agitated by your own uncertainty. You never know what might’ve happened today – life is unpredictable – but maybe you’re just over-thinking again. These possibilities shouldn’t deter you from sending out a simple text to Hinata.

But long past after night has fallen, you still haven’t sent the message. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you chickened out. Because of what, you don’t know, but every time you tried to hit send, something would prevent you from following through. Your failure to send a text leaves you more anxious than ever, and even angrier at yourself.

You fall asleep that night with feelings of regret and disappointment.

*

On the 22nd of December, you wake up to an array of new messages on your phone. Most of which are from your colleagues at Karasuno, wishing you a happy birthday (and as sincerely as a text message can get, you suppose). You won’t deny that you were sort of hoping that at least one would be from Hinata, but you were thoroughly let down when his contact name didn’t appear in your inbox. Not wanting to bring yourself down any further, you force yourself to get out of bed.

After you’ve eaten breakfast (more like lunch, with what time you woke up) and got dressed, you lock up your apartment before heading over to Karasuno. Sugawara had texted you earlier, telling you to come by the 4th floor room as soon as possible. Knowing your grey-haired friend, he probably bought you a gift, despite your constant protests throughout the years. There’s nothing you’ve ever really wanted, but Sugawara just told you to “not be a big baby” and just accept the gifts.

And that’s what you were planning to do when you arrived at the weaponry room, but you definitely weren’t expecting to be greeted by a room-full of colleagues, all with bright smiles on their faces and party hats atop their heads. You wince when they pull the poppers in their hands, the confetti scattering across the air as they yell out “happy birthday, Kageyama!”

Being in the spotlight has you feeling a little uncomfortable, like you’re horribly out of place, even though this little surprise party was meant for you. You put on the most sincere face you can muster before bowing and thanking the people in the room for being here. They tell you not to worry about it, have fun, it’s your special day, and there isn’t anything you need to thank us for. You nod once before someone pushes you from behind (it’s another colleague around your age; you’re not really familiar with him, but he’s fairly well known for being outgoing and boisterous at company parties) and tells you to get into the party.

You do as he says, making light conversation with the people who’ve come to celebrate. They all pat you on the back, wishing you a happy 20th before insisting that you have some cake. Some try to slip you envelopes with gift cards in them, whining when you refuse them politely. You know that Sugawara will probably just collect everyone’s gifts later and force them into your hands later, so you’d rather just wait until then.

Speaking of Sugawara, you don’t think you’ve seen him yet. You excuse yourself from two of your other colleagues to search the crowd for your grey-haired friend.

You find him a few seconds later in the locker room. He gasps loudly when you knock on the already-open door and he quickly jumps in front of whatever he’s trying to hide from you.

“Kageyama!” He yells, shielding the object behind him with his body. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you’re not supposed to come in here?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Sugawara says before sighing. “Well, I guess if you’re already in here, then we can just wheel this thing out now.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wheel what out?”

Sugawara grins as he ushers you back out the door, pulling along whatever’s behind him. “You’ll see.”

And you do see, just seconds later when Sugawara unveils the large cart behind him to reveal a large rectangular cake to the crowd. Everyone cheers, pushing you toward the dessert that says “Happy Birthday Kageyama!” Someone hands you a knife and another rushes to light the several candles atop the cake. You nearly burst from embarrassment when everyone suddenly breaks out in the birthday song, arms swung around shoulders and smiles large on their faces. It’s now when you realize that some of them might be drunk – it’s only mid-afternoon, damn – but they say that a drunken heart speaks a sober mind, right?

You’re forced to blow out the candles like a child (“It’s tradition!” Sugawara had complained), but not before making a wish. Tradition, they say, so you suppose you should follow it entirely. You think for a second, and when you’ve thought of something, you blow out the candles in one breath. The crowd cheers again, hooting and hollering in celebration before lining up for a slice of the cake.

You cut decently sized slices for everyone and Sugawara helps hand out forks and napkins. Even Tsukishima is lined up to grab a slice and when he takes the plate from your hands, he only sneers minimally before saying “happy birthday, king,” and moving along. You suppose that’s as civil as you two will get with each other, so you’ll take it.

Once everyone has cake in either their plates or their stomachs, you approach Sugawara as he’s munching on his own slice.

“So, why a party this year?”

“Well, you’ve always said that you didn’t want anything materialistic,” Sugawara says, licking the icing off his fork, “so this is your gift this year. Sorry I couldn’t get in touch with Hinata, though. I know that you would’ve liked it if he came.”

You think that the last part was a little unnecessary – Sugawara is too sneaky for his own good – but you don’t respond to his tease. That would just provoke him even more, you think.

“Thanks,” you say instead. You’re honestly relieved that Sugawara didn’t buy you something else this year, and though gatherings can be exhausting, you suppose that this one isn’t all that bad.

“Mhm,” Sugawara hums before turning to you with a smile. “Happy birthday, Kageyama.”

The party clears out a few hours later, the last few attendees trickling out just before 5pm. You sigh, exhausted from having to socialize for a long period of time. It’s not like you really minded talking to the people who came, they’re actually not bad people considering the field of work you all participate in, but staying focused in a constant conversations was draining.

You offer to help Sugawara clean up the mess that everyone made, but he shakes you off, saying that some of the others had already volunteered to help. You open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off, telling you to go home and relax with a smile. Reluctantly, you comply but not before thanking Sugawara once more before you’re out the door.

It doesn’t take you very long to get back to the comfort of your apartment, your hands chilled to the bone. It was a lot colder today than yesterday, you think as you put on the kettle with a hot cup of coffee in mind. You grab a mug from the cupboard and set it down on the counter. As you stir the brown instant powder at the bottom of your cup, your mind wanders back to Hinata again.

Checking your phone, you see that you still don’t have any messages from him. The sigh that escapes your lips is disappointment at best; you were actually kind of looking forward to whatever gift Hinata had planned for you today.

The kettle whistles loudly and you flip the switch before pouring the scalding water into your drink. The instant coffee quickly dissolves into the liquid, a rich brown colour soon appearing in your mug. You’re tempted to drink it right away, but burning your tongue isn’t really worth it.

As you wait for the drink to cool, you remember that Hinata doesn’t actually know where you live. And if he doesn’t know where you live, he wouldn’t have been able to give you a gift unless you two met up sometime today. But at this very moment, your phone still displays no new texts or calls. So maybe it was wrong for you to have gotten your hopes up, that he would have gone out of his way to get you that gift, or that he would have taken the time to wish you a happy birthday.

But then, why did Hinata try so hard these past few days to find out what you wanted?

It just doesn’t add up. You’re tempted to slam your head into the counter with how frustrated you are. You don’t like this; being upset for no good reason, being affected by things you were normally indifferent to. Irritated, you take a sip of your coffee without thinking and jump back when the scalding liquid burns your tongue. Great.

Suddenly, you hear three loud knocks against your front door. You put down your mug, confused. As you make your way over to the door, you run through a list of people that could possibly be behind that door. Most of the people you’ve already seen at the party, and the others are too farfetched for a random apartment visit. Though there’s someone else that pops to mind, you know that there’s no way that Hinata could have possibly found out where you lived.

And strangely enough, you find yourself proven wrong when the person behind the door is, of course, Hinata. He’s standing with a large bag in his gloved hands, the hood of his green parka covering most of his bright, orange hair. When he meets your eyes, his mouth opens to say “Hey-!”

And before he can continue, you slam the door in his face in surprise, ignoring the yelp that comes from the other side.

“What the hell?!” Hinata’s muffled voice yells from the other side as you turn and lean your back against your door. You bring a hand up to your chest, trying to calm down your erratic heartbeat. It feels like your heart is trying to jump out of your chest with how hard it’s pounding against your ribcage. Stop it stop it stop it stop it-

“Hey Kageyama!” He knocks again furiously, irritation clear in his tone. “Why’d you close the door?! Don’t be an asshole!”

“Stop being so loud!” You shout back, the pounding still as furious as ever. “You’ll piss off the neighbours, dumbass!”

“Then let me in, you idiot!” Hinata yells back even louder, probably just to piss you off. Cursing, you stand back from the door and swing it open, revealing Hinata’s reddened face once more. He glares at you, clearly still fuming about what you did earlier. You step aside to let him in, hoping that’ll dissipate some of his anger. It works too, as he smiles before stepping inside your apartment.

You close the door behind him, watching as he toes off his boots and sets them on the shoe tray. Your eyes land curiously on the bag in his hands, and suddenly you remember that Hinata is currently in my apartment.

You’re almost positive that your legs would’ve given out from the realization if Hinata weren’t here right now. You can start to feel yourself sweat, your palms getting clammier by the second. Seeing Hinata in your home is a strange sight, like finding penguins on the moon or seeing fish flying in the sky. It’s weird and different, and you’re scared that once you don’t find it foreign anymore, it won’t feel right to not see Hinata here.

That thought scares you more than you thought it would’ve. Your apartment is supposed to be a place where everything is right, where you can go back to normal after hours spent with a gun in your hands and red pooling at your feet. He shouldn’t be here, because what if you can’t erase the little traces of him like you couldn’t forget the memories of him? Everything would be wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrongwrong-

“Did you just move here or something?”

You turn your head suddenly to Hinata’s voice, surprised that he suddenly spoke up. “No, why?”

“Oh,” he says, eyeing your small kitchenette. Hinata carefully sets the large bag down by the counter before continuing. “It just seemed kind of... bland, so I thought maybe you weren’t done decorating or something.”

“Hey,” You narrow your eyes, “don’t complain about my house.”

“Sorry,” Hinata giggles, peeling off his gloves. Your eyes follow each slender finger that slips out, and you speak up before you’re tempted to grasp his hands between your own.

“How’d you find out where I live?” You ask.

“Oh, your friend Sugawara told me! We exchanged numbers!”

Your attention is captured immediately at that. “Sugawara told you?”

Hinata nods, a grin on his face. “He told me to come over around 5 or so, since you’d be busy with another celebration in the early afternoon...”

That little traitor. So Sugawara lied about not being in touch with Hinata. You should’ve known that he was teasing you when he said that, and you silently reprimand yourself for not catching on fast enough. Is that why he told you to go home right away after the party with that smile on his face? So you wouldn’t miss Hinata coming over to your house immediately afterward? You make a mental note to get payback later, hopefully in the form of rearranging his prized rock collection.

“Ah!” Hinata exclaims, “I forgot to do something, since someone interrupted me earlier.”

Before you have a chance to ask what, Hinata walks over in your direction, trapping you in the corner. Normally, you might’ve found it amusing for someone so much shorter than you to have cornered you so easily but having Hinata so closely within your proximity makes it hard for you to think straight.

“H-Huh, what are you-”

“Kageyama.” He says your name and you think your heart just might explode from how seriously he’s looking you in the eye. Hinata’s face splits into a wide grin before he yells, “Happy birthday!”

You can feel a blush slowly appearing on your cheeks and you duck your head to hide it from Hinata’s view. “T-Thanks.”

A smile is still present on Hinata’s face when he tells you to sit down at the table. You comply, watching curiously as he picks up the bag he set down earlier and brings it over to you.

“This is your gift!” He says as he places it on the table in front of you. Hinata takes a seat across you, waiting excitedly for you to open it.

Curious, you reach your hands inside the bag to pull out a large, rectangular box. It’s wrapped loosely with decorative paper (“I tried my best, okay! I’m not good at wrapping things...”); the multitude of colours is almost blinding. You glance at Hinata and his eyes urge you to keep going. Continuing with the unwrapping process, you find where the folds of paper meet and carefully rip the wrapping apart. You shoot Hinata a dirty look after you’ve peeled off the layer and find another waiting beneath it. Hinata snickers and you kick him under the table for being a little sh*t. He swears, still laughing when he promises you that there aren’t any more layers underneath that one. You peel away the wrapping paper, slowly revealing the box to be one of...

A laptop.

And a really nice one, too. You rip off the remaining wrapping paper, turning the box in your hands to read the contents described on the back cover. As your eyes skim over the words, you suddenly remember that this was the laptop you were looking at the day you two got banned for life from Future Shop. Honestly, you had sort of forgotten that Hinata had ruined your old laptop; you haven’t really had a dire need for it recently. You turn it over again, eyes scrutinizing the rest of the box like you can’t quite believe that Hinata actually got you this nice laptop.

When you look back to Hinata, he’s already grinning – probably at your reaction to the laptop. You hug the box a little closer to your chest before murmuring out a, “Thank you.”

“No problem!” Hinata rubs the back of his neck before gesturing to the large bag again. “Actually, there’s something else in the bag, too.”

“Something else?” You ask.

Hinata nods. “Take a look.”

You reach a hand in, pulling it out when your hand grasps what’s inside. And in your hands, you find a sleek, black laptop case with a shoulder strap and zipper pockets. You run your fingers over the material, appreciating the small details on the design of the bag. It’s simple, yet so characteristically suited to you.

“Since I broke your laptop already,” Hinata speaks up, elaborating on the gift, “I knew I had to replace it for your birthday. But since that was kind of something that I already owed you, it didn’t feel right to just buy you the laptop and call it that. So, that explains the case. I thought that it’d be cool if you could use both gifts together, rather than just two separate things.”

You nod, half-listening to his explanation and half-mulling over the fact that he had thought so deeply into this gift.

“Thank you,” you say and you mean it. You didn’t think that you’d have been won over by something materialistic, but you were proven wrong. Maybe it has something to do with the gift being from Hinata, or maybe you’re just a little too happy, but you allow yourself a small smile when you meet Hinata’s eyes again. “I really like it.”

“N-No problem,” Hinata laughs, waving a hand in front of his face. You think that his cheeks look a little pinker than normal, but you’re probably just imagining things.

You carefully slide the box and laptop bag back into the large bag, clearing it off the table. Pushing yourself out of your seat, you make your way over to your kitchen and turn to Hinata to ask, “Do you want some coffee?”

He nods, and before you know it, you’re both immersed in talking over cups of coffee at your dining table. Your conversation doesn’t fall anywhere near important, but it just feels right to bicker with Hinata (“How can you drink your coffee with so much sugar?” “Uh, because it tastes like crap without it?” “It tastes like crap with it.” “Hey!”) or discuss completely irrelevant things (“I hear that a new pastry store is opening just across your apartment.” “Really?” “Yeah, we should go try it some time!” “...Yeah.”).

Hinata laughs with you like you’ve known him your entire life, and with how comfortable you feel around him, you would’ve thought that you really had. It’s weird, to be able to just sit with Hinata and bask in his presence. He fits perfectly into your little space, like adding splashes of colour to the otherwise plain background. You think that something about him just lights up the room, like sunrays shining through the cracks of your blinds. It’s calming, it’s relaxing, it’s...

It’s what you were scared of in the first place.

You knew that once Hinata made himself at home here, you’d start to see him not as something foreign, but as something inviting, something warm, something like home. And now you’re frightened that once he leaves, he’ll take a part of that home with him. You don’t want that to happen – your thoughts have already been invaded with enough of Hinata already. If he left with a piece of yourself as well, you don’t know what you’d do. You can’t afford that, to give it up, to depend on someone, to-

“Gwah!” Hinata exclaims, glancing at his phone. He stands up suddenly, his eyes darting around the room.

“What?” You ask urgently. What’s wrong?

“I lost track of time!” He says as he zips his parka back up before rushing over to the front door and sliding on his boots. “It’s already almost 7 and we have to go now! Hurry!”

“What the hell, where- Okay, okay, wait,” You say as Hinata glares at you, gesturing with his hands to hurry up, “let me grab my coat.”

You’re both out of the door in a matter of seconds, your jacket half zipped and shoes still untied. You take your time to fix yourself in the elevator ride, but once the doors slide back open, Hinata’s grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the building.

“H-Hinata, wait! Slow down!” You say as the cold, night air hits you in the face. With the sun gone from the sky, it’s even colder than it was a few hours ago. It bites at your cheeks, causing you to shiver violently.

“If we don’t run, we’ll be late!” He says, tugging even harder at your hand. The squeeze of his fingers against your palm causes your breath to hitch. When you glance down between your hands, you notice just how much larger yours are compared to his own. You knew that Hinata was tiny, but actually being able to compare yourselves so... intimately sends a chill down your spine. Something compels you to squeeze your hand back in response, and when you do, Hinata’s steps falter slightly as he runs farther down the street. He doesn’t turn back to look at you though, and you’re glad he doesn’t because the fire set ablaze on your cheeks only burns stronger when you realize what you’ve just done.

And yet, there’s no feeling of regret as you allow yourself to be dragged to your destination, cutting through shortcuts with Hinata’s hand in your own. Your fingers are chilled to the bone and yet you don’t feel cold, not with his palm flush against yours. Both of your breaths come out in white puffs that quickly disappear behind you into the night sky. When you glance upward, you think you can see small, white puffs falling from above, and when one lands on your nose, you realise, it’s snowing.

As you two run down the path, you think you can hear music playing in the distance. It slowly gets louder and louder as you approach the main street, and Hinata turns back to you to yell “We’re almost there!”

When you arrive at the main street, Hinata finally stops in his tracks just next to the stoplight in front of you. Both of you bend over, trying to catch your breaths after running the entire way here. From the back of your mind, you note that you’re still holding Hinata’s hand but the need for air is the more important issue right now.

When you’ve finally regulated your breathing, you turn to Hinata to yell at him for making you run all the way here. However, your eyes catch on something in the distance before you get a chance.

A large, blue float is slowly approaching from down the street. Its glowing presence and glittering appearance leaves you breathless, your eyes immediately drawn to the center of the attraction where a glass throne sits grand and tall in front of a mountain of ice. Several dancers skip and twirl around the base of the throne, their outfits glittering just as brightly as the float they’re standing on. Not long after, a princess rises from the top of the mountain, slowly descending down to rest on the throne. She glitters even brighter than the attraction itself, her dress illuminated by the flashing lights surrounding her.

When the float passes where you’re standing, you suddenly become aware of the crowd of people around you; everyone else is just as immersed in the parade as you are, mouths hung open at the sight in front of them. And when you turn your attention back to Hinata, you can’t help but stare at the boy next to you.

The way his eyes glisten as they follow the float with amazement and happiness.

The way his mouth hangs open just slightly in a loose, content smile.

The way his rosy cheeks glow against his pale skin under the dazzling lights.

It’s like you can’t bring yourself to look away from him. Even when he catches your eye, you meet his gaze head on instead of averting your eyes. Hinata just smiles though, and you’re almost tempted to smile back.

“Do you like it?” He asks, gesturing with his other hand toward the parade. “I used to come see this every year with my family. It was kind of like tradition.”

Your eyes soften as you see how Hinata’s face lights up when he talks about his family, like they’re the most precious thing to him. “...Yeah, I do.” And suddenly, you’re hit with an impulse. You want to know more about Hinata; more about where he came from, more about his past, more about the boy whose hand is in your own right now.

You want to understand him, you think as Hinata squeezes your hand, pulling you farther down the street to find a better view of the incoming floats.

You want to cherish this time with him, you think as he takes you to a less crowded area of the street, his eyes still glued to the bright lights in front of him.

You want to stay with him like this, you think as he directs that look back at you, a soft smile on his face and dimples just barely present on his cheeks.

You want...

...

Oh.

...

The frost that’s frozen your fingers.

The bitter cold biting at your cheeks.

The heap of snow piled atop your head.

...

You’re not exactly sure how things turned out like this.

(But that’s a lie.)

With his hand tugging yours along.

With his head turned back to yours, a smile perched on his face.

With the snow falling between you two like the very first time this year.

...

Ah, you breathe out.

Yeah.

You know exactly how things turned out like this.

...

...

...

I like you, Hinata.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “Positive.”

You sit at the dining table, a spoonful of yogurt in your mouth as you watch your parents pace about the kitchen. With a sigh, your dad brings a hand up to cover his face. He looks tired, hunched shoulders and shaggy appearance. You think Mama mentioned something about Dad not getting a lot of sleep recently. You wonder why.

“So what are we going to do?” Your mom leans the side of her hip against the counter, fingers tapping against the material as she ponders the question.

“We have to go.” She says, biting her lip so hard you think she’ll break skin. Your father walks over, wrapping his arms around her waist. She places her hands over his, squeezing lightly as he leans his chin on her shoulder.

“Where are we going?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. With your yogurt container now empty, you turn your full attention to your parents’ conversation. What are they talking about?

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Mama responds, a small smile on her face. You think it seems somewhat strained. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“We can’t leave!” You protest, shaking your head. Something about Mama’s words don’t convince you and your eyes begin to water at the thought of having to move. “I don’t want to move! Daichi promised that he’d show me where he found his new pet beetle!”

“We’re not moving, Tobio,” your dad walks over, bending down to wipe your tears with his thumb, “your mother and I just have to go somewhere for a bit.”

You sniffle, your eyes puffy and nose red from the tears. Dad ruffles your hair before pulling you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around his back, fingers clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

“W-Will you be gone for a long time?”

“No, sweetie,” Mama walks over, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “we won’t be gone for longer than a day.”

You pull back from the hug, pouting slightly at your parents. You hold out both hands in front of you, pinkies pointed in their direction.

“Promise?”

Your dad chuckles slightly at the gesture while Mama just smiles again. They both reach forward to lock their pinkies with yours.

“Promise.”

*

Waking up the next day is like being hit by seven different trucks simultaneously.

Not necessarily physically – no, of course not, because then you’d be very much dead – but more so mentally than anything.

Because when you remember the flush on his cheeks from the freezing cold, the warm glow in his eyes against the flashing lights, and the warmth seeping from the skin of his palm to yours, you can’t help but feel utterly overwhelmed by the fact that...

I like Hinata.

The scream that leaves your lips is muffled into your sheets. You burrow your head deeper into the comforter, trying to escape your own thoughts. Even thinking about the realization causes your heart to leap in your chest and a blush to creep up your neck. You don’t like this; the pounding against your ribcage, the heat upon your skin, the embarrassment you feel when the memories of last night come flooding back.

And it’s not like you were able to forget those memories easily, either. You don’t want to admit it, but half of the reason why you woke up feeling like death was because of the lack of sleep you got last night. And that lack of sleep was the direct effect of not being able to calm your erratic heart when you remembered feeling content with the snow dancing between you two, and feeling safe by Hinata’s side, like you were meant to belong there. Trying to forget about it was like trying to break a steel table with a wooden spoon; exhausting and impossible.

So maybe that’s why you’re so frustrated with yourself. The combination of fatigue and aggravation leaves you even more vulnerable to these new found feelings, and you hate it.

You hate having this constant desire to wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his hair.

You hate wanting to thread your fingers between his own again and press fluttering kisses to each of his knuckles.

You hate not being able to stop yourself from wondering what Hinata’s lips would feel like against your own.

But while one part of you hates it, another part of you can’t help but enjoy the warmth that spreads through your body when you think of your feelings for him. It gives you this light feeling, like you’re walking on clouds or watching the sunrise. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. None of your past experiences, good or bad, have ever caused you to feel like this, to feel so much. It sets a fire in your veins and burns along your blood with a feeling of elatedness that you can’t explain. And another, smaller part of you wants to explore those feelings even further and delve into them to see what else you’ll be able to discover.

... Of course, that would be nice in theory, if that other significantly larger part of you weren’t so scared of the consequences of those feelings.

You flip onto your back, throwing an arm over your eyes and kicking your sheets until they rest just below your waist. Now what? Being aware of your feelings is one thing, but knowing what to do with that realization is another. You know that you want to spend time with Hinata – that’s a given – but what does that mean with your relationship with him? Does this change anything? Will you try to change anything?

Does Hinata feel the same?

That question throws you for a loop and then some. You had been so caught up on trying to rationalize your own feelings that you had completely forgotten to consider how Hinata feels about you. You try to think back to the moments you’ve spent with him (it’s not that hard) and search for any hints, but to no avail. Nothing you can remember would give away anything, and honestly, you’re not sure you’d want to find out.

Right now, you’re content with how things are, you think. With Hinata as a friend by your side, you don’t want to ask for too much. It’d be selfish to want more than what you have, and Hinata’s already given you plenty. Companionship, contingency, contentment. You can’t deny that you want- no, crave more, but if that’s the limit of what Hinata is willing to give, then you’re satisfied with just that. You don’t want to lose him to your personal desires.

You groan. Thinking about emotions and feelings and Hinata in general exhausts you. You’re not used to having to think about things like this, and now that you are, you realize just exactly how overwhelming it is.

With a sigh, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Even if you’d much prefer to stay curled up in your sheets, you actually have an agenda for today. You don’t bother with making your bed – it’ll just get messed up again later, anyways – and you make your way into your washroom. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open as you’re brushing your teeth. Great, you think. Of course, last night you could barely fall asleep, and now you’re just about ready to doze on the floor. It takes you all of your willpower to not knock out on the spot.

When you’ve finished up in the bathroom, you proceed to cook yourself some breakfast. Today, you were actually able to wake up before 10am and you think that in itself deserves an award. With how late you’ve been sleeping in until recently, you didn’t think it’d be possible to be awake at this hour without an alarm. Though the tossing and turning you did last night might’ve contributed to that, it’s still an accomplishment in your eyes.

But as you sit at the counter with your toast and eggs plated in front of you, you realize just how tired you are. You vow to get more sleep in the future as you gobble up the food, eyes strained against the morning light that shines through the cracks of your blinds.

After breakfast, you find yourself seated in front of your bedside desk, eyes trained on the large bag set on top of it. You never did take the gift you received out of the bag after you initially discovered what it was last night. Following a minute’s worth of deliberation, you finally decide to open the gift. Besides, you’ve needed a new laptop for a while now, it’s not like you’re just doing this because you’ll remember that Hinata was the one that bought you this laptop along with the case, or that he had so carefully thought out the gift or anything.

Probably.

Your fingers skim along the box, noting the details on the packaging. You grab a knife from the corner of the table (Sugawara had raised an eyebrow when he found out you kept knives in your room and had said, “Knives are for kitchens, not bedrooms.”) and cautiously slice open the box. You leave the rest of the work to your own hands, tearing at the cardboard until the opening is fully made. The interior of the box is stuffed with styrofoam and the user’s manual. You slide out the white material, slowly unveiling your new laptop.

It’s just as nice as you remember it, you think. Even under protective plastic coverings, the laptop is sleek, lightweight and just plain amazing. You tear off the bubble-wrap – it’s quite tempting to have some fun with it, but you’re much too interested in the actual product to do so – and throw it across the room, vowing to pick it up later. Your new laptop is pristine in your hands as you run your fingers across the top cover. Flipping it open, you’re greeted with a glossy keyboard and a spotless screen. Not a single trace of dust lies between the keys.

Sliding your palms until they fan out across the keyboard, you breathe out a content sigh. You don’t think you’ve ever had something this nice in your possession before. Things that were relatively expensive, maybe, but nothing could compare to something of this extent. And that makes you want to set up your new laptop even more.

You could describe yourself as childish as you blindly stick an arm inside the box, rummaging around until you grasp the cable and charger. Luckily, the nearest socket in your room is right next to your desk, so you don’t have to move too far. You plug it in before pressing the start button, and no more than a second later, the screen flashes to life.

The next hour of your life is spent trying to configure the settings on your new laptop. It’s extremely different from your old one (and by old, you mean old) so you’re not too sure how things work. You’ve probably had to refer to the user’s manual over 20 times, and each time you did, you were left feeling stupid because you couldn’t figure it out yourself. It’s times like these where you feel ultimately left behind by the fast pace of modern technology that keeps developing and developing without you even being aware. You absentmindedly wonder if Hinata felt like this, too.

But eventually, you realize that you have other things to do than sit and stare at the setup screen on your laptop for another hour. Your phone alerts you of a new text from Sugawara, reminding you that you have to come into Karasuno today for a debriefing. You berate yourself for almost forgetting – Ukai would’ve had your head if you didn’t show up. Before you forget, you switch the laptop into sleep mode and grab your keys and coat. You’re out of your door in a matter of seconds.

*

“This,” Ukai says, slamming a large stack of papers onto the desk, “is a compilation of all reports concerning recent activity inside Hitmen’s Associates.”

Someone next to you flinches at the sound. You and all of the (not many) employees are gathered in one of the conference rooms in Karasuno. Ukai sits at the head of the table, cigarette in his mouth and deep wrinkles above his brow. You sit awkwardly at one of the chairs, pointedly avoiding where Tsukishima is seated next to that freckled boy from the medical department. Honestly, you didn’t expect that the meeting would have been held here. Usually, Ukai just prints out copies of the debriefing and hands them out, going over them quickly before dismissing the crowd. A meeting in this conference room means business, you think as you watch Ukai finger the report with a scowl on his face.

You eye the stack warily. It looks like a lot of reading, probably around 300 pages worth. With that in mind, the bags under Ukai’s eyes look even darker and the slouch of his shoulders is much more prominent. If whatever Ukai is about to announce has affected him to this extent, you’re not sure that you really want to know anymore.

“According to sources, there have been rumours of inner conflict occurring in the organization.” Ukai says, eyes locked on the wall across him. Quiet murmurs spread around the room, and you pick up traces of was it betrayal, who were the victims, what’s going on. Ukai slams his fist onto the desk, silencing the chatter. “What kind of inner conflict, we don’t know, but past cases have come to light with some of our previous investigations.”

“What kind of past cases?” Another person speaks from behind you.

Ukai pinches the bridge of his nose before responding. “The N-Crisis.”

Your eyes narrow and you can practically feel the tension spike in the room. The case name is familiar to you, and most likely everyone else.

A few years before you joined Karasuno, there was a situation with the H.A. concerning the organization being led by illegitimate children. In the past, Hitmen’s Associates has been infamous for blood-line only inheritances, and any members who opposed the rule were immediately executed. With that rule still in effect now, it is considered taboo to resist leadership under the reigning lineage.

However, years ago, there was a speculation that the leaders were not of direct relation to the previous. No one knows where the rumour had begun, but it spread like wildfire and eventually reached the ears of the higher-ups. The men were outraged by the distrust and uncertainty floating around their organization, and eventually resorted to brutal and merciless manners to eradicate the disbelievers. More than 200 members were interrogated and slaughtered over the course of a single week, most of whom were likely innocent bystanders caught up in the flames of a single rumour.

The conflict was only settled when other organizations, including Karasuno, had stepped in to prevent these murders from possibly reaching the ears of the general public. Blood was shed and alliances were broken, but H.A .eventually settled down before they had lost too many of their members. That day was like a sigh of relief to those involved in underworld conflicts, and was eventually filed away as “The N-Crisis” in the books.

“We still don’t know what exactly is happening right now, but there have been reports of deaths that were not associated with any other organizations.” Ukai says, breathing out a line of smoke. “With the information we already have concerning past cases and profiles of the deceased, some of our members have come to a hypothesis that a conflict similar or related to the N-Crisis is beginning to arise. The investigation team is currently working on finding out more information, but for now, we can only assume that things will be getting much more complicated in the near future.”

A piece of paper is passed to you, and you accept it with a murmured “thanks.” Skimming it over, you realize it’s the debrief sheet that you’re accustomed to getting every meeting.

“All members involved in any missions are to take extra precautions to not get involved in this conflict.” If Ukai’s voice wasn’t already serious before, then he’s practically deadly now. “I repeat, do not get involved. If you have any suspicions concerning this conflict, immediately report to an investigation member or myself directly. We want to avoid as much involvement with H.A. as possible. Understand?”

A unanimous “yes, sir” echoes throughout the room. Ukai waves a hand in dismissal and everyone quickly files out of the door, murmurs of theories echoing between their mouths. You stand up to follow, but Ukai beckons you to stay before you can even take a step. Once everyone has left (Sugawara had given you a wary look, mouthed to you to “be careful”), Ukai slides a sheet of paper over to you from across the desk. You flip it over, and on that side is an image of a man you’ve never seen before.

Dark hair and broad shoulders are pretty much all you can make out of the poorly taken picture. You suppose that it was taken in an uncompromising position, like the photographer was trying to be as discrete as possible. You scan the rest of the page, but there’s nothing else aside from the image in front of you.

“Do you recognize this man?” He asks, elbows leaning forward on the table. You shake your head and Ukai lets out a somewhat stressed sigh. “Yeah, I figured. The team and I were hoping that since you’ve been on so many missions, that maybe you would have recognized his face.”

That piques your attention. “Why is he so important?”

“Certain sources have been implying that this man is the main cause of the conflicts occurring. We’re looking into reasons as to why they believe this, but for now, we have nothing. It would have helped to identify him, though.”

You shrug your shoulders. It’s not your fault you don’t know the name of a man you’ve never seen before. Ukai sighs again, bringing his hands up to rub his temples.

“For any missions from now on forward, I want you to keep an eye out for his face. I know I said before not to get involved, and I still stick by my word. I don’t want you to fight him or kill him. But if you do see this man, you must immediately let the team know. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good,” Ukai says, pressing the butt of his cigarette into the ash tray. “And keep this on the down low. No one is supposed to know that we have a lead just yet.”

You nod again before exiting the conference room. You’ve never liked getting involved with high-risk cases but you’re never in the position to deny them, either. It’s inevitable, you suppose, that these kinds of risks will appear periodically on your job. You fold the debrief paper into a tiny square and tuck it into your pants pocket, making a mental note to keep an eye out for the man in the picture.

You check the time on your watch; it’s just past 1 o’clock. You remember that before the meeting had begun, Sugawara asked if you wanted to grab something to eat following the debrief. And when your stomach had growled immediately after, he got his response. You reach in to pull out your phone to text him and ask where he is, but before you can even grab the device, it vibrates loudly in your pocket. It’s a phone call, you realize, and you blindly swipe across the screen and press the phone to your ear without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” You say into the receiver.

“Hey, Kageyama!”

Your feet stop in their tracks, and your throat closes up. That voice, you think, is strikingly familiar. You mentally shake your head. No, of course it is familiar. There’s no way you’d be able to forget that voice, not after last night, not after that gift, not after your realization. And there’s no way you can stop your heart from pounding fast against your chest, no way to stop that warmth that spreads throughout your body just from hearing his voice. No way, ever, never.

You breathe out, and his name spills from your lips like it was meant to belong there.

“Hinata.”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“Hinata.”

It’s sweet, you think. His name is like a drop of honey upon your tongue, the taste stronger than the pounding of your heart against your chest. You revel in the flavour of each syllable your mouth forms, like familiarity and unknowingness at the same time.

You’re not exactly sure what compelled you to speak his name when a normal greeting would have sufficed. But really, at this point you’re not sure that you even care. The phone pressed to your ear is like your anchor to reality that’s slowly slipping away as you hear Hinata’s voice through the line.

“Yeah, it’s me!” Hinata exclaims, clearly in a cheerful mood. He pauses for a second, and you hear the rustle of material against material. “I need to ask you a very important question.”

“Uh, okay.” You say eloquently, raising an eyebrow. Turning your head side to side, you note that no one else is in the hallway except yourself so you don’t have to worry about being disruptive. “What?”

There’s a sneeze from across the line. You wonder if Hinata is outside right now; it’s gotten quite cold and if he doesn’t dress warm enough he’ll catch a cold and you wouldn’t want that and wow you need to stop. “Are you doing anything for Christmas?”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words. “Huh?”

“Are you deaf?” You’re about to hurl an insult right back at Hinata before he continues. “I asked if you were doing anything for Christmas.”

“Shut up,” you say anyways, like a reflex, like routine. You mentally pat yourself on the back for not stuttering over your words like an idiot when Hinata’s question finally registers in your mind. Shifting your weight from one leg to the other, you respond. “No, I’m not. I told you, I don’t really celebrate.”

“Yeah, okay, I kind of figured, uhm.” Hinata pauses. A strange silence drags on between you two, though you don’t know what caused it. You don’t think it was something you said; no, there was nothing out of the ordinary about your response. So it must be Hinata, you decide. You’re leaning your weight on the balls of your feet, the anticipation rising higher throughout your body as the soundless noise continues. He still says nothing, and you start to wonder if the call had dropped.

You awkwardly break the silence. “Hinata?”

“Yeah, hi, er, sorry,” he manages, syllables mashing together in a barely coherent strand of words. You’re somewhat relieved that the line didn’t drop, but that doesn’t stop you from wondering why that weird silence just happened. “I kind of, uh. Spaced out.”

“Oh.” You say, because really, what else can you say?

“So.” Hinata emphasizes the word like it took all of his will to breathe it out. “Do you want to spend Christmas with me, then?”

A fiery blush rises to your cheeks. If you weren’t already relieved that you’re the only one in the hallway, then you definitely are now. No one else needs to know about how embarrassingly docile you get when things like...like this happens. Your mind swirls. There are several ways that you can interpret Hinata’s question, but your mind has already taken one and ran far enough that you know you’ll never be able to take it back. He wants to celebrate with me.

And maybe it’s because you’ve realized these feelings inside of you that the feeling of want, craving, desire practically overrides your entire system, sending your brain into a conflict of longing versus control. It’s completely overwhelming, this feeling of hope and anticipation. But before you can drown in that feeling, you remember the consequences of letting go of that control you’ve established. You can’t let your personal desires ruin whatever you already have with Hinata. It’s rare enough for you to make a friend, let alone one that sticks around (and will continue to stick around, you think). And if all that were to come crashing down because you weren’t able to shut away that longing, you don’t think you’d ever be able to forgive yourself.

“Why me?” You say instead, the words coming out hoarser than you’d like. Composure, composure.

“Because!” Hinata replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world (but it’s not, not to you at least) and you wait for him to continue. “I know you told me that you don’t really celebrate and all, but I just thought that it’d be nice to hang out that night. If you want. Cause I remembered that you told me before that, uhm. That you don’t have a family to celebrate with, so I didn’t know if maybe you actually wanted to celebrate and you just couldn’t, because. Yeah. And I wasn’t planning on doing anything either on Christmas so I thought that maybe we could celebrate. Together. If you want.”

“Oh.” You mutter. Hinata’s voice had gotten smaller as he rushed through his words, phrases fitting together in an awkward manner. Something about the tiny hesitations between each sentence left you breathless, the thought cute flashing through your mind more often than you’d like to admit.

You think that you shouldn’t have asked for the reason why. If you hadn’t, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt that previous longing bloom even stronger against your chest. It’s weird, you think. And the one thing that stands out to you the most is your lack of reaction to when he mentioned your family. You do remember awkwardly telling Hinata that you didn’t have parents, but you didn’t think that he would remember that little piece of information. The topic of your family is something you consider taboo – something unspoken of – and yet when Hinata had timidly pointed that fact out, you didn’t expect there to be a lack of pain from reopening old wounds. That may have been the very first time that you didn’t feel like permanently shutting yourself away again when your parents were brought up.

You’re not sure how you feel about that.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your own family?” You say, imagining yourself digging a hole and throwing yourself in it. That’s pretty much what you’re doing right now anyways, as you continue to find a reason to avoid this, to avoid having Hinata too close to your side, to avoid trusting and depending on someone else. I don’t want to drag you down.

“I’m already planning to head back and visit my family for new years, so I decided to stay on campus for Christmas.” Hinata says, the rustling from across the line slowly growing louder. You hear the thumping footsteps of several other people, murmurs of different conversations flowing through the speakers in a mixed blur. “So will you?”

You pause, leaning your back against the wall behind you. You’ve already ran out of excuses to use, not that you really had that many in the first place. It’s like you’ve been driven into a corner. Not by Hinata, but by yourself with the conflicting thoughts inside your mind. Want. Control. Desire. Limitation.

“Kageyama?” Hinata calls your name after a moment of silence and it’s like all of the restrictions you’ve placed on yourself are sent flying out the window. Maybe it’s a weakness, how your name from his lips can cause all rationalization to escape your mind, filling it instead with every other feeling you’ve pent up and locked away. It’s probably the same reason why the very next second you breathe out the word;

“Okay.”

And later, you’ll wonder if agreeing was really a good idea or not. But with how Hinata’s voice had lit up with anticipation, a broad smile no doubt spreading across his face as he confirmed the details with you, you don’t think that you really care.

*

“I knew it.”

“Stop.”

“I called it.”

You groan. “Please shut up.”

“I was right all along, and you know it.”

You stab your fork into the plate of pasta and the silver haired boy seated across you doesn’t even flinch. You hate it when Sugawara is right. Even more than you hate when you are wrong, because though Sugawara is humble and caring, there are times (like these) where he is snarky and devilish. He smiles, sipping his water through a straw as he sends you an innocent look.

The worst part of this situation is that you didn’t even have to say anything before Sugawara took one look at you as you walked into the restaurant and gasped before saying, “You do like Hinata!” You rushed over to clap a hand over his mouth, dragging him back toward the table as curious diners turned to glance at the commotion. The flush on your cheeks didn’t disappear for a good 10 minutes, even as you begged Sugawara to shut up about the topic as you ordered your meal. He just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, that same smug smile on his face as the waiter came to take your order.

“Well, I can’t say I don’t approve.” Sugawara says, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Hinata seemed like a lovely boy when we met.”

“You sound like a mom.” He just shrugs, like he can’t deny that fact either. You go back to half-heartedly pushing the noodles across your plate, too distracted to actually eat your food. “And thanks for telling me that you were keeping in touch with him.”

“Ah, you found out?” You don’t know if you should be irritated that Sugawara doesn’t even seem remotely guilty at your words. You send him a glare but he doesn’t seem fazed by it at all. “Well, you would have known eventually. It wasn’t exactly meant to be a secret.”

“But you still didn’t tell me.” You mutter.

“And if I did tell you,” Sugawara says, co*cking his head to the side with a grin, “would you still have let me tell Hinata where you lived?”

The temptation to slam your head into your plate of pasta is very much existent right now. But to save yourself the pain (and embarrassment), you just grumble bitterly into your next mouthful of food. You know that Sugawara’s right; you would have done everything in your ability to prevent Hinata from finding out where you lived. And if Sugawara hadn’t told Hinata that information, he never would have came to your house, never would have been able to give you that gift, never would have made you realize that those feelings you harbour for him are those of admiration and desire.

“And that’s that.” Sugawara finishes his last bite of noodles, placing his fork down on the table. “So, what now?”

“Huh?”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward in your direction. “What are you going to do?”

You scrape the sauce on your plate from one side to the other, thinking back to the phone call you had prior to eating lunch with Sugawara. You wonder if that counts as a ‘something’ and you begrudgingly relay it back to your friend.

Sugawara slams his fist into the table, causing the utensils to clatter against each other. A waiter looks over from where he’s taking another table’s order, giving you two a skeptical look. You sheepishly mouth an apology, turning back to your friend who has his forehead planted against the tablecloth.

“...Sugawara?” You try, not sure whether or not you should say something. “Are you okay?”

He nods, slowly lifting his head. You start to panic when you see glimmers of tears in his eyes – why is he crying, did I say something wrong, what just happened oh god – but the smile on his face quickly erases that fear and turns it into confusion. He wipes the corners of his eyes with the back of his wrists, sniffling slightly as he chuckles lightly to himself. “I’m fine, I just. I’m so happy for you.”

You squirm in your seat at Sugawara’s words. He continues, a small sigh escaping his lips. “I was just surprised. I didn’t think that you two would be celebrating Christmas together, and I had a moment.”

Sugawara has been watching a lot of dramas recently (he even called you once at 3-f*cking-am just to cry about this one character that he’s been in love with) but you know that this is anything but those idealistic portrayals of romance and love. You hope that he’s not...shipping you two, or whatever he had called it when he gushed about the new drama he started last week.

“Okay,” you say.

“Seriously,” he emphasizes, his eyes unwavering from your own, “I really am happy for you, Kageyama. I just want you to be happy.”

“Okay,” You grumble again, embarrassed that you’re even having this conversation in such a public place. You think that you should probably be thanking Sugawara for being there for you, for supporting you, but the embarrassment traps the words inside your throat.

“And if being with Hinata is what makes you happy,” he continues and you nearly choke on your own spit, “then I think that you should go for it.”

You lift the back of your palm to your face to hide the flush on your cheeks, eyes drilling holes into the tablecloth. Discussing this topic in a restaurant is mortifying for you (though you’re pretty sure that you’d be reluctant to have this conversation in private as well) and it takes all of your willpower to not run out of the building, to not try to escape these inevitable feelings. You know that Sugawara is just trying to help, to encourage you to take a step in the right direction, but you’re scared.

“I don’t know,” you mutter from behind your hand, and you really don’t. Pursuing these feelings would mean opening yourself up to Hinata, leaving yourself vulnerable to be broken down and ripped apart, and you don’t know if you can afford for that to happen.

Because Hinata doesn’t know the real you.

He doesn’t know about the endless nights you’ve spent tracking down your targets with a gun.

He doesn’t know that you can slit someone’s throat just as easily as you can lift a finger.

He doesn’t know how capable you are of remaining emotionless as another’s blood spills across the floor.

He doesn’t know a single thing.

And while he may have this idea of you, this impression of who you want yourself to be, it will never compare to the ruthless side of you that kills and kills without hesitation. Being with Hinata – if he were to want you at all – would mean risking not only your own life anymore, but his as well. The assassinations of associates to hitmen in the underground are not as common anymore, but definitely not unheard of. Especially with the developing inner conflict within the H.A. and the chaos currently rising between the different organizations, you would only be putting Hinata in danger if you were to be with him.

And if Hinata were ever hurt because of your association with Karasuno, you don’t think that you would be able to forgive yourself.

I don’t want to lose you.

Sugawara’s expression falls slightly, almost as if he was aware of what you were thinking. And you think he was, by the way he folds his fingers against the table, biting his lip nervously.

“I know things are complicated right now,” he starts, his voice low and serious, “but I don’t want that to affect your decision concerning your feelings for Hinata. I think we’re both aware of the fact that there are risks, and sometimes those risks will be enough to make you want to give up on what you really want. But Kageyama, I don’t want you to sacrifice something potentially good for you out of fear. There are no guarantees in life, especially not in the one that you and I lead, and I can’t promise you that everything will turn out fine in the end. But if you let yourself miss this opportunity, you’ll be eliminating any chance of a positive outcome in the end. And if that were to happen, don’t you think that you would regret losing it in the very beginning?”

Sugawara smiles sadly. His words hit you like a tonne of bricks, your fist clenching where it lies in your lap. Every fear, every insecurity, every doubt you’ve ever had resurfaces and are subsequently washed away by what he said. It’s like reassurance, that those uncertainties and fears you had (and still have) were okay and were normal to be felt. It was like being told that you weren’t strange for feeling this way, for doubting yourself and whether or not you were making the right decisions.

And though those insecurities are still very much present, you feel relieved that Sugawara put enough faith into you to make the right decision, to choose the best path for yourself no matter the inevitable outcome.

And that, you think, is so much more important.

“Okay,” you say quietly, “I...I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” he parrots, pride reflecting in his eyes and a genuine smile on his face. You mumble a quick thank you, but Sugawara just waves it off, gesturing for you to finish off the rest of your pasta. The next couple of minutes are spent forcing the food down your throat as the grey haired boy comments on the weather, ranting about having to salt the sidewalks outside of the Karasuno building. You listen intently as he complains about getting salt stains on the sides of his boots, even smirking when he tells you about how he slipped and fell earlier this morning before the meeting. It’s comfortable like this with Sugawara, and you’re genuinely glad to have him as a friend by your side.

“Soo,” he says after your previous conversation died out, dragging out the word before continuing, “have you decided what to get him yet?”

“What?”

“For Christmas,” Sugawara says, giving you an obvious look. “Do you know what you’re going to give Hinata as a gift?”

Oh.

Right.

Celebrating Christmas means gift exchanging, which means that you’ll have to buy Hinata a gift. Great, yet another thing to think about. You groan, leaning your elbows against the table and your head in your hands. You don’t have a single clue as to what Hinata would possibly want for Christmas and you have literally less than one day to figure it out. Sugawara just smiles, waving his hand to call the waiter and ask for the bill.

“I have no f*cking idea.”

He laughs, handing the waiter a bill and telling him to keep the change when he comes to drop off the receipt. You try to protest and at least pay for your share, but Sugawara shakes his head, no, he’s got it covered.

“Well,” Sugawara stands, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and shrugging it on, “if you’re not busy for the rest of the day, why don’t we go shopping?”

*

There’s a reason why you don’t go shopping with Sugawara very often and yet this is the second time this week you find yourself lugging around someone else’s shopping bags from store to store. When you point out that the original purpose of you two coming shopping was to help you find a gift, he defends himself by shrugging his shoulders and telling you that “sales wait for no one.” He does, however, promise to help you look, but not before skipping happily into the next shop with a 50% off sign.

You’re left sitting at one of the mall benches, Sugawara’s purchases both in your lap and at your feet as you wait for him to finish splurging. It’s a wonder how he even has the money to pay for all of this. The salary of a hitman pays relatively well when missions are completed efficiently, but you didn’t think that Sugawara, who works mainly in the weaponry room, would be able to afford all of these purchases. Maybe he’s getting paid more because he’s been working at Karasuno longer than you have, but you still find it unfair. Ukai, are you skimping out on me...

A Christmas carol suddenly begins playing to your left, and you turn your attention to the commotion. There are several families lined up on a red carpet, children bouncing around happily at their parent’s feet or in their arms. Your eyes follow the line to the front where a large, wreath-decorated gate leads toward a large pile of fake snow. At the base of the pile is a large sleigh attached to 10 electronic reindeer, their legs automatically moving in tandem with one another. And inside the sleigh is Santa Claus himself, a large sack of presents behind him as he waves merrily to the crowd.

The children squeal at the prospect of Santa, practically jumping out of their parents’ grips to try and get a closer look. One by one, they file into the sleigh to take a picture – you suddenly notice the green elves ushering the children and operating the photography sessions – and happily answer Santa’s questions as they sit on his lap. Everyone, including the parents, leaves with a special treat in their hands and smiles on their faces, and the process continues over and over again.

Watching this little mall event unravel leaves you feeling content. Peaceful, even. The small gestures of affection between the families, whether it be the caress of a cheek or a kiss on the nose, give you this strange feeling of comfort. The glimmering lights, the festive music, the chattering crowd. They’re all strikingly familiar, and it takes you a few minutes before you realize why.

It reminds you of the night of your birthday. The evening spent with Hinata under the flashing lights, his hand warm against yours as you watched the blurs of the parade pass you by. The smile on his face as the snow slowly blanketed the ground around you, leaving white flakes against his fiery hair. The pounding of your heart against your chest as your eyes landed on his reddened cheeks, the temptation to reach out and have more invading your senses.

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. You’ve gotten somewhat used to these sudden flashbacks now, but they still manage to have the same effect on you as the very first time it happened. Maybe they’ll go away one day, you muse.

“Kageyama!” Sugawara calls out to you from the store he just left. There are three more bags slung across his wrists, and you let out a groan.

“More?” You say exasperatedly when he makes his way over to where you’re seated.

“Yes, more.” He nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. You roll your eyes before handing him his share of bags to hold. Sugawara takes them happily and you both continue down the mall hallway.

As you pass by several other stores in the mall, Sugawara points out the different sales in each store and where to find the best deals at each part of the shopping season. When you ask about the difference between shopping at this time of the year compared to any other time, he sends you a dirty look and you vow to never speak of that ever again.

It’s later as you’re glancing around the mall (Sugawara had bounded off somewhere again, pushing his bags into your hands as he declared that he needed to go buy something else) when your eyes lie coincidentally on a particular store. You’re not sure what had drawn your attention to it, maybe it was the red poster on the window, or maybe it was the sign pointing into the store.

But you see it.

Displayed in the window of that very shop, you see the object and immediately think, that’s it. That’s the one.

That’s the gift I’m going to give to Hinata.

With all of the bags in your arms, you run inside the shop, frantically trying to find a worker to ask about the item you saw on display. Luckily, the employee confirms that they do still have one left in stock and you nearly sigh in relief. He rings you up at the register and you give him your card, a feeling of satisfaction washing over you as he hands you your receipt. They ask if you would like your purchase to be wrapped at no extra cost, and you nod excitedly. You don’t think you’ve ever been this determined to get someone a gift, but the moment you saw it, you knew it would be perfect.

In a few minutes, they hand you a colourful gift bag, a decorative box inside of it with a red ribbon wrapped delicately around the sides. You thank them once more before leaving the shop, meeting up just in time with Sugawara at the trash can you were originally standing at. He takes one look at the bag in your hands and smiles before asking, “You found it?”

“Yeah,” you say, clutching the drawstrings of the bag tighter in your hands, “I got it.”

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

There’s always a choice, but it’s up to you to make the decision.

That’s what Sugawara told you once, years ago when you lived in black and white, scraping by with the coins in your pocket and the shoes on your feet, your only comfort being the dagger hidden underneath your sleeves. You wonder if maybe you should have listened as your knife sank deeper into skin, spilling blood upon your hands that crusted under your nails, never completely washing away as you tried to scrub and scrub the memories away. It was painful, still is today, but you could never really let go of that part of you, the voice in your head that said you’d be okay, you weren’t crazy for doing this, you could still go back to the world you’ve always wanted to be a part of.

But in reality, nothing is ever that easy.

If you could go back to that day, that day you’ll never forget for the rest of your life, you think you could probably list over a hundred things you would have done differently. Then maybe you wouldn’t have had to sacrifice so much of yourself into your work, fingers much too accustomed to the pull of a trigger. Then maybe you wouldn’t have this irrational fear that the blood you’ve shed would come back to haunt you, surround you, drown you in this irrevocable guilt. Then maybe you wouldn’t have had to worry about keeping up this facade that you were fine, that being a murderer didn’t affect you, that this was something you could do for the rest of your life.

You could list a hundred reasons why things would be so much better if that day didn’t go the way it had.

But, for every reason why things would be better, there was another for why it would be worse. Maybe you never would have been able to call Sugawara your friend, never would have broken out of the small bubble you used to call your world. Maybe you never would have been able to start anew, experience what it’s like to stand on your own, moving forward with your eyes set only on what’s in front of you. Maybe you never would have had the chance to see the world for what it really is, behind the white lies you were told as a child, pushing through the path you’ve set on until your fingers finally touch the light beyond your reach.

And maybe, you think...

Maybe you never would have been so lucky to have had Hinata in your life.

*

You stare at the decorative gift bag in your hands, eyes stinging slightly from having not blinked in a few minutes. It stares back, practically mocking you with its bright colours and festive design. This is somewhat pathetic, glaring at an inanimate object for no good reason, but ever since you brought that gift home with you, it hasn’t left your mind.

Running a hand through your hair, you let out a sigh. Maybe buying Hinata this gift wasn’t a good idea. Maybe buying Hinata a gift at all wasn’t a good idea. Though at the time you were so confident that yes, this was the perfect gift, now you’re not so sure. You don’t know Hinata well enough to judge if he would actually really enjoy the present, and you’re starting to second guess yourself. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he thinks it’s stupid? What if-

You shake your head, turning your attention away from the bag; you shouldn’t be thinking like this, not when you’ve already made the purchase. Besides, Sugawara had insisted (quite animatedly, too) that it would be perfect for Hinata when you told him what it was. And as much as you are sceptical about this entire situation, you do trust your grey-haired friend’s judgement.

Okay, you decide, I won’t worry about this anymore.

...You tell that to yourself with honest intentions, but you can’t help but continue to fret over it. You lean your hands on your kitchen counter, back bent slightly forward as your head dips in frustration. It’s annoying to feel like this, you think.

It’s annoying to like someone, you correct yourself.

Because if this were anyone else (not that you’d be buying gifts for random people), you know that you wouldn’t be this concerned over whether or not they would like the gift. But because it is Hinata – the one that wormed his way into your life, the one that makes you feel at home, the one that you have feelings for – you can’t rid yourself of the anticipation and frustration that comes with wanting to make him happy.

A strangled noise unwillingly escapes your lips. These thoughts, these feelings... They’re no longer foreign to you, but that doesn’t stop your heart from pounding from excitement, doesn’t stop that wave of warmth that crashes through your body. With a grunt, you push yourself away from the counter, glancing at the clock in your kitchen as you do. It’s just past 7pm, so Hinata should be here soon (and you’ll deny that you’ve been checking the clock constantly throughout the day, willing with your eyes for the minute hand to move faster).

You pull out your phone from your pants pocket, unlocking it to check your inbox. There aren’t any new messages, not since the last one Hinata sent you a few hours ago saying that he had ‘picked up a little surprise for tonight!’ You had sent a reply with a tone of coolness, inevitably hiding the anticipation you felt when you saw the word “surprise.” And it’s not like you had spent the past few hours thinking of what that surprise could be, no, of course not. You definitely spent your time wisely, cleaning up your already spotless apartment without any thoughts concerning what Hinata had in mind.

Definitely.

(Not.)

Your phone buzzes noisily in your hand. It’s a new text from Hinata, and you open it quickly to read his message.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: None (7:08pm)
almost ther e

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:None (7:09pm)
Ok.

He’s almost here. Your entire body practically vibrates with that thought, and it takes you a few deep breaths to calm down again. You suddenly begin to fret over every little misplaced detail; the dishrag sitting in the sink, that strange stain on your wall. You move to go fix the things that you can, but your eyes catch on the gift bag still sitting on the corner of the counter. Head flitting left to right, you try to think of where you can hide the gift until later tonight. Eventually, you settle for placing it atop your bedroom drawer where Hinata most likely will not be able to find it.

Five minutes and one vacuuming session later, you hear a knock on your door. You make an effort to not answer the door too fast, counting to five before making your way over. The lock clicks open as you twist it, and when you open the door, you’re greeted with the sight of Hinata in his signature green parka, dark navy jeans and black boots. His hair is dusted slightly with snow, cheeks pink from the biting cold. He smiles when he sees you, eyes crinkling at the corners. You’re tempted to brush your hand across his cheek and envelope him in this overwhelming warmth you feel, but there are more important things at the moment.

Like that god damned Christmas tree in his hands.

“Hey Kageyama!” He says, poking his head around the branches. “I’m here!”

“Yeah, I see that,” you say, resisting the urge to put your palm to your forehead. You step to the side, letting the orange haired boy in. The tree nearly whacks you in the face when he passes you by and Hinata giggles when he hears you swear underneath your breath. You’ve had him in your apartment once before, but it still feels strange to see Hinata step inside so comfortably, toeing off his boots and pushing them onto the shoe tray. Feels too normal for this to be out of routine, feels too safe for this to be a risk, feels too different. Hinata’s all smiles and excitement, even as you follow him inside, eyeing the tree warily. “What’s with the tree...?”

“Hm?” He pipes up, turning his head toward you. The pure excitement and innocence in his eyes practically amplifies as he continues. “It’s Christmas Eve! We can’t just not have a tree.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, thinking back to the text he sent earlier. “So I’m guessing this was the surprise?”

“Yep!” Hinata nods, placing the tree down for a moment to shrug off his backpack. He sets it down near your couch before unzipping his jacket. Hinata pulls his arms out of his sleeves, leaving himself in a bright yellow hoodie. You think that it suits him, that sweater, with how its colour seems to match the personality of the wearer so well (but you don’t bring that up). “This was an old tree that no one at my residence wanted anymore, so they let me take it.”

After he’s placed his jacket on top of his backpack, he picks the tree back up and asks, “So, where can I set this up?”

“You didn’t have to,” you say awkwardly. And he really didn’t. You knew that you two would be essentially ‘celebrating Christmas’ when he had asked you to, but you didn’t know that it would include having to set up a tree.

“I know,” he says, heaving the tree to an empty corner of your apartment, “but I wanted to.”

An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you watch him carry the green monstrosity. What if he drops it is the thought that compels you to walk over and offer a hand, but Hinata stubbornly refuses, tells you that he’s capable of doing it himself. And just as he says that, Hinata trips over his own feet, but you reach out to grab both his arm and that stupid tree before they both hit the ground. You ignore the heat seeping through your fingers from the contact to shoot him a wary look. He laughs sheepishly before he gladly accepts your help to set the tree down.

Once the tree is placed correctly in the corner – Hinata had complained about the tree not facing the right direction, but how stupid is that, it’s a tree, literally every part of it looks the exact same – he skips back to his backpack to rummage around for something. You crouch down to sit on the floor, back leaning against the wall. Your hand still tingles from the warmth as you watch Hinata pull out a colourful container. It jingles as he shuffles back over, sitting down next to you on the floor.

“Now we have to decorate!” Hinata exclaims, a child-like grin on his face. He crosses and uncrosses his legs in excitement, opening the container to reveal a large assortment of ornaments and garlands. You reach in to pull out one in curiosity. Your reflection stares back at you through the glassy material, and you’re suddenly reminded of that orange ornament from weeks ago that’s still hung on your bathroom door.

You try to fight down the flush on your cheeks from your memory. Glancing over at Hinata, he seems to be too preoccupied with picking out the best possible decorations to notice the heat radiating from your face. Good, because you don’t think you’d be able to explain why you’ve turned a colour similar to that of a tomato without thoroughly embarrassing yourself.

But as you reach in to help Hinata lay the garland atop of the branches, you wonder if maybe you should go grab the ornament and hang it up on this tree. That’s what ornaments are for, right? Not for sitting unused on your bathroom doorknob, but for decorating Christmas trees. It makes sense to do so, but a part of you is too embarrassed to go get it. Maybe because then you’d have to relive the memory of that very first evening you and Hinata spent together, back when you were more strangers than friends, back when you had no idea that you would eventually develop feelings for this orange haired boy. Maybe because you don’t know what kind of reaction Hinata would have when he finds out that you kept that very first gift he gave you, whether he would be shocked, whether he would feel uncomfortable, whether he would flash that smile you can’t help but adore.

“Kageyama?” Hinata calls your name out of the blue. With a silent groan, you realize that you just spaced out as you got lost in your thoughts, staring wordlessly at the tiles on your floor.

“Ah, yeah, here.” You say as you hand him the next ornament from the box. He looks at you curiously before taking it from your hands. Rubbing the back of your neck, you pull out the next garland and begin wrapping it about the tree. I need to stop getting distracted.

Around a half hour later, the tree is fully decorated. It’s not a very tall Christmas tree, standing at about 4 feet at the most, but the wide branches had left more than enough space for the decorations. Later, you’ll wonder why you had taken time out of your day to do something as meaningless as this, but you’re distracted by something else; the desire to see that orange ornament hung up upon this tree increases as you stare at it, feeling as though there’s something missing from the entire piece.

“Wait,” you tell Hinata before picking yourself up and making your way over to the bathroom. It’s that same desire from before that convinces you to remove the orange ornament from its original position on the doorknob and bring it back over to where Hinata is seated next to the tree. He co*cks his head, not yet noticing the ornament in your hands as he asks what you went to go do. You don’t reply, instead choosing to wordlessly hang the orange ornament on the last empty spot on the tree, avoiding any eye contact at all costs.

You can feel your ears begin to heat up. Hinata hasn’t said anything, and you’re much too embarrassed to look and check for his reaction. And yet, even though you know that looking at Hinata right now would send you into a blushing mess, your curiosity gets the better of you and your eyes land back on Hinata’s face.

He has the back of his palm pressed lightly to his mouth, covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are wide but averted to the ground, opposite of where you’re currently seated. Normally, you wouldn’t think much of this. Though it is different from how Hinata normally acts – practically bubbling with excitement and radiating sunshine – that’s not the part you suddenly find yourself drawn to. Not his aversion of attention, not his hiding behind his hand, but the colour of red dusting across his cheeks, burning bright as it travels down to what you can see of his neck.

And seeing Hinata, flushed skin and embarrassed expression, causes your own blush to increase even further. Out of all the possibilities, you didn’t expect that this would happen; that Hinata’s face would redden just as much as yours, that he’d be embarrassed to the point of silence. But the question is, why?

“Y-You still- I didn’t think,” Hinata finally stutters out before you get a chance to continue with that thought. He brings the hand covering his face back down to his lap, twiddling his fingers nervously. “You still have that?”

“Uh,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly, “yeah. I kept it.” You begin to wonder if maybe you shouldn’t have made that decision, shouldn’t have brought the ornament over, shouldn’t have reminded Hinata of that day, shouldn’t have f*cked up-

“Oh,” Hinata breathes, the blush on his face clearing up slightly. He scratches his palm with his fingers, shoulders relaxing slightly. There’s a slight pause before he crawls forward toward the tree, reaching for the ornament you just hung up. Hinata cradles it in his hand, the decoration jingling slightly as he turns it from side to side. He turns to you after what feels like a century, finally meeting your eyes again before giving you a soft smile and saying, “Okay. I’m glad.”

You don’t say anything in response, settling for the nod of your head. You can’t say anything, not when it feels like you’ve been rendered completely speechless, not when your heart feels like it’s going to explode from your chest, not when your mind replays that soft smile over and over in your head, not when the giver of that smile is seated so close in front of you, still looking at you with that grin, so close that if you reached out you could run your hands through his hair, press your palm to his rosy cheeks, intertwine your fingers with his own, do everything and anything you’ve been yearning for.

But you know that you can’t.

Because it’s not your place to seek Hinata’s affections for your own, not your place to call him yours, not your place to ruin the friendship you’ve built with him. You know this, you know this, you know this, you’ve told yourself this so many times, and yet the feeling doesn’t go away, doesn’t diminish, doesn’t cease to exist. Your stomach sinks, a painful tightness rising in your throat. It hurts to know, to understand that this desire you feel can’t be replaced with what you truly want.

(It’s suffocating, how much I want you.)

You’re brought back to reality when Hinata suddenly stands, moving over to his backpack near your couch. He digs around again – you wonder just exactly how much stuff he has in there – before turning to you with both hands still inside the largest pocket.

“Do you have anything else you want to do?” Hinata asks, his complexion now back to normal and tone just as bubbly as it was when he first arrived.

“No,” You say. You’re still confused as to why Hinata had blushed so vigorously when he saw the ornament he gave you, but if he’s going to drop it, you figure that you should as well. “Why?”

With a grin, Hinata pulls out a rectangular cardboard box from his bag. From what you can see, there’s a picture of some sort of baked good on the box. Hinata waves it to you, sending you a mischievous grin. “Wanna make cookies?”

*

“...Oi, are cookies supposed to look like that?”

“Uh.”

“I mean,” you say, picking up one of the charcoal crisps and eyeing it warily, “I’ve never made cookies before but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how it works.”

“H-Hey, you were the one who was supposed to check that we were following the directions properly!”

“I did, dumbass!”

Hinata pouts, swiping the cookie – or whatever that thing is – from your hands. “Then why’d they turn out like this?!”

“I don’t know, it was your stupid idea, okay?!”

Hinata’s expression falls slightly at your words. You suddenly feel guilty; you shouldn’t have said that. He was probably just trying to find a way for you two to hang out and have fun, not for things to turn out like this. You don’t want Hinata to feel bad about this, so before he can put the cookie back onto the tray, you swipe the cookie from his hands and take a bite out of it.

His eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, don’t eat that! We should throw those out.”

“It’s fine,” you say around the burnt crisp in your mouth, “it’s not that bad.” And really, that’s not a lie because they’re not horrible, it’s just that you’d really, really prefer not to be eating it.

“No, don’t,” Hinata protests, taking the rest of the cookie from your hand and immediately placing it with the others to throw out, “we can make another batch. There’s still enough cookie dough left, so let’s get it right this time.”

“Fine,” you say, pretending that you didn’t notice the slight brush of his fingers against your own, because you definitely didn’t.

“Okay, let’s try this again!” Hinata grabs the box, carefully reading over the instructions listed on the side. You take the tray of burnt cookies and throw them out, scraping off the burnt crisps stuck to the bottom. Honestly, you didn’t expect for them to turn out that bad. Even if it was both of your first times baking them, you had heard (from Sugawara) that making cookies was relatively easy. Apparently not, you think as Hinata asks you what the difference is between a teaspoon and a tablespoon.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, “I think one is bigger.”

“Okay yeah,” Hinata says, hand on his hip and eyebrow raised sarcastically, “but which one is it?”

You shrug, mumbling as you go back to cleaning the cookie tray. “Just look it up or something.”

“My hands are dirty!”

“So? Wash them.”

“But I’m already working on the next batch.” Hinata whines.

“ God, just,” you put the tray down on the counter and walk over to where Hinata’s standing with his cookie dough. Opening a drawer near his side, you pull out the first spoon you see and hand it to him. “Use this.”

Hinata pouts, and at this point you absolutely refuse to think that it’s cute. “But what if that’s not the right one?”

“Who cares? It’ll probably taste the same anyway, right?”

“...Okaaay fine.” His shoulders slump as he turns back to the cookie dough, muttering something about preheating the oven. The small downturn on his lips is still visible, and you flick Hinata once on the forehead to wipe the pout off his face. He flinches, yelping a small “hey!” before elbowing you in the side in retaliation. It hurts more than you thought it would’ve, and your eye twitches slightly as you elbow Hinata back. After he recovers from the jab, you watch as he reaches to his side to grab a handful of cookie dough and smother it into your face.

“Y-You,” you spit, chocolate chip dough still stuck to parts of your cheek, “you little f*cking-”

Quickly reaching behind to grab the cookie dough, you return the favour to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Hinata splutters when you shove it onto his nose, complaining that he can’t breathe before swiping the batter off and throwing it back at you. It hits you on your cheek, the impact causing you to flinch as Hinata points and laughs at your expression.

“Oh my god,” he chokes out, holding his stomach with one hand as a grin splits across his face.

“Shut the f*ck up,” you bite out as you peel the dough off your face and throw it back, hitting Hinata smack on the middle of his forehead. He lets out an “oof,” and you have to bite back a laugh when you see Hinata stumble back into the counter. But that doesn’t last very long before your face is met with the rest of the cookie dough flying directly at you.

“Oi!” You say as the dough plops loudly onto the ground. Hinata just laughs louder, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he tries to avoid your attempts to throw pieces of the cookie dough back at him. He runs from the kitchen and you follow, dough in hand as you chase him behind the counter, around the couch, and into your bathroom.

“Oh sh*t,” Hinata says when he realizes he’s led himself to a dead end. Without thinking, you run forward to throw the rest of the cookie dough in Hinata’s face. It hits him straight on like you had planned, but your momentum from the chase sends you flying forward into Hinata, causing him to backpedal and knock his knees against the back of your bathtub. He yelps as he stumbles in, bringing you along with him. Luckily, you manage to not hit your head on your way down, but when you look down and realize the situation you’re in, you suddenly begin to feel dizzy.

Hinata has his back and hands pressed against the side of the bath tub, knees hanging out of the other side. One of your own knees is between his legs, your hands splayed in front of you on the wall. You’re looming over Hinata as he glances up at you, his face just inches away from your own. Your head is tilted downward as you meet his eyes, finding it increasingly difficult to look away from the burning embers and orange. There’s still cookie dough on his cheeks, even some stuck to the ends of his hair, and you’re tempted to reach out and take it off. You’re mesmerized by the colour of his eyes, his peachy complexion, the silk-like locks of his hair. It isn’t long before your eyes flit down to his lips, the same ones that always send you that smile you adore, and you suddenly think of how easy would it be for you to close the inches between you two with a single-

“Er,” he says, cheeks flushing slightly beneath the cookie dough, and all those previous thoughts suddenly throw themselves out the window as you stumble backward and out of the tub. Oh god, you think as you put a respectable distance between yourself and Hinata, trying to look casual as you stagger to your feet.

“Uh. Sorry.” You say awkwardly, mentally berating yourself for being so reckless, for losing so much control over yourself to the point where you almost-

Almost kissed Hinata.

“It- It’s okay.” Hinata laughs, though you think it sounds more nervous than usual. He sits in the tub for a moment longer before reaching a hand out in your direction. It takes you a second for the action to register in your head, but you take his hand and help pull him out of the tub. You try to ignore the sparks you feel when his palm presses against your own, the heat similar to that of the night of your birthday. He stands up, letting go of your hand as he rubs the back of his neck. Disappointment rushes through your body as you find yourself immediately missing the feeling of his hand in yours. Desire.

“Okay,” you say for lack of words. Keeping your eyes off Hinata is becoming an increasingly difficult task as he peels the rest of the cookie dough off his face, eating some in the process. His eyes flit over to yours, most likely looking at the dough on your own face.

“So,” Hinata starts, a small grin appearing on his face, “looks like we can’t make another batch of cookies anymore.”

And you don’t know why, but that little comment causes a small smile to split on your lips. Just the pure casualness of Hinata’s words makes you feel light-hearted, like this mess you’ve made was normal, like this was something you both could have done again, like this laughter between you two was routine that you wouldn’t mind doing over and over again. And when Hinata sees the rare smile on your face, he only grins brighter.

“Yeah,” you agree, sighing as you look at the amount of cookie dough scattered across your bathroom alone, “I guess we can’t.”

Hinata giggles, offhandedly commenting about the state of both the bathroom and the kitchen. You glance out the door and grumble when you see dough stuck in places that dough should never be stuck in.

“You’re helping me clean,” you say as you walk past Hinata and out the door to grab a roll of paper towels.

“But it’s Christmas!” Hinata complains from behind you, following anyway and complying as you hand him the roll.

“Yes, it is Christmas, and now we have to clean.” Luckily, Hinata doesn’t protest any further and makes his way over to begrudgingly start picking out the bits of dough from your couch. He does, however, pull out his phone and blast a Christmas carol at the maximum volume.

“Why,” you groan as Jingle Bell Rock floods your apartment. It’s not like you’ve ever had anything against Christmas music, but at this point you’re really not in the mood for this song.

“Because it’s Christmas, and we’re cleaning.” Hinata sasses you, waggling his paper towel of cookie dough in your direction. You ignore it, moving instead to peel another patch of dough off the dishwasher. How did I end up liking someone so completely from myself?

Later when your apartment is pristine again (you had to make Hinata clean the bathroom 3 times because he kept missing certain spots), you check the time. It’s almost 9:30pm, and you’re shocked with how fast time had passed. You mention this to Hinata, and he just smiles before saying “And isn’t this better than not celebrating Christmas at all?”

You can’t deny that, but you refuse to agree to it either. You mutter out a “whatever,” hoping that he’ll drop the topic. Fortunately, he does, instead suggesting that you two watch a movie.

It’s half an hour into Insidious when you realize that you should stop listening to Hinata’s suggestions. You don’t know how he had convinced you that watching a scary movie was a good idea, especially not when Hinata won’t shut up about what’s going on in every scene (“Did you see that?!” “He’s going to die, oh god, he’s going to die.” “Why is the dad- OH sh*t NO NOT THE KID!”). But as much as you’d mock Hinata for being flinching every five minutes in the movie, you can’t say that you aren’t focused on it as well. There are even a few parts that cause you to jump, and if Hinata sees you hide behind your hands, you’d never admit it.

“Okay,” Hinata says after the final scene, his voice shaking slightly, “maybe we shouldn’t have watched that.”

“Yeah,” you agree, heart pounding from the jump scare that got you just a few seconds ago. Hinata laughs sheepishly before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. The room dims immediately, the only light radiating from the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room. You find yourself drawn to the glow of Hinata’s face as he gets up from the couch, glancing over at the clock.

“I didn’t think the movie would be that long.” Hinata says, stretching his arms above his head. A sliver of skin peaks out from where his sweater rises, forcing you to avert your eyes. If you hadn’t, you have no doubt that you would’ve blushed deeper than crimson, and you’d have no way to explain it.

“Me neither,” you say as evenly as you can. Glancing around your apartment, your eyes land on your bedroom door and you suddenly remember the gift still sitting on top of your drawer. It’s at least past 11 at this point, and you figure that now is as good of a time as ever to give Hinata the gift. You crawl up from the couch, calling out to the orange haired boy.

“Hinata,” he turns at the sound of his name, eyes wide and curious, and it takes every ounce of your strength to not go over by his side and envelope him in your arms. “Wait here. I’ll. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Huh?” Hinata raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just,” you say, gesturing helplessly at the Christmas tree, “sit there.”

With a confused expression, Hinata complies. You disappear into your bedroom, taking a deep breath as you reach for the bag on top of your drawer. Your fingers clench around the drawstrings as you take a deep breath. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

When you walk back into the living room, Hinata’s sitting with his back against the wall, legs tucked up toward his chest. He has one hand reached out toward the tree, and when you step closer, you realize it’s the orange ornament he gave you that’s currently in his hands. You can’t even begin to wonder what could explain that fond look on his face as he runs the pads of his fingers across the ornament, a soft smile on his face. Halting your steps, you almost don’t want to speak out in fear of stopping this image in front of you. Hinata’s face glows against the warm Christmas lights, illuminating his features even further. You’re tempted to just continue staring, filing this moment away in your memory, until Hinata turns his head and sees you standing in the hall.

“Ah,” he says, his hand retracting from the ornament almost lightning fast, “you should’ve said something if you were back.”

“I was gonna,” but I got distracted, you add on in your head. You wonder why Hinata had flinched away from the tree so suddenly when he noticed you, like it was fire and he was at risk of being burnt. But you ignore it for now, too occupied with how Hinata’s eyes trail down and land on the bag you’re holding in your hands.

You sit down in front of him, cross legged as you slide the gift bag toward him. This is embarrassing, you think as Hinata’s expression changes from confusion to shock, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him any further when you mutter a soft, “Merry Christmas.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath. Hinata splutters for a second before yelping, “F-For me?”

“Who else do you think?” You growl, mortified that you’re even doing this right now. It’s painstakingly awkward as you wait for Hinata to register your words, carefully pulling the bag into his lap.

“I,” Hinata starts, and when you glance back at his face, you swear his face is almost as red as yours, “but I didn’t- I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s fine,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck, your voice trailing off as you add on, “you bought me a birthday gift before, so...”

“B-But they’re different! I can’t-”

“Just take it, okay?!” You snap embarrassedly, and Hinata mutters a quick agreement before his hands slide to the opening of the bag. Earlier, you had taped the bag shut, and you nearly snort when Hinata complains about not being able to peel it off. He eventually succeeds though, pulling out the wrapped gift inside.

You hold your breath as he nimbly tears away at the wrapping paper to reveal an antique-looking Polaroid camera. His eyes widen when he realizes just exactly what is in his hands, and he turns to you with bewilderment.

“I know it’s kind of random,” you blurt out suddenly, feeling like you owe some sort of explanation for the gift, “but it just felt right.”

What you won’t tell Hinata is that you knew it’d be perfect for him because of the way you’ve noticed how he looks at the world like it’s constantly changing, never stopping for anyone. You’ve noticed how Hinata always reaches out to glance in every direction, both the past and the present. You’ve noticed how Hinata laughs at every memory, every moment to make the best of it. You’ve noticed a lot of things about Hinata, if you really think about it.

And you wonder if it was too much for you to assume that those little things were a sign that Hinata wanted to preserve the memories he’s made, holding onto every last moment that he’s experienced. You wonder if it was pretentious to assume that maybe Hinata would want a way to remember those memories in a tangible way, instead of storing it away for years of age to wear them down.

But maybe you weren’t wrong, by the way Hinata’s face lights up as he cradles the camera in his hands. You nearly breathe out a sigh of relief, unclenching your fists that you didn’t realize you had tightened as you waited for his reaction. But you think, even if it weren’t for that exact reason, you’re still glad that the gift was able to put a smile on his face and make him happy.

“T-Thank you,” Hinata says quietly, smiling down at the Polaroid. “I really like it.”

“No problem,” you mutter. This feeling in your chest, one of lightness and satisfaction... You wonder if this is normal when someone appreciates something you’ve done for them. You wouldn’t know, you were never really one to give gifts, but if just this is what it takes to put a smile on Hinata’s face and give yourself a sense of happiness, you think that you’d do it much more often.

“Wait, wasn’t this expensive?!” Hinata yells suddenly. Well, it is a camera so it wasn’t exactly cheap, but the little shop at the mall had given you a fairly reasonable discount. And besides, your job pays more than reasonably well, so it isn’t a major dent in your bank account.

You nonchalantly wave your hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it?! This must’ve cost a lot of money!”

“And what, like that laptop you bought me didn’t cost a lot of money?”

“That’s different since I, y’know. Broke it.” Hinata still looks bothered by the money issue, and you really wish that he wouldn’t.

“I told you not to worry about it,” you repeat, “this was my decision. So don’t get upset about it, stupid.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but by the way his shoulders relax, you assume he’s let it go.

“Then,” Hinata starts, “let’s take a picture!”

You’re taken aback by Hinata’s words. “What?”

“Let’s take a picture!” He repeats, his voice practically bubbling in excitement. “That’s what cameras are for, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, blushing slightly as Hinata scooches over to your side. He sits next to you, his arm nearly grazing your own as he holds the camera out in front of the both of you. You try to protest – you’re not really one for taking pictures – but Hinata isn’t hearing it, and swats your hand away when you try to flick him on the forehead.

“How do you work this thing,” he mutters as he plays around with the camera, fumbling to find the button. You take it from his hands, pointing out how the functions work. The employee at the store had explained it to you as they wrapped the gift, and now you’re glad that you listened. “Okay!” Hinata says, nodding once he understands how to use the camera. “Ready? 1...2...3... Cheese!”

A bright flash blinds you momentarily before you hear a small whirring noise. You glance down to watch a white piece of film slide out from the bottom of the Polaroid and into Hinata’s hands. He squints at the image, a large smile settling on his face when he’s satisfied with the picture.

“Wow, the quality is really nice!” He exclaims, waving the slip in your face. You take it from his hands, and you’re not surprised by how typical the image is. Hinata’s got a peace sign up, a wide grin splitting his face. It’s strange to see yourself in a picture, but you think that the deadpan look on your face reflects your typical expression fairly well. Hinata points this out, complaining that you weren’t smiling in the picture. You ignore him though in favour of focusing on the rest of the picture. The tree is noticeable behind you two, the light glowing warmly in the background. You can see the orange ornament peeking out from behind your shoulders, and for some reason you’re glad that it’s present.

He takes the image back from your hands and places it atop the tree. “There! Now it’s complete.”

Hinata turns back to you with a smile, and you can’t help but return one back. It’s nice, you think, to just spend time with him, even if what you’re doing doesn’t exactly have any particular meaning. You haven’t done this in a while, hanging out with someone you genuinely enjoy being around. And you think that if this were to happen more often, you wouldn’t mind if it were with Hinata.

(I like you too much.)

And even an hour later, as Hinata puts his coat back on, shoulders his backpack and slides on his boots, you can’t help but wish that he didn’t have to leave. The word stay hangs unspoken on your lips as Hinata thanks you again for the gift, wishing you a Merry Christmas before disappearing out of your apartment. The door shuts with a click, and you’re left with a feeling of emptiness. You lean your back against the wall, glancing into the space where Hinata used to be. Even with the same Christmas tree, same decorations, same place, it doesn’t feel right without Hinata here with you.

f*ck, you swear, because you’re getting attached – no, you’ve already gotten far beyond attached – and you don’t know if there’s going to be a way to go back. Returning to the life you led before Hinata is almost unimaginable, and your chest tightens when you think of not being able to see Hinata by your side anymore. It hurts, because you don’t want that, f*ck, I don’t want that.

Because even though he’s not by definition yours, he was able to find a place inside your heart and mind, where no one else has been able to before. And that makes you feel things beyond your comprehension, and infinitely beyond your own control.

(Won’t you stay by my side?)

...

...Maybe one day.

Maybe one day, you’ll feel confident enough to wholly and completely embrace these feelings inside of you.

Maybe one day, you’ll be able to tell Hinata how you feel, how much you feel, and how much you want to have him in your life.

And maybe one day, just maybe...

He’d ask to stay by your side as well.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

To warm sheets and white skies, you wake up sick on Christmas day.

Your throat kills, like acid burning down the tract, and when you press a hand to your forehead, the scorching heat causes your fingers to flinch. f*ck, you think as you push yourself up, leaning your weight on your elbows. A dizzy spell hits you immediately after, and you just barely manage not to fall back against your pillow again. Maybe you should have grabbed that extra comforter last night; it was a lot colder than you thought it would’ve been.

It takes twice as long for you to crawl out of bed, mostly because of the wave of nausea that washes over you when you try to stand up. Getting sick was never something you were prone to, but when you did, it hit you harder than anyone else. You rub a finger across your nose, grimacing when you feel something wet. Snot, you realize, and a lot of it.

You trudge your way to your bathroom, shivering when your bare feet press against cold, tiled floor. It’s the determination to not get sicker that keeps you from passing out on the spot as you blow your nose. I feel like sh*t, you think as you glance at your reflection in the mirror, and look like sh*t. Your skin looks ghostly pale under the dim lighting, and the dark spots under your eyes make you look even more tired than you feel.

Medicine would probably be a good idea but when you check your kitchen, you can’t find any. It’s a curse, you think, that your immune system is good enough to not need to buy medicine very often, which leads to things like these happening. You close the cupboard with a strained sigh, vowing to make a trip to the pharmacy later. Instead, you settle for boiling yourself some water to soothe the ache in your throat.

As you sit at the counter with a mug in your hands, you regret falling asleep last night with only a single comforter on. It was the thinner one too, but you were too lazy to grab the other from the couch. Besides, you were kind of preoccupied last night with... other things to pay attention to something as minimal as that.

You nearly spill your drink when the memories of last night come flooding back. Decorating that tree that still sits in the corner of your apartment, trying to bake those long forgotten cookies, watching Hinata’s face light up as he opened your gift; just being able to celebrate Christmas Eve with Hinata in general.

“I really like it.”

He said, and you have to bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment. It’s insane, you think, how giddy this makes you, how goddamned happy and relieved you are that Hinata liked the gift. And even through the sickness, the elation washes strong throughout your body, leaving you with a feeling of lightness. You think that this feeling could overcome anything, no matter how crappy you’re currently feeling, but a dizzy spell soon proves you wrong when you try to get up from your chair.

“f*ck,” you swear as you quickly grab onto the countertop, leaning your weight on your hands as the room spins. This isn’t good, you think as your vision resettles. You didn’t think it’d be this bad – maybe if you woke yourself up, you’d feel less like sh*t – but that clearly isn’t working. It’d probably be a good idea to go back to bed, maybe sleep this off, but you’re not too keen on burning daylight. There are other things you should be doing with your time, but the inviting thought of crawling back into your sheets is much too overwhelming.

And so you do just that, barely making it back to your bed without throwing up. You let out a sigh of relief when your head hits the pillow, relishing in the comfort. It’s kind of pathetic how you couldn’t even stay awake for more than half an hour, but the pounding in your head is more than enough reason to collapse back into bed.

You set an alarm on your phone before shutting your eyes, quickly falling back asleep.

*

Three hours later, after you’ve woken up and trudged over to Karasuno, you still feel fairly sh*tty. Not nearly as bad as you did when the first time you woke up, but the feeling of grogginess and discomfort is still present. You would’ve stayed inside today, but Sugawara texted you (aside from the Merry Christmas greeting) to get to Karasuno as soon as possible for another meeting. You do remember Ukai calling a meeting not too long ago, and you wonder what they’ve found after such a short period of time.

The automatic doors slide open when you step in front of the main entrance, and Sugawara waves at you from the couch in the front foyer. His smile quickly dissipates into a frown, probably because he’s noticed how unwell you look.

“I’m fine,” you croak out before Sugawara can open his mouth to speak. He shoots you a disapproving glare as he walks over to your side.

“You’re not fine, ” Sugawara stresses, pressing the back of his palm to your forehead, “you’re practically freezing!”

You can’t help but wish that it was someone else’s hand pressed against your skin, but you suppress that thought before it gets out of hand. “I was just outside.”

“It doesn’t matter if you were just outside, Kageyama,” Sugawara says, and it’s times like these where he’s nagging you that you really think he thinks he’s your mom as well, “you’re still sick!”

“I’m not sick.” You try to protest, but the hazardous cough that leaves your chest is more than enough for Sugawara to not believe your words.

“Yes, you are. How many times have I told you to be careful about your health?” Throwing his hands up in the air, Sugawara lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know you don’t get sick very often, but that’s not an excuse to not take care of yourself.”

“I know,” you say guiltily, suddenly remembering sleepless nights and cold, pale hands, “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Your grey-haired friend pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. But you’re not allowed to take any missions today, understood?”

“But-”

“No buts.” Sugawara cuts you off, turning his back to you and walking toward the elevator. “If you’re not in optimal condition on a mission, you’re putting not only yourself at risk, but the entire job as well.”

You grumble in response, knowing that trying to argue with Sugawara after he’s come to a decision would lead to nowhere. He smiles at your silence, hitting the up button with his elbow. As you wait for the lift to reach your floor, Sugawara lists off what you need to do when you get home in order to get better (“Drink lots of hot water, and go to the washroom regularly. If the headaches start to get painful, I have some pills you can take, but only if it’s unbearable... Oh, and make sure that you get enough sleep tonight, otherwise you’ll wake up feeling even worse the next day...”). You listen for the most part, but when he starts getting into the specifics of checking for urine colour, you immediately tune him out.

“I really did not need to know that.” You groan as you step out of the elevator.

“It’s only common sense,” Sugawara follows, quickly falling into step next to you as you both make your way down the hall. He gestures toward the last door on the left with his head, and you quietly open the door to reveal the conference room.

The layout is somewhat similar to where the previous meeting was held, though this room isn’t nearly as large as the other. Everyone is much more cramped this time, with barely enough leg room to walk around. As you find a seat near the table, you wonder why Ukai didn’t decide to use the bigger room like last time. It would’ve been much more comfortable, and maybe you wouldn’t have to sit so freaking close to Tsukishima’s stupid smirk.

Sugawara nudges you in the side from where he’s seated next to you. He’s probably trying to get you to stop glaring holes into the back of that bastard’s head, but you’re too stubborn to listen. Besides, Ukai isn’t even here yet, so you don’t have a reason to behave perfectly civil at the moment.

It takes another 5 minutes before Ukai kicks the door open, nearly breaking it off of its hinges. Everyone in the room flinches at the sudden slam, and no one dares to speak when they notice the expression on your boss’s face. Ukai stalks in with a folder of papers in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. People seated in his path quickly push their chairs to the side to make way for him, whether out of respect or fear for their own lives, you’re not really sure. He looks exhausted, though that might be an understatement with how he kicks the leg of his chair before taking a seat at the head of the table.

“If you haven’t already realized yet,” Ukai growls out, crudely slapping the folder down on the table, “I’m really not in the mood today, so don’t expect any sugar-coating with today’s briefing.”

Someone coughs uncomfortably to your right, and you try not to feel the tension rising in the room as Ukai’s eye twitches slightly. He lets out an aggravated sigh, running a hand through his mussed, blond hair.

“Our team has come to a conclusion about the matters concerning Hitmen’s Associates as of late, and it’s not good.” Ukai continues, his voice grave as he links his fingers underneath his chin. His fingers trace over the folder, flipping the cover open to the first page. “From the evidence we have collected, we can determine that there is someone in the organization attempting to overthrow the current leaders of H.A.”

With how tense you are, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And you assume that everyone else feels the same; no one dares to say anything, instead waiting for Ukai to finish fishing out his cigarette and lighting it up before elaborating.

“And it’s not just one of the random underlings, no. To make matters worse, the perpetrator is claiming to be the real legitimate descendent of the previous leaders.” Ukai breathes out a slow strand of smoke before taking another puff. “Which essentially means that they are claiming that the current leaders are, well, illegitimate. Fake. A scam.”

“The N-Crisis...” Someone breathes from the back corner of the room, and Ukai slams his fist into the table.

“That’s correct. This means that we are currently at risk of repeating the horrendous events that occurred over a decade ago. If history repeats itself again, we can’t guarantee that everything will end as smoothly, ” Ukai puts air quotes around the word, “as it did in the past. People will die. Hundreds, thousands, we’re not sure. But at this point, we can almost guarantee that it will be impossible for everyone to escape this situation alive, involved or not.

“And so, this means that we can’t be sitting on our asses and waiting for this situation to blow over, because it won’t. Not without outside influence, at least. I’ve contacted some of our allies, and our team is currently waiting for a response concerning whether or not they will be able to assist in our missions. But regardless of their agreement, we will be following through with these plans, understood?”

“Understood.” A unanimous agreement rings out from the crowd of people.

“Excellent.” Ukai rubs his hands together before flipping through his folder to another page. “First off, I have a mission request.”

You narrow your eyes, somewhat confused, and judging by the expressions in the rest of the room, they seem to be the same. Ukai doesn’t normally put out “mission requests” per say. When he has a job for one of you, he’ll call you up to the office and assign it to you. There isn’t a sign up or volunteer process, because a mission is a mission. But in this case, if he’s asking for a request, then you can assume that the risks are much higher.

“If you’re thinking that this is going to be dangerous, then you’re absolutely correct.” Ukai starts off, addressing the inevitable elephant in the room. “Like I said, I’m not going to try and sugar-coat this. Action needs to be taken, and those who are unwilling to commit should not be going on this mission.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Sugawara’s shoulders tense up. His hands are clenched tightly in his lap, his knuckles nearly flushing white. You try to avert your attention back to your boss, but it’s difficult to do so without a feeling of remorse.

“That being said, I will now begin the mission briefing.” Ukai reaches into his pocket, pulls out a remote and points it at the projector screen behind him. You hadn’t even noticed that it was there until now; maybe that was why everyone had to squeeze into this tiny room. A tiny beep resounds from the back of the room, and a few seconds later, a plain-looking PowerPoint presentation appears on the screen. Ukai pulls out another few papers from his folder, his eyes skimming over the pages before he turns to the rest of the room. “Before we take the very first step in our action plan, we need more information. Statistics. Facts. Not rumours or assumptions based off of educated guesses. And to do so, we will need to host an infiltration.”

With the press of the remote, the slide changes to a white background with only “THE DELTA PLAN” written in bold, black letters across the screen. If this weren’t a serious situation, you think that Ukai’s presentation skills would be quite laughable to most.

“The plan is essentially to sneak into the Hitmen’s Associates’s headquarters and search for any new information that we haven’t already found. Hopefully, that includes figuring out who exactly is claiming to be the legitimate descendent of the leaders in H.A. and safely reporting it back to us. Now before any of you begin to think that this is some sort of suicide mission, it’s not. Not necessarily, at least, if everything goes according to plan.”

The slide changes again to what you assume is an intricately labelled floor plan of the Hitmen’s Associates Headquarters. With all of the red lines and bolded square blocks, it doesn’t take a genius to realize how tight the security is. Ukai points that out, gesturing toward the possible entrances to take, and at what times there would be optimal entrance success. He describes the path that must be taken, locations to avoid, and unknown areas to check out. From your past experiences, you don’t think you’ve ever had a mission so thoroughly explained to you before. That’s just how complex it is, you suppose.

“After each floor has been cleared, then you will take the roundabout exit in the west wing of the building and be picked up at the designated stop approximately 1.5 kilometres away.” Ukai heaves out a sigh. “Now, this plan is extremely generalized and does not account for all unpredicted circ*mstances. No matter how well we prepare for this, we can’t guarantee that this plan will be 100% effective. And thus, this is where your own skills will come into play. Thinking fast under pressure, improvising a new plan to get back onto the old one, making the best decision possible to survive. These are all skills that I, as your leader, am aware that you have. But whether or not you are willing to test those abilities to the extreme and commit to this life-threatening mission, that is your decision.”

A murmur washes through the room, and from what you can pick up, the hushed responses are generally the same. This is too dangerous, are they crazy, I don’t want to die. Ukai scans the room, looking for a response and getting nothing. He meets your eyes in the small crowd, but you remain silent, running over the information in your head.

Ukai takes another drag of his cigarette, his expression pinched as he addresses the room again. “I understand that this is a lot to ask of you, and at extremely short notice as well. But for the sake of Karasuno and keeping the limited peace in the underworld, please consider the mission and get back to me as soon as possible. Dismissed.”

Chairs scrape against the floor at Ukai’s final word, familiar faces immediately filing out the door. Ukai lets out a “tch” before slamming his fist against the wall. You stay seated though, not moving even as Sugawara pushes himself out of his chair to head toward the exit.

“Kageyama?” Sugawara calls your name, tilting his head in the direction of the door. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

You don’t respond, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the projector screen. The Delta Plan, with all the risks and dangers that come with its name... It’s a decent plan, you think. Thoroughly thought out, explained with more than enough detail, and more importantly, definitely possible for you to carry out. Of course, Ukai had said that there were no guarantees, but when have there ever been in this life you lead? You’re not scared. That sense of fear doesn’t haunt you here, not when you know that no one else is willing to carry out this mission, and you’re the only one left that Karasuno can count on.

“Kageyama. ” Sugawara tries again, stressing the syllables of your name. You stand up this time, but not to follow your friend to the exit. Walking over to where Ukai stands behind his table, you take one of the sheets of paper from his folder and tuck it into your pants pocket.

“I’ll do it.” You say.

Ukai snaps his head around toward you, and a look akin to relief flashes across his face. “Alright, I knew I could count on-”

“Wait, what?!” Sugawara snaps, his eyes burning with rage when they meet your own. He stalks over to you, pointing a finger at your chest. “Didn’t we just talk about this? You’re sick, Kageyama. You’re not going on this mission.”

“Sugawara, you saw everyone leave.” You try to reason, though you find it hard to keep calm when you’re faced with the look of utter shock on his face. “No one else is going to do it. Who else can we rely on? I’ll be fine.”

And just as you finish your sentence, a throaty coughing fit nearly causes you to double over. Good timing, you think sarcastically as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Sugawara doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, and his expression turns desperate when he faces Ukai.

“Please, Ukai,” Sugawara pleads, “can’t you tell that he’s unwell? If he goes on a mission in this condition, he’s only going to put himself in danger and potentially sabotage the mission-”

“I’m aware of how sick he looks,” Ukai interrupts, casting a glance in your direction, “but we don’t have another choice. There’s no time to spare, and we’re too desperate for this mission to follow through. I can’t put personal health first when there are so many more lives at stake. We were lucky enough that our best was even willing to volunteer. Letting this opportunity escape would be our downfall.”

Ukai doesn’t break his impassive stare with Sugawara, his words grave and sombre. On the other hand, Sugawara says nothing else before grabbing your wrist and stalking out of the conference room. He pulls you down the hall to an emptier section of the floor.

“Kageyama,” Sugawara says, his voice shaking slightly as he lets go of your wrist and turns to face you, “are you f*cking crazy?!”

You’re slightly taken aback by that. The grey-haired boy in front of you isn’t known to swear – maybe a “crap” here or “sh*t” there – so you’re shocked by the profanity that escapes his lips. He must be mad then, and you find yourself wishing you could somehow escape from this situation.

“You told me- you agreed, that you wouldn’t go on a mission, Kageyama. What the heck was that?!”

“I said it back there,” you reply calmly, “no one else will do it.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you have to!” He says, waving his hand around in frustration. “You’re putting yourself at risk, why can’t you realize that?”

“Don’t think that I don’t realize that.” You retort, your own frustration beginning to rise with every word. “Taking this job, doing what I do for a living means understanding that I have to put myself at risk. Why can’t you realize that?”

“God, just think about yourself for once.” Sugawara narrows his eyes incredulously. “You won’t be able to perform how you think you’ll be able to in this condition. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“It’s for Karasuno, what else am I supposed to do?” You growl, the anger inside of you suddenly bubbling up in your throat. “Sit around and wait for things to f*cking fall apart? No one wants that, Sugawara, and neither do I. This is what I signed up for, years ago when I arrived at this place. And if they need me to do what I do best, then I’m going to do it, and you or anyone else isn’t going to stop me from going.”

Sugawara falls silent at that, though the rage behind his eyes doesn’t calm down. He clenches his fists at his sides, exhaling sharply through his nose. You wait five, ten, fifteen seconds for him to speak, and when he says nothing, you turn your back to walk in the other direction. There’s nothing left for you to say; you’ve already made your decision.

“Not even Hinata?”

The sound of his name causes you to stop in your tracks. You don’t turn back, though Sugawara suddenly bringing up Hinata into this conversation catches your attention.

“If you went and got yourself hurt, or worse killed, ” Sugawara’s voice strains from behind you, still standing where you left him, “do you really think that he wouldn’t care?”

You don’t speak a word, instead listening as his words drive a stake through your chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen, the moment of hesitation that suddenly makes you doubt yourself. Hinata, he was never meant to be involved, was never supposed to influence your decisions, was never was never was never...

“Think a little, Kageyama. I’m not the only one who cares about you, don’t f*cking do this!” His voice screams from behind you, the desperation crystal clear.

It doesn’t change anything, you think as you continue down the hall again, ignoring the tightening feeling in your chest. I’ve already decided on what I am going to do.

As you open the door to the emergency staircase, not another word is echoed from Sugawara’s direction. The sound of footsteps is the last thing you hear before the door closes behind you. You exhale slowly, leaning your back against the wall as your phone vibrates against your pocket. It’s a text from Ukai, informing you that the mission will commence at 19:45. You quickly send out a confirmation text before descending down the stairs, trying to swallow the guilt that sits heavy in your throat.

*

Reporting in at 20:03. All locks disabled at designated entrance. No guards in sight. Proceeding through the doors in T-minus 10 seconds.

Your gloved hand grips firmly onto the doorknob, twisting it open once you’ve finished the countdown in your head. The door creaks open, and you quickly slip inside. It’s pitch black in here, and though you were warned that there would be very little chance of light, it still manages to make you feel somewhat uneasy. Maybe it’s because you’re currently in Hitmen’s Associates’s goddamned f*cking Headquarters, and nothing is 100% predictable at this point.

There’s the sound of footsteps to your right, and your hand reaches immediately for the gun in your holster. You hold the pistol close to your chest, keeping your senses peeled for any movements or sounds. It’s more difficult than it normally is, mostly because of your still present headache. You try not to remember Sugawara’s scolding words; this isn’t the time to even think about admitting that he was right. If you’re lucky, the sickish feeling will pass like you hope it will, and it won’t affect you anymore than this.

A light flickers, briefly illuminating the room you’re inside. It hurts your eyes, but they adjust quickly enough to get a look around before you’re thrust back into darkness. There’s another door to your left, most likely the next entrance you must proceed through. Think fast, Ukai had said to you as he explained explicitly how you would be able to infiltrate the Headquarters, and react faster.

When you enter the next set of doors, you’re met face to face with two surprised guards. One of them yelps in shock before reaching for his gun, but you’re already running and slitting his throat before he can react. His blood spurts onto the ground, some flying askew and staining your cheek. The man falls limply to the ground as you quickly turn to aim and fire at the other guard, the bullet piercing directly between his eyes. He collapses just as lifelessly as the first, and you don’t have time to process the pool of blood collecting at your feet before your mind screams at you to run.

Reporting in at 20:07. Two station guards have been eliminated as according to plan. No signs of alarms being triggered. Currently proceeding toward the next entrance.

The next door leads you to a split hallway, one path leading left, the other leading right. You continue running down the leftward path, footsteps as light as possible. Your breath catches slightly, and you’re surprised by how quickly you ran out of breath. Being sick is really not good, you think as you swallow the burning sensation in your lungs. I need to be quick.

You eventually reach a set of doors on your left, and you quietly slip into the first. If Ukai’s information was correct, this room should not be guarded, and you find yourself relieved when it’s not. It’s dimly lit by the lamp in the corner, a single laptop sitting on the desk in the middle of the room. You tuck the bandanna tighter around your face, quickly manoeuvring around the other furniture to the laptop. Your fingers glide over the keys, typing in the code you memorized earlier from the sheet of paper Ukai gave you. The system unlocks, and you reach inside your pocket for a USB before shoving it into the port.

C’mon, hurry up... Judging by the debriefing, you have approximately 3 minutes in this room before you’re at risk of being found. The laptop takes another five seconds to recognize the USB, and you quickly get to work. You transfer the coding program onto the laptop, beginning the first steps to hacking the main security system. It only takes a few seconds for you to input the codes before you hit enter, a success window popping up on your screen.

Reporting in at 20:11. Code D5-1087 successfully inputted. Security system deactivated. Still no signs of alarms being triggered. Proceeding to emergency staircase in East wing of the building.

You eject the USB before closing the laptop cover shut and slipping back out of the room. There’s still no one in the hall – you’re surprised that no one has come after you yet, even after killing those guards. You don’t mull over it much before proceeding to the next part of the building. The stairs don’t give you much difficulty, but when you reach the first floor, you nearly run into another pair of guards. Quickly ducking behind a wall, you hope that they didn’t see you. By the way they haven’t fired their guns in your direction, you assume that you were able to safely duck out of sight. Their conversation doesn’t go unnoticed to you, however.

“Have you heard? The boss is calling for security checks on all suspicious figures inside H.A. today.”

“Again? That’s the fifth time this week!”

“I know, but they’re seriously trying to weed out whoever’s been making those ridiculous claims. They’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

But it’s not nothing, you think. The group of guards pass you by without noticing your presence, and you slink further down the hall to the right. You didn’t think that there were still people within the organization that still doubted the reality of those claims. Censorship? Maybe, but it’d be difficult to suppress rumours like these. You make note of this information, sure to report it back to Karasuno when you return.

There isn’t much to do on the first floor, so you quickly make your way to the next staircase and proceed to the second. The door leading to the second floor is locked, but you quickly pick it open with the pin set in your pocket. A guard yells when he notices you running down the hallway, but you silence him with two shots in his vitals. He falls to the ground and you curse; you shouldn’t have made such a loud commotion on this floor. There’s no doubt that someone else heard the gunfire, and there are definitely more people on your tail now.

f*ck, you think as you cough into your arm, the vibrations in your chest causing you to nearly trip over your own feet. There are yells from behind you, but you slip into the next hallway and out of sight. You’re deviating from the plan now, but as Ukai said, you need to be able to improvise. Your head turns from side to side, eyes landing on the different doors in this hallway. You pick the second last one on the right to duck inside, praying that there won’t be anyone inside.

Luckily, there isn’t. You close the door as quietly as possible, pressing your back against the wall as you listen for the sound of several footsteps stomping past the room. You wait for an extra minute, ears peeled for any sounds before breathing out a sigh of relief. Your legs feel weak, but you can’t allow yourself any time to rest or recover. There’s too much at risk, and you have to get moving-

Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. There’s a small, white slip of paper on the ground near the drawer in the corner. Normally, you wouldn’t pay much attention to something like that, but it gives you a feeling like it’s important. You walk over on a hunch, bending down to pick up the slip. You turn it around, revealing it to be a photograph of a man you’ve never seen before. He has black hair and sleazy eyes, and a dark blue coat shrugged on his shoulders. It looks as though this picture was taken while in motion – there are slight blurs that make it difficult to pick out any distinct features. You suddenly think back to when Ukai had asked for you to keep an eye out for someone he showed you in a photograph, and it may be farfetched, but it’s possible that this could be the guy. Deciding that it’s better to be safe than sorry, you tuck the photograph into your pocket.

There aren’t any more guards in sight as you explore the rest of the second floor, making note of the different locations that Ukai asked you to observe. But of course, it’s when you reach the third floor that everything goes to sh*t.

You went back to the original plan, following the path as you were supposed to, but when you reach the door to the third floor, there are already 3 guards waiting for you in the staircase.

“That’s him!” One of them yells before the other two begin to fire in your direction. You barely manage to react fast enough, ducking back behind the lower staircase and reloading your gun. sh*t, you think as their footsteps quickly climb down the stairs, approaching where you’ve taken cover. You point your gun in the direction of the sound, firing instantly when you see the first guard. He groans as the bullet pierces his arm, and you quickly fire another into his leg before aiming and firing at the next. The second guard aims his gun at you, but his shot misses when yours hits him in the chest first. Both of them fall into a heap, blocking the third guard’s path in your direction. You take his surprise as an opportunity to aim and fire, but he moves just in time for you to miss his vitals. The last guard takes his shot at you, his hands shaking in fear as he fires. You don’t think you’ve ever been so lucky in your life to have the bullet miss you by mere millimetres, and you take full advantage of that chance to properly silence him for life.

You’re coughing and wheezing as you kick down the door to the third floor, running in the opposite direction of where you’re supposed to go when you see several guards heading in your direction. The headache you felt earlier has gotten stronger, causing you to feel dizzy as you swerve around the hallway corners. Gotta stay alert, you stress to yourself as you hear the sound of an alarm sounding from behind you.

No, you think nervously as you race down the hall, chest tightening and head pounding, that’s impossible. The security system should’ve been disabled earlier when I input the code. Unless...

“f*ck,” you swear under your breath when you consider the possibility of a backup system. That would be the only logical and, unfortunately, unplanned explanation for the alarm ringing in your ears. You keep running and running, but you can feel yourself slowing down with every step. Your face feels hot, and not just from the physical exertion. It’s becoming more and more difficult to breathe properly, and it’s only now that you think that this sickness is really weighing down on you.

You eventually reach a dead end, no unlocked doors or possible exits in sight. You backpedal, cursing when you hear the footsteps approaching from behind.

Three.

Beads of sweat run down the side of your face as the multiple guards come into sight, their weapons ready in hand. Your vision blurs as you cough hazardously again, your legs suddenly giving out from underneath you.

Two.

They form a wall of people in front of you, effectively blocking out the only escape route. Their guns point in your direction, one person you assume that is their squad leader standing in the middle of them all.

One.

Your vision fades, the pounding in your head ceasing to a numbing throb before you black out completely.

Zero.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Hushed voices from outside your door jostle you awake. The bed creaks slightly as you swing your legs over the edge, fighting the sleep from your eyes. There’s a sliver of light from the opening in your door, and you tip toe over to get a better look. You’re careful not to make any unnecessary sounds; it’s late, and you know you’re not supposed to be up at this hour.

“Do you have everything?” It’s your dad’s voice, accompanied by the sound of rustling material from down the hall.

“I think so- wait, I need to grab the case from our room...” You hear your mother trail off, her footsteps quickly approaching your door. In a panic, you duck out of sight, your heart pounding fast as she races past your room. You nearly breathe out a sigh of relief, but you don’t want to get caught. The curiosity is itching at your hands at this point, and you twiddle your thumbs in anticipation. What’s happening out there?

“Got it.” Mama says as she walks back down the hall again, and from what you can see, there is a black briefcase now in her hands.

“Good,” your father replies in a hushed tone, “let’s hurry. We don’t want to wake up Tobio.”

“...Yeah.”

The footsteps pause before they reach the staircase. You recognize your dad’s voice as he speaks. “Hun, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I just...” Mama trails off. You can imagine her running her fingers through her hair, an anxious look on her face. You wish that she wouldn’t feel that way. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“What doesn’t feel right? This mission? Darling, I thought we discussed how important this was and agreed that-”

“I know, we talked about it, I remember.” She stresses, her voice tired. “But...”

“But?”

“It doesn’t feel right to lie to Tobio.”

Lie? Your Mama’s words shock you. Why would your parents lie to you? What did they lie about? What are they talking about? You want to go out, scream, find out just exactly what they’re keeping from you, but you know you can’t. Not if you really want to know the truth.

“...I know. But it’s for his own safety. He can’t know about this.” Dad’s voice softens as he walks closer to your mom. You can’t see, but you can hear him wrap his arms around her, letting out a conflicted sigh. “We have to protect him.”

Mama sniffles. “...Yeah.”

They pull back from the hug before descending down the stairs. You wait in your room, a tightness in your throat as you hear the front door open and click back shut. You count to five, and only then do you allow yourself to open the door.

“Mama? Dad?” You call out to the hall, only to be greeted by the silence of an empty house. You bite your lip, running down the hall and pushing open every door in sight.

Minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of your parents anywhere in the house. You fall to your knees in the living room, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Mama...Dad...” You sob, but you know that no one will hear you. They’re gone, even after they promised they wouldn’t leave. They lied, and you wonder if it was because you weren’t worth the truth. You wonder and wonder and wonder, there on that living room rug, why you weren’t enough for them to stay.

Tears stream down your cheeks despite your efforts to stop them. You hate this, hate that you couldn’t stop them, hate that you were so weak. Young, your parents had always said about you, but you knew that didn’t change how you felt, what you wanted, anything.

Why did you leave, you think as you stare at the closed door, moonlight shining through the blinds.

Come back, you think as you stand up, wiping the tears from your cheek as you grasped the doorknob.

Why, you think as you run into the night air, chasing the wind and never looking back.

*

I need to stop getting kidnapped, is the first thought that crosses your mind when you finally come to.

Your eyes take a few seconds to focus on your surroundings, and you find yourself trapped inside a dark, cramped closet. There’s a rag covering your mouth, and your hands are cuffed behind your back to a pole. You’re seated cross-legged with just enough room to stretch out your legs, though you choose not to. The door is just in front of you, practically mocking you with how easy it would be to escape if you weren’t chained down.

Wiggling your wrists out of curiosity, you’re not surprised when the cuffs hardly budge. You glance around for anything that could break you out of the handcuffs, but it’s too dark to see clearly. You curse, though it’s muffled by the rag in your mouth. Shaking your head back and forth doesn’t do much to get the rag off, so you eventually give up.

Why didn’t they kill me? Now that you’ve accepted your situation, you think back to the events that led up to the present. It would make sense for you to be dead right now, but you’re not. Even after breaking into Hitmen’s Associates’ Headquarters and killing their men, you’re still alive somehow. But why?

Suddenly, a light shines through the cracks of the closet door. You remain silent as footsteps slowly make their way into the adjacent room. There are two voices present, though it’s difficult to make out what they’re saying. You manage to catch your alias from their conversation, but other than that, the words are much too muffled for you to understand it fully.

One of them laughs while the other mumbles something about being too loud. You roll your eyes; being unable to do anything and forced to listen to this is irritating. But eventually, the two come close enough to the door that you’re able to hear what they’re saying.

“Anyway, so this ‘King’ that people talk about... He’s really behind that door?” The one that laughed speaks, his voice oozing confidence. You hear the clink of a glass set on a table before a chair squeaks against the ground.

“Yes. Unit 017 confirmed the capture approximately 2 hours ago.”

Your eyes widen. If you weren’t chained to this pole, you’re sure that you would have stepped back in surprise. I know this voice.

“Excellent. Do you have the case report?”

“Yes.”

They begin to discuss your capture and what to do with you after you’ve woken up, but you’re too distracted by the second voice to focus on their conversation. You know you recognize that voice, but the name and face escapes you. Maybe they drugged me. That could explain why you feel as though your senses have been numbed, and the reason for this temporary memory loss (though of course, Sugawara would probably blame it on you being sick).

Who the f*ck is it? You swear internally, wishing that the rag wasn’t in your mouth. That voice, that tone...

“We could use him.”

“What?” The familiar voice sputters. “He’s Karasuno blood. There’s no way that he would be accepted into our organization.”

“We can try. If we can turn Karasuno’s weapon against them, they will have nothing left.”

“Sir, I don’t think that will work-”

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps. Judging by the formalities, you assume that the one speaking is a leader figure in H.A. “Not here, I’ve told you.”

“...Sorry.”

A sigh. “It’s alright. Just trust me, okay? You always do.”

“...I know.”

“Good. Now c’mon, I left something back in my office. We can deal with the King over there later.” Chairs scrape against the ground before two pairs of footsteps file out of the room. The light is left on however, and you’re grateful for that mistake. You take this chance to shake your hands again, but the handcuffs still don’t budge. Desperate for a way out, you glance around the closet for something, anything that will get you out of these chains. Like hell I’m gonna work for the likes of you.

Luckily, your eyes catch on a small bobby pin just outside of your reach. You turn your hips to the side, stretching out your legs as far as you can. Using your feet, you kick the bobby pin to your side where you push it to your hands with your thighs. Your hands grasp desperately at the ground until they touch cold plastic, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. Quickly getting to work, it only takes a few tries for you to free yourself from the cuffs. You rub your wrists in relief as you stand up, legs straining after sitting for such a long period of time. Your mouth tastes like an unwashed dishrag as you untie the cloth from your face and toss it to the ground. Disgusting.

And now that you’re free, you can figure out how the hell you’re going to get out of here. You pace around the closet, hands resting on your hips. Your first thought is to leave through the closet door, but you’re pretty sure that doing so would get you killed on the spot. Without being able to see who’s past that door, there’s no way for you to escape. Unless...

You grope along the walls of the closet, trying to feel for any openings. You get lucky when your fingers catch on an air vent in the corner, just large enough for you to fit through. With an exhale, you kick in the vent, quickly crawling through the duct before someone notices the sound.

It’s dusty in here, you think as you cough into your arm. You continue crawling, ignoring the pain in your knees and the itch in your nose. The path seems to go on forever, and you start to wonder whether or not this was the right decision when you hit a dead end. God dammit, you think as you backpedal, turning left at the split path instead.

It takes another five minutes of hefty manoeuvring before you finally reach an air vent that leads outside. You strike it with your elbow, breathing out a sigh of relief as it detaches with ease. Your body flops to the ground as you crawl out, the night air hitting your face. Standing up, you dust off the snow on your pants as you take off in the direction of the road you came from.

An alarm is triggered as you pass the gates, but you’re long gone into the shadows before a guard can notice you leaving. The only thought on your mind as you race down the path is not getting caught, otherwise that’s game over for both you and everything Ukai has planned. Need to get back to Karasuno...

The path continues for another mile, your breath coming short from the exertion. Maybe you’re still feeling unwell; normally you’d be able to run for longer than this. Despite that, you keep pushing yourself, desperate to get away.

It isn’t until an hour later when you’ve reached Karasuno, calves aching and sweat dripping down your face, that you remember that voice. That voice you heard outside of that closet, that voice that was so familiar to you... You remember now, who that voice belonged to, and you don’t know what to think of it.

Because it belonged to Kenma.

*

“I’m sorry.”

That’s the very first thing that comes out of your mouth when Sugawara comes to visit you in the infirmary, a stern look on his face. He pauses at the door, hand still on the handle before walking over and plopping down into the chair next to your bed.

“You should be.” He says, pulling out a book from his bag and focusing his attention on the words. Sugawara leans his elbow on the bed, head in his hand as he continues to read.

“...I really am sorry.” You repeat, and this time, your grey-haired friend snaps the book shut to turn to you with a solemn expression.

“I know you are.” Sugawara’s eyes burn into yours. “But you don’t regret it.”

Ah, he has you beat there. You’re almost tempted to smile, with how well Sugawara knows you. You shake your head in agreement. “No, I don’t.”

Sugawara looks at you once more before closing his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. He presses his fingers to his temples, rubbing the area gently. “Alright. I understand.”

You look up in surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I can’t always be there to help you make your decisions. It’s your life, not mine. And as long as you don’t regret it, well. I’ll be there to support you.”

The look on your face probably mirrors shock at this point. You were definitely expecting to be hit with a pillow, yelled at, reprimanded at the very least, but none of those happened.

And for that, you’re infinitely grateful.

“Thank you.”

Sugawara smiles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. You growl in response, and he just laughs. “Of course. But that doesn’t mean you can go around and throw your life away all the time, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say.

“Good. Now,” Sugawara pulls out a notebook from his bag, turning to the next available page, “Ukai will be here momentarily, but I need you to tell me what happened last night.”

“Shouldn’t the information already be recorded on my tracking device?”

“Well, yes, but we wanted your perspective on the situation. Plus, after you stopped responding last night, you went off the radar approximately,” he checks the information on the paper in front of him, “13 minutes later. What happened?”

You frown. To be honest, you were counting on the tracking device to have recorded everything from start to finish so you wouldn’t have to relay what happened when you got kidnapped. Guess everything isn’t always that easy.

“After entering the third floor, there were guards already stationed at the door waiting for me. Probably out of precaution after the backup alarms were tripped. I tried to escape, but...”

Sugawara makes a wary face. “Yeah, okay. Keep going.”

“After I woke up, I was cuffed to a pole in a closet. There were two voices on the other side. They were talking about...about trying to using me for their own good. Turning me against Karasuno.”

“And then?” The grey-haired boy prompts.

“And then they left,” you breathe out, looking down at your hands as you pointedly avoid telling Sugawara that you knew one of the voices, and was positive that Sugawara knew him too. “After that, I broke out of the cuffs and escaped through the air vents to get back here.”

“Is that all?”

You turn your attention to the door. Ukai walks in, a pensive look on his face. He takes a seat on your bed, looking you straight in the eye. You start to panic, maybe he knows that you’re leaving something out, but you don’t dare to let it show on your face.

“That’s all.”

Ukai doesn’t press any further, instead pinching the bridge of his nose. You’re relieved, though you’re not sure if he’s still suspicious of you keeping something from him. “Alright. Well, on the bright side, we were able to obtain enough information from the data to consider this mission a success. And you were able to come back alive, which is an even better thing.” Ukai tacks on at the end.

You raise an eyebrow sarcastically, but Ukai’s expression remains grave.

“I owe you an apology.” He says.

“Huh? What for?”

“For sending you on that mission even though I knew you weren’t in your best condition.”

Sugawara crosses his arms at that, an ‘I was right’ look on his face. You cast him a glance before turning back to your boss. “It’s not that big of a deal-”

“No,” he interrupts, “it is a big deal. I knew that you could have died, but I sent you on this mission anyway. And as someone who’s looked after you since you got here-”

“Ukai-”

“-it’s a really big deal for me.” His eyes meet yours dead-on, the sincerity behind them leaving you speechless. “Even though that job was extremely vital to Karasuno, I should have thought of your wellbeing first. I apologize.”

You watch in amazement as Ukai bows his head. Never have you ever seen your boss lower himself to anyone before, and the day you did, you didn’t think that it would have been to you. “It’s alright.”

He smiles tightly before letting out a sigh. “Well, I’ll call another meeting once we’ve made any helpful deductions.”

“Okay.”

Ukai puts his hands on his knees as he stands. He turns to you before reaching in his coat pocket and tossing a wad of cash into your lap. “Stay in infirmary for another day or two, get your vitals checked. If you’re still feeling unwell, call for a drug test and we’ll see what we can do. Good work, Kageyama.”

“Wait,” you say before your boss gets a chance to leave. You suddenly remember that photograph in your coat pocket, the one you found right before everything went to sh*t. “My coat. I found something last night. A picture.”

“A picture?” Ukai raises an eyebrow, walking back over to your side. Sugawara hands you your coat from the bedside table, and you dig into your pockets for the paper. You pull it out, placing it into Ukai’s waiting hands.

“It was in one of the rooms on the second floor. I picked it up out of curiosity. Maybe it’ll be useful.”

“Mm.” Your boss mumbles, narrowing his eyes as he looks at the photograph. “Thanks, Kageyama. We’ll get this investigated immediately. Get well soon.”

“Will do.”

The door clicks shut as Ukai walks out, leaving only Sugawara and yourself to this room. He tucks his papers back inside of the notebook, placing it on the bedside table before turning to you.

“I realized I forgot to ask you,” Sugawara says after flashing you a smile, “how are you feeling?”

“Better.” You reply, and that’s the truth. Any sickness you felt earlier has completely disappeared. You don’t know if you should chalk it up to a good night’s sleep or the drugs the infirmary injected you with last night. Either way, you feel great and you’ll choose not to question it.

“That’s good.” An orange is tossed in your direction and you catch it with ease. Sugawara tilts his chin at the fruit. “Eat.”

“Later,” you promise, placing the orange next to the flowers on your table. “I’m not very hungry right now.”

He shoots you a pointed look, but gives in. “Fine. Just make sure you’re staying healthy, alright?”

“Got it.”

A small alarm goes off, one that you recognize from Sugawara’s phone. He rummages through his bag, pulling out the device to silence it.

“Sorry about that, I’ve got to go prepare for Tsukishima’s mission now.”

You nearly roll your eyes at the name of that glasses bastard, but you just encourage your friend to get going and stop wasting time. He packs his things, nearly racing out of the door before turning back to you.

“Oh!” Sugawara skids to a stop, nearly crashing into the door frame. “Don’t forget about the company new year’s party on the 31st. Ukai asked me to remind you in case he forgot. Which he did.”

Right. You had forgotten about that party, and for good reason, too. “Thanks, Sugawara.”

Your friend smiles once more before disappearing out of the room. You run a hand across your face, sighing into your palm. New years, huh...

Another year has almost passed with the blink of an eye. Another year working for Karasuno, another year of blood upon your hands. It doesn’t faze you as much anymore, this routine you’ve established, because you’re used to it now. The looks of horror. The smell of gunpowder. The dance with death.

Nothing has really changed.

Or, at least that’s what you thought.

(Because it always comes back to him, doesn’t it?)

This year meant change.

Opening yourself up to someone for the first time.

Letting someone else into your life.

Finding someone that you like.

And wow, has that been a rollercoaster of a ride. With all of the uncertainties and risks that came with liking Hinata, you can’t find yourself regretting it. You think back to what Sugawara said earlier, with him being okay with your decisions so long as you didn’t regret them. And maybe that’s something you should stick to more often, instead of always sacrificing yourself for the greater good. Maybe it’s okay to be happy, to be selfish, to want to do things for yourself. Maybe it’s okay to want to have more, to take more than you’ve already been given, to simply want Hinata.

But, as you said.

Nothing is ever that easy, right?

...

...

Kenma.

That voice back there was Kenma.

No mistakes, no doubt about it.

Why didn’t you realize before? You don’t know. At the time, while you were trapped in that closet, you were too preoccupied with figuring out how to get out than to properly focus on the voice. It makes you feel stupid, idiotic even, that you hadn’t recognized the voice immediately.

Even so, the realization leaves you in shock. You lay back down in your bed, running a hand through your hair. How is this possible? You never would have assumed, never would have even thought that...

Kenma is a part of Hitmen’s Associates.

And not just a simple underling, either. From the conversation you overheard earlier, you could assume that he was ranked higher than a normal follower. Definitely high enough to be speaking comfortably with one of their authority figures, that’s for sure.

What’s he doing there? Why... How...

You shake your head. You shouldn’t be wondering why or how Kenma had gotten into the business. It’s the same for you, isn’t it? No one wants to reveal why they became like a killer. That’s private, for their own thoughts only. But the fact still stands that he’s there, and potentially a threat to Karasuno.

You close your eyes.

Did he know?

When you first met that night at the convenience store. When he bowed his head in apology. When he dragged Hinata out through those doors.

Did he know?

When the four of you went shopping that day. When Hinata had formerly introduced him. When you were left alone with him at the vending machine.

Did he know?

When they kidnapped you last night. When they chained you down to that pole. When he created a report on you for H.A.

Just exactly how much did he know?

I have to find out, you think as your fingers twitch in your lap. You can’t sit still, not with all of these thoughts in your mind. You kick off your sheets and sit up, only to stop yourself as you’re slipping on your shoes.

There’s no way for you to find out any information on Kenma without sounding suspicious.

If you asked Sugawara, you doubt that he’d be able to provide you with any resources that could help.

If you went to Ukai, he’d definitely question your motives, and thus find out that you were keeping something from (lied to) him.

If you called Hinata and asked, you don’t think that he would answer your questions without asking some of his own, and-

...

And...

...

And what if Hinata already knows?

What if he knows about Kenma’s involvement in Hitmen’s Associates?

What if he’s known all along that you were the King?

...

What if Hinata’s part of H.A as well?

The thought of Hinata being your enemy makes you sick to your stomach. No, you think, that’s impossible. Hinata is too innocent, too naive, too sweet to be a killer. There’s no way that the boy you like, the one you now hold so dear to you is the one you should hate the most. You don’t want that to happen, to have to give up that feeling because of this duty you belong to. This can’t be this can’t be this can’t be-

A ring of your phone brings you back to reality. When you unlock the device to check, it’s just a notification for the party on the 31st. You take a deep breath as a feeling of gratefulness washes over you. You’re glad that your phone had ringed just now, otherwise you’re sure that you would’ve jumped to even more horrible conclusions.

You don’t know for sure that Hinata is actually involved in any of this. Regardless, you pray that’s the case; just an awful coincidence that you were Karasuno, Kenma was H.A, and Hinata was simply stuck in between.

Biting your lower lip, you set an alarm on your phone to wake you up later. All of this new information is wearing you out, and you’re not sure you can handle being awake right now. Maybe it’s weak of you to want to escape, but for now, you don’t think that you’ll be able to think straight. Besides, Sugawara and Ukai had both encouraged you to rest, so you figure that you should take their advice.

Crawling back into the sheets, you close your eyes as you wrap the blanket tighter around your body. You fall asleep within minutes with conflicting thoughts of obligation and desire.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

“Just sign here... Over there... Alright! You’re free to go.”

The nurse smiles as you hand over the pen. Rubbing your arm, your fingers fiddle around with the area where the IV once was. It’s a relief to be out of bed; you had protested that you were fine and the drip was not necessary, but the nurse (and Sugawara) wouldn’t hear it. Even as you winced in pain as the needle pierced you, there was no sign of sympathy from either. You sigh, watching as the nurse walks around the counter, setting her glasses on the desk.

“You know,” she speaks up, “I think this might be the first time you’ve ever properly checked out of the infirmary.”

You rub the back of your neck sheepishly, thinking back to the multiple other times where you’ve sneaked away from the medical centre – years ago when you had nearly kicked your doctor in the face, causing a huge disruption throughout the entire hospital, but in your defence, you were young and foolish back then. Maybe you should stop leaving halfway during your recovery sessions. “Uh. Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t apologize.” She slides a card across the counter. You pick it up, eyes briefly skimming before putting it in your pants pocket. “Just make sure you stay in the future.”

Her lips upturn into another smile when you nod in agreement. The promise of staying means having to endure white walls and the smell of disinfectant all over again, but for some reason you can’t find it in you to say no. I’m getting too soft, you think with a grimace.

The office phone rings, and you take that as your cue to leave. A meek wave of goodbye is all you offer before exiting through the infirmary doors. The door shuts quietly behind you, a small grunt leaving your lips before making your way down the hall. Finally out of that damned place...

Your thoughts are interrupted by the shrill ring of a phone. It takes you a second to realize that it’s yours (being the only one in the hallway and all) and pull it out of your pocket. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you see the caller ID.

An incoming call from Hinata.

What do I do, you panic, feeling sweat begin to collect near your forehead before realizing that Hinata’s called you before, why are you being such a little baby right now?

Because I like him, you think to yourself, irritated by the way you can’t help but feel a bit hopeful from this call. What could he want? Is he going to ask you to go somewhere again? Is he calling to ask you another one of his stupid questions? Or maybe he’s-

“Hello?” You say into the receiver before you get too ahead of yourself. There’s no reason for you to assume that this is really anything other than a phone call, of course. It’d be pretentious to think that there were any... intentions behind this. Right?

In all honesty, you’re expecting to be met with all the upbeat and brightness that is Hinata’s voice, but you find yourself puzzled when no one replies.

“Hello?” You try again, using your finger to press the volume button on your phone. It’s definitely on the right setting, so why can’t you hear anything?

After a second, you hear slightly muffled voices on the other side. One of which you think you recognize as Hinata’s, but it’s still too muted for you to tell.

“Oi, are you there?” It’s kind of pathetic, you think, that you continue to try and get something out of this conversation when by now, you’re pretty sure that this was a butt dial. The feeling of disappointment that settles in your stomach is significantly more devastating than you’d appreciate it to be, and you wonder why you haven’t just hung up yet.

Just as you’re about to swipe your finger over the “end call” button on your screen, a loud “AH!” brings your attention back to the voice on the other line.

“Hello? Hello??” Hinata says, and your heart practically sings just from the sound of his voice.

“Hello?” You repeat for the third time, though you don’t find yourself minding it. There’s no feeling of irritation, you find; only that of relief that Hinata is actually there.

“Wha- Hello? Kageyama, is that you?” His voice lilts at the end of his question.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Hi! Why’d you call me?”

“What,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing at the poor passerby that caught your glare across the hall, “I didn’t call you. You called me.”

“Huh?” It’s easy for you to picture Hinata’s expression, incredulous and shocked, just as honest and expressive as his voice. “No I didn’t.”

Is he really doing this? “Yes you did.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn- huh? Oh. Wait, I think I did.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

“Er, sorry if I interrupted you or anything.” Hinata says cautiously. “I think my phone accidentally called you.”

“Mm.” You hum. That’s what you assumed before, and you think that it feels worse actually coming from Hinata’s mouth.

“So...” Hinata drawls from the other side, pausing to hush at someone he’s with. “What’s up?”

What’s up? You glance at your surroundings, the halls of Karasuno plain and poorly decorated as always. “I’m at work.”

“You’re at work?!” The screech causes you to pull the phone away from your ear with a wince. “I thought you said I didn’t interrupt you!”

“I never said that.” You snort. “I’m on break.” And it’s not like you’re lying either, because you’re not. Not really, at least, because being admitted from the infirmary is practically like a break. You’re not working at this very moment.

“Whatever, you’re still not supposed to be on the phone. Idiot.”

“Hey,” you say stupidly, the bite in your tone clearly not present. Your drag your feet against the ground, pacing back and forth the hall. From a bystander’s perspective, you probably look like one – an idiot, that is – because how are you supposed to explain the embarrassment you feel of simply not wanting to hang up?

Shaking your head back and forth, you try not to think about it as the sound of shuffling and muffled voices grows louder from the other line.

“You kn- huh? What?” Hinata’s voice turns distant from your ear, most likely turning to his companion. “I told you, I’m on the phone with Kageyama. Huh? Wait, why? H-Hey, Kenma, you can’t-”

You stiffen at the sound of that name. Kenma.

There’s a loud rustle of clothing, followed by a yelp and a loud thud before Hinata’s voice comes trickling back through the receiver. “Hello, Kageyama?”

“Hi.”

“Sorry, my friend Kenma – hey, stop that – was trying to take my phone,” he says, and you feel a weight sink heavily in your stomach. The sound of footsteps echo in your ear before you hear a door close quietly; you assume that Hinata went somewhere quiet to talk to you, and you feel the weight lessen slightly. “I don’t even know why, it was just so weird. Kenma’s never been like that before. Usually, he just lets me talk and talk on the phone and doesn’t say anything, but...”

Hinata continues, confused as you’re left with a feeling of guilt because you know exactly why Kenma had acted like that. He knows for sure then, you decide, that you’re the King, and he’s definitely part of H.A. It makes you wonder if he hadn’t actually known prior to your kidnapping, and what he’ll do now that he knows of your true identity. But on the brighter side, you can only assume that Hinata doesn’t know about his or your involvement in this mess (by the way he’s still rambling on to you without a care), and he’s probably unaware of the entire issue altogether. That’s a good thing, you stress to yourself, but the fear of Hinata becoming trapped in the middle of this problem settles deep inside of your bones.

I can’t let that happen.

“...even the postman was- hello? Are you listening?” Hinata snaps, bringing you back to your senses.

“Huh? Uh, yeah.”

Hinata whines. “So you missed my entire story? Jeez, asshole.”

“It’s not my fault it was boring.” You say just to spite him, rile him up, because that’s how you two best belong, you think.

“That’s not very ni- wait, hold on a second. Yeah?” Hinata calls out into his surroundings, covering the receiver with a hand to mute his yell. You hear a door open, a muffled conversation between Hinata and (most likely) Kenma before the sound of footsteps followed by a door closing. “Sorry, that was Kenma again. He just told me he was leaving to catch his ride home. Actually, I should probably get going soon, too...”

“Going?” You ask, ignoring what he had first said about Kenma. Instead, you briefly remember Hinata telling you that he was going back to visit his family for New Years. “Back home?”

“Yeah!” Hinata agrees, and you can definitely imagine him nodding his head in excitement. “New Year’s is tomorrow, and the entire family is flying in so I’m really excited!”

Hearing the enthusiasm clear in Hinata’s voice gives you a warm feeling in your chest. “I can tell.”

“Mhmm! Anyways,” he continues, “I think I should start packing my stuff now. If I’ m late, my mom will probably kill me...”

“Okay,” you say. It’s difficult, but you manage to keep your disappointment from seeping into your voice. Wanting to stay on the line with Hinata, even if you have nothing good to talk about, makes you feel guilty for being selfish. “Bye, Hinata.”

“Bye, Kageyama!”

Hinata’s voice disappears as you keep your phone pressed against your ear, not sure what you’re waiting for other than the impending silence. Eventually, you bring your arm down, looking at the device in your hands. You stare for a moment, trying not to think of how much you’d prefer talking to Hinata as opposed to standing alone in this quiet hall. sh*t.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes to life in your hand. Startled, you check the caller ID and are caught off guard by the private number. Of course, it’s not like you were expecting (hoping?) that Hinata would be the one to call, but you don’t usually get calls from unknown numbers. That makes it all the more suspicious, and though you know you should reject the call, you slide your finger over to the green circle.

“Hello?” You say cautiously into the receiver.

“Don’t get involved with Hinata.”

Your eyes widen as Kenma’s sharp voice cuts through the speaker and into your ears.

“Who is this.” You demand despite knowing just exactly who is behind the other line.

“...You know who I am, don’t play dumb, Kageyama.” Kenma’s voice has more bite in it than you’d ever thought it would. You feel your hands clam up, wiping them roughly against the material of your sweater.

“Fine, Kenma,” you spit out, venom just as present in your words, “what the f*ck do you want?”

Kenma scoffs, and you feel your eye twitch in response. “You heard me. Don’t get involved with Hinata.”

“What?” Your heart pounds quicker in your chest at the sound of Hinata’s name. “What the hell do you mean by get involved?”

“Talking to him, being friends, dragging Hinata into this goddamned mess.” Kenma says, and you can imagine those sharp eyes piercing through you. Being scared right now won’t help you, though. Intimidate, or be intimidated. “I won’t let you get an innocent bystander involved.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders at Kenma’s word. Innocent. That means Hinata definitely isn’t involved with Hitmen’s Associates, and shouldn’t be aware of both of your involvements. That’s good that’s good, oh god that’s so f*cking good. And now with one boulder of stress gone, you’ve only got another (at the moment) left before you can allow yourself to relax.

“Don’t worry,” you sneer, “I won’t let Hinata find out about any of this.” The sound of footsteps approaches from down the hall and you quietly slip into another empty corridor on your left. Lowering your voice, you speak with every part of the King that you’re known for. “I think you’re the one who should be worrying about keeping him out of this.”

“Me? Do you even know what kind of position you’re currently in, Kageyama?” Kenma says incredulously. A shiver runs down your spine as his voice grows colder and colder. “I could have had you killed that night. Immediately, at the snap of my fingers. But I didn’t, because I was being generous. Because you were important to Hinata, and I couldn’t do that to him.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Important. I’m important to him? The realization nearly causes you to trip over your own feet, but one thing still bugs you about Kenma’s words. “Were?”

“Were,” Kenma confirms, “because I will do everything in my power to make sure that Hinata will stay away from the King and Karasuno.”

The determination in his voice is strong as steel, but you don’t let that deter you. You’ve already decided what you’ll do, fire burning in your stomach as your choice rings clear in your mind. There’s no way you’ll let Kenma do as he says, no way that you’ll let him interfere with what you’ve built with Hinata so far. And by doing so, you’ll even do as he had demanded in the first place; you won’t let Hinata get into this mess.

You smirk, hoping that your expression is just as evident in your voice as it is on your face.

“I’d like to see you try.”

*

Just before 8pm the next day, you find yourself standing outside of Ukai’s apartment with a box of cake in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

At least, you hope you’re at Ukai’s apartment. You think back to the directions Sugawara sent you earlier, grimacing at the vague description of the neighbourhood (‘...Turn left at the second large tree, then keep going until you see the third fire hydrant. Make a right just before the mailbox and keep going until you see the large, brown building on the left.’). Either way, you don’t want to waste any more time standing outside in the freezing cold, so you press the buzzer for Ukai’s room on the number pad against the building wall.

It buzzes twice before you hear Ukai’s voice shout at you through the speaker. “Hello?!”

“It’s me, Kageyama.” You say, frowning at the slur in his voice. It’s not even 8 yet, and he’s already managed to get himself drunk. Then again, you’re not sure if you should have expected anything less.

“Huh? Kageyama? ...Oh, Kageyama! Yeah, okay, come on in.”

A loud beep sounds from the door, and you pull on the handle to find it unlocked. You step into the lobby, breathing out a sigh of content as warmth crashes against your body. Stomping your boots against the welcome mat, you quietly make your way to the elevator, hitting the up button. Your eyes train on the descending number, waiting for the digits to fall. 11...8...5...2... The doors slide open after the numbers change to a “G” and you step inside, hitting the 9th floor button with your elbow.

You’re forced to endure everything that is elevator music until you reach Ukai’s floor. Counting down the apartment numbers, you finally reach Ukai’s door near the end of the hall. The music pounds through the door, though you could hear it before from more than 20 metres back. You press the doorbell with your elbow, hoping that the sound won’t be drowned out by the music.

Five seconds later and Sugawara opens the door, smiling when he sees that it’s you. “Oh, Kageyama, you’re here!”

“Yeah,” you say as your grey-haired friend takes the cake from your hand with hungry eyes, stepping aside to lead you further into the apartment.

“Well, come on in! As you can probably tell,” Sugawara says, gesturing with his head to the throng of people dancing and singing in the living room, “a lot of people here are already drunk.”

“So early?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. Sugawara’s definitely right, though. Past the flashing lights from Ukai’s makeshift disco ball, you can tell that the majority of the crowd are laughing obnoxiously and tripping over everything in their paths. “What are they going to do for the next four hours, then?”

Sugawara shrugs his shoulders, a small smile on his face. You notice the slight red on his face as he sets the cake down on the table, and you wonder if he had any to drink for himself. “It’s New Year’s Eve. People like to celebrate, and well, who are we to stop them? Especially with all the stress lately, I think that it’s good to let go once in a while.”

You’re still skeptical about Sugawara’s words as you watch Nishinoya, another colleague of yours, build a pyramid with already-empty beer bottles in the corner of the living room. “Whatever you say.”

Sugawara flashes a smile at you before pushing a beer into your hands. “Here.”

“No thanks.” You slide it back onto the table.

“C’mon, Kageyama.” Sugawara protests, pouting as he watches someone else slip by to steal the bottle. “You’re legal now! One beer won’t hurt.”

He’s definitely been drinking, you think as you watch Sugawara reach for another from the bucket, nearly hitting you in the face as he hands it over. You shake your head. “I don’t want to end up like everyone else here.”

“Fine.” He reaches over to ruffle your hair and you narrow your eyes in annoyance. Sugawara just laughs, cracking open the bottle for himself. “But have fun tonight, alright? Don’t over think anything.”

You hum in agreement, wincing as you watch Sugawara tip his head back to down the alcoholic drink. It’s amazing, you think, that even while Sugawara’s somewhat intoxicated, he was still able to tell that you had something on your mind. You’re lucky to have him as a friend.

All in all, everything at the party is pretty much what you’d expect it to be, people already drunk off their asses when you arrive (it’s not even 9pm yet, really guys?) and awkwardly introducing yourselves to guests of other employees. Though you find it amusing to bear witness to the idiotic actions that your colleagues are committing (someone thought that it’d be a good idea to play Twister of all things), you still find the night anticlimactic as you lounge on the couch.

You watch as Sugawara gets even more piss drunk throughout the night, clinging onto a barstool in the kitchen and whispering about next month’s weaponry order. As a friend, you should probably get Sugawara to lie down where he can’t accidentally hurt himself, but it looks like Yamaguchi is already on it. He helps Sugawara over to the couch you’re on, an apologetic smile on his face as you’re forced to help peel your friend off his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you say in Sugawara’s place. You’re sure that he would be embarrassed to know how he behaved tonight.

“Don’t worry about it.” Yamaguchi replies and you’re relieved to see that you’re not the only sober one here.

“Have you seen Ukai?” You ask, scanning the crowd.

“Not since I got here,” Yamaguchi says with a frown. “He might be out on the balcony having a smoke, though. You could try there.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

The freckled boy smiles sheepishly at you before going back into the kitchen. You were never really very close with Yamaguchi – he’s not in your department and when you do see him, he’s usually hiding from your perpetual glare – but you think that he’s not a bad guy. Nice enough to be friends with Tsukishima, at least.

You turn to Sugawara next to you, relieved to find him curled up and asleep. This area in the apartment is relatively mild, so you deem it safe enough to leave your friend here to go search for Ukai. Just in case, you mention to Yamaguchi in the kitchen to keep an eye on him and he agrees before you slip your jacket back on and step out.

True to his words, you find Ukai outside, cigarette burning in his hand as he breathes out a slow, steady stream of smoke. He turns around at the sound of the door sliding open, a smile appearing on his face as he sees that it’s you. “Ah, Kageyama.”

“Good evening.” You say, closing the door behind you. It’s cold out, you think as you rub your hands together to stay warm. You reach into your coat pocket for the thank-you card and hand it over to your boss.

“Evening,” Ukai replies, taking another huff of the cigarette before raising an eyebrow at the card in your hands. He points to himself as if asking, for me? You nod, and he swipes it from your fingers, ripping open the envelope. Not even 5 seconds pass by before he snorts, throwing the card over the ledge.

“Oi,” you say in shock. Even with alcohol in his system, you didn’t think that Ukai would carelessly toss the card over the railing. “That could hit someone.”

“So?” Ukai snorts, pressing the butt of his cigarette to the underside of his shoe. “I don’t need that card. I already know that you’re grateful, Kageyama. Your actions prove it, and though it’s nice, a letter of reassurance isn’t necessary.”

You exhale, watching as your breath comes out pale against the cold, night sky. Though Ukai had said that, you still feel like it’s not enough. Not for everything that he’s done for you. “Thanks.”

He waves a hand in nonchalance. “I told you, there’s no need for thanks.”

“But-”

“No buts.” Ukai interrupts with a glare before you can protest further. He turns around to face you, leaning his elbows against the railing. “In fact, I should be the one thanking you.”

“Huh? Why?” You ask in confusion. What could you have possibly done to get Ukai to thank you of all people?

“Because I brought you here all those years ago,” Ukai says with a sigh, something more hiding behind his eyes, “and you didn’t bat an eye when we told you all of the risks that came with it. You just accepted it without a single complaint, and-”

“I was just doing my job.” You say expressionless. “Even if you did take me to Karasuno, you didn’t force a decision on me. I chose to get involved with this.”

“And look at where you are now.” Ukai says with a sad smile. He rubs a hand across his face, shoulders slumping as he looks up at the sky. “You could have had so much more than this, Kageyama. You could have had a normal childhood, a normal life if I hadn’t done this. I took it away, and there’s nothing I’ll ever be able to do to fix that.”

“You didn’t take it away,” you reassure with all the honesty you can muster when you see the look of pure regret on Ukai’s face. “It wasn’t you.”

“But it wasn’t your parents’ fault, either.” Stiffening at the sound of your parents, you do your best to not avert your eyes from Ukai’s stare. He seems to notice your discomfort though, and he quickly diverts the conversation in a different direction. “I regret training you into the King. You should have spent those years of your life in a normal community, in a proper school so you could live a normal life. Not train in a facility for years to perfect the art of slitting someone else’s throat.”

You walk closer to the railing, leaning your elbows to look over the view. The frost is biting vigorously at your fingers, snow slowly beginning to fall from the sky. “That’s in the past, Ukai. What’s done is done, and you can’t change that.”

Profound words, you think sarcastically.

If only you could believe them yourself.

Ukai chuckles dejectedly before slinging an arm over your shoulders. You nearly tip over with the extra weight, but you manage to not fall over. “Sometimes, I can’t believe how old you’ve gotten. How mature you’ve gotten.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I know,” Ukai says, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you still were.”

You smile to yourself, feeling a parental kind of warmth that you haven’t felt in years. “Thanks, Ukai.”

He kicks you lightly in the leg for that, the usual scowl back on his face. “Didn’t I just tell you not to say thank you? I’ll cut your pay if you try to give your stupid thanks again. Now come on, let’s get back inside. I think my toes are about to fall off from this cold.”

“Okay,” you say, looking down at Ukai’s shoes to find that he’s not wearing any. Shocked, you wonder how he could’ve stood to be outside for so long with only a pair of wool socks on his feet. You give him an incredulous look before he ushers the both of you back inside.

“Your parents would be proud of you, you know.” Ukai whispers to you before slipping away into the crowd, not giving you a chance to reply. You don’t think that you’d be able to anyways, not with how you’re left with a painful feeling in your throat and a storm settling in your chest.

Would they?

You try not to think of it, instead distracting yourself the rest of the night by watching the other partygoers do more stupid sh*t. After Sugawara had woken up from his nap, sobered up and all, he even convinced you to partner up and play a game of beer pong with him. You manage to win (the other team wasn’t much of a challenge, the alcohol obviously getting to their heads), only having to drink one cup for yourself. Sugawara tries to get you to keep playing, but you tell him that you’d really prefer not to be in the spotlight. He whines but relents, instead going back into the crowd to search for another partner.

The night continues on, and you’re genuinely surprised that no one (besides Sugawara) has passed out yet. It gives you a weird feeling, seeing the carefree smiles on everyone’s faces as they dance around the apartment. Sugawara was right, you think. They needed this night to relax, to forget about all of the stress and danger that comes with their job. Because after tonight, everything goes back to normal, and there’s no way that there will be another occasion in the near future to let loose like this.

You sigh, smiling awkwardly at your colleagues as they continue to try and get you to drink. Eventually, you accept the beer just to get them off your back, but they refuse to leave you alone until you’ve downed the bottle. It isn’t difficult for you to finish it, and they cheer loudly as you chug down the last sip. The alcohol is not the most pleasant, causing a sour expression to surface on your face. Some of the people around you laugh at your look of distaste, but finally agree to leave you alone.

It’s not until half an hour before midnight when you feel your phone vibrate angrily in your pocket. You’ve had enough of phone calls for this past week, and you’re tempted to just ignore it and let it ring. But that small possibility, that small strand of hope you feel that, maybe it’s Hinata, is what compels you to pull the device out.

And sure enough, your caller ID lights up with “Dumbass Hinata” written across the screen. You wait a few more rings before picking up – half of the reason because you need to calm your erratic heart, the other half because you don’t want to sound too desperate – and saying, “Hello?”

“Heeelloo?” Hinata says loudly, and every attempt you’ve made to stay sane goes flying out the window. “Kageyama, are you there?”

“Yeah,” you yell into the receiver, bringing up a finger to plug your other ear, “wait, hold on a second.” Just as Hinata did before, you sneak your way through the crowd to find somewhere quiet. Checking all of the rooms, you find yourself disappointed when they’re all locked – probably to keep out any unwanted endeavours. You end up opening the door to the balcony again, the cold air hitting your face as you step outside. The music is muffled as you slide the door shut, pressing the phone back against your ear. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Hinata parrots, “are you at a party too?”

“Yeah, for work.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“Horrible.” You mutter, and Hinata giggles at your tone. The sound gives you a relaxed feeling, and you can’t help but want to hear it again. “Almost everyone is drunk and singing along to stupid songs.”

“It’s pretty much the same here at my house.” Hinata says, and you think you can hear the sound of people singing karaoke obnoxiously loud. “I had to be the one to keep everyone from falling down the stairs!”

You smile at the obvious distress in Hinata’s voice. It’s cute to hear him get frustrated over having to be the “responsible” one.

“So,” you start, because you’ve been wondering this ever since his name popped up on your phone, “why did you call?”

“I don’t know,” Hinata says, the sound of a body sinking into a couch making its way into your ear, “because I wanted to talk to you, I guess. And...”

You wait for Hinata to continue, but his next words never come. “And?”

“And I was curious.” He says after a moment. “Before, you said that, that you didn’t have parents anymore. So I was thinking about it a lot, and wondered if you were spending this New Year’s alone, and I didn’t want that. But I’m glad you’re not.”

A warmth spreads rapidly across your chest, so warm that you don’t even notice the cold surrounding you anymore. At Hinata’s words, every part of you aches to see him, to be able to reach out and touch him and surround him in an embrace. You grip your fingers tighter around the phone, frustrated by the distance that can only be remedied by a phone call.

“I’m not a little kid anymore.” You repeat the words you had spoken to Ukai, for lack of something better to say. Even now, you still don’t know what to do with all of these feelings building up inside of you.

“Obviously,” Hinata snorts before his tone changes to a gentler one, “but no one should spend New Year’s alone.”

You smile slightly as you realize that you’re currently by yourself, but you won’t tell Hinata that. “Yeah.”

Talking with Hinata on the phone, you find, is surprisingly easy. You thought that the conversation would fall short after that, not sure what to say next, but Hinata was more than bubbling with the next topic when he exclaimed something about his little cousins. It’s endearing to hear Hinata’s stories, to learn more about him as he lets you see a little more of himself. You learn that he’s an economics major (weird) at the local university, and that though he had chosen that path for the sake of securing a job, he’d really like to pursue something related to arts instead. You learn that he’s got a little rascal of a sister, and both parents who spoil him way too much. You learn that his favourite food is some sort of egg dish with rice (“...Really?” “Hey, it tastes awesome, okay?”) and that he loves to play volleyball in his spare time.

It honestly feels like you could talk with Hinata all night, even with the icy air dusting at your cheeks and freezing you to the bone, but when you suddenly hear screaming from both inside the apartment and from the other line, you realize that there’s less than a minute until midnight.

“Ah, they’re starting the countdown!” Hinata exclaims just as you hear everyone in the apartment begin to yell out numbers.

“Same here, and they’re loud as f*ck.”

“Oh, don’t be a party pooper,” he says, smile evident in his voice. You listen as the countdown gradually gets louder from both inside and outside of the apartment, random people on the street yelling at the top of their lungs. “C’mon, let’s count down together!”

“What? No, I’m not-”

“Ten!” Hinata shouts before you can finish, his voice so bubbly and joyful that you don’t know how to say no.

“...Nine.” You say as the snow falls in front of you, and you hold out a palm into the flurry.

“Eight!” The orange-haired boy counts, and you can feel the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“Seven.” Snowflakes land gently against your fingertips, only to melt away seconds later.

“Six!” The sound of a plate crashing resounds from inside the apartment.

“Five.” You exhale slowly, watching as the warm air disappears into the wind.

“Four!” Hinata exclaims even more excitedly, and the rush of affection that courses through your veins is devastating.

“Three.” You can’t help but wish that Hinata was here right now.

“Two!” I want to be with you, you think.

“One.” I like you so much.

The “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” that screeches against your ears is not only from Hinata, but from the chorus of everyone inside the apartment. They cheer loudly as cars honk all across the street, lighting up the entire neighbourhood with cheer. Someone slides open the balcony door before you hear another loud scream of Happy New Year from everyone inside. It seems like they found you, and you’re somewhat embarrassed to have been caught outside – especially with the look on Sugawara’s face that says I know exactly what you’re doing and I’m so happy.

You wish them a happy new year before they file back inside, leaving you alone again. The sound of laughter and well wishes still sounds in your ear from the other line, and you wait for Hinata’s voice to come back.

“Happy new year, Kageyama.” Hinata says eventually, words spoken so softly that their impact hits you even harder than they normally would. He giggles again, and you think that it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard. You sigh, overwhelmed by just how much you’ve fallen for this boy, how far you’ve dug yourself into this hole of caring and affection and everything.

And there’s so much more that you want beyond this, beyond Kenma’s words and everything else in between. But for now, there’s nothing else you can say, a smile on your face and eyes glued to the snow still falling from the sky, except for,

“Happy new year, Hinata.”

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

The days after New Years pass in a blur.

Like you knew it would, everything goes back to normal. Back to routine, you think as you accept mission after mission, fighting off the feeling in your chest that always surrounds you, suffocates you at this time of year. You think it’s like the fall after a high, though the crash is reality slapping you in the face and the summit was the press of a phone against your ear, Hinata’s voice like a sweet addiction you couldn’t (and still can’t) get rid of. It’s like slowly coming back to your senses, the realization that oh yeah, things aren’t always this smooth and ideal.

The anniversary is approaching.

You know that; it’s not like you’ll ever really be able to forget, but that doesn’t stop you from washing the blood off your fingers long after it’s disappeared, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to stay sane. And maybe if you distracted yourself enough, pushed it far enough to the back of your mind, you might even be able to move on. But of course, you find out, sleepless night after sleepless night, that that would just be wishful thinking.

And judging from the sympathetic stares you’ve received from both Ukai and Sugawara recently, you think that they remember it too. You don’t want them to though – don’t pity me, you scream in your head – so you bury yourself in bullets and blades until you’ve shed too much blood to remember.

It hurts, you think as you breathe out one night, unsure of just how many hours you’ve spent lying in your bed, pushing the memories to the back of your head. They don’t leave, though. They’re always there, like a ghost that haunts you, like the air you breathe, like a stalker at your side. Hours turn into days without sleep, and you wonder how you’ve even been able to stay awake for so long without crashing from the fatigue. Though, you think it’s the fear, the reminder that once you’re under, you’ll succumb into the hands of your own nightmares and insecurities.

Sugawara has stopped you in the hall once, a worried expression on his face as he pressed the back of his palm against your forehead and asked if you were okay. You only nodded, walking away before he could see the darkening bags under your eyes or the sickly pale flush of your skin. Besides, how could you possibly begin to explain the restless nights and countless fears without remembering them again for yourself?

You don’t think that it’s been this bad before – no, that’s a lie. It’s always been this bad, the shaking fingers, the suffocating feeling in your chest, the counting of intervals in your head. But the last time you remember feeling this way, feeling so alone and helpless and weak was-

Was before you met Hinata.

A laugh nearly escapes your lips at that thought. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, curling further into the couch. Meeting Hinata was, is, probably one of the best things to have ever happened to you. He makes you forget about your past, makes you forget that you’re not who you want him to think you are, makes you forget just exactly how messed up you are. And you don’t know if that should make you happy or sad, that since you first met, you haven’t had a single attack.

But of course, they’re back now, you muse as you let out a shaky breath. You wonder, if it weren’t so close to the day, whether or not you would’ve continued to forget and surround yourself around the brightness that is Hinata Shouyou. As you’re counting down the seconds, minutes, hours, you realize that you would’ve. You would’ve kept following the path your feet can’t help taking you toward, trailing further and further off until you saw the orange-haired boy at the end. You would’ve continued to forget because everything about Hinata reminds you of the good and nothing of the bad.

Happy New Year, huh? Memories of a snow-blanketed night and Hinata’s warm voice resurface as you sit up. It’s funny, you think with a sad smile, that every time things seem to go to sh*t, thinking of Hinata can miraculously make you feel better.

Rubbing a hand across your face, you pull yourself up from the couch. I don’t have time for this, you think solemnly as you glance at the clock across the room. It’s 9am. You let out a sigh at the realization that this makes the fifth consecutive day without sleep. At this point, you don’t even need to look in a mirror to see how exhausted you look because you can already feel it in each step you take. The weight of the world feels like it’s settled on your shoulders, but you can’t stop now. Not when you’ve got somewhere else to be.

You tug on your jacket and a hat before tiredly leaving your apartment.

*

Darkness.

That’s the only thing you notice as you run out of your house and down the street, head looking back and forth for the two faces you so desperately want to see.

“Mama?!” You cry out into the silence, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine when a reply doesn’t come. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you continue down the sidewalk with your heart thumping against your chest. The night air is bitter against your skin but you ignore it; you can’t turn back now, not when they’re gone, not when they’re out there somewhere and you’re just stuck here .

“Dad?!” Your voice echoes against the nothingness, leaving you panting for breath as you rest your hands on your knees. There’s a wetness in your eyes threatening to spill over, a familiar tightness in your throat that constricts tighter and tighter until it’s difficult to breathe. “W-Where are you?”

Don’t leave me here, you think as your legs give out, causing you to drop to the sidewalk. Your knees hit the sidewalk, but the pain can’t even begin to compare to the sinking feeling in your stomach. A tear slips out of your eye, followed by another and another, and before you know it a steady stream of tears are trailing down your face. You bring the back of your hands up to your face to wipe them away and muffle your choked sobs because Mama always said that I should never cry. I have to listen to Mama, I have to-

You don’t know how long you sit there for; minutes, hours maybe, but the pain of being left alone, of being abandoned doesn’t go away. You want to scream, pound your fists against the gravel, but you know that you can’t. Not if you want Mama and Dad to come back, because they won’t want you if you misbehave, won’t want you if you don’t do as they say, won’t want you like they used to because now they’ve left you and you don’t know what to do.

Your desperation forces you to pick yourself off the ground and dust off the pieces of gravel stuck to your knees. Somehow, you need to find them in this dark and unfamiliar world, but you have no idea where to even start. Even so, you think to yourself with swollen eyes and tear-stricken cheeks, I won’t let them break their promise. They said they would stay. They said they would never leave.

“Over there!” The sound of a voice causes you to immediately whip your head in its direction. You reflexively begin to back away as a car approaches you before stopping at the curb. Two men dressed in all black step out of the vehicle, one carrying a gun and the other with a length of rope in his hands. Even if you don’t know what exactly is going on, you can tell that this can’t be good, you need to escape, you need to run-

You’re barely able to take a step in the opposite direction before one of the men is behind you and hooks his arms beneath your armpits, trapping you to his chest. The other is just as quick, using the rope to bind your hands and feet together. You scream as you struggle against their grasp, but you’re quickly silenced when they tie a rag across your mouth.

“Jeez, shut up kid.” One of the men says, clicking his tongue distastefully at your expression. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” A sudden rush of adrenaline causes you to thrash about in their arms, desperately struggling to get away, but a sharp slap to your face leaves you teary-eyed and exhausted.

“I told you,” the same man growls in your ear, “to not make this harder than this needs to be. Understood?”

You nod weakly, too distraught to put up a fight. The man grunts at that, slinging you onto his shoulders so your upper body hangs along his back. If you really tried hard enough, you’re sure that you could swing your legs to kick him in the ribs, but at this point you don’t know if there’s even a point. Even if you were to retaliate, you’re sure that they would only come at you with something worse. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, he said, and you’re not willing to find out what will happen next.

“I don’t know,” the man not carrying you speaks up, his voice shaking slightly, “he’s just a little kid. Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shut up, Ukai. Just do your f*cking job.” He stops in his tracks to turn toward his partner. “Or are you going to disobey orders?”

“No! I-I ...Okay.”

You hear the sound of a car door opening before you’re roughly tossed into the backseat. The door slams shut near your feet and your entire body flinches. You vaguely hear the same man protest again before the other grabs him by the collar and threatens to report him to the higher ups. He yells something back, something you can’t quite decipher, but you’re too fatigued to pay attention. Though you try to fight it, a looming drowsiness clouds your senses. A distinct smell of cigarettes clings to the seats of the car, and is the last thing you remember before blacking out.

*

Chimes ring quietly as you step inside the flower shop. Someone at the counter yells out a greeting, gesturing for you to look around. You tug your hood closer around your head, hoping it’ll conceal the bags underneath your eyes (probably not). There are a few other people inside the store, most likely looking for gifts for their significant others, but you’d still rather not have any of them notice your presence.

You already know what you’re looking for – it’s been years of the same routine so it’d be weird not to – but that doesn’t stop you from glancing around at the displays, admiring the amount of work and dedication that went into each bouquet. A particularly beautiful arrangement of lilies, daisies and orchids in particular captures your attention. If there were another occasion, you’re sure that it’d be your next best choice (though you’re not sure why you’re even thinking of buying flowers for anything other than, well, this).

Eventually, you make your way up to the register and ask for the order you placed the other day. You don’t know if you should be surprised or not that the florist’s eyes widen slightly in recognition before saying, “Ah, Kageyama right?” It’s not until she notices the puzzled look on your face that she explains how she remembers wrapping the same bouquet of flowers last year on this particular day. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly, letting out a small “oh” in reply. The girl blushes before sputtering to emphasize that it’s not like I’m a stalker or something, honest, but you shake your head to tell her that it’s okay, you don’t mind. A second of awkward silence passes before she excuses herself to the back to get started on your bouquet, nearly tripping over a pot in the process.

To be honest, you’re not sure how you feel about someone remembering the fact that you’ve been here before. You wouldn’t call it creepy per say, but it leaves you with an unsettling feeling that there’s someone else out there that... that knows. Your fist clenches at the thought of another look of pity, but you try not to let it get to you. She wouldn’t know any better, you try to reason with yourself, though that doesn’t stop you from tapping your heel nervously against the ground, wondering if maybe you should’ve just stayed home today.

“Okay, here it is!” The florist comes back around ten minutes later with your bouquet in hand. She sets it down on the counter before turning to you with a bright smile. “Violet hyacinths and white tulips, correct?”

You pick up the bouquet with gentle hands, careful not to let the arrangement shift about. The flowers are bound delicately in light pink wrapping paper, held together by a combination of white and purple ribbon. The hyacinths and tulips sit in perfect harmony with one another, and you think that the florist has quite outdone herself. For all the times you’ve came here, you don’t think you’ve ever been presented with such a beautiful arrangement. “Yeah, thanks.”

She smiles brightly, seemingly proud of her work. You reach for your wallet to pay for the flowers, but she simply shakes her head. The florist leans her elbows on the counter before saying, “It’s on the house.”

“What? I can’t let you do that.” You protest.

“Think of it as a gift from us to you.” What does she mean by us? You try to object with that thought in mind, but she’s already speaking with another customer before you get a chance. The bouquet sits awkwardly in your hands as you stand at the cash register, feeling guilty for not having paid. You try to leave the money on the counter but a glare from the florist forces you to tuck the bills back inside your wallet. With a bow, you quietly leave the flower shop, waiting for the sound of chimes to disappear before walking off.

You glance up at the sky, a sinking feeling in your chest as you watch grey clouds loom over the city. A white puff of air escapes your mouth as you exhale; it’s going to snow soon. With a quickened pace and the bouquet of flowers in your arms, you trudge your way toward the train station.

*

“Get out.”

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of the man’s voice. You try to turn your head toward the voice, but your awkward lying-down position makes it impossible to do so without snapping your neck. The man clicks his tongue before roughly grabbing you at the waist, pulling you out of the car and throwing you over his shoulder in a similar fashion as before.

The rag still tastes unpleasant against your mouth but no matter how much you try to wriggle your face, it doesn’t loosen. You look up to try and find out where you are, but your eyes still haven’t completely adjusted to being awake yet. Plus, it’s much too dark for anything to be seen. The only decent light source around is the flashlight in the man’s hands, and with the way he’s shaking it around, there’s no way you’ll be able to get a good look at anything.

They carry you into a dark building that smells distinctly like the disinfectant your dad used to use to clean your cuts and scrapes. The thought of your father and home causes a fresh batch of tears to pool in your eyes, soon spilling over and dripping onto the floor. You sniffle, trying to stop yourself from sobbing as your vision blurs from the tears. Let me go, you try to yell against the rag in your mouth, though the only sound that comes out is a jumbled, muffled mess. You squirm against the man’s hold but he only grips harder in response, stopping you from moving about.

“Tobio.” The other man, the one you remember had tried to reason with the crueller man earlier, says your name and you freeze. You slowly lift your head to meet his gaze, only to be surprised when you see a look of remorse in his eyes. Why do you know my name, you want to ask, but your shock and the rag still in your mouth prevents you from doing so. He walks a little closer to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Please stop struggling. Everything will be okay.”

“How many times have I told you to shut the f*ck up, Ukai?” The man carrying you whirls on the other man – Ukai, you suppose – with a look of burning anger in his eyes.

“My apologies, sir.” Ukai says immediately, voice monotone and curt. “It will never happen again.”

“Damn f*cking straight it won’t,” he mutters, continuing down the hall again with a grunt. You glance over to Ukai again, somehow feeling guilty for getting him in trouble. Ukai only puts his index finger to his lips, the universal sign for silence, before averting his gaze and ignoring you for the rest of the walk.

It only takes another minute before you reach the end of the hall, a plain-looking door the only thing in sight. The man rummages around his pants pocket before pulling out a key and heaving you off his shoulders. Before you have a chance to even think about what’s happening, he unlocks the door and throws you inside, immediately shutting the door after. You think you hear Ukai yell something (“This isn’t what we discussed-”) but the pain of landing sharply on your side drowns out the sound of his voice. You let out a cry, wincing at the sting in your side. The ropes around your arms and legs make it difficult for you to adjust yourself on the floor, but you don’t get to before your eyes suddenly land on the two other people in the room.

“Mama?! Dad?!”

*

The sound of a train blares loudly against your ears, alerting everyone of its presence. You take a step back from where you are on the platform, staying behind the indicated yellow line as you’re supposed to. Though, you’re somewhat disappointed when you realize that the approaching train is the one on the other platform, and yours has yet to arrive. You let out a sigh, tired of having to wait.

Of course, that’s your fault anyways for taking too long at the flower shop. If you hadn’t dilly dallied at the register, you could’ve caught the earlier train; you’re even disappointed by the fact that you had tried to make it on time, only to get to the platform just as the train doors closed. Was it worth risking damaging the bouquet, probably not, but that doesn’t stop you from thinking that you should’ve ran faster, should’ve crossed that street quicker to make that train.

A cold gust of wind causes you to shiver and retreat closer to the middle of the platform. You decide to take a seat at one of the benches, biting your lip as the cold material seeps through the fabric of your pants. According to the clock on the lamp post, there’s still at least fifteen minutes before the next train arrives, and you wonder why you hadn’t just taken a seat in the first place. Though the icy feeling against your butt speaks for one reason, the relief you feel in your legs relaxing speaks for another. You adjust the bouquet of flowers in your hands, hoping that none of them were crushed from the florist to the station. Luckily, it looks like everything is still in perfect condition, and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Are those for your girlfriend, dear?” An elderly woman speaks up next to you and you nearly jump in surprise. You hadn’t noticed her when you sat down earlier.

“N-No, I don’t,” you stutter, feeling a slight blush run across your cheeks, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologizes, placing a gloved hand across her mouth. By that, you think that she’s going to drop the topic but you’re immediately proven wrong when she speaks up again with, “Is that for your boyfriend, then?”

“No, ” you manage to choke out, your cheeks no doubt flaring red at this point. And what makes it worse is that the embarrassment wasn’t just from the question, but from the fact that Hinata was what first came to mind when she asked it. You fight the urge to cover your face with your hands. “I don’t- I’m not in a relationship.”

“Really now? A good looking boy like you doesn’t have a boyfriend?” You shake your head no, meanwhile trying to ignore the fact that she had stuck with boyfriend instead of girlfriend, and oh god, is there a way that she can tell or something?! The old woman just chuckles and apologizes for being nosy before turning back to her own magazine. You subconsciously scoot further away from the woman, slightly uncomfortable from her questions and not wanting more to come.

By the time your cheeks have turned back to their normal colour, your phone buzzes obnoxiously in your pocket. You pull it out from your coat, ignoring the cold numbing your fingers as you unlock it to see a new text from Sugawara.

From: Sugawara
Subject: Worried (10:48am)
Are you alright?

You stare blankly at the message. A couple of minutes pass before you can even think of replying because, well, you’re not really sure. These past few days you’ve been floating around in this sort of trance – like you’re there, but you’re not actually there. You could tell that Sugawara and Ukai noticed, but they were kind enough not to mention anything because they knew what this meant to you. You’re grateful for that, really, so you don’t want to make them or anyone else unnecessarily worried about you.

To: Sugawara
Subject: Re:Worried (10:52am)
I’m fine.

Barely half a minute passes before your phone buzzes again with another text.

From: Sugawara
Subject: Re:Re:Worried (10:52am)
Okay.

From: Sugawara
Subject: Re:Re:Worried (10:53am)
Be safe.

To: Sugawara
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Worried (10:55am)
I will.

You tuck your phone back inside your pocket, eyeing the schedule near the directory board. There should only be a few more minutes until the train is supposed to arrive, and you stare at the ground impassively in the meantime. Sooner than you know it, the familiar sound of a train approaching the station reaches your ears and you quickly stand up to make your way to the edge of the platform. Several others around you do the same, lining up behind one another at the indicated lines. You make an effort to avoid getting the flowers squished by people coming off the train, not wanting to ruin the bouquet.

The train eventually clears out and you quickly move to find a seat. It’s not difficult, as there aren’t that many people who typically take trains that go outside of the main city. The doors shut after another minute and the train starts up, the sound of railroad tracks muffled outside of the cart. You lean your head back against the window, cradling the bouquet closer to your body. Your stop isn’t for another 2 hours, so you close your eyes and hope to awake when you’re there.

*

“Tobio?!”

“Tobio! Oh, Tobio, sweetie, no, what are you doing here?” Your Mama runs over to you, immediately getting to work on the ropes around your legs, then the ones around your arms. As soon as you’re free, you latch onto her, burying your face in her neck and breathing in the familiar scent.

“Mama....Mama...” You sob weakly into her arms, fingernails digging into her back. The pain you felt earlier in your side completely dissipates in the presence of your mother; you don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved in your entire life. She runs her fingers gently through your hair as your tears stain the collar of her shirt, muttering to you sweet, calming words that you don’t ever want to forget.

“Tobio,” you hear your dad say breathlessly before another pair of arms wrap around you both, surrounding you in an incomparable warmth. The tears stream faster down your cheeks, your sobs growing louder and choked as relief washes through your entire body. They’re here... They’re here...

Mama pulls back suddenly, taking your face into her hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. She rubs her thumbs gently across your cheeks, wiping away the dampness beneath your eyes. You feel your bottom lip quiver as Dad reaches over to kiss the crown of your head, then your forehead, then your cheek.

“Dad, Mama,” you say weakly, “why did you leave me?”

“We didn’t leave you Tobio.” Your father says, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “We would never leave you.”

“Then why did you?” You whine, ignoring the snot trailing down your nose. “You promised, you said you wouldn’t leave and-”

“Tobio.” Mama cuts you off by wrapping her arms around you, cradling you close to her chest. Your chin rests gently on her shoulder, her hands rubbing soothing circles against your back. You sniffle before hugging her back, your fingers clutching desperately into the material of her shirt. She presses another kiss to your head, and you wish that you could stay like this forever. “Mama and Dad love you very much. We would never want to leave you. Do you understand?”

You nod against her shoulder.

“And because Mama and Dad love you so much,” she continues, her voice going softer with every word, “we have to do certain things to keep you in our lives. That’s our job, Tobio, to keep you safe, and we will work for the rest of our lives to do so.”

You nod again, tightening your arms around your mother. Dad ruffles your hair once before standing up and walking across the small, white room. When you look up, you catch a look of frustration on his face, and you wonder why that’s there. Your eyes land on the large, black object in the left corner of the room, widening as you notice the bright red numbers counting down the seconds.

“W-What is that?” You ask shakily, pointing a finger at the object. A feeling in your gut tells you that you know exactly what it is, exactly what those numbers mean, but you don’t want to be right, don’t want to know that it’s a-

“It’s just a toy your mother and I have been working on for a while now,” Dad says with a smile, though you can still see that earlier sign of frustration seeping through his expression. “Though it’s being a bit more... difficult than we had originally assumed.”

That’s not a toy, you think with widening eyes. You may be a kid, but you’re old enough to know that thing isn’t the same as the stuffed animals or miniature tanks you’ve played with. The realization that the thing in the corner is not a toy but a bomb causes you to let out a shriek of panic. Your mother immediately holds you tighter, muttering soothing words into your ear but you can’t hear them over the sound of your own sobs. This can’t be happening, what’s going to happen to us?

“I’m scared,” you wail into Mama’s shoulder, vision blurring but still locked on the descending numbers on the device. The tick of each second resonates loudly in the room and you cover your ears with your palms to try to block out the noise. You’re practically digging your palms into the sides of your head, tears overflowing from your eyes, but the sound doesn’t go away; it makes you feel like your head is going to explode.

“Shh...” Mama hushes you quietly, still rubbing your back in a soft rhythm, “don’t worry Tobio, we will protect you.... Everything will be okay... We love you so much, dear... You’ll be safe...” It nearly breaks your heart to hear how Mama’s voice breaks as she trails off, her arms tightening around your body. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her like this before, and after this, you’re sure that you never want to again.

She pauses to take a shaky breath before a soothing tune leaves her lips. This song, you realize, is the one she sang on the day you found that frog. You think back to overhearing Mama in the kitchen, her gentle voice carrying through the halls and into your ears, immediately calming you down. The thought makes you even more scared to lose her and Dad, and you cry even louder at the possibility of not ever being able to see them again.

“Darling.” Your dad says with a shaky voice. You look over to see him grab at the hairs on his head, pulling them in frustration. His eyes look dark and you cringe; you’ve seen your father mad before, but never has he looked this menacing and unforgiving. “We have to get Tobio out.”

You freeze. Mama stiffens for a second before standing up, carrying you in her arms. Quietly, she says, “Okay.”

Mama walks you over to the opposite corner of the bomb where the small air duct is. As she swings her foot to kick the vent in, you suddenly realize what she’s doing and you cling to the material of her shirt. “No!”

She crouches down, slowly prying your fingers off with a sad smile. “We love you, Tobio. You need to leave.”

“No!” You scream again, shaking your head back and forth as a fresh batch of tears well up in your eyes. Mama manages to get away from your grip, pushing you toward the small vent. “No! I can’t! Mama, Dad, you have to come with me!”

“You’re the only one that will fit, Tobio.” Dad says solemnly. You manage to catch a glimpse of the timer – 00:00:37 – before Mama roughly shoves you into the vent. In a panic, you try to crawl back out, but Mama shoots you a glare so unforgiving it stops you in your tracks.

“Go, Tobio! Run!” Her scream pierces through your skin, stunning you before you’re crawling as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Tears stream down your cheeks as you crawl through the dusty vent, ignoring the stinging pain in your elbows and knees. You want to turn back, to go back and get your parents so you can leave together, but you can’t, not after Mama yelled at you like that to leave. Your heart pounds loudly against your chest as you crawl farther and farther away from the small, white room, turning corners left and right until you eventually reach another opening.

You slam your tiny fists as hard as you can against the vent, a feeling of relief washing through your body when the rusted material breaks off easily. You burst forward, falling out of the duct and landing face first into a pile of snow. The sting of the cold barely registers to you before you’re picking yourself up and running as fast as you can away from the building, your lungs burning with every breath. I have to get away, you think desperately, I have to-

A deafening explosion from behind nearly causes you to trip over your own feet. You whip your head around, only to eventually slow to a stop when you see the dark cloud of smoke, followed by a blazing fire and the litter of debris floating in the night sky. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, eyes widening at the sight of the building being blown to smithereens. You bring shaking hands up to your face, lowering your head into them when you remember they were in there, Mama and Dad were in there-!

You drop to your knees, ignoring the sting of the cold against your skin. It feels like there’s a boulder stuck in your throat as you dry heave, tears overflowing from your eyes. A shiver wracks your entire body and you wrap your arms tightly around your upper body, shielding yourself from the sudden cold and pain and loneliness you feel. You let out an agonizing scream as the image of fire and burnt ash engraves itself into your memory, so vivid that you still see it picture perfect from the back of your eyelids.

Everything, you think as you feel darkness closing in around you, is gone.

*

“You have arrived at ******* station. You have arrived at ******* station.”

You jolt awake at the announcement, realizing in a panic that you’ve arrived at your stop. The bouquet of flowers nearly slips from your hands as you scramble out of the train doors just before they slide shut. Relieved, you breathe out a sigh of relief, only to be blasted with a cold gust of wind a moment later. You glance around the platform; the only people here besides you are huddled over by the heating station, holding mugs of coffee tight to their chests. Not wanting to waste any more time, you quickly make your way to the exit.

It’s only a ten minute walk from the station to your destination, but it still feels like an eternity as you trudge your way through the thick snow, trying to forget the sinking feeling in your chest. The flowers feel heavy in your hands and you really wish that you didn’t even have to look at them right now. On your way, you pass by a man who sends you a sympathetic smile, like he knows just exactly where you’re going, and you secretly want to hate him for that. Don’t look at me. Don’t pity me.

And then all of a sudden, you’re here. You pass through the gate without a word, not even glancing up to look at the sign that says “O.J. Cemetery” because you already know what you’re here for. You try not to let the feeling of dread overwhelm you, but it’s difficult when you’re walking past rows and rows of graves. Your fingers tighten around the bouquet, though still careful not to damage the arrangement, as you reach a familiar grey tombstone.

The name “Kageyama” is inscribed into the grey slate, its edges worn and weathered over time. A date and description have also been written underneath the names of your parents, and even after all these years, you still can’t bring yourself to read it. You’re not sure how much time you spend just staring at the grave. Eventually, you crouch down to set the bouquet of flowers on the soil in front of the tombstone, reaching out afterwards to trace your fingers over the engraving.

“Hey Mom, Dad.” You whisper to the grave as a gust of wind passes, chilling you down to the bone. The snow around your feet is cold, but nothing can compare to the freezing chill you feel inside your chest. It feels like time has stopped once again, leaving you stuck in this moment that you’ll never be able to forget. You let out a sigh, watching aimlessly as the puff of breath disappears into the wind. “Happy anniversary.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. You bring a hand up to your face, covering your mouth as you feel a stinging pain behind your eyes. The feeling of regret bubbles up to the rim, washing over your entire body as your fingers grip tighter onto the stone. “I’m sorry,” you choke out, hating how disgustingly broken you sound because you hate feeling weak, hate sounding weak, hate being weak. The pain causes your knees to give in, and you slump down against the soil in front of the grave. You can’t even be bothered to think about the cold seeping through your pants and into your skin because nothing is worse than this feeling of shame and remorse.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, because everything is your fault. Your shoulders tremble as you remember that night, that night you ran out of your house, that night you were kidnapped, that night you killed your own parents. If you weren’t there that night, if you weren’t there to distract them, then Dad would’ve had more time to figure out how to dismantle the bomb instead of wasting time comforting you. If you hadn’t shown up, then Mom would’ve been able to help him instead of worrying about your own safety. Then maybe they could’ve lived, maybe they could’ve came back to you and kept their promise, maybe everything could’ve been fine fine fine fineifneifen-

...

But everything isn’t fine.

They’re gone forever because of you.

And even if you know that you weren’t the one who trapped them there, even if you know that you weren’t the one who set that bomb, you were the distraction. You were the ultimatum. You were the reason that they didn’t survive. Everything would’ve been fine if you didn’t interfere, if you had just listened and stayed at home, if you hadn’t been so goddamned stupid and idiotic.

But you can’t turn back the hands of time.

You know that; years of lying in your bed, drowning in the anguish have proven that fact. No matter how much you want it to, the past will never change. And frankly, you don’t know if anything you do in your lifetime will ever be enough to make up for your mistakes.

I’m so sorry.

A single tear drops from your eye, followed by another, and then another. When was the last time I cried, you wonder as the drops stain the wrapping paper on the bouquet. You bring a hand up to wipe the tears away, sniffling slightly as you hang your head in regret. Please forgive me.

...

You’re not sure how long you spend at the cemetery, kneeling with a tear-stained face in front of your parents’ grave. You barely remember trudging yourself back to the train station and getting on the two hour ride back. But the next thing you know, you’ve arrived back in the city with dirt on your pants and frostbitten fingers. You glance up at the sky, your eyes stinging as you watch the snow fall onto your face from the grey skies above.

You glance back down at your hands, overturning them so your palms face upward. Your fingers are still trembling and no matter what you do, it just won’t stop. The pain won’t go away, you think brokenly as you suddenly slump down in the middle of the sidewalk, causing other pedestrians to give you either looks of concern or distaste. As you cradle your head in your hands, you try to block out the noises you hear from their lips (“What’s that man doing?” “Is he alright?” “Why the f*ck is he blocking everyone? How inconsiderate...” “Maybe we should help...” “No, what if he’s a hobo? He could have some sort of disease...”). They don’t go away, though; the thoughts penetrate deep inside of your mind, making you feel like you’re losing control.

19...38...57...76... You start to count again, trying to calm yourself down. You feel sick to your stomach, you want to go back home, but the dizziness you feel makes it impossible for you to stand up and think rationally. Your breaths begin to come shorter and shorter, and it feels like there’s not enough air, feels like you’re going to suffocate, feels like-

A hand suddenly grips firmly onto your shoulder, causing you to look up in shock. Through your blurred vision, you can barely recognize the face in front of you, the voice that’s calling your name, that familiar orange hair-

“Kageyama!” Hinata says again, this time shaking your shoulders until you snap back into reality. He looks worried, you think, though you’re trembling too hard to be able to tell whether or not he is. “You- What are you doing here?”

Your breaths slow down to normal as your vision clears up, hands trembling less and less with each passing second. You begin to recognize the feeling of Hinata’s hands on your shoulders and your face heats up slightly at the thought of him being so close, of him touching you so intimately. His unwavering eyes stare straight into yours with more concern than you’ve ever seen from anyone else. Suddenly, you realize how inappropriate this must be, to be out in public so close with so many people watching, and you begin to push yourself away from him. “I-, Nothing. I’m fine-”

“You’re not fine!” Hinata yells, his orange eyes blazing with something you can’t quite put your tongue on. “If you were fine you wouldn’t have been there like... like that. ” His voice quiets down, the grip of his fingers tightening on your shoulders.

Hinata doesn’t give you any time to react before he reaches for your hands from your face and pulls you up. You’re surprised that he doesn’t topple over from your weight; he’s stronger than you seem to give him credit for. He lets go of one hand, but keeps the other gripped tightly in his own, and he begins to pull you along.

“What the- Where are you taking me?” You sputter out, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart against your chest.

Hinata doesn’t turn around when he replies, “My dorm.” You’re left only to stare at the back of his head, trying to think of why he’s doing this, and subsequently why you’re not doing anything to stop it.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

The suffocating tightness in your chest slowly unravels as Hinata pulls you down the street, feet marching with purpose in every step. You stare blankly at the back of his head, absentmindedly noting a maroon hat covering orange curls and a flush of red upon his ears. Your eyes trail lower, skimming over a grey scarf and familiar green parka, before landing at the end of his sleeve where his hand meets your own. His fingers, you think, are much slimmer than yours, looking almost girlish against your palm. You think that just one of your hands could hold both of his, and you’re not really sure what you want to do with that information.

You tilt your head up to the sky, still moving forward as you watch flurries of white fall from above. What am I doing? You wonder as you continue to let yourself be pulled further away from where you should be. There’s no reason for you to have agreed to Hinata’s demand and yet, here you are, willingly allowing yourself to go along with... whatever this is.

“I shouldn’t,” you finally try to protest but he only grips your fingers tighter, tugging you forward. Hinata turns to you with a determined expression on his face, and really, how can you say no to that? You breathe out a sigh before burying your chin into the comfort of your jacket. “Fine.”

Another ten minutes pass before you find yourself outside of what you remember to be Hinata’s dorm. You recall coming here once, several nights ago after a day well spent, but it looks significantly different in broad daylight. The walls of the residence look weathered from time, some of the white paint chipping off the main entrance railings. Grey stones line the path leading to the front doors, snow clinging to the cracks between each step. You think you see a dark green welcome mat at the entrance, its

Hinata nearly slips on a patch of ice going up the stairs but you react fast enough to tug him in your direction before he face plants into the concrete. He stumbles backwards, his free hand scrambling against your chest before he rights himself, looking up at you with a smile. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and you try not to notice how close he is to you right now, how his fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of your coat, how his other hand warmly grips your own, how- oh, god, how f*cking weird this must look to someone else-

“Don’t trip again, stupid,” you mutter as you take a step back, averting your gaze to anything but Hinata’s face. He laughs shakily before releasing his grip on your jacket, and you try to forget the feeling of warmth from being in such close proximity. You feel a slight pressure against your palm before you realize Hinata’s squeezing your hand, tugging you toward the automatic doors.

A warm breath of air hits you in the face as you step inside the residence. In front of you, Hinata lets out a sigh of relief, pulling the hat off his head and ruffling the snow from his hair. You watch as white crystals fall to the ground, some melting under the heat. He stomps his feet against the black mat and you do the same before following him down a hall. You pass by what looks to be a lounge before reaching an elevator. Hinata presses the up button before suddenly speaking up. “Hey.”

You blink. “Hi.”

Hinata meets your stare straight on. You wait for him to speak but he doesn’t, instead looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. Something burns behind his eyes, a fire so small yet still there, and you wonder what gave life to that flame. He tightens his fingers around your hand and then loosens them, eyes still piercing into your own.

The elevator dings at its arrival just as Hinata opens his mouth again, effectively cutting him off. You hope that he’ll continue (though you’re not sure why) but he doesn’t, instead shutting his mouth and pulling you in just before the doors close. Experimentally, you squeeze Hinata’s hand as he hits the button for the fifth floor. His shoulders stiffen but other than that, you don’t manage to get a reaction out of the shorter boy.

When the elevator doors slide open again, Hinata skips out as you meekly trail behind him, fingers still intertwined. He says something along the lines of apologizing for the mess, but you’re too busy with the realization that, god, you’re still holding hands with him and what the hell why are we still holding hands oh god. Hinata pulls out his keys to unlock the door and you vaguely hear it click open before you find yourself inside Hinata’s dorm.

It’s somewhat typical, you think. White walls plastered with miscellaneous posters, various textbooks scattered across the room. A stereo sits atop one of the two identical desks near the back wall as a desk lamp adorns the other. One of the chairs lies askew from its table, several loose leafs of paper on the floor near it. “A test,” Hinata says when he notices your sceptical glance at the mess on the ground, and you assume that particular half of the room is his. You glance to your left, eyeing what you assume to be Hinata’s bed. The blue comforter lies hazardously across his sheets, a lone volleyball sitting atop his pillow. You can’t help but think that it’s so characteristically Hinata, how messy and outrageous it is, kind of like his personality, but then you remember the other bed lying on the opposite side of the room and-

“Do,” you choke out, feeling yourself beginning to sweat, “do you have a roommate?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah!” Hinata tilts his chin toward the other bed with a black blanket similar to his own. “Kenma and I live together. You remember him, right?”

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Yeah.”

Your heart races against your chest as a wave of panic washes over your body. You unlace your fingers from Hinata’s (and you definitely don’t notice the hesitant tug of Hinata’s fingers against yours before the warmth of his palm left your own), trying to fight the urge to reach for where your gun usually lies in its holster. Taking a step back, your eyes dart across the small room. I need to leave-

“Kenma’s not here right now, though.” Hinata speaks up just before the signals from your brain reach your legs. You freeze, your mind in a frenzy as Hinata walks over and sits down on his bed, shedding his parka. “He’s visiting his parents who live out of town, so he’ll be gone for the next couple of days.”

It’s funny, you think, how casually Hinata throws those words without any idea of what they mean to you. He’s not here, you realize belatedly, bringing your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You know that you probably shouldn’t feel so elated from hearing that, but you can’t help it. The relief that washes over you is so abundant that you don’t care enough to stop it. If this were any other time that Hinata brought you to his dorm, you don’t know what Kenma would’ve done to you. Not that you’re afraid, you defend, but you doubt that he would hesitate to make private matters public.

You clench your fists. When Kenma called you before, you were so sure of yourself, so sure that there was no way Hinata would end up involved with the problems concerning Hitmen’s Associates. And yet, here you are, standing awkwardly in Hinata and Kenma’s shared dorm, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to solve this mess. You hardly even know anything about the situation, though that’s not exactly your fault. You’re sure that Ukai is busting his ass off to find out more information, but it’s not enough. There’s no way that you can guarantee that you’ll be able to protect Hinata from it, if anything even happens. f*ck.

“Kageyama?” Hinata says, jolting you from your thoughts. You whip your head in his direction, only to be met with a tilt of his head and a concerned expression on his face.

“I-, sorry.” You mutter, not sure what exactly you’re apologizing for. “I spaced out.”

Hinata rubs his palms together in his lap, glancing down at his feet. He alternates swinging his legs back and forth, worrying slightly at his bottom lip. You think that he looks like he wants to say something, similar to earlier before you had stepped in the elevator, but you don’t press on the subject. If he has anything to say then he should just say it.

“You,” Hinata starts before trailing off and furrowing his eyebrows. His gaze flickers upward to meet yours, and you try not to flinch from the intensity of his stare. “What happened to you?”

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarifies, “at the station. When I found you. You were....you were crouching down in the middle of the street. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but it was, and, and...” He clenches his fists, eyes burning with that same flame you saw earlier and you realize, ah, this is what it was. You turn your head, breaking eye contact between you two. You’re not sure if you can handle this right now.

“It’s nothing.” That’s a lie – there’s no way that any of that was just nothing – but you’d be crazy to even think of telling Hinata about your parents. You take a step back, feeling the weight of the subject rest heavy upon your shoulders. Just thinking of it again, of dark halls and white walls, causes you to feel sick to your stomach. I don’t want to think about it stop stop stop stop-

“Kageyama,” Hinata says shakily, pushing himself off his bed and walking over to you. You back up away from him until your heels hit the wall. He stands in front of you, reaching out to your face to pull your hand away from the crown of your head (when had you started pulling at your hair?). Then, he repeats the action with your other hand, slowly bringing the both of your hands down at rest between you two. The beating in your chest picks up as his thumbs trace lightly over the skin of your hands, and you hope that he doesn’t notice how your fingers shake with each breath.

“It’s nothing,” you repeat quietly, hating how your voice cracks on the last syllable, hating how absurdly weak and vulnerable you sound. Hinata’s hands squeeze yours tighter and you feel like your chest is going to explode. It’s all so overwhelming; the anniversary, the memories, the feeling of Hinata so close to you. You want to run away, escape from it all like you usually do, but the warmth of his hand keeps you grounded, keeps you from leaving like you so desperately want to.

You look down past your hands at your feet. Since when have you become so weak? It’s ridiculous, you think; you’ve become accustomed to the pain – the sting of the cut, the open wounds – but you don’t know how to deal with the rest – the bleeding out, the healing process. These were things you’ve always told yourself that would go away with time, that would hurt less if you just ignored them, but you were wrong. Nothing hurts more than the ghost of the past, coming back to haunt you and torture you in every waking moment. Nothing hurts more than remembering every second and not being able to forget each moment. And above all else, nothing hurts more than being left so defenceless and exposed in front of the one you care about; being left to bleed out and hope that he won’t run away from the pieces you’ve left on the ground.

Slowly, Hinata unlaces one of his hands from yours, and you feel as though your world is crashing down – he can’t take it, can’t handle this, I’m too much of a burden, I need to leave I need to leave I need to – but he traces a finger across your forehead, brushing away your hair. He leaves a trail of warmth behind as his hand reaches to the side, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You feel your heart nearly skip a beat as Hinata’s palm hovers before resting lightly against your cheek. His hand is pressed warmly against your skin, and you dare to lift your eyes to meet his.

And just like you expected, the fire you’ve seen before burns brightly behind his eyes. Hinata’s eyebrows are pinched, his lips pursed in a difficult expression. You had thought that you were nervous, but the slight shake in Hinata’s shoulders tells you that he might be feeling the same. You want to reach out and stop him from feeling that way – stop him from feeling the burden you’ve become used to – but you can’t help but wonder just exactly what he’s nervous about.

“Why do you do this?” Hinata says quietly, more timid than you’ve ever heard him before. The hand holding yours tightens its grip and you bask in the warmth that pools in your chest. You think that his question is more rhetorical than anything, and you’re proven right when he continues. “Why...Why do you pretend like nothing is wrong when something obviously is? Kageyama, I know that we haven’t known each other for a long time, and it’s- it’s not like we’re best friends or anything but I just,” his voice breaks slightly and you feel like someone’s ripped your heart out of your chest, “I just want you to tell me things, Kageyama. I-I know I sound like a little kid whining right now, but I want you to trust me and tell me when things aren’t alright. No matter how-how weird or selfish it may sound, I want to be there for you, and I can only do that if you let me in.”

Hinata’s words leave you speechless. You don’t know what you were expecting to hide behind that veil of nervousness, but it definitely wasn’t this. It’s unbelievable for you to think that Hinata would...to think that he would care so much about you. You never would have thought – never in a million years – that he would accept this broken part of you, even if this isn’t all of it. But it lifts the weight off your shoulders, rids the sinking feeling in your stomach. At this very moment, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so strongly for Hinata before, don’t think you’ve ever been so utterly enamoured with the orange-haired boy in front of you. You want to reach out, hold him in your arms, but you can’t find the nerve to take that extra step, to cross the boundary you’ve drawn for yourself out of the fear of rejection.

You have no idea how you’re supposed to convey these feelings to him without scaring him off. If Hinata only sees you as a friend, it’s inevitable that things will change for the worse if he finds out. If Hinata feels the same, well. You don’t think you’ve ever thought that far into it, but if he felt the same, you wouldn’t be sure of what to do next. How do you even begin to explain these feelings when you can barely understand them yourself?

Hinata’s hand squeezes yours again, suddenly reminding you of the fact that you haven’t said a word. You panic as your mind races for something intelligent to say, but after opening and closing your mouth uselessly, Hinata speaks up again.

“I was scared, you know.”

You feel the gears in your head come to a stop. Scared? Of what? You wonder as Hinata brushes his thumb across your cheek before his hand rests on your shoulder. His fingers curl into the fabric of your jacket, and he leans forward until his head thumps lightly against your chest.

Oh my GOD, you think loudly to yourself, oh my god oh my god what is happening oh my GOD. You’re sure that Hinata can hear the erratic beating of your heart, even through the thick layers of your coat. Desperately, you try to will your heart to calm down but it doesn’t, not when Hinata is so close and nearly in your arms and practically everything you’ve ever wanted-

You swallow nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up intensely. You’re silently grateful for the fact that Hinata can’t see your face right now; there’s no doubt in your mind that he would point out the flush on your cheeks with a snicker. You wrack your brain for something, anything at all, but you’re left dumbfounded but the sudden contact. The hand holding you can (kind of) deal with, but this? This is on a whole other level itself. What do I do what do I do what do I do-

“Of what?” You breathe out, curiosity getting the better of you.

Hinata remains quiet, still leaning against your chest. After a few seconds, you dare to look down and your knees almost give in at the sight. His hair is so close, so bright and vibrant, that if you leaned down slightly, you’re sure you could rest your chin atop his head. You want to thread your fingers through his hair, push the strands out of his eyes like he did with yours. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget this moment or the feeling that came along with it.

“I was scared of what could have happened to you.” He says, and you can practically feel the words vibrate against your chest. “You were on the street in front of the station, just crouching down in the middle of the street. I saw you and I just, I didn’t know what to do. And then later, I started to wonder, if I didn’t find you...If I didn’t find you, who knows what would have happened to you?”

It feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. The feeling of Hinata so close, the feeling of his fingers laced with your own, the feeling of his hand gripping the material of your coat... It’s all so much that you’re surprised that you haven’t gone insane. You let out a shaky exhale, trying to process Hinata’s words.

What would have happened to you if Hinata hadn’t found you? ...You’re not exactly sure yourself. You’ve never had an attack in such a public area before. Most have taken place in the comfort (you use that word with scorn) of your own bedroom, so you’re not sure how you would’ve dealt with it. Though the egotistical part of you says you would’ve found your way back home eventually, the realistic side of you disagrees. There are no guarantees when you become like that, and you hate it, hate that Hinata had to see it, and most of all, hate that he had felt responsible for it.

“Hinata, I... I’m sorry.” You say, though you’re unsure of what you’re apologizing for. But regardless, you hate that he sounds so small and afraid, unlike his usual bubbly and cheerful self. You hate that you were the one who caused this sadness, whether you wanted to or not (and you definitely didn’t want to, no, never in a thousand years would you ever want to see Hinata sad). There has to be something you can do to fix this, to get rid of this darkness looming over you both.

He shakes his head, the orange strands brushing lightly against your jacket. You feel the pressure of his hand on your shoulder leave as he drops his arm to his side. Hinata leans his head back to look up at you, and you’re relieved when the expression on his face isn’t one of sadness, but of hope and optimism. Good, you think, because you’re not sure if you would’ve been able to handle it if it were.

“You know,” he starts, squeezing your hand with a small smile, “it’s okay to not be okay sometimes.”

This next moment – when the gears in your head suddenly click into motion, when your mouth falls open slightly in realization, when everything seems to just fall in place – is one you know you’ll never be able to forget. This is when you understand that there is someone out there who sees you for who you are, who accepts you for who you are, who doesn’t think that you as an entity are a sin. This is when you understand that there is someone who will be there for you, who won’t look down on you for being weak, who won’t question your sanity. This is when you understand that there is nothing more precious than this orange-haired boy in front of you, nothing else you want more than to keep him safe, nothing you’ve held dearer to you.

This is the very moment, you think, that you fall completely and utterly in love with Hinata.

It’s okay to not be okay. He says it with so much sincerity that you can’t help but believe it. It’s overpowering, this feeling of relief inside you, and it overflows until every part of you becomes enveloped by it. It makes you feel normal for once, like being yourself has never been wrong, has never been something you should have been ashamed of. It makes you feel so god damned relieved that you can’t help the tightness in your throat, the sting of pain behind your eyes. It’s so overwhelming that you can’t control the shake of your shoulders as tears slowly spill over your cheeks.

“I...I...” You stutter, bringing your free hand up to wipe your eyes. You didn’t mean to cry, but now that you are, you can’t help but feel embarrassed and shy away from Hinata’s stare. “Sorry, I-I don’t usually-”

Hinata tugs firmly on your hand, preventing you from moving away. “It’s okay to cry, too.” He says. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong when you’re not.”

“...It’s embarrassing, though.” You say stubbornly, averting your gaze slightly.

Hinata giggles lightly at that, and you wonder how you haven’t died of heart failure yet. You swear that one day, Hinata will be the death of you, with his stupid smile and infectious laugh. You flick him once on the forehead for good measure and his face contorts into a sour expression.

“Hey! I was trying to cheer you up,” Hinata complains, rubbing the sore spot with the back of his hand.

“I know,” you say, wiping away the rest of your tears and giving a small smile when you continue, “thank you, for that.”

You hesitate slightly before squeezing his hand in return, hoping that he understands just how much he means to you. Suddenly, Hinata’s face explodes in a flush of red, his eyes widening considerably as he sputters something incoherent. You begin to wonder if maybe you shouldn’t have done that – Hinata had done it multiple times before, so you thought it’d be okay if you did too – but when he squeezes your hand back in reply, you think you have your answer. This is okay, isn’t it?

“Uhm,” Hinata manages after a moment, “do you want to like. Sit. For a bit?”

You nod, wondering what happened to the orange-haired boy who spoke such blunt and honest words earlier. He tugs you over to his bed and sits on the edge, gesturing with your joined hands for you to sit next to him. A thought crosses through your mind but you quickly wave it away, not wanting to think about things like... that right now. The mattress sinks slightly as you take a seat, trying to ignore the awkward atmosphere between you two.

Hinata squirms at your side, his hand still linked to your own. You wonder why neither of you have let go yet, though it’s not like you really want to. It’d be foolish for you to want to lose that warmth, that solid reassurance that Hinata is really here, that this is really happening, that oh god, what the hell I’m sitting on Hinata’s bed what the f*ck-

“Do you,” Hinata starts, breaking you out of your panic, “want to take off your jacket?”

“Oh.” You say accidentally. You hadn’t even noticed that you still had your coat on (no wonder it was so damn hot in here). “Uh. Yeah.”

You move your hands to the zipper, only to realize that Hinata’s hand comes with one of them when you do so. Oh god, you think to yourself as you remember that holding his hand isn’t exactly something normal and that no, Hinata’s hand is not an extension of your own body. Hinata’s eyes widen marginally at your mistake before he breaks out into a fit of laughter.

“Sh-Shut up!” Hinata clutches a hand to his stomach as he leans back, plunging against the bed and giggles falling abundantly from his lips. You let go of Hinata’s hand, trying to ignore the embarrassment (and the sudden feeling of emptiness against your palm) as you undo your zipper and shrug off your coat.

Hinata’s still laughing after you’ve thrown your jacket somewhere on the floor and you feel your cheeks flame considerably. You watch as he wipes tears of mirth from his eyes, a glorious smile adorning his face. The sight makes it almost worth the embarrassment, sort of.

“Sorry,” Hinata says, a wide grin still upon his lips, and you know that he doesn’t really mean it but you don’t really care, “don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” you defend, though you’re pretty sure that you are pouting.

He giggles again, turning his head against the mattress to face you. “Suuure.”

You look away stubbornly, not wanting to admit that Hinata was right. That’s enough embarrassment for one day, you think before you feel his hand cover your own at your side. This time, it’s your turn to look at Hinata, surprise evident on your face, and his turn to avert his gaze, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks. You glance down at where his hand sits on yours, feeling that familiar warmth rush back into your body. After a moment, you turn your hand over so your palm faces his, cautiously intertwining your fingers with his own. His hand moulds perfectly against yours, and you give it a light squeeze, revelling in how Hinata’s cheeks flush a shade darker.

At this point, you start to wonder if maybe...if maybe Hinata feels the same way you do. That would explain the hand holding and the blushing, you think, because for what other reason would he react like this? A small bubble of hope sits in the back of your mind, but you don’t want to hover on it for too long. You shouldn’t assume anything right now, no matter how much you want to. It wouldn’t be right.

“Hey,” Hinata says, stopping you from mulling over that thought any further. His eyes are glued to the ceiling, a strangely neutral expression on his face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

He pauses, breathing out a sigh. “Was today something important?”

You freeze, feeling the blood in your veins run cold. It’s amazing, you think, how accurate Hinata can be sometimes. Like you expected, the question makes you uncomfortable, but not to the point you thought it would’ve. The memories still flash in your mind but now, you don’t feel as though you’ll break down at just the thought of the date, not like you used to. You don’t think that the sadness will ever go away, but right now, it feels better, like one day you’ll be able to accept it and move on. And frankly, you think that’s somewhat amazing.

“Yeah.” You say softly, not sure if Hinata was looking for something other than a yes or no answer. You don’t want to burden him with anything he wouldn’t want to know.

“Okay,” he says, smoothing his thumb over the skin of your hand. From where you’re sitting, you watch from the corner of your eye as Hinata stretches his other arm across the bed, wiggling around to try and get comfortable. “Can I ask another question?”
“Okay,” you parrot.

Hinata takes longer this time to ask his question. He swings his legs slightly, seemingly mulling over how to phrase his next sentence. “Were you visiting the cemetery outside of town?”

“...Yeah.”

“One more question?” Hinata asks.

“Okay.”

“Was it...your parents?”

“.....Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. You don’t blame him though, because you wouldn’t know what to say either. Maybe you shouldn’t have answered, should have just evaded the question, but there was a part of you that wanted him to know, that wanted Hinata to understand this part of you. And it’s that thought that prevents you from regretting that decision as you now sit in silence with Hinata lying by your side.

All of a sudden, you feel Hinata’s other hand on your arm, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulls you full force against the bed. You fall on your side against the mattress, cursing as your head suddenly hits the bed. You barely manage to open your mouth to yell at Hinata for doing something stupid before you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, cradling you near your shoulders. You stiffen in response, suddenly realizing just how close your face is to Hinata’s collarbone. What do I do, you think as Hinata curls closer toward you, his fingers dangerously close to the nape of your neck. Above you, you feel more than hear Hinata let out a small sigh, a ghost of air brushing over the hairs of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, rubbing small circles into your shoulder blades. A blush creeps up your neck and burns brightly on your cheeks from the feeling of being so close. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you say, only now realizing how awkwardly your arms are squished against your chest, as far away from touching Hinata as possible.

“I meant it, you know. Earlier,” Hinata says, his voice soft and warm above you, “when I said that it was okay to not be okay. You don’t have to pretend like things are okay if they’re not. I won’t judge you, so... It’s fine.”

It’s fine. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to interpret those words, but you can’t help how your mind runs wild with them. It’s fine. You wonder if they’re words of reassurance or words of permission. Deep down, you hope that it’s both, and when you slowly reach out to wrap your arms loosely around Hinata’s waist, you decide that yes, this is fine.

You hope that action alone is enough for Hinata to understand just how thankful you are for this. Not just for his words, but for him being here for you at your worst. You’re not very good at expressing yourself, you never have been, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to give more, to show him just exactly how much he means to you.

One of Hinata’s hands snakes into your hair, gently combing through the strands. Your breath hitches at the sensation of his fingers against your scalp, each motion more soothing and calming than the one before it. Your heart pounds loudly in your ears and you hope that Hinata can’t hear it too. You tighten your fingers around the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the scent of fresh laundry and something else distinctly Hinata. This, you think, is something that you never want to let go, never ever in your entire life, and-

You feel a small, light pressure on the top of your head. At first, you ignore it, brushing it off as Hinata’s fingers in your hair, but the fleeting feeling makes you realize it was something else, something other than just his hand. Your eyes widen, no, did he, did he just-? You feel dizzy at the thought that Hinata might’ve done that, might’ve actually went and f*cking did that, and now you’re struck with the impulse to know, to find out if he-

Leaning back from Hinata’s chest, you tilt your head up to find Hinata already looking at you, an expression you can’t even begin to put to words on his face. His cheeks are flushed red, probably as dark as you think yours are right now, but you don’t care because you realize that he did it, he really went and did it and kissed the top of your head. Does that mean he... You wonder as you stare at him, dumbfounded, is it okay for me to assume that he likes me too?

On an impulse, you move your arm from his waist and reach for Hinata’s cheek with your palm like he did before. You hesitate, hovering before gently placing your hand on his cheek. He leans into the touch, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. A whimper nearly escapes your lips as Hinata sends you a smile so warm, his eyes turning into moon-like crescents. You carefully brush your thumb across his cheek, under his eye and down to the corner of his mouth.

I want to kiss him, you think as your eyes flicker down to his lips, just inches away from your own. You look back up, only to realize that Hinata probably noticed you glancing at his mouth. The smile is still present on Hinata’s face as his eyelids flutter shut, long lashes brushing against the skin of his cheeks. Oh god, yeah, he noticed, you think as you watch how delicately he waits, eyes shut and arms still wrapped around your neck. You lean upward, eyes trained on Hinata’s lips as you get closer and closer, until there’s no more than an inch of space between you. You hold your breath, tilting your head slightly to the side so your noses don’t collide. You steel yourself, closing your eyes as you lean in and press your lips gently against his.

There are no fireworks, no explosions behind your eyes, but there is the feeling of love and being loved when Hinata breathes out a sigh of relief, smiling into the kiss; when Hinata wraps his arms tighter around your shoulders, pulling you close; when Hinata tilts his head to the side, taking your top lip between his own; when Hinata giggles against your lips, feeling your groan of frustration when your nose accidentally knocks against his; when Hinata pulls back for air, smiling as he presses his forehead against yours and leans in for another kiss, and really,

You think that’s close enough.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

You slowly stir awake, a grimace on your lips as a ray of light shines directly against your eyes. Grumbling, you close your eyes again, letting out a small sigh as you turn your head away from the light. It’s so warm, you think as you bury your cheek closer against the sheets. You don’t think you’ve been this comfortable in a while, without a single thought in your mind, without having to worry about anything else. Your breathing slowly evens out again, drifting closer and closer to unconsciousness until you suddenly recognize the large weight on your shoulder.

What the heck, you think sleepily. You furrow your eyebrows. There’s not much you do about it, really, other than complain to yourself about it. You’d much rather be sleeping, thank you very much, so you ignore the slight discomfort in favour of succumbing to sleep again.

Of course, that only works for another 30 seconds before the weight shifts and suddenly hits you straight in the stomach.

Your eyes shoot open, a strained gasp escaping your lips. Stunned, you lean your head forward to see a fist curled in the fabric of your shirt. You freeze, a sense of panic pounding in your chest as you whip your head in the direction of the body, and...

Oh.

It’s Hinata.

The realization settles in your brain as you close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. Years of hitman training and experience have done wonders to your sanity, you realize with an inward groan. If it were someone out for your neck... Well. You’re not sure what would’ve happened, but you’re smart enough to know that it wouldn’t have ended positively. You throw your free arm over your eyes. Your heart rate is still accelerated, beating loudly in your ears as you try to relax your tensed muscles. You think that you should probably go back to sleep – that’d probably be a good idea – and you’re just seconds away from doing so when you realize;

You’re in a bed.

With Hinata.

Who is very much cuddled up on your shoulder right now.

Oh my god, you think loudly, trying to stop the dizzy spell that’s hit you instantaneously. How did you not realize it before? You knew that it was Hinata, not some random stranger, but it didn’t hit you until now. You exhale sharply, the hyperawareness of Hinata’s cheek pressed warmly against your shoulder eliminating any and all other senses. You peek out from underneath your arm; his fist is curled in the fabric of your shirt just above your abdomen, fingers clutching tight enough to make it difficult to let go. One of his legs is swung lazily over yours, effectively trapping you beneath him. You’re pretty sure that you’d be able to throw him off you without much trouble, but, well. Do you really want to?

You almost laugh at how stupidly simple you are.

Anyway, how did this even happen, you wonder. Thinking back to the previous night, you do remember... certain... things... But you don’t recall deciding to spend the night at his residence. You do remember, however, the feeling of kissing Hinata for the first time, of his lips against your own, of his warm eyes and bright smile (honestly, how could you possibly forget?). The memories cause a deep flush to rise on your cheeks and you have to bite down to prevent the smile that threatens to unfold on your lips. You feel too giddy to be normal, you think. There’s no way that being this happy can be ordinary – you doubt that even Hinata has reached this level of delight at any point in his life. What the hell.

But, you can’t deny that this contentment just does things to you. It’s inexplicable, you think, the feeling of when the person you like reciprocates those feelings. Never would you have ever imagined that going out on that limb would’ve led to this. You take your arm off your eyes, placing your full attention on the boy resting on your side. Hinata’s hair slightly tickles the skin near your neck, but it’s more than bearable with the warm sensation that spreads throughout your body. His eyes are shut, long lashes dusting rosy cheek bones. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth – those lips you’ve felt against yours – and you have to fight the urge to taste them again, not when Hinata’s f*cking sleeping, god, don’t be a pervert.

You manage to wiggle your arm out from underneath Hinata’s head so that he’s lying only on the space between your shoulder and your chest. Almost cautiously, you lift that hand and place it in Hinata’s hair. Orange curls slide smoothly between your fingers, soft and smoother than silk. You feel your heart swell in your chest; being able to thread your fingers through his hair like Hinata did with yours is a more than satisfying feeling. It’s relaxing and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this tranquil before, like being here is the only place you were meant to be.

Hinata stirs against your shoulder and your fingers freeze between orange strands. sh*t, maybe you woke him up while running your hand through his hair. You hadn’t meant to disturb Hinata from his sleep – in fact, that’s the exact opposite of what you were trying to do, really. Heart pounding in anticipation, you watch as Hinata’s fist squeezes your shirt tighter before relaxing again, snuggling closer to your collarbone before his eyes slowly flutter to an open.

Holding your breath, you wait as Hinata blinks once, twice, and three times before his eyes come back into focus. They’re still drooped sleepily as he tilts his head upward, meeting your stare straight on. You feel the blush on your cheeks increase tenfold, and it’s all you can do to not explode when Hinata flashes a drowsy smile in your direction.

“Hi,” Hinata mumbles, bringing his hand up from your stomach to rub at his eyes.

“...Hi,” you mutter back, unsure of what to do. Hinata yawns, and you don’t think you’ll ever see anything more adorable than his sleepy face. God.

There’s silence for a moment, filled only with the morning sun and relaxed breaths, before Hinata shifts impossibly closer to you. You gulp, struggling to breathe normally when Hinata’s nose brushes against your neck. He lets out a light sigh against the skin there, and you’re genuinely surprised that you didn’t spontaneously combust and die right there and then. Is this even happening right now, you wonder to yourself because it all feels so surreal. This was something you’ve only allowed yourself to wish for, and you never would’ve thought that it would one day become a reality.

“G’morning,” Hinata whispers against your neck, and it’s now that you realize just exactly how touchy-feely of a person he is.

“Morning,” you mumble back into Hinata’s hair, breathing in the light scent of fresh sheets and fruity shampoo. Hinata lets out another small sigh when you run your fingers through his hair again; you seriously begin to wonder whether or not you’ll be able to survive through Hinata’s little gestures.
Hinata hums, the sound close enough for you to feel the vibrations against your skin. “What time is it?” He asks.

“Dunno,” you say back. Glancing at the cracks of the blinds, you assume it’s sometime in the late morning but you don’t know for sure. “Haven’t checked.”

“Check,” Hinata demands, his voice clearing and sounding more like how he usually does.

“How can I if you’re sprawled on me, dumbass...” You say. “You go check.”

“But I’m so comfyyy.” Hinata whines. Reflexively, you flick Hinata on the back of his head. He lets out a small “oof” but doesn’t move to retaliate like you thought he would’ve. Instead, he just giggles and you can practically feel his smile radiating into your neck.

“Idiot,” you mutter affectionately. Though, you think that you’re the bigger idiot for being so obviously in love with this boy. You’re not one for burning daylight, but you wouldn’t mind spending all day here if Hinata was with you. You brush your hand through his hair once more before letting go and lightly pushing at Hinata’s shoulder. “Go check the time.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” the orange-haired boy grumbles but complies, pushing off your shoulder by placing his weight on the hand on your chest. You wheeze and send Hinata a glare, but he just smiles unapologetically and says “whoops, sorry” before sitting up. The loss of warmth at your side leaves you feeling cold and regretting your decision, but at this point you really need to know what time it is.

Hinata reaches over for something off the edge of his bed, and you try not to eye the patch of skin visible from where his shirt has rode up. He sits up again a second later with his phone in his hands. You notice the stray hairs sticking upward near the back of his head, most likely there due to your actions from earlier. You want to reach out and smooth them down, but Hinata’s saying something and you nearly do a double take when you ask him to repeat his words.

“I said, ” he emphasizes, “it’s almost 2:30.”

“What?!” You sit up immediately and regret it right after, feeling the dizziness swarming your mind. You bring a hand to your forehead, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass as you let the time sink into your brain. How can it be 2:30pm? You’ve never slept in that late, even when you went to bed at ungodly hours the night before. And from what you can recall, you don’t think you even fell asleep that late last night. Maybe 9, 10pm at the latest, but that still means a solid 16 hours of sleep. You curse, scrambling off the bed and rushing over to your jacket.

You fumble through your pockets, pulling out your phone. When you press the unlock button, you’re met with a low battery percentage, over 10 missed calls and 27 new texts. “sh*t, sh*t, sh*t,” you mutter as you quickly scroll through the messages, half of which are from Sugawara and the other half from Ukai. The text subjects range from “are you okay,” to “where the f*ck are you,” and you’re sure that you’re in for a beating when you walk into Karasuno again.

“Everything okay?” Hinata asks from behind you. You turn your head around to see Hinata still sitting on his bed, a curious expression on his face.

“Yeah,” you tuck your phone in your pants pocket and pick up your coat, shrugging it on, “sorry, I have to be somewhere-”

“You’re leaving?” Hinata’s voice is small and hesitant, just enough so that it stops you as you’re tugging up your zipper. You stand in place, struggling with what you should do. It’s not like you want to leave Hinata (no, definitely not, especially not when his eyes look so expecting and hopeful of you) but you have to return to Karasuno. Ukai wouldn’t call you so many times if it weren’t important, and judging by the tone of his messages (“you better have a good f*cking excuse as to why you’re not replying to my messages” “what the f*ck are you doing where the hell are you” “PICK UP YOUR f*ckING PHONE AND REPORT TO KARASUNO ASAP”), you can’t deny the urgency of the situation.

“I have to go to work.” You respond and you don’t know why you feel guilty for saying so. It’s not like you lied – the complete opposite in fact, you actually do have to report your ass to work – but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your throat, like poisoned words that burn through the tract. You’re in the middle of toeing on your shoes when you hear the rustling of sheets, and suddenly Hinata’s hand is grabbing onto your arm, nearly causing you to trip over your own feet.

“Wait,” he blurts out, pulling you away from the door. You stumble backward, taken aback by Hinata’s sudden outburst. “Don’t- don’t go yet.”

“I have to-”

“Wait,” Hinata pleads and you stop, waiting for whatever he’s making you stay for. He trains his eyes on his feet, tightening his grip on your arm. You watch as he worries at his lower lip, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Seconds pass in silence, though it’s clear to see that Hinata’s desperately trying to tell you something. Eventually, he looks up to meet your eyes, and with slightly flushed cheeks and a quiet voice, he says, “I like you.”

Oh my god, you scream inwardly before your knees give out and you fall ungracefully to the floor. Hinata lets out a yelp, still clinging onto your arm as you bury your face in your hand to try and stop the blush on your face. This is so f*cking embarrassing, you think with a groan. You weren’t expecting a confession right there and then, and the fact that you were so surprised that you collapsed to the ground, well. If that’s not totally stupid and idiotic of you, then you don’t know what is. At this point, you really want to curl up in a hole and hide for the rest of your life. Yeah, that’d be nice. Anything would be better than having to sit here on the ground any longer.

You feel Hinata tug awkwardly at your arm that’s still limp in his grip and held slightly above your head. You’re not ready to face him yet, not after that embarrassing fall that you have no idea how to explain. A moment of weakness, one may call it, but you’re reluctant to admit to even that.

“K-Kageyama?” Hinata stutters out. It’s reasonable, you suppose; you’d be pretty damn surprised too if someone reacted to your confession by dropping to the f*cking ground. God damn it.

“Sorry, I just.” You say, your words muffled into the palm of your hand. Reluctantly, you glance up to meet Hinata’s eyes. “You... I wasn’t expecting that.”

Hinata blinks twice before a large grin splits on his face. “You-”

“Don’t,” you plead.

It’s too late though; Hinata’s already laughing, head thrown back and eyes crinkled shut. You frown, feeling the blush burn brighter on your cheeks. As much as you love to hear Hinata’s laughter, you’d much rather it not be at your own expense.

“My stomach hurts,” Hinata chokes out between giggles and you don’t feel remotely sorry for him. He reaches to wipe a tear from his eye, his shoulders still shaking with mirth.

“Shut up,” you say, quickly pulling the arm Hinata has in his hands toward you. Hinata stumbles forward, his laughter falling short as he falls in front of you, hands planted on the ground around your hips and face dangerously close to your own. Oh sh*t, that’s not really what you had intended when you did that. Well, you did mean to stop Hinata from laughing any further, but ending up face-to-face while sitting on the ground wasn’t exactly part of the plan.

Hinata’s mouth opens and closes twice, and you nearly snort at the stupid look on his face. It’s endearing though, you muse with a small smile and without really thinking it through, you close the distance between you two with a kiss.

It’s nothing more than a touch of lips but it sets your skin alight with warm embers, the feeling of flames burning brightly through your veins. And when you pull back, it’s with the contemplation of the meaning of life in your mind as you berate yourself for acting so impulsively. Hinata still has that look on his face, though it’s now accompanied with a raging blush and even wider eyes. You probably shouldn’t have done that but what’s done is done, and since you’re being so spontaneous today, you figure you might as well just go on and get it over with.

“I-I like you, too.” You say, just loud enough for him to hear. It’s not like there’s anyone else around that could hear you say it, but this feels special; like your words were meant for Hinata’s ears only. This is special, you realize, because you’ve never done this before; telling someone how you feel about them is a completely foreign experience to you. And finally being able to get it off your chest makes you feel lighter than you’ve ever felt before.

But really, you do have to get going before your boss decides to personally reap your soul, so you don’t have any more time to sit here and stare at Hinata any longer. You reiterate this to Hinata (minus the reaping and staring parts) and he nods quickly before standing up on his feet. A blush is still present on his cheeks as he reaches a hand out, gesturing for you to take it. After a moment, you place your hand in his, and you’re surprised when he pulls you to your feet with ease.

“Thanks,” you say, giving his hand a light squeeze. Hinata smiles, squeezing your hand in return.

Now what, you think nervously, standing in silence with Hinata’s hand still held in your own. You need to leave but god, you really, really, don’t want to. Not when it feels like there’s so much left to be said, not when you’ve finally seen this dream of yours become a reality.

You’re in the middle of contemplating how you’re going to convince yourself to let go of Hinata’s hand when you feel fingers snake around the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss. This one lasts longer than the other, and you savour the soft press of lips against yours. I could do this forever, you absentmindedly realize as Hinata’s hand unlaces itself from yours, coming to wrap around your neck. Your hands float awkwardly for a moment before cautiously settling on Hinata’s hips, mind still focused on how Hinata’s mouth moves against yours.

You pull back for air, noticing how Hinata’s height drops slightly as you do so. He was on his tippy toes, you realize with a blush. Hinata flashes you a large grin before saying, “Now that’s a proper kiss.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, blushing at the slight press of lips from earlier. Your hands move from his hips to the small of his back, pulling him into a hug. Hinata’s head rests snugly against your chest and you lean down to rest your chin atop his hair. You let out a small sigh when you feel Hinata’s fingers trace delicately over the nape of your neck, the touch fleeting and barely there. In your arms, Hinata feels so small yet incredibly warm; you had always imagined what it would be like to hold him so close to you and now that you’ve had a taste, you don’t ever want to let go of this precious boy in front of you.

“Ah,” Hinata says after a few minutes of just resting in your embrace, “don’t you have to be at work?”

“f*cking sh*t,” you say, pulling back from Hinata and ignoring the loss of warmth to walk over to toe on your shoes. “Yeah. f*ck.”

“It’s fine,” Hinata laughs, following you to the door. You reach for the doorknob, twisting it open as you pat down your pockets to check that you have everything you need. “I’ll see you later. Okay?”

You step out of Hinata’s room, still lingering near the doorframe. “O-Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeats once more when you finally get out into the hallway. The door shuts quietly behind you, but you don’t miss the small wave and elated smile prior to its close. You stare wistfully at the door, the urge to knock more than overwhelming, but you know you can’t. You have something else that demands your presence, and there’s no doubt in your mind that there are no boundaries set for the consequences of being late.

f*ck, you think once more before making your way out of the residence and back onto the street, treading your way to Karasuno.

*

“What the f*ck.”

That’s the first thing that comes out of Ukai’s mouth when he sees you walk through the meeting room doors, and you’re not surprised. Scared for your own safety, maybe, but not even remotely taken aback. Several heads turn in your direction, some curious at the reason behind Ukai’s sudden outburst, others probably annoyed by your late arrival. The attention is unwelcomed, but there’s not much you can do about it. Not when you know that you’re the one who’s been holding up this meeting and consequently, making everyone wait for your ass to show up.

And to make things worse, Ukai looks even worse for wear. The bags under his eyes are a clear indication of his lack of sleep, turning almost purpleish under the office lighting. His hair is still pulled back with a signature headband, but the unruly strays that stick out from near his ears make him look completely drained. Near where Ukai has his hands planted firmly on the large table sit two empty cigarette boxes, previously loved and well used. He’s been chain smoking again, you think with a frown. Ukai always smokes too much when he’s stressed out, and it looks like the nicotine patches aren’t working as well as you thought they were.

He’s in the middle of lighting another cigarette (his last one from the package) when he beckons you over. “Kageyama. Come with me for a sec.”

You follow him into the adjacent room, grimacing at Sugawara’s mouthed words of “good luck!” Ukai holds the door open for you – almost sarcastically – and the door slams shut after your boss follows in after you.

An unidentifiable object comes flying toward you and you just barely manage to duck out of the way before it hits you. You turn your head in the direction of the impact, watching as the blue dodgeball (where the f*ck did Ukai manage to get a dodgeball of all things) knocks over one of the lamps and sends it crashing to the ground. Glass shatters on the floor, the room dimming slightly from the loss of light. You feel your eye twitch; you’re probably going to have to pay to repair that.

“Where,” Ukai begins, his voice low and threatening around the cigarette in his mouth, “have you f*cking been?!”

You probably should’ve written a will or something before coming here. It’s okay, you think, Sugawara will sort everything out for me. As you’re mentally planning your own funeral, Ukai pulls out another dodgeball (seriously, when did he grab that sack of dodgeballs) and chucks it furiously in your direction. You manage to avoid it again, though this time it knocks over a potted plant. You grimace at the thought of having to clean up the spilled soil, but you don’t have much time to think as Ukai throws another one directly at your face.

Even if it is a dodgeball, headshots still hurt and you rub your nose from the pain. Though, you probably deserved that for being late and all.

“Sorry sir,” you say with a 90 degree bow, hoping that he won’t choose this exact moment to throw one at your head, “I woke up late.”

“It’s past 3pm,” Ukai scoffs, taking a puff of his cigarette.

“...I woke up really late.” You glance up. There’s no way in hell you’re telling Ukai that you were late because you were busy kissing another boy. He’d probably have your head if he knew that was the reason.

He narrows his eyes. “You never wake up that late.”

“...No, I don’t, sir.”

Ukai scrutinizes you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he lets out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Fine, whatever. We don’t have time for me to interrogate the sh*t out of you. Just don’t be this f*cking late again. And check your god damned phone.”

Your shoulders slump in relief. “Yes, sir.”

“Now get your ass back into that meeting,” Ukai says, elbowing you roughly in the side when you pass by him, “we’re starting almost an entire hour late because of you.”

You shuffle awkwardly out of the room, suddenly feeling hyperaware of everyone in the meeting. Ukai, on the other hand, strides out like nothing unusual had ever happened. As you move toward the back to take a seat, you see some of your colleagues handing their seatmates small wads of cash. You realize that everyone probably heard the crashes from the other room, and were betting on whether or not you would’ve made it out of there alive.

“Alright, let’s get this meeting f*cking started,” Ukai says crudely, flipping open the folder on his desk. He pulls out a sheet of paper, briefly scanning over the contents before speaking. “Recently, we’ve been receiving numerous reports concerning a relatively inactive member of Hitmen’s Associates. They’ve been supposedly participating in multiple killings, all of which have involved some sort of uprising within the agency. We don’t currently have a concrete record on this person, but certain witness reports have revealed them to be nimbly-built, relatively short in height, and supposedly blond.”

Kenma. Your mind screams the name over and over again. It’s not like you know for sure that the person who Ukai is describing is him, but you can’t shake off the feeling that it is. There are way too many similarities for it to just be a coincidence, you think nervously. Kenma is killing people. You curse under your breath.

“Based on activity levels in the past,” Ukai continues, “we didn’t research much behind this person until as of recent.” He flips through to another page. “But from another source, we can confirm that the victims of his actions are no coincidence.”

Someone dims the lights, and the projector turns on, displaying 6 different faces on the screen. Ukai points to the man in the top right corner. “Mitsuwa Sozui, 41, second cousin of the current leader of H.A.” He gestures to the next picture. “Jukodo Yosai, 38, distant relative of the current leader, led one of the highest level squads in the organization.” And so on. “Mitsuwa Seijuro, 42, another second cousin of the current leader. I won’t bore you with the details of the other three men, but the one thing they all have in common is their bloodline. Even if it is slight, the people who have H.A. blood in their veins ultimately have power over the organization.”

Ukai takes another puff of his cigarette. “And now that they’re dead, we can only assume that the unknown perpetrator of the ‘revived N-Crisis’ is behind this. But, there’s no way that he would go out and commit all of these murders by himself. No, that’s too risky. Therefore, we’ve come to believe that the other person, whose reports I described to you earlier, must be the perpetrator’s right hand man.”

Your eyes widen. Kenma is this involved in the rebellion against the H.A? You swallow the uncomfortable lump in your throat. There was no way you could have predicted this, how could this have happened-

Suddenly, you think back to the night you were kidnapped during your infiltration of the Hitmen’s Associates headquarters. Kenma was there behind that door, you remember, but there was someone else there, too. A voice you had never heard before, but judging by the conversation topic, you realize that man must’ve been the one who’s been causing disarray in the organization. And Kenma has been doing all of his dirty work, you assume with a scowl.

f*ck. You wipe a hand across your face. You know that you should tell Ukai about this, about everything you know about Kenma and his involvement, but you can’t. Even if you’re putting everyone at Karasuno’s safety on the line, you can’t because you’re scared of what might happen to Hinata if you do. There’s no way for you to guarantee that Kenma won’t find out if you tell Ukai about him; no, you’re sure that if you told, Kenma would know that it was you who revealed who he was. And if he’s as skilled as you think he is, there’s no knowing what he might do.

You think back to the phone call you had with Kenma. I won’t let you get an innocent bystander involved, he said. He wanted to protect Hinata, from what you recall, but did he really mean it? How do you know that you can trust Kenma’s words? If he’s working in the H.A against the current leaders of H.A, how do you know that he isn’t deceiving you as well about wanting Hinata’s safety? And what is he trying to do by helping that man overthrow the current leaders? What is Kenma going to gain from all of this?

I’m getting a f*cking headache.

“We can’t make any more assumptions beyond that, but there’s no doubt that something will happen, and it’ll happen soon. We, as Karasuno, need to act fast in order to mediate this situation without getting involved ourselves. I will be sending out texts about mission information and meetings soon, so keep your phone on you at all times,” Ukai pauses to side-eye you and you slink lower in your seat, the guilt beginning to seep in. He flips the cover of his folder shut as he takes the cigarette out of his mouth, pressing the butt to the bottom of his shoe. “Dismissed.”

Everyone files out of the room, and you’re surprised that Ukai doesn’t ask you to stay behind so he can beat your ass for being late again. Nevertheless, you take the opportunity and make your way out the door, only to be stopped by Sugawara near the elevator. He pulls you into the emergency staircase, the slam of the door echoing behind you into the stairwell.

“Sugawara?”

Your grey-haired friend looks at you with a worried expression, his arms crossed over his chest. “Were you okay yesterday? You didn’t reply to any of my texts or calls.”

Ah. Right. Every year after the date of your parent’s anniversary death, Sugawara would text or call you to ask how you were doing. Though most of the time you wouldn’t supply more than just a “fine,” or “okay,” it was still a kind gesture for him to do. You feel a bit guilty for not replying, but you were... busy with something else. “Yeah, I was fine. Thanks.”

Sugawara stares at you for a second longer before a small smile unfolds on his face. “Okay, good. You didn’t get home too late, did you?”

You awkwardly eye the handrail to your left, not wanting to meet Sugawara’s eyes. “...Uhh-”

“Kageyama,” Sugawara says with a stern tone, “you did go home last night, right?”

“...No, but-”

“You stayed there the entire night?! Kageyama, it’s the middle of winter, you can’t just do this-”

“I didn’t-”

“-to yourself, you promised me that you would at least go home and not get sick like that other year-”

“I was at Hinata’s.” You blurt out, effectively stopping Sugawara’s rambling.

Sugawara’s eyes widen. Embarrassed, you nod in reply to his silent question, and a proud grin splits on his mouth. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” you croak out. Though you’re not sure what kind of message you sent with the nod of your head, you hope that it’s enough to convey to him that you were fine last night. You’re definitely not ready to tell Sugawara the explicit details – you’re not sure that you’ll ever be ready to admit that to anyone – but Sugawara knowing that you were safe is enough, you think.

He walks toward you, elbowing you in your side with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Soo, did anything happen?”

“Go away,” you say, fighting back the blush that’s creeping up your neck. Sugawara just laughs though, patting you once on the back before heading out of the emergency stairwell. You follow him to the elevator, waving goodbye when he gets off on the fourth floor. You lean your head against the elevator wall, staring at your distorted reflection across from you. The doors slide open shortly after, and you step out of the building with a shiver.

It’s freezing outside, the cold air stinging sharply at your exposed cheeks. You tug the zipper higher up to cover your neck, ducking your chin behind the material. Not wanting to waste any more time, you hurry back in the direction of your apartment. The last 48 hours or so have been one hell of a ride, and you could really use a mug of coffee to think things over. You need some time to recollect yourself, to think of everything that’s changed and everything that’s going to change. Not only with matters concerning Hinata, but with Karasuno and whatever’s going on with the H.A as well. Unfortunately, they’ve become more intertwined than you would’ve hoped them to be, and you don’t know what you’re going to do about it. Is there anything that you can even do about it? You don’t know right now. Not with your mind scattered everywhere, not with all of these questions that you can’t find the answer to. There are so many uncertainties that it makes you more anxious than ever, makes you want to pull the hairs out of your own head, but somehow...

Somehow, you think with a slow exhale, everything will be okay.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

“Alright, five minute break everyone!”

Sighs of relief chorus across the room. Some people drop to the floor, their legs visibly shaking from the exertion. Others groan, rubbing their shoulders with exhausted expressions. You don’t blame them; Ukai has always been known for running the most vigorous training sessions, and you were once victim to his death-like practice regimens. Now you’ve become accustomed to them – after all, you’ve been in this longer than most – but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel the same burn they do. You realize that you’re probably going to be sore tomorrow. Great.

From behind you, Sugawara asks if you’d like a water bottle and you answer affirmatively. Wiping off the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand, you walk to and crouch down by the training mats near the front of the room. You bring the collar of your shirt up toward your face to dab at the sweat on your nose, grimacing when your grey shirt comes back darker from the perspiration. Belatedly, you remember that the area under your armpits and across your back must look the same, and you vow not to wear a grey shirt to training sessions ever again.

Someone moans about how much their quads hurt just as Sugawara calls out a “here” and chucks a plastic bottle at your face. You catch it with ease, saying your thanks as you twist the cap open. The cold water washes nicely down your throat, instantly quenching your thirst. You down the bottle in a matter of seconds, tossing it in the recycling bin 10 feet away. You miss though, the plastic container mocking you as it falls to the floor. Sugawara snickers as you perform your walk of shame, trying to fight down the embarrassment of missing a target so close to you. When you make your way back, you grab your phone from your bag lying near the training mats. You’re surprised to see that you have a new message, and your heart beats just a little faster when you see who it’s from.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: busy? (3:04pm)
r u free rn :)

You stare at the screen. sh*t, this was sent an hour ago, you realize as you check the time. Your thumb leaves a small trail of sweat across the screen when you swipe to the left to compose a new message. Fingers hovering over the touch screen keyboard, you internally debate with yourself about what you should say in reply. None of your answers are very helpful to you (“No I’m not free.” “Not right now, but I will be later.” “Sorry for the late reply. I was busy training to kill other people so I couldn’t text you back. I’ll be free in a bit, though.”) so you turn your head to the side for help, only to see Sugawara already peering over your shoulder.

“Got a date?” Sugawara asks, like it’s the most natural thing he could’ve said and you nearly choke on your own spit.

“No,” you stress through your teeth before remembering you were supposed to be asking Sugawara for help, not avoiding the topic, “kind of. Maybe. I don’t know.”

It’s Sugawara’s turn to choke on thin air when he hears your response. You realize that he clearly wasn’t expecting you to agree so easily. He was just teasing you like always, and then was shocked by how easily you complied with the topic. You avert your eyes, wanting to crawl under the mats and hide from Sugawara’s stare.

“Well,” your grey-haired friend manages after a moment, “find out. Text him back, Kageyama.”

You grumble an “I know” under your breath, but Sugawara’s raised eyebrow is just one indicator that he doesn’t believe your words. What do I say? Texting Hinata has never been this difficult before, you think with a frown. Eventually, you gather up your courage to shoot him a text before you can think too much of it.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:busy? (4:00pm)
In an hour. Why?

Sugawara pats you on the back once your finger hits the send button, flashing you a wide grin. You shake his hand off, feeling flustered that he even has to see this abashed side of you. This is when you realize that you haven’t even told Sugawara about you and Hinata yet. You feel a bit guilty – he’s probably the closest person to you and you haven’t even graced him with the fact that you and Hinata are...

Are what?

Your eye twitches. Are you two dating? Is that how this works? Is Hinata your...your boyfriend? Is boyfriend status immediately established after mutual confessions? Your mind swirls with questions and you curse yourself for not clarifying it when you had the chance yesterday. But how would you even do that in the first place? You’re not the most eloquent person in the world (several people, including yourself, have proof to support that fact) but you know that asking someone are we dating can be considered somewhat insensitive.

Whatever you two are though, you still feel like Sugawara deserves to know about it. Maybe not at this very moment – he’d probably drill you with questions for the rest of the training session – but you vow to tell him soon. Hopefully.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you pick it up to see a new message from Hinata.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:busy? (4:01pm)
wanna grab dinner @ 6ish

You have to pinch your lips together to fight the smile that threatens to take over. Sugawara comments on your expression, saying that you look like you’re constipated, and you shoot him a glare in response. He laughs before peering over your shoulder again, eyes widening with a smile when he reads the text. Sugawara grabs your shoulders, shaking them excitedly like a kid on Christmas Day. He urges you to reply, to hurry up and agree, and you quickly send out a reply before Ukai’s voice booms across the room.

“Alright, time for some ab work!”

Everyone groans and for once you agree; cardio and weight training aren’t bad in your books, but doing crunches and planks were never your favourite part of the regimen. Wiping off the remaining sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand, you tuck your phone back into your bag and stand up, trying to mentally prepare yourself for how bad your abdominals are going to hurt later.

*

They say that you learn something new about yourself every day.

As you sit half naked on your bed, drawers emptied and clothes scattered across your room, you suddenly realize the truth behind those words.

Who knew you were capable of being so obsessed with a simple outfit? You exhale sharply through your nose, running a hand through your hair. For the past half hour, you haven’t been able to decide what to wear to dinner with Hinata. You’re tempted to just say f*ck it and throw on the grey sweatshirt near your feet, but the part of you that wants to look good for this won’t let you.

It’s not like you’re looking for a suit to wear, but you don’t know how “dressed up” you’re supposed to be. When Hinata had invited you out for dinner, he also left out where you two would be going because he wanted to keep it a secret. You find it somewhat endearing, that he would make the effort to try and surprise you, but at this point you’d really like a f*cking hint. You’ve been sitting without a shirt on ever since you got out of the shower and you’re starting to get kind of cold.

You rummage through your closet again, mentally noting to pick up the shirts that fell to the floor. A hanger drops off the rod and you curse as you bend down to pick it up. Just as you kneel down, your eye catches something near the back corner of your closet. Curious, you grab at it to find the navy blue bomber jacket you thought you lost a year ago. That’s where it was, you muse as you stand up again, hanging it back on the hanger you just picked up. You fiddle with the sleeve, thinking back to a time when Sugawara had told you that you looked good in that jacket (how you remember, you have no idea). Mulling it over for a second longer, you decide to wear the jacket and you make your way to find the white t-shirt you threw over your shoulder a while ago.

By the time you’ve put on a proper pair of pants along with your top, it’s already almost 6 and sh*t, you’re going to be late to meet Hinata at the bus stop. You quickly throw on your proper winter coat, grabbing your keys and wallet before toeing on your shoes and racing out of your apartment.

When you run out of the lobby, you’re met with the sight of snow falling gently from the sky. The sun has just begun to set, you notice as you speed walk in the direction of Hinata’s university. There are clouds in the sky, though not enough to block out the rays of light. It’s nicer today, and you hope that it remains that way for the rest of tonight. You cross the street at the nearby intersection, nearly slipping on a patch of ice at the curb. A pedestrian passing by you muffles a snort into their scarf and you look down at your feet in embarrassment, hoping that no one else saw your little slip up as you proceed down the sidewalk.

f*ck, you curse as you get closer and closer to the bus stop you both had agreed on. You’re starting to get nervous. Despite the cold, you feel sweat begin to pool at your palms and you wipe them anxiously against the fabric of your pants. At this point, you realize that you didn’t even take the time to fix your hair before you left your apartment. You pray that you don’t look like a rabid animal after all the times you’ve run your hands through your hair in frustration. Maybe the wind will fix it, you muse as you pull out your phone from your pocket. You glance at your screen, checking the time. There’s still a minute left before 6, and you can finally see the stop after turning that last corner.

Luckily, you spy Hinata’s bright orange hair from where you are and you nearly let out a sigh of relief. He’s there. As you get closer, you see Hinata’s eyes dart across his surroundings until they land on you. His face splits into a wide grin, eyes shining as he waves a hand at you. You wave back meekly, somewhat stunned by Hinata’s brightness. It’ll take some time to get used to being around someone with so much god damned energy, but you don’t think you’ll mind.

“Hey,” he breathes out when you step under the bus stop shelter. You quickly note the flush of red high on his cheekbones and nose – has he been here long? A pang of guilt hits you in the chest as you berate yourself for not arriving earlier, for leaving Hinata out in the cold, waiting for you to come. That same guilt though is accompanied with a feeling of warmth, filled with the fact that Hinata came earlier just to wait for you, probably in anticipation of tonight.

“Hi,” you reply a beat too late, too enraptured with the boy in front of you. You wonder if he’s as nervous as you are right now, if he’s wondering what to say or do next, if he’s anxiously waiting for what’s to happen later tonight. And when Hinata flashes you another warm smile, you sincerely hope that’s the case.

“The bus will be here in about five minutes,” Hinata says, checking his phone before glancing back at you with an almost shy look. “I thought you were gonna be late.”

“No,” you say before realizing that probably makes no sense, “I mean. I wouldn’t- I wasn’t late. Okay.”

“Yeah I know,” he grins up at you, “we would’ve missed our bus if you were. Stupid.”

“...Shut up.” You mutter, flicking him on the forehead. The action isn’t exactly affectionate but Hinata still giggles as his face scrunches up in irritation, his shoulders rising as he shies away from the touch. “Tell me to come earlier next time, then.”

“O-Kay,” Hinata hums, bumping his shoulder against the side of your arm. You nudge him back once with your elbow, trying to fight back a blush. The little things he does, whether it’s to initiate contact or just play around, leave you with thoughts of how f*cking cute Hinata can be. And you really shouldn’t be thinking things like that about a guy that’s actually older than you (how, you ask yourself even though the gap is only half a year, how) but you can’t help it.

Hinata’s side is pressed warmly next to yours as you both wait in for the bus to arrive. You force yourself to look straight ahead, trying not to feel too hyperaware of Hinata so close to you. Absently, you note how close your hand is dangling to Hinata’s own, and if you reached out just slightly, you’d be able to take his hand in your own. You wonder if it’d be alright to do that, to be able to hold his hand in yours, but just as you gather the courage to do so the bus appears from just down the street.

“There it is!” Hinata says excitedly, walking out of the bus shelter and standing dangerously close to the edge of the curb. You warn him to take a step back and he complies, though not without a pout and a complaint of “You’re no fun.”

The bus pulls up and you follow Hinata on, depositing your fare into the coin slot near the front. There are a considerable number of people already on, leaving no available seats for either of you. You reach upward for one of the handles to grip onto, holding back a smirk when you realize that Hinata probably can’t reach that high. You’re proven right when you glance over to your side to see Hinata reluctantly grabbing for one of the vertical poles, glaring at you as if to warn you say anything and I’ll make you regret it.

“Where are we going?” You ask instead of making a jab at Hinata’s height.

“Downtown.” Hinata says, gesturing at the bus route map posted near the window. With his free hand, he points at one of the routes and glides his finger across the line until it reaches a large red circle. “We’ll be getting off here in about 25 minutes or so. Then we’ll go grab dinner and head,” he points to a different landmark that’s not marked by a route, “here.” The area he’s pointed at isn’t labelled and when you ask him what it is, he just places a finger to his lips and says, “It’s a surprise!”

The rest of the bus ride passes leisurely. Hinata talks about his classes earlier today, complaining about his professor that gave him a B on his finance report when he really deserved an A. You listen intently, watching how Hinata’s face lights up as he recounts something positive from earlier or how his eyebrows furrow when he mentions how he can slowly feel his average dropping. Hinata laughs at your snide remark about his average, unfazed by the bluntness because he can’t deny the truth behind it. You revel in the brightness in his eyes as he rambles on about whatever, and you know you’d do anything to keep that look on his face.

You get off at the stop Hinata pointed out, looking around at your new surroundings. There are definitely a lot more tall buildings and corporate logos than the area you live in, though you would typically expect that from the inner areas of the city. You realize that you haven’t been downtown for the longest time – probably not since you first moved into the city – so there are a lot of things you’ve never seen before. It’s also a lot busier in this part; several people litter the sidewalks on both sides of the intersection, all of whom stride with purpose in business suits and brand names that you can’t even pronounce. It’s a bit overwhelming, all the people around you, but Hinata’s tugging at your coat sleeve keeps you grounded as he guides you in the direction of the restaurant.

Only a few minutes of walking later and you find yourself in front of a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Gina’s Place. Peering inside the window, you see that there aren’t many people inside. Chimes ring as you open the door, letting Hinata step inside first. You take in the cream coloured walls decorated with photographs from across the world, each telling its own story without words. The tiled floors are immaculate underneath square tables and matching chairs, each perfectly aligned to the walls of the interior. A waitress welcomes you with a warm smile, guiding you two toward the back and seating you at a booth. From where you’re now seated, you note that it’s difficult to be seen by anyone else in the restaurant, and you wonder if Hinata had specifically asked for it or if it were just a coincidence.

Hinata peels off his parka before sliding into the booth and you take the time to really admire the boy in front of you. He’s wearing a red plaid shirt over a black tee, the sleeves rolled up just below his elbows. Your eyes trail down (discretely, you hope) to his dark blue jeans accompanied with his usual black boots. It’s simple, but you think that Hinata makes it look effortlessly good. You feel a little foolish for taking so long to decide what to wear, but you’re glad that you stuck with a casual look and not something too outlandish.

The waitress offers you both a menu before heading off to bring you some water. Hinata hums as he opens it, his eyes skimming over the words and instead focusing on the pictures. “This place serves some really good pasta, you should try it.”

“You’ve been here before?” You mentally slap yourself across the face. Of course he’s been here before, what are you saying? Why would he bring you here otherwise, and also recommend one of their dishes?

“Yeah,” Hinata says easily, clearly not fazed by the obviousness of your question. “I come here with my friends at university like, every week. It’s so good.”

“Oh.” You say, trailing your eyes back down to the menu. “University friends” probably implies Kenma too, you realize with an inward groan. Ever since you and Hinata...well, ever since you two became whatever this is, you’ve been trying to avoid thinking about his unfortunate friend in Hitmen’s Associates. You’d really rather not stress yourself out more than you need to, but you know that you can’t mentally avoid the topic forever. You wonder if Kenma knows yet, if Hinata had told him about you two. Though, considering the fact that you haven’t received any unknown phone calls recently, you think that he probably hasn’t.

You subtly shake your head. Stressing about those matters isn’t going to be of any benefit right now, not when you’ve got something much more worthwhile sitting right in front of you. You scan through the menu, raising an eyebrow at the oddly named food options. Never would you ever order something with the word “surprise” in its name so you skip over most of the first page, moving instead to the house specials. Hinata perks up when you ask him what you should order and he gestures excitedly to the back of the menu.

“There’s this really good meat pie they serve,” he says, pointing at the corresponding image. The picture is just about enough to make your mouth water and out of laziness, that’s what you decide to go with. Hinata beams when you tell him that you’ll get the meat pie, seemingly happy that you took his suggestion.

The waitress comes back with two glasses of water, carefully setting them down on the table. She smiles before asking if you two are ready to order, and you both nod yes at the same time. Turning to Hinata first, you watch as he orders the pasta he mentioned earlier with extra sauce. The waitress nods, writing furiously on her notepad before turning to you. You tell her your order and she nods, clicking the back of her pen before walking away with a, “Your food will arrive shortly!”

“I’m soooo hungry,” Hinata moans, placing his cheek on the surface of the table. He pouts, turning his head to place his chin atop the table, looking directly at you.

“We just ordered.” You lean your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. “You’ll have to wait a bit.”

He mutters something about his stomach rumbling, eyes flitting around to try and peer into the kitchen window. You doubt that’ll make the food come any faster, but you don’t say anything about it. It’s pretty warm in here, you realize as you push the sleeves of your bomber jacket up to your elbows. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn another jacket underneath another jacket, but you hadn’t thought about it while you got dressed. Oh well.

Hinata whines, catching your attention. “The food smells so good, ugh, I wanna- hey, what’s that?”

“Huh?” Hinata’s eyes focus on your forearms and you follow his gaze to the large, purpling bruise below your elbow. Oh, you had forgotten about that bruise. Earlier at training, Ukai was instructing everyone on a new defensive move that involved manipulating your enemy’s weight and throwing them to the side. While Sugawara had attempted it on you, he accidentally directed you right into one of the pillars by the wall. It didn’t hurt all that bad but when you left the session, you could already begin to see light green and yellow pooling in the area. You suppose that it got much worse as the hour passed, but you’re not going to tell Hinata that story. He’d get suspicious and wonder why you were even practicing those moves in the first place, and there’s no way for you to calmly explain that oh yeah, I sort of kill people for a living. Go figure.

“Uh,” you stall as you try to think of a proper excuse, “I walked into a pole.”

“You walked into a pole.” Hinata deadpans, clearly sceptical of your explanation.

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to walk into a pole? Are you dumb?”

“Shut up, it was an accident okay?” You mentally face palm. Why did you say that you walked into a goddamned pole? You literally could have said anything else (you try not to think of that time when you told Hinata that you “sort of got hit by a car” to cover up your limp; seriously, why did you say that), and now you’re sure that Hinata thinks that you’re either a complete dumbass or is slowly catching onto your white lie.

Hinata snorts, calling you an idiot with a grin on his face. You sputter, defending yourself by saying that you were distracted. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s still somewhat suspicious of your excuse, but you’re grateful that he drops it after that. Instead, he starts playing around with the tissue underneath his utensils, folding them with precision and practice. You raise an eyebrow and ask him what he’s doing.

“You’ll see,” Hinata says with a smile, eyes still focused on folds and creases. His fingers work dexterously though gentle with the tissue. He’s careful not to tear any holes, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. You allow yourself this moment to just stare and take in everything that is Hinata, and how surreally adorable he is when he’s absorbed in something. His slightly furrowed brows, his eyes bright yet attentive, everything. He’s so cute.

“Done!” Hinata exclaims a moment later, holding out toward you a tissue rose in his palm. You’re surprised – it’s actually a really nice flower. Hinata places it in front of you and you take it into your hands, careful not to ruin his creation. You turn it from side to side, captivated by how intricate and well folded it is. Was this really made from a tissue? He didn’t switch it while you weren’t looking, did he? No, you would’ve noticed that, you think (though you were a bit distracted).

“It’s really nice,” you say honestly. Hinata beams, seemingly happy by your reaction to the flower.

“You can keep it. Y-Y’know, if you want.” He tacks on at the end, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks.

“Okay,” you say, though you’re not sure what you can do with a tissue flower but you’d be damned if you were to turn down a gift Hinata made for you. “Thanks.”

Hinata smiles warmly, looking slightly abashed as he looks down at his fingers. You resist the urge to slam your head into the table out of sheer frustration of how adorable Hinata is. Just the little things make you want to wrap your arms around him and press fluttering kisses against his hair, his forehead, his cheeks, anywhere you can reach. You’re suddenly struck with an urge to do something for Hinata in return. You can’t exactly reciprocate what Hinata did by creating something beautiful out of just tissue paper, but you’re sure that you can think of something. What can I...

You glance down at the tissue rose still in your palms and an idea comes to mind. Before you can think it through and change your mind, you call out Hinata’s name. He turns his head back to you, leaning forward slightly as he makes a small sound of question. You reach out in front of you, flower in hand as you tuck the stem behind his ear, the white rose contrasting with his vibrant orange hair. Your fingers linger slightly by his cheek before you pull back quickly, placing your hand back in your lap. The blush previously on Hinata’s face darkens considerably, his eyes wide and mouth opening and closing repeatedly. You take the time to admire your handiwork, to admire how much the flower suits Hinata, while he sputters, hiding his face behind his hands.

Only a few seconds pass before you start to feel the embarrassment from your action, your own cheeks heating up slightly. Hinata seems to be faring worse than you though, still unable to look you in the eye. You don’t think that you’d be able to make eye contact with Hinata if he did that to you either, so you can sympathize a little. You turn your head to the side, eyes trained on a decorative light hanging from the ceiling. When your eyes flitter back, Hinata’s peeking at you through his fingers, blush still present on his cheeks. He slowly takes his hands off his face, a smile on his lips that he’s obviously trying to fight down.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. You let out a little strained sound; it’s not really something to thank you for, so you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say in reply. ‘No problem’? Probably not, so you remain silent, hoping that Hinata understands what you’re trying to convey.

The waitress appears again a moment later, two plates of food in her hands. She apologizes for the wait, her sentence slowly trailing off when she looks at the flower in Hinata’s hair. Her eyes widen marginally but she doesn’t say anything and instead smiles, setting the food down on the table. Her eyes make contact with yours when she places your dish in front of you and she gives you a knowing smile. You blush, wanting to disappear into a hole in the ground when you realize that she knows. Hinata doesn’t seem to notice though, instead too distracted with the fact that his food has finally arrived. The waitress asks if you two need anything else, and when you shake your head, she walks away with a thumbs up in your direction. Hinata asks why you suddenly have your face in your hands but you just shake it off with a “Don’t worry about it.”

You eventually dig into your food, nearly keeling over when you realize how amazing it tastes. Hinata was right about this place; their food met surpassed all of your expectations. You don’t think you’ve ever had a meat pie so delicious before and when you voice this to Hinata, he only grins and says “I told you so.” Hinata practically preaches about how good his pasta is, claiming that he’ll never eat pasta from anywhere else ever again. You can’t help but smile at Hinata’s expression and when he catches your gaze, he smiles back even wider.

“Do you want to try some?” Hinata offers, pointing at his pasta with his fork. You nod your head, curious about the pasta he’s been raving about. He stabs a mouthful with his fork, holding it out in front of you.

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not doing that.”

“C’mon,” Hinata smirks, waving the fork up and down slightly, “just once.”

“No.”

“No one will see!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

“...”

“See? It’s just one bite-”

“Fine, whatever,” you mutter, fighting back your embarrassment as you lean forward to bite the food around his fork. Hinata smiles like he’s won, though you’ll deny that he did. You don’t think much about it after that because damn this pasta is pretty amazing. The sauce practically dances on your taste buds, leaving you wanting more. Hinata gauges your expression and shrugs his shoulders like he knew that would be your reaction. He stabs into another mouthful of pasta on his plate before holding it up in front of you again with a smile. You glare at him, giving in as you lean forward again to take another bite.

“Shut up,” you say as you chew.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Just, shut up.” Hinata doesn’t say anything after that, though the grin on his face doesn’t disappear. You end up offering your food to him too and he accepts excitedly. You give a part of the meat pie to him normally, adamantly refusing to do that cutesy bite thing. That was more than enough for one day – no, for an entire lifetime.

The rest of your dinner passes relatively quickly. That same waitress pops by a few times to ask if everything’s going okay, each time flashing you a discrete look that you don’t even want to try to decipher. Hinata asks you about your work and you end up feeding him the usual story you tell people who don’t know about the nature of your job; you deliver packages to different companies and sometimes work behind the counter at the office. You don’t offer anything more than that, mostly out of fear that you’ll say something that’ll contrast the white lie you’ve practiced and perfected over the years. Luckily, Hinata doesn’t pry any further and you don’t have to worry about it.

When the bill comes, Hinata snatches it out from underneath your hand. You give him a look before asking him what he’s doing. He pulls out his wallet as he tells you that he’s paying for today. You protest, there’s no way that you’re going to let him pay for all of it, isn’t he still in university, can students even afford food this expensive, but he doesn’t let go of the bill. Hinata claims that since this is a date (you definitely don’t blush at the use of that word) that he asked you on, he should be the one to pay. You’re about to tell Hinata how stupid that is but when the waitress comes back, he hands her his card before you get a chance to. You feel guilty for not paying, though when you tell Hinata this, he only smiles and says, “Well then, next time you can pay.”

You leave the restaurant with a full stomach and promises of a next time. Hinata stretches when he steps out the door, letting out a content sigh.

“I’m so full,” he says, rubbing at his eye. Itis, you think to yourself, and you can’t deny that you feel a bit sleepy as well.

“Where are we going now?” You ask. Earlier on the bus, Hinata had mentioned that you’d be going somewhere after dinner.

“Oh right, c’mon, it’s this way.” He tilts his head in the opposite direction you came from. You walk side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally as you listen to Hinata point out where you’ll be turning next. There are significantly less people on the streets compared to before but the sidewalks are still somewhat cramped with passerbys. People are probably heading home at this point; it was almost 8pm when you left the restaurant. The sun has completely set, drowning the city in soft darkness illuminated by LED decorations and headlights. There’s something about being downtown that you can’t explain, but it’s definitely nothing like what you feel in your neighbourhood. You don’t think that you’d be able to live permanently in the city – there’s way too many people – but from now on, you think that you’ll make an effort to come here more often.

Hinata leads you down another street, saying that you’ll be there in about five minutes. This street is much smaller than the one you were just on and subsequently littered with less people as well. You relish in the relative silence around you, feeling much more comfortable with just Hinata’s presence next to you. Though, you can’t exactly say that Hinata hasn’t been distracting you, either. For the past few minutes, your hand has brushed dangerously close to Hinata’s. You’ll defend that it was natural, the swing of your arm, but that doesn’t rid you of the temptation to hold his hand. Glancing down to the space between you two, Hinata’s hand is still at his side while the other swings happily as he walks. Maybe he’s waiting, you think to yourself with a blush. Maybe he’s waiting for you to take his hand this time, to take the initiative and lace your fingers with his first. You mull it over in your head, should I, before steeling yourself and reaching out to-

“Ah! We’re here!” Hinata exclaims, pointing somewhere with the hand you were just about to grab. God damn it, you curse, telling yourself that you should’ve done it sooner when you had the chance. You let out a sigh before looking at where Hinata’s pointing, nearly coming to a stop when you do.

It’s a large outdoor ice rink, surrounded by trees decorated with lights and electronic candles. Several people are skating on the ice, some struggling to stand on the ice while others speed by them, clearly more experienced. There’s a large evergreen tree in the middle of the rink, though you assume its usual Christmas decorations have been replaced with regular LED lights. It’s still a sight to behold, shining brightly underneath the night sky. Off to the side of the rink is a small building, probably a warming centre with hot food and drinks. You gape at the largeness of it all and you’re surprised that you didn’t know about this place beforehand.

“They built it recently,” Hinata says and you whip your head around, confused that he could read your mind. “I could tell by your face.”

“Oh.” You say eloquently. “It’s really... Wow.”

“I know right?” Hinata giggles. “C’mon, let’s go rent our skates.”

He beckons you toward the path leading into the rink. It’s not until you’re standing in line at the rental shop when you realize something. “Wait, I can’t skate.”

“Me neither,” he shrugs, turning to you with a smile, “but how hard could it be, right?”

This time, you don’t let Hinata offer to pay for the rental fee. He already paid for dinner, and you’d feel even guiltier if he were to pay for this too. The worker at the shop hands you the skates a minute later and you hand Hinata his pair. He thanks you with a smile before leading you over to a bench. It takes both of you much longer than necessary to lace up your skates, mostly because neither of you had a clue how to put them on. You end up having to spy on the girl sitting across from you two to understand how the shoes work before doing it for yourself. After that, you lace them on with ease, wobbling slightly as you stand on your feet. You look to Hinata, only to see that he’s still struggling with the upper part of his skates. With a sigh, you bend down in front of him and shoo his hands away to lace it up for him. He protests that “hey, I was getting the hang of it,” but you just tell him to be quiet and let you do this.

When the both of you have your skates on, you shakily walk over to the edge of the rink. Someone speeds past you and you’re suddenly feeling anxious about skating. But when you see how excited Hinata is to get on the ice, that feeling disappears and is replaced with a desire to make him happy. Hesitant, you take your first step on the ice, one foot still planted on the gravel. That wasn’t so bad, you think as you place the other foot on the ice as well. You try shimmying your feet a bit, satisfied when you’re able to skate about a metre away from the edge. You turn back to see how Hinata’s doing, only to see him slip and fall to the ice just as you do.

You snort, trying to fight back the smile on your face when you see Hinata’s shocked expression. He narrows his eyes at you and pouts, whining about you laughing at him. You say that you’re not (you clearly are) before you reach out a hand toward him. He looks at it for a moment before grabbing it, letting you pull him up. As he plants his skates back on the ice and you’re pulling, you forget that standing on ice is very different from standing on normal ground, and you end up losing your balance and falling over as well.

Now Hinata’s laughing at your misfortune despite still being on the ground too. The side of your thigh stings slightly from the fall, but other than that it’s not so bad. You tell Hinata to stop laughing, threatening to make him fall again once he stands up. He complies, though a wide grin is still present on his face. You two spend the next few minutes trying to figure out how to get back up without falling again. Some people begin to stare – who wouldn’t at the two guys sitting awkwardly at the edge of the rink? Eventually, you manage to stand up again while Hinata still struggles on the ground. This time, you plant your feet a little wider when you pull Hinata up, a smile on his face when he’s finally upright again.

Hinata doesn’t let go of your hand after standing up, instead holding on tightly as you slowly skate along the edge of the rink. His grip fluctuates, tightening then loosening depending on how balanced he feels. Somehow, you both manage to skate an entire lap before falling again. As you become acquainted with the ice once again, Hinata claims that it wasn’t his fault but you think that you both know that it was. You both manage to stand up much quicker (practice makes perfect?) and you’re back to skating again before you know it, Hinata’s hand still in your own.

By the time you’ve skated another lap, you think that you’ve become pretty used to being on the ice. Albeit you’re not going very fast, you don’t think that’s a problem; as long as you’re not falling, right? Hinata’s still a little shaky, sometimes flailing his other arm in attempt to regain his balance. You have to tug on his hand to help steady him sometimes, though you’re not complaining. Even though both of you aren’t the best skaters, you can’t help but enjoy this time you have together. You think that seeing Hinata smile and laugh is more than enough reason to be here and put up with the risk of falling flat on your ass. And when Hinata turns to you with bright eyes and a brighter smile, you know that there’s nothing in the world that you want more than this boy in front of you.

Hinata lets go of your hand, skating just ahead of you and yelling at you to watch him do a trick. He tries to do a twirl on the ice, mocking the skater you two saw a bit earlier. You snort when he loses his balance almost immediately, his feet stumbling against the ice and you quickly reach out to grab him before he falls. You steady him by his shoulders, his hands gripping tightly at the front of your coat when he stops stumbling. He smiles up at you when you call him an idiot, both of you aware that the insult is more of an affectionate pet name at this point. You give a small smile back, noticing just how close you two are right now. Your eyes fall on the side of his face where the tissue rose should be – when did that fall out? The wind probably blew it out of his hair when you were skating around, you muse. You don’t think much of it, instead bringing a hand up to tuck a stray strand of orange behind Hinata’s ear.

He leans into the touch, eyes warm and cheeks rosy from the cold. Your fingers are frozen but the gesture manages to set the skin about your fingertips alight. You’re tempted to lean in and press your lips to his cheek. There’s nothing stopping you from doing so but you can’t, not when there are so many people around. You’re sure that the people here are relatively open-minded (they haven’t said anything about two guys holding hands and skating around, after all) but you think that these sort of affectionate gestures should be reserved for somewhere private.

You pull back, letting go of your grip on Hinata’s arm and he untangles his fingers from your coat. You reach for his hand again, pulling him for another lap around the rink. He agrees excitedly, and you’re secretly glad that he’s enjoying this (even though he was the one who decided to go skating in the first place).

Sooner than you had expected, an announcement begins to ring out from the outdoor speakers. Attention all skaters, the rink will be closing in 15 minutes. We ask that all participants evacuate the ice by that time. Thank you for your cooperation. Attention all skaters...

“Should we get going?” Hinata asks. “We still have to return our skates, soo.”

“Yeah.”

You get off the ice, walking awkwardly on the ground over to the bench you left your shoes at. Taking a seat, you let out a sigh of relief; your legs were more tired than you thought they were. You unlace your skates, slipping your cold feet back into your shoes. Hinata stands once he’s taken off his skates, grabbing yours and making his way over to the rental shop. He comes back a moment later, asking if you’re ready to go. You agree and he leads you back toward the path you came from.

“That was fun,” Hinata breathes out. “To be honest, I thought I would’ve fallen more than that.”

“You did fall 3 times.” You deadpan, resisting the urge to grin at the memory.

“Yeah, well you fell too!”

“Only because of you!”

“...Okay, whatever, it still counts.” Hinata pouts. You smile fondly, tilting your head up to look at the sky. There are several stars visible despite the light pollution, each glowing brightly against the darkness. You wonder how beautiful it would look if you were out in the countryside where buildings are kilometres apart, separated by lands of green and brown. Though, you’re sure that they wouldn’t be able to compare to the sun that shines so brilliantly next to you. You cast your gaze back to Hinata, his face glowing under the luminescent lights of the city. Warmth courses through your veins when you remember how amazing Hinata is, how you’d like to stay by his side as long as you can. There’s nothing that can compete with what you feel for him, with what he does to you. And this time, when his hand brushes against yours, you don’t hesitate to take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.

You and Hinata talk aimlessly about whatever while waiting for the bus at the stop. Though you do love this boy, that fact doesn’t stop you from arguing with him when he says something stupid. The bus appears while you’re listening to Hinata talk about his favourite radio station and when you step on, you’re surprised to hear that exact station playing on the intercom. Hinata’s eyes light up as he moves to find a seat near the back of the bus. There’s only three other people on board other than you two, though that’s to be expected by how late it is. Hinata tries to convince you to ask another passenger for a tissue to wipe down the window, but you shoot him down by telling him that there’s no point in doing so.

Eventually, the bus arrives at your stop and you step off. You’re back to where you started earlier this evening, though you’re now on the other side of the street. You nudge Hinata toward his residence, telling him that you’ll walk him there. He says that it’s okay, it’s late so you should go home, but you just grab him by the hand again and tug him along.

Hinata swings your hands together as you walk in silence, a small smile on his face. The closer you get to his dorm, the more you realize that you don’t want this to end. Maybe you’re just being selfish, but you want to spend as much time with Hinata as you can. You’ve really enjoyed the past hours you spent together, so when you reach the main entrance to his dorm, there’s an extremely bittersweet feeling in your chest.

“Thanks for today,” Hinata says softly, turning to face you. He squeezes your hand and you rub your thumb lightly against the skin there. “I had a lot of fun.”

I should be saying that to you, you think because Hinata was the one who suggested this in the first place, not you. “Me too,” you murmur, words getting stuck in your throat.

It’s silent for a moment before you think, f*ck it, and you let go of Hinata’s hand to wrap your arms around his waist, tugging him closer to you. His hands come up to rest timidly at your shoulders, and you hope that he doesn’t notice that you’re probably just as nervous as he is. Though you’ve kissed before, this time feels different from the others. More intimate, maybe, you think as you bend slightly to press your forehead to his. You don’t do anything for now, content with just being close. He looks up at you through his lashes, a small smile on his lips before his eyes slowly flutter shut. Ah, you think as you close your eyes, tilting your head and leaning in to meet him halfway.

His lips are chapped from the cold but you don’t care because it’s perfect regardless. They’re soft against yours, warm and more than enough to distract you from the winter air. You move your hands from his waist to the small of his back, bringing him closer as you take his top lip between your own. You can feel him smile against your lips, one of his hands snaking from your shoulders to tangle his fingers in your hair. He nibbles lightly on your bottom lip, bringing a groan from your throat. You copy him and he gasps in reply, pulling back slightly for air. He’s kissing you again in an instant, tugging and more insistent than before.

“Kageyama,” he breathes against your lips, voice low and raspy. Your mind swirls at the sound, and you quickly pull back. You’re panting when you open your eyes again, eyes trained on Hinata’s lips, red and swollen from your kisses.

Oh god, you think as you lean down to rest your head on his shoulder. That was... like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Your thoughts are still a mess and you struggle to recollect yourself. Hinata turns you into someone you can’t even recognize, someone so different from who you usually are. That might not totally be a bad thing, but you’re not used to this, not used to being so overwhelmed by what another person can do to you.

Hinata’s finger traces light circles just above the nape of your neck. You bring your head up from his shoulder, meeting his eyes again to see a warm smile on his face. You flush before leaning to press a kiss to his cheek, releasing your hold on his waist when you pull back. His hands fall back to his side and he stuffs them into his coat pockets. You watch as he hops up the steps to his dorm, turning back to you at the top to wish you goodnight. You do the same, smiling as he waves once more before disappearing behind the main entrance doors.

You sigh, looking at the dorm one more time before forcing your feet to move in the direction of your apartment. As you’re walking, you bring a hand up to your lips to see that they’re warm, heat from earlier still lingering. You bite your bottom lip, blushing at the memory of how it felt to kiss Hinata again, how it felt to hold him in your arms. It’s everything and more to have been able to be close to him, and there’s nothing else you’d ask for if you had this forever. You wince at that thought; forever is a fleeting concept kept alive by optimistic dreamers, but you think that you can understand now that you’ve had a taste of it. Even if it hasn’t been long, there’s just something about this that feels right. Something inexplicable that you know you’ll never feel with anyone else, something deeper than just like or love.

Having a forever with Hinata would be nice, you think as you trudge your feet down the sidewalk, streetlamps and flickering store signs lighting the way home.

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

“So, what did you want to tell me?”

You scratch nervously behind your ear. “Uh. Well.”

Sugawara tilts his head to the side, waiting with patient eyes and a calm smile. He sets his teacup down on the coffee table, crossing his arms over his knees and leaning forward. You sink into the couch, feeling yourself begin to sweat. There’s a curious sparkle behind his eyes, hiding behind stifled anticipation and muted questioning. You’re nervous; one leg bouncing up and down restlessly, fingers curled into a fist in your lap.

“Uhm,” you try again, willing the words to appear in your mouth, but they don’t. It’s frustrating, you think. Doing this – or at least trying to – is harder than you originally anticipated. You knew that it had to happen eventually whether you wanted it to or not. Keeping it to yourself made you feel guilty, like you owed it to Sugawara – no, because he’s your friend and he deserved to know – to tell him about…that. After all he’s done for you, it would be just outright rude and disrespectful to keep it a secret.

Though you soon realize, of course, as you sit in front of Sugawara in the weaponry with sweaty palms and a twisted tongue, that’s probably easier said than done.

Sugawara sighs after your fourth consecutive “uhh” and reaches for his tea. He leans back into the couch, taking a sip with a small smile. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, you don’t have to tell me, you know.”

“It’s not that,” you say hurriedly. Sugawara gives you a look that says really? but you don’t want him to get the wrong idea. It’s not that you’re uncomfortable, you’ve just never had to bring up something like this before and you’re not sure how to do it without being too subtle or too blunt. “I just, uh. I don’t know how to say it.”

Sugawara frowns. “Is it something bad?”

“No, not,” you shake your head vigorously. “It’s not bad.”

“Good, then?”

You hesitate before answering. “...Yeah.”

His expression lights up. You can tell that he’s running over a list of possibilities in his head of what news you might bring. He asks if he can try to guess but you shoot him down immediately, fearing the power of Sugawara’s imagination. He pouts, though you think that he’s having a lot more fun with this than he should be.

“Well, we have another,” Sugawara glances at the watch on his wrist, “hour until our team meeting, so take your time.”

You grumble about him teasing you and Sugawara just laughs. You lean your head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It’s times like these when you wish you weren’t so awkward and incapable of freely expressing yourself. There’s no doubt that it’d be so much easier if you just came right out and said it, but there’s an invisible barrier you’re not sure how to break through. It’s the embarrassment; though not because it happened, but because you actually have to say it. You know that Sugawara won’t judge you – in fact, you’re pretty sure that he’d squeal in happiness – but the reassurance isn’t quite enough. You’ve still got a lot of growing up left to do to break out of the bubble of insecurities you’ve trapped yourself in.

Though, you think that this is a good chance to take the next step. You don’t want to keep Sugawara in the dark anymore, and you know that the guilt in your chest won’t disappear until you’ve told him. He’s been good to you, helped you when you needed it the most, kept you from slipping back into the hole you dug for yourself years ago. Sugawara is your best friend and he, more than anyone else, deserves to know.

So, after another five minutes of inner turmoil, you close your eyes and blurt out, “Hinata and I are dating.”

Sugawara doesn’t get a chance to hear your timid “I think” before he spits out his mouthful of tea directly onto the coffee table. You grimace as he coughs, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and his eyes widening significantly. There’s tea dripping off the edges of the table, threatening to fall onto the nice rug. You move to wipe it with your sleeve but Sugawara stops you with the wave of his hand. He gets up to grab paper towels from the counter, still coughing from the tea he choked on. Handing you the roll, he sits back down and you quickly clean up the mess.

When Sugawara’s stopped coughing, he clears his throat and turns his full attention to you. His cheeks are somewhat red, probably from the choking, but the smile on his lips can’t be blamed on that. He looks at you like you’ve just delivered his first born child and the expression is enough for you to bury your face in your hands.

“Kageyama!” Sugawara says, his voice high and undeniably happy. You hear him shift from the couch across you to the one you’re currently on, sidling up to you with a strange giggle. When he tries to grab onto your arm, you scoot farther away from him with a noise of complaint.

“Stop,” you grumble when squeals (just like you thought) and laughter ring loudly in your ears. Heat flares up your neck and across your face; you wish you could crawl in a hole and live there for the rest of your life. You knew that saying it would be embarrassing, but you didn’t prepare yourself enough for the reaction and recoil.

It’s not like you regret telling him, you try to reassure yourself as Sugawara attempts to pry your hands off your face, wanting you to see just how delighted he is. And sure enough, the smile on his face is almost as bright as Hinata’s (nothing can compare to his, you think) and that alone is enough for you to understand that Sugawara’s proud of and happy for you.

“Congratulations,” Sugawara says once he’s calmed down a little, promising not to try and hug you or get too close.

“Thanks.”

He sighs, smile still on his lips. “I knew it. I shipped you guys first.”

You groan; you thought that he’d finally become normal again. Though, maybe you should’ve seen it coming because Sugawara does have an impeccable ability to prove you wrong. You tell him that he’s been watching way too many dramas recently. He blatantly denies it, claims that this is only out of the goodness of his heart, but you’ve seen the newly purchased DVD sets he tried to hide in the closet of the locker room.

“Seriously though,” Sugawara stresses when you point that out, “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“I know,” you say quietly, unable to help the small smile that appears on your face, “thanks.”

Sugawara gushes about how cute you are and you immediately shoot him a glare, threatening to leave if he doesn’t stop doing that. He whines, complaining that he’s just happy for you. You tell him to shut up, though there’s no actual bite behind it.

A few minutes later, the sound of your ringtone cuts through the room. You get up off the couch to walk over to where you left your bag in the corner, rummaging around for the device. Sugawara teasingly asks “is that your boyfriend?” but you ignore him, instead staring at the unknown caller flashing on your screen. You pick up, pressing the phone to your ear with a “Hello?”

“I saw you.”

You freeze. Sugawara seems to notice the sudden change, sending you a questioning look. You place a finger on your lips, urging him to keep quiet. He obeys without protest, though the curiosity in his eyes doesn’t fade. You gulp. You’ve heard this voice before, not too long ago over the phone, and you’d be damned if you let yourself forget who this is.

Kenma.

“What do you mean?” You say cautiously, unsure of what he’s referring to.

Kenma lets out a small huff, barely audible through the receiver. “You and Hinata. In front of our dorm.”

At this point, you don’t know if you should be utterly embarrassed or frightened that Kenma of all f*cking people saw you two that night. Though, the embarrassment is much more prominent as you feel your entire face heat up again, warmth travelling to the tips of your ears. Sugawara’s eyes widen when he sees you turn beet red, but you just shake your head with a look that you hope says don’t worry about it.

“Were you following us?” You ask once your head clears. Knowing that Kenma could have been watching your every move that night, waiting for the right moment to attack you when you were alone, is more than terrifying but also f*cking creepy.

“No,” he says like he’s personally offended by your accusation, “I live there too, you know. It was a coincidence.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly when you realize that Kenma was probably coming home from wherever and saw you two kissing in front of his building. You purse your lips. You’re tempted to apologize for him having to accidentally see that, but you remember just exactly who this is and you shut that civility away.

“You didn’t listen,” Kenma bites out, “to my warning.”

“I told you I wouldn’t get him involved.” Your eyes land on Sugawara, worried that he might catch onto your conversation. You try to avoid using names but you know that Sugawara is smart enough to know that something’s not right. “He’s not in any danger.”

“You don’t know that, Kageyama. Listen,” Kenma’s voice grows cold and unforgiving, “I’m not supposed to say anything, but things are going to get bad. People are going to die. And with Karasuno snooping around our business, don’t think that you won’t get caught in the crossfire.”

“I’m already aware of that.”

“If you were, then you’d stay away from Hinata.”

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t see how that relates.”

“He’s my friend,” Kenma says, “and I don’t want him to see him get hurt. Maybe he won’t get involved with our business, but it’s more than that.”

“More than that?” What does he mean?

“Because when you’re gone,” Kenma continues as if you had never spoken, “who’s going to pick up the pieces that you’ll leave behind?”

Your fingers grip the phone tighter, your other hand balling into a fist at your side. Clenching your teeth, you move into the locker room, locking the door behind you. This, you think, is something that Sugawara absolutely cannot hear. You pray that Sugawara will be kind enough to respect your space and not snoop around to try and listen through the door. Though, you don’t hear the sound of footsteps so you assume that he won’t. You exhale sharply through your nose, sitting down at one of the benches in front of the lockers. “What are you saying? That I’m going to die?”

“Did you seriously think that if you got involved, you would be able to come out alive?” Kenma spits. You start to understand that this boy is vastly different from the impression he first left on you. “People know you, Kageyama. No one at H.A will forget the King,” you wince at the use of the nickname, “if he shows up, and no one will be kind enough to forgive you for intruding in our business.”

Death, you think, is something you’ve become acquainted with far too many times. You know better than anyone how fragile life can be, how easily it can be taken away with the pull of a trigger or a blade against skin. And you know that you will die one day, following in the bloody footsteps of those you’ve sent before you, and you can accept that. But the thought of that day coming so soon makes your stomach churn. You’ve never thought much of it before; there was just this understanding within you that if you were to die, there was nothing you could do about it. But now, now that you have someone important to you, someone who you love and never want to let go, you’re afraid.

I can’t die yet, you think frantically. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, feelings of anxiety and distress overwhelming you. A part of you knows that this is just Kenma trying to intimidate you, but the other part – the part that’s bigger, more urgent, more important – can’t get rid of this newfound fear.

“I won’t die.” You say with so much conviction that you almost believe it yourself. There’s nothing more that you want than to have faith in your own words, but nothing is more unpredictable than death’s hand. You can’t make that guarantee, but you sure as hell will try. “And neither will Hinata. I won’t let that happen.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kenma says gravely. His words pierce through you with a blade sharper than knives. You hear him sigh. “I know Hinata cares about you, but your relationship will slowly kill him. He’ll stay by your side, unaware of the venom you’ve injected into his veins until it’s too late. This never should have happened. Nothing good will come from this. And you of all people should know that best.”

The sting of Kenma’s words hurts more than you thought it would’ve. You’ve already had your insecurities about this, the never ending uncertainty of whether or not having feelings for Hinata would be alright, and though you had pushed them to the back of your mind, they never really disappeared. They resurface with just as much influence as before, convincing you that you don’t deserve someone like Hinata, you’ll only ever put him in danger, Hinata would be so much happier with someone else-

No, you think with a shaky breath. That’s the last thing you want – to see Hinata with someone else. You know that you’re selfish, that these thoughts are the result of your own desires, but you can’t help it. Your feelings and Hinata’s feelings are two separate things, but with the way he holds your hand, the way he grins whenever he catches you staring, the way his lips press against yours with a content smile, you know that this thing you have is something good.

And you’d be damned if you were to willingly let it go.

“Thanks for the warning, Kenma,” you finally say after a moment, your voice calm and unwavering, “but I’ll prove you wrong.”

Pressing the end call button, you toss your phone onto the bench. Placing your head in your hands, you inhale and exhale deeply to try and calm yourself down. You wait another 5 minutes, relieved that your phone hasn’t rung with another call. Hanging up without another word from Kenma left you worried that he’d try to call again, but it doesn’t seem like he had anything left to say (or he was too frustrated by the fact that you hung up to try and call again).

You give yourself another minute in the locker room before you trudge your way back over to the couch. Sugawara’s sitting in the same position he was in before you left, and he raises an eyebrow when you come back. You’re expecting a bombardment of questions but you’re surprised when he doesn’t ask a single one. There’s no denying the look of curiosity that he gave you when you walked back in, but other than that, he doesn’t mention it. Maybe he’s waiting for you to bring it up yourself, waiting to see whether or not you want to talk about it. You’re glad that he doesn’t push the subject once you drop it, instead moving on and asking if you’re ready to go to the meeting. You nod, grabbing your coat from the couch and heading toward the door.

“Thanks for telling me, Kageyama.” Sugawara says as he toes on his boots, and it takes you a second to realize that he’s talking about your relationship with Hinata. “I’m happy that you did.”

You pause as you grip the doorknob, turning it to open the door a moment after. Sugawara just smiles, locking the door before following you toward the elevator.

*

Smoke clouds your vision. There’s a pungent smell in the air that reeks of rotten eggs and spoiled milk. You run a hand across the wall, grimacing when traces of dirt cling to your fingertips. Puddles of muddy water are scattered across the ground, making it difficult to move without soaking your feet. You vaguely hear sirens in the distant, flashing lights of red and blue slowly disappearing into the fog.

Your breath leaves in white puffs of air, shoulders rising with each inhale. You whip your head around at the sound of footsteps echoing down the tunnel. You hold your breath, careful not to make a noise. A stray pipe drips water directly above your head, but you don’t dare move. The footsteps pause as a ray of light suddenly flashes through the smoke. You try to flatten yourself to the wall as much as possible, ignoring how the dirty water clings to the back of your jacket. The light searches through the tunnel, nearly passing by you several times. It pauses on the space of the wall just to your left, barely missing your torso by an inch. Your heart pounds erratically in your chest, sweat rolling down the side of your head.

The light disappears a second later, followed by footsteps that vanish in the other direction. You let out a sigh of relief, waiting another minute before deciding that it’s safe to continue down the tunnel.

Now which way do I go, you ask yourself when your path diverges into two. They appear identical – both dark, muddy and disgusting. You rub the back of your neck before ultimately deciding to go down the left one, hoping that you made the right choice. The tunnel continues straight for about another 50 metres before it begins curving toward the left. As you continue down, you take notice of the broken pipelines and frayed wires that litter the ground. Distracted by the debris, you accidentally step into a large puddle, effectively soaking your right foot. Great.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken this mission. Granted, it was easy; you found your target within minutes of entering the building and he held no complaints before you pierced a bullet through his skull. But, you figure that one of the security cameras managed to catch you on tape, and within seconds of the gunfire, guards were pouring in from left and right. You had cursed, fleeing into the basem*nt and into an intricate maze of tunnels (you were lucky that none of them carried guns and were only equipped with tasers, though you found that somewhat odd). And now, you’re stuck here without any idea of where you are.

As you make your way down the tunnel, the smoke clears up and you can clearly see more than 10 metres in front of you. You pull out your phone from your pocket, checking again to see if you have any service. Unfortunately, you’re met with no reception and a dying battery. You tuck it back in with a frown, trying to think of how you can get yourself out. Glancing upward, you notice lines of wire running across the top of the tunnel. They weave around the pipes, all continuous and never stopping. You briefly wonder where those wires begin and end, what purpose they serve, whether or not they would be drenched by the dripping pipelines.

I need to get out of here, you think when you realize that you’re starting to think about wires of all things. You’ve been down here so long that you’re starting to get f*cking bored and you think that’s a bit pathetic. Ukai is going to rip you a new one for taking so long.

You pick up the pace, eyes searching for a way out. You’re mindful not to step in another puddle but as you proceed further down the tunnel, you notice a significant decrease in the moisture around you. Everything is drier; there are less broken pipes and the walls aren’t covered in mud. Hopefully, that means you’re getting closer to finding the exit.

After what feels like a lifetime, you see a small ray of light coming from the top of the tunnel. There’s a ladder, you think elatedly as you run over toward the light, coming to a stop just below a circle-shaped hole. You nearly cry from the sweet relief of finding an exit, and you quickly grab onto the handles of the ladder, pulling yourself up with what strength you have left. You push at the cover on the hole, the lid opening up to reveal blinding white light.

When you crawl out, you find yourself in an unfamiliar area. Luckily, there are no people around to see you crawl out of one of those sewage holes (ah, so that’s where you were; though, why did that building connect to the sewage system?). However, you need to find a way back to Karasuno. You glance around, taking in the tall buildings and billboard signs. Walking in a random direction, you keep an eye out for some sort of transit station so you can find a map. You think you see one across the street, and you hurry over to the nearest intersection.

Suddenly, a body collides with your own and you stumble to the side. You look at the person who bumped into you; a tall, dark-haired man in a dark blue coat and grey skinny jeans. You stare at the mess of hair on his head in wonder. He looks at you in surprise, immediately apologizing for bumping into you.

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he says with a sheepish smile.

“It’s okay,” you say because that’s the polite thing to do, though you’re a little bit peeved that he was being so careless.

“Wow,” he says with wide eyes, and though you were about to walk off, you turn back with a raised eyebrow, “you smell pretty bad.”

You narrow your eyes at the man, turning and walking away without another word. Though you’re pretty sure that the reason you smell like sh*t is because you just spent about an hour running around in a sewer, that doesn’t mean you want to hear about your stench from other people, let alone complete strangers.

Crossing the street, you make your way over to the bus stop. The map indicates that you’re not actually that far off from your neighbourhood, it’s just an area you’ve never been to before. You quickly track down the different bus routes, checking for the most convenient way to get home. Sadly, the shortest trip will take 3 transfers, and you don’t even have a way to search up the exact bus times. You try your phone once more, but the battery is completely drained.

It takes another 10 minutes for the bus to show up. You step on, depositing the fare into the box before finding a seat near the back. Five minutes pass before you get off at your stop, waiting patiently for your transfer to arrive. You continue this two more times, finally getting off at a stop 10 minutes away from Karasuno. The entire trip took you just under an hour and a half and by the time you get back in the office, you’re in a sour mood.

“Kageyama, you’re back- oh, god, what’s that smell?” Sugawara says, wrinkling his nose when you walk into the weaponry room.

“Sewage,” is all you offer before slipping into the locker room for a desperately needed shower.

*

“A sewage system?” Ukai asks after he’s finished yelling at you for being late.

You nod, gesturing to the map you have laid out on his office table. “I wandered around there for about an hour and got out here.” You draw a circle around the area with a marker. “I was walking down a tunnel that tilted left for a while,” you drag your finger to the right, “and judging by how far I was from the building, the split in the tunnel was right about here.”

“I see,” Ukai hums with a concentrated expression on his face, “and you said there was another tunnel that continued in the other direction?”

You nod. “Most likely, yes.”

Ukai runs a hand through his hair, studying the map for another minute before rolling it up with a sigh. “I’ll get our investigation team to check it out. Probably won’t see any immediate results ‘cause they’re pretty busy dealing with other crap right now, but it’s definitely worth taking a look at. Good job, Kageyama.”

You raise an eyebrow. He’s basically praising you for getting yourself stuck in a damn sewer, and you’re sure that he knows it. Ukai smirks and you want to punch him in the face.

“On another note,” he says, walking around his table to rummage through his papers, “do you remember when I showed you a picture and asked if you recognized this man?” He pulls out an image and you nod; you do remember this blurry picture of broad shoulders and dark hair, but you weren’t able to identify who it was the first time Ukai asked. “And this picture that you found on the delta plan mission?”

You nod again, waiting for Ukai to continue.

He shuffles through his folders, pulling out a new image and sliding it across the table. “We’ve identified him.”

Your eyes widen when you see the man in the picture. It’s a clear headshot this time, a distinguishable face and no motion blurs. You vaguely hear Ukai listing off his information in the background, Kuroo Tetsurou, 23, supposed member of H.A for seven years, but you’re distracted by how familiar this man is. There’s no way it could be possible but the longer you stare at it, the more you come to terms with the fact that this is who you think it is.

“I saw him,” you say, eyes never leaving the photograph, “today. I bumped into him on the streets after I came out of the sewer.”

“What?” Ukai snaps. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Ukai glares at you as if to check if you’re lying before collapsing into his office chair with a groan. He reaches into his drawer and pulls out a box of cigarettes. He lights it, breathing out smoke with a ragged sigh. “sh*t. So close, huh?”

He smiles, though there’s nothing behind that expression besides regret. He takes another puff, turning his chair around to face the wide windows and distant view. From behind his chair, you watch as smoke rises from his cigarette, the smell of burnt ash floating across the room.

“Soon,” Ukai says, his voice suddenly tired and worn out. There’s something else there too, behind the years of experience, behind the sadness hidden by a well-carved mask. You don’t push it though, because you know it all too well.

“Yes,” you agree.

Soon.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

In the distance, you vaguely see the enemy’s signals of retreat – red strings of smoke firing across the sky.

The scent of gunpowder and ashes sifts through the air, barely masking the stench of dead bodies littered across the ground. Bile rises in your throat when you realize that you recognize some of the corpses. Acquaintances you never really got to know, colleagues you’ve worked with for years, friends you wished you spent more time with, gone within the blink of an eye. You can’t bring yourself to look at their lifeless bodies any longer, fearing that the memories will come back to haunt you in your sleep. Pushing yourself off the fallen debris, your attempt to move forward is stopped by a searing pain in your leg.

You gasp, clutching the wound on your left thigh. Blood seeps out from between your fingers, trickling down your leg and soaking your pants. A sardonic laugh manages its way out of your lips; you had forgotten about the bullet lodged under your hip, too distracted by the adrenaline of escaping and fighting for your life. You let out a shaky breath, tearing a chunk of fabric from your shirt and carefully wrapping it around your thigh. Red bleeds easily through the white material as you tie it in place, but you don’t have time to be concerned about that. I have to keep moving.

Limping across the field, you nearly stumble twice over the dead bodies. The gun in your holster feels heavier than normal, weighing you down with every step you take. You try to keep the weight off your bad leg as much as possible, pushing off of remains of the fallen building whenever you can, but it proves difficult when you barely have enough strength as it is. Running around to desperately escape the explosion of the headquarters had exhausted you, adding onto the fatigue of not having slept in three days. Maybe you should have listened and swapped out with another teammate to take a quick nap during the lookouts. You shake your head; it’s too late to be thinking like that now.

Everything’s gone, you belatedly think to yourself. You’ve wandered for nearly half an hour now and there’s been no sight of another living person. You passed by Ukai’s lifeless body earlier, stopping only to swipe his eyelids shut. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but you didn’t let them, knowing that your boss would’ve been disappointed to see you cry. And so you moved forward, ignoring the aching feeling in the pit of your stomach that screamed at you to pull him out from underneath the rubble, he can still be saved it’s not too late you can’t lose him too-

But you can’t save him. You know better than anyone when someone’s last breath has left their lips, when someone’s pulse beats no more at the base of their wrist, when someone’s skin turns sickly cold and devoid of life. He’s gone, they’re all gone, and you can’t do anything about it.

As you trudge on, you wonder why you were the only one to survive. There were others on this mission who were just as, if not more, capable as you were. You couldn’t have been the only one who narrowly avoided the explosion, no, there had to be someone else. A king is nothing without his people, you think sarcastically. Though, you suppose that they were never really your people to begin with. Regardless, it’s lonely to have to see the faces of people you once knew mutilated beyond recognition. You wish that there was some way to turn back the hands of time, to fix things and prevent this from happening, but you know that it’s useless to hope for the impossible.

A choked sob catches your attention. Your eyes widen in the direction of the sound; there’s someone else that’s alive. The thought of not being alone anymore sends a surge of energy through your body, the pain in your leg temporarily ignored as you hobble over to the person shivering on the dirt. He’s covered in flesh wounds, blood seeping from the tears in his shirt and jeans. His right leg is trapped under a large, fallen pillar, and you’re sure that the bones are crushed beyond repair. You’re about to ask if he’s alright (a useless question because you both know that he’s not okay, not with those injuries) when your eyes wander to familiar half-lidded eyes and strands of orange hair.

“H-Hinata?”

You scramble over to his side when you realize that the boy lying here, dying on the ground is in fact, Hinata. The pain in your thigh is long forgotten when you drop to your knees, cradling his upper body into your arms with trembling hands. No, you think desperately, wetness pooling at your eyes and spilling down your cheeks. “Hinata,” your voice cracks when you breathe out his name, fingers shaking as you wipe a trail of blood from his face. “H-How, why,” why are you here, is what you try to ask, but the words are trapped in your throat, clogged by the pain of seeing life being ripped out from under the boy you love.

Hinata’s eyes are out of focus, landing on yours but you don’t see the usual glimmer of light there. His breaths are shallow, each weaker than the one before it. You see his lips move but he only manages to make a throaty noise before coughing up blood onto his side. No, no no nonono-

“Hinata,” you try again as you cradle a hand against his cheek, your touch light in fear of breaking him, “Hinata, you can’t,” your voice cracks, “y-you’re okay, you’ll be okay...p-please...you, don’t, I can’t, not again, I-”

“...Ka..geyam..a...” Hinata brokenly whispers your name and you feel like you’re drowning. You never wanted this, never wanted to see Hinata in pain, especially not when you were the cause of it. Tears stream down your face, dripping from your chin onto the collar of Hinata’s shirt. Hinata weakly lifts a hand in your direction and you immediately clutch it in yours, knuckles turning white as you press your lips desperately to the back of his fingers.

“Don’t leave me,” you whisper into the skin of his hand, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, don’t go...” You look into his eyes, frantic for some sort of sign that he can hear you, that he’ll be okay, but Hinata says nothing. You watch as he blinks once, twice, and three times before his eyes fall shut completely, his head lolling to the side.

No, you think as the hand in your grasp falls limp, dangling and held up only by your own strength. No, you think as you grab his shoulders, shaking violently as you call out his name with choked sobs. No, you think as you bury your face in his neck, tears soaking his growing-cold skin.

Hinata can’t be dead, there’s no way, you can’t no no no no no nonononono-

You jerk awake, sitting up in your bed with hysterical gasps. It takes a panicked moment for you to realize that it was just a nightmare, just a dream, not reality. You run a shaky hand through your hair, the cold of your sweat drenched shirt more prominent now that you’ve collected yourself. Your comforter is tangled at your feet, no doubt kicked aside in your tossing and turning. Hugging your legs to your chest, you lean your forehead on your knees, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

I’m gonna throw up, you realize after a few unsuccessful attempts at deep breathing. You stumble out of bed, nearly tripping over a stray sweater on your way over to the bathroom. Your knees drop to the tiled floor, ignoring the cold pressed against the fabric of your pants in favour of emptying out your stomach into the bowl. It feels endless; the burn of acid against your oesophagus, the rapid and unpleasant colouring of vomit mixed with toilet water. You retch, closing your eyes while you wait for the nauseating feeling to pass.

It’s obvious that it was all a just a dream, but that doesn’t stop you from replaying the fabricated memories in your mind over and over again; the collapse of the building, the pain of a bullet piercing your skin, and most prominently, the image of Hinata dying in your arms. It burns itself into the back of your eyelids – his weakened breaths, his lifeless eyes, his choked voice when he uttered his last words (your name).

You press your cheek against the toilet seat, relishing in the cold contact. Out of all of the nightmares you’ve had, you think that this has to be the worst. Your parents’ death still haunts you, but that’s in the past; you can’t go back and change what already happened. However, you have no way to predict what will happen in the future. You’ve always been tormented by the fear of Hinata getting hurt because of you, and as a result of that dream, that fear has been amplified tenfold. I can’t let that happen, you think to yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you lift your head from the seat. You purposefully avoid glancing in the bowl, knowing that the sight of your upchucked dinner will only bring more nausea. With weak arms, you push yourself off the floor, stumbling slightly as you flush the toilet. You shut the lid and make a mental note to clean up later. You rinse your mouth and face in the sink, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. The bags under your eyes are turning purpleish, your skin pale and void of its natural flush. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe it, but you know that you won’t be able to fall asleep again, not with the fear of another nightmare looming over your shoulders.

You don’t bother with trying. Instead, you change out of your wet t-shirt, throwing on a black long sleeve you found lying on the ground. You strip your bed sheets, chucking them into a basin and carrying it to your washing machine. Glancing at the clock, you realize that 3:24am is probably not the most ideal time to be doing laundry, but you need something to keep your mind off the dream. Besides, your dirty clothes have been collecting dust in the corner of your room for god knows how long now, so it’s not really like this is a meaningless task. Sort of.

After you’ve stuffed the washer full and chucked in one of those detergent packets, you twist the dial on and listen as the machine whirs to life. The timer indicates that it’ll take about 40 minutes for the wash to finish, and you wonder what you can do at three in the morning to kill some time.

Flopping onto your couch, you grab your phone from the armrest. To your surprise, you have an unread text. Your heart beats faster when you swipe down to see that the text is from Hinata, the timestamp indicating that the message was sent a little after you went to bed yesterday. A small sigh escapes your lips as relief washes over you, though you know that the feeling is unnecessary. He’s safe, you reassure yourself, it was just a dream. You press the message, opening it up on your screen.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: school sux (11:49pm)
do u kno anything bout micro and macroeconomics

You raise an eyebrow. What the hell is that? Hinata must be an idiot if he thinks that you would know anything related to economics – you don’t really have any interest in that kind of stuff. Still, you’re fortunate for the distraction (it allows you to remember that Hinata is still Hinata, alive, thriving and energetic, and nothing like the person you saw in your dream).

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:school sux (3:30am)
No. Shouldn’t you know?

The washing machine stutters once before resuming again. You throw an arm over your eyes, phone clutched in your hand. Now what? It’s 3am and you shouldn’t expect a reply from Hinata for another couple of hours. You contemplate sleeping again but you know that would be a bad idea. If it weren’t winter, you would probably go out for a run around the neighbourhood.

Maybe I’ll just head out, you decide as you sit up from the couch. The city is asleep before dawn and walking around in the silence would do good to clear your head. You sit up, tucking your phone in the pocket of your sweatpants. You grab your coat, shrugging it over your shoulders and patting down the pockets to check for your keys. As you toe on your shoes, you make a mental note to come back in time to stick your sheets in the drier.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor is quiet, punctuated only by soft music from the speakers above. You anxiously rub at your elbow, eyes trained on the floor. When the doors slide open, the night guard seems surprised by your presence. He doesn’t say anything though, just nods once with wide eyes before turning back to the paperwork on his desk. You hesitate, unsure of whether or not you should greet him, before ultimately walking out of the lobby.

You start to regret your decision when the early morning air hits you straight in the face. Burrowing your chin into your coat, you dig your hands into your pockets. It’s colder than usual, though you can probably credit it to the fact that the sun isn’t out yet. The streets are lit with traffic lights and billboard signs, but there’s not a single person in sight. Good, you think as you walk along the sidewalk, careful to step around the slates of ice on the ground.

Breathing out, you clear your mind of any unnecessary thoughts. You focus solely on the feeling of the winter air, on the sound of your boots against concrete, on the sweaty warmth of your palms in your pockets. You’re glad you decided to do this; you’ve missed having some peace and quiet to yourself, despite your nightmare earlier. The cold helps you forget, and you think that the only thing that could make it better is if it were snowing.

After 10 minutes or so of wandering around, you find yourself in front of Suzuya’s. You’re surprised that the coffee shop is still open at this time of day, but you’re not really complaining. Your toes are starting to feel like they’re going to fall off from the cold and you’d really appreciate a hot drink right now. There are two other people in front of you in line, probably university students like Hinata who can’t seem to catch a break. You’re in the middle of wondering what has them up so late (early?) when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:school sux (3:44am)
dammit & y r u awake rn???

Why am I awake right now? You’re taken aback that Hinata had replied so soon. If he’s texting you right now, then that must mean he’s up at this hour as well. You wonder if the reason why he’s awake has anything to do with the question he asked you earlier.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:school sux (3:44am)
Couldn’t sleep. Why are you awake?

From: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:school sux (3:45am)
econ paper due tom :( ive been @ suzuyas since like 11

What.

You reread the text twice before glancing around the shop, searching for a familiar orange mop of hair. Your eyes land on a table in the back corner where Hinata’s slumped over, chin on the table and fingers on his laptop. There’s a frown on his face as he types away, fatigue obvious in his expression. He yawns, a hand reaching up to wipe tired tears from the corner of his eyes. You’re conflicted; should you go up to him right now? Should you text him to say that you’re here first? Or should you just pretend you weren’t even here in the first place? Either way, this is one hell of a coincidence.

To: Dumbass Hinata
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:school sux (3:46am)
Look at the line.

In the end, you decide to send the text because you’re curious as to what Hinata’s reaction will be to this. You watch as Hinata’s eyes flicker to the notification light on his phone, picking it up with a small smile. His eyes scan the text, his brows furrowing in confusion and you almost snort. Then, he glances up and when he meets your gaze, you give him a small wave. His eyes light up, a smile blooming on his face as he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor. He nearly trips over the cord of his charger, but he manages to make his way over to your side unscathed.

“Kageyama,” he says and you feel like you’re flying, “what are you doing here?”

“I told you,” you murmur, feeling the back of your neck getting warm for no good reason, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Hinata shakes his head. “No, like, at Suzuya’s?”

“...I don’t really know?” You just sort of ended up here, but you don’t really want to admit that.

He giggles at your confused expression, nudging you with his shoulder. The contact is somewhat meaningless but it still manages to make you feel at home. You’re struck with the urge to touch Hinata and even though you know you shouldn’t, you settle for brushing your hand lightly across his. Hinata smirks at that, lightly tracing his index finger across the back of your hand. You reach up to flick him on the forehead for that, the blush on your face no doubt betraying how you really feel. No one in the shop is paying any attention to you two, but it’s still better to be safe than sorry.

“Get me a hot chocolate?” Hinata says, pulling on the sleeve of your coat. You nod, watching with a gulp as Hinata walks back to his laptop. He spares you a glance, smiling, before turning his attention to his paper. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as the barista calls for the next person in line. You end up stammering through your order (“U-Uh, two medium hot chocolates. Please.” “Alright, coming right up! That’ll be $4.50.”) and when you walk back over to the table, Hinata greets you with a warm smile.

“Thanks,” he says as you set his cup down on the table.

“No problem.” You take a seat in the chair across him, sipping at your drink. The hot chocolate scalds your mouth and Hinata laughs at you when you wince at the numbing sensation on your tongue. You feel your cheeks heat up, telling him to shut up and work on his paper.

Hinata’s expression falls when you mention his report. He begrudgingly turns back to his laptop, muttering a string of business terms that you don’t understand. You shrug off your coat, hanging it on the back of your chair. When you take a sip of your hot chocolate again, you’re careful to not drink it too fast. The liquid is warm against your lips, burning almost comfortably down your throat and soothing your empty stomach. You still don’t have much of an appetite (you doubt anyone would after barfing) but the drink is more than satisfying.

Drumming your fingers against the table, you glance out the window. You’re met with your own reflection; it’s still too dark outside for anything to be visible with the shop lights on. Though if you squint, you think you’d be able to make out some details (but you’re not going to embarrass yourself by doing that). You sneak a glance at Hinata, hoping that he won’t notice. He has his tongue stuck out slightly in concentration, eyes trained on his laptop screen. His fingers slide across the keyboard, more often than not rapidly hitting the backspace button with his ring finger.

Cute, you think to yourself.

Hinata lets out a sigh, leaning into the back of his chair. He closes his eyes, rubbing his temples with one hand. You flinch when he cracks one eye open to look at you, but you don’t avert your gaze. It’s a bit embarrassing to have been caught staring; you’re still getting used to this whole Hinata-likes-me-back thing. You like to think that one day you will.

“I don’t want to do this.” Hinata whines, putting the cup to his lips.

“You kind of have to.” You point out and he pouts. You have to resist the urge to reach over and ruffle his hair out of affection.

“Can I just fail?” He makes a strangled noise as he face-plants the table.

“Don’t be stupid.” You lean your elbows on the table, resting your head on one hand. Eyes trained on silky strands of orange, you murmur a quiet, “You can do it.”

Hinata looks up, his chin resting on the table. He stares at you from beneath his eyelashes, a blush dusting his cheekbones as he pouts. Hinata looks beautiful like this, you absentmindedly think at the back of your mind. Though, you think that Hinata has always been beautiful – something like an enigma, even – but it never really hit you until now. You doubt that he’d appreciate being called that (you’re sure that he’d fire a string of expletives in your direction, maybe with a flushed face and stuttering words) so you keep it to yourself. Plus, you don’t think that you’d be able to say it without getting embarrassed of yourself.

With a sigh, Hinata eventually gets back to work. His fingers dance across the keys, sometimes pausing to take a sip of his drink. You find yourself unable to do anything but watch in silence; you don’t want to disturb Hinata from his work and besides, this is kind of nice. Being able to just bask in his presence without having to say a word is comforting.

About 30 minutes of silence pass before you feel something brush against your calf. You ignore it at first – it was probably just an accident while shifting – but then it happens again, and this time, it doesn’t leave. Hinata’s calf is rested comfortably against yours, his foot hooked around the back of your leg. Embarrassed, you avert your gaze to the window. You use your free leg to lightly kick Hinata in the shin, though he just snickers and shuffles closer, his knees nearly touching yours under the table. When you look back at him, Hinata’s eyes haven’t left his laptop screen but there’s an undeniable smirk on his face. You feel like your face is on fire.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop is spent gazing out the window and occasionally sneaking peeks at Hinata when you think he’s busy. You try not to think too much of how tired you’re going to be later on in the day or how hard you’re going to crash when you get home from work. It’s not hard to ignore those thoughts, especially when all you can focus on is how Hinata’s leg is pressed close to yours, how your knees click with his when you shift in your seat, how he plays footsie with you underneath the table (“H-Hey, stop it!” “You first!” “Shut up! Do your report!”).

“Kageyama,” Hinata says suddenly, jolting you out of your daze, “can you pass me my bag?” He nods toward the ground where his backpack is hazardously askew. You reach down, wordlessly shoving his textbooks and notebooks in the bag before handing it over. Hinata thanks you with a smile and you just hum in response. He rummages around one of the smaller pockets, pulling out a small USB and plugging it into his laptop.

“Done?” You ask.

“Almost! Just gotta finish up my conclusion.” Hinata stretches his arms above his head, letting out a content sigh. He looks at you with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, this is probably pretty boring for you, huh?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you’re surprised by the honesty in your response. Sure, you’re not really doing anything right now, but never have you once thought that being here was boring. Being next to Hinata is more than enough, you think, and you wouldn’t mind if you had more quiet moments like these in the future. It makes you feel like this is where you really belong – at his side, basking under the light he projects across the room. You thumb at the lid of your cup, mulling over your next words before swallowing your embarrassment to say, “I like being with you.”

“O-Okay, that’s.” Hinata stammers, clearly flustered by the way he can’t seem to meet your eye. “That’s good.” He pretends to look busy, typing away at his laptop with a blush on his face. You smile softly, feeling a burst of affection throughout your entire body. Hesitantly, you rub your leg against Hinata’s under the table, relishing in the tiny squeak that he makes. He shoots you a glare, though it’s weakened by his flushed expression. You find it amusing that Hinata can do all of these things (brushing his leg against yours, holding your hand, pulling you in for a kiss) but once he’s on the receiving end, he turns into a stuttering mess.

Hinata eventually packs up his laptop, sliding it into its sleeve. He reaches out to unplug the charger, stuffing it in the largest pocket of his backpack. “Done?” You ask and he nods, downing the last of his probably-now-cold hot chocolate. You put your coat back on, picking up your empty cup to toss it in the trash. Offering your hand out to Hinata, you silently ask for his cup once he’s finished. He places it in your hand with a grateful smile, though when you turn to throw it away, there’s an uncertain expression on his face.

“Hinata?” You ask with one hand on the door handle, ready to leave. His eyes are trained on you – not on your face, but somewhere lower, like-

“Your hands,” Hinata says suddenly, voice barely audible above the noise of the coffee machines. He walks over, taking your free hand in his own and turning it so your palm faces downward. Ah, you think when you see what he’s taken an interest in; the swollen, red blisters around your knuckles and the healing scabs at the base of your fingers. You got those wounds while you were down in that sewer, fighting off the stray guard that managed to intercept you during your escape. Hand-to-hand combat has never been your favourite way of eliminating your enemies (mostly out of the risk of breaking your hands) but at such close combat, you didn’t have a choice.

“It’s nothing,” you say, brushing Hinata’s hands off of your own as you push through the doors of the shop. The sun is beginning to rise but the air feels just as cold as it did before. You zip your jacket up a little higher, wishing you had a scarf to keep your neck warm. A few seconds pass before you hear Hinata’s footsteps catching up to yours and a pair of hands wrap around your wrist.

“Hey,” Hinata says more forcefully. When you turn around to face him, there’s a determined expression on his face. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reiterate, starting in the other direction again but only to be stopped by Hinata’s insistent tugging on your arm. He slides his hands down to your fingers, gently tracing his thumbs across the cuts on your knuckles.

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” Hinata murmurs, eyes soft and wondering. Standing here in the cold, seeing Hinata worried and anxious makes you feel guilty for lying to him. But you can’t tell him the truth. No, never. You’d have to send yourself to your own grave before that ever happened.

“It was just an accident,” is all you supply.

Hinata smiles, though you know that smile is anything but one of happiness. He looks up, meeting your gaze dead-on as he speaks. “Like when you walked into that pole?”

He’s calling you out on your f*cking sh*t, you realize. Hinata still remembers the bruise beneath your elbow and the pitiful excuse you had given him. You think that he wants to see your lie fall to pieces, to see you shake and crumble beneath the pressure of his question. But, you also think that he wants you to prove him wrong, to show him that his doubts were just farfetched assumptions and nothing more. You gulp, hating how easy it is for you to look him in the eye and lie to his face. “Yeah. It was nothing.”

Hinata continues to stare at you, almost as if he’s looking for some sort of indicator to prove that you’re lying. But years of hiding behind a carefully crafted mask have made it easy for you to hide the guilt you feel, to hide the secrets you’ll never be able to tell. After all, there’s nothing you’re better at than pretending that everything is okay.

Eventually Hinata relents, letting go of your hand and walking past you with a huff. Uh oh, you think as you meekly trail behind him.

“Hinata.” You call out.

He doesn’t respond.

“Hinata,” you try again but he only picks up his pace. What should I do, you wonder as you speed up to his side and grab his arm. Hinata stops, still facing opposite of you. Despite the cold, you feel yourself begin to sweat (though that’s mostly out of nervousness for what’s to come). “Hey,” you say, panic starting to ease itself into your voice, “are you mad?”

In all honesty, you were expecting silence from the orange-haired boy, so you’re taken by surprise when he whips his head around and looks at you with a glare. “I’m not mad, ” Hinata snaps. You loosen your grip on his arm, faltering slightly at his tone. He seems to notice this and his expression softens before he speaks again. “I’m not mad. I’m just... I don’t know.”

You watch as Hinata opens his mouth and closes it again, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. There’s something about the look on his face, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but you recognize it; the strange combination of confusion and uncertainty that you’ve struggled with for more than long enough. Hesitantly, you slide your grip on his arm down to his hand, pausing to rub lightly at the skin above his thumb. You slot your fingers between his, relishing in the warmth of his palm pressed against yours (he’s alive, you think again, he’s alive). His fingers tighten around your hand a second later, and you hope that the gesture is enough for Hinata to know that you’re here, that you’ll listen, that you’re not going anywhere.

“I’m just upset. I think.” Hinata adds on, squeezing your intertwined hands. “I get... I’m worried. Sometimes I feel like, like you’re doing something stupid and trying to hide it from me.” Something stupid, huh... “And I just- I don’t know. Seeing you get hurt makes me sad.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, over the wounds and blisters upon your fingers. He brings your linked hands to his lips, pressing fluttering kisses in the spaces between your knuckles. You blush, covering your face with your other hand. “Y-You,” you stammer out, secretly enjoying the affection he showers you with, “are so embarrassing.”

He continues, and you can feel the brush of his lips against your skin as he speaks. “I don’t want you to think that I’ll judge you for, y’know. Whatever you’re getting these from. I mean, I get it if you don’t wanna tell me certain things, but. Don’t bottle things up. Okay?”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. Hinata’s looking up at you with eyes that reveal more than enough of his sincerity, and you can’t help but want to take him into your arms and show him every ounce of love and adoration you feel for him. “I, yeah,” you breathe out, “okay. Okay.”

Hinata beams, and you’re suddenly filled with a feeling of dread. The realization that he trusts you so much – that he’ll put aside his doubts so that you won’t feel insecure – causes a tightness to constrict around your throat. How can you continue to lie to him about this, about who you are when he lays himself bare for you, lets you hold a pistol to the back of his head and trusts you not to shoot? How can you continue to feed him these words laced with poison when you know that you don’t have the antidote to save him?

Because I’m selfish, the honest part of your mind supplies. It’s because you’re selfish that you keep your hold on Hinata’s hand, dragging him back in the direction of his residence. It’s because you’re selfish that you want this – hinata’s smile, hinata’s affection, hinata’s love – to last forever. It’s because you’re selfish that you’ll push the consequences to the back of your mind, leaving them to collect until a time in the future when it’s too late to go back and fix what you’ve destroyed.

You look at Hinata, his vibrant hair, his gleaming eyes, your linked hands. If you told him who you were right here and now, how would he react? Would he look into your eyes and laugh nervously as he tells you to stop joking around with him? Would he flinch away from your touch, eyes filled with a different kind of fire that you’re used to – one filled with betrayal and disgust? Or would he scream and yell at you for lying to him, for taking what you had and pummelling it to the ground?

You don’t know.

(Please don’t hate me.)

But, walking hand in hand with Hinata in the early cracks of the morning where the city has just begun to wake, you think that you finally understand what it feels like to have something you hold above all else. Because despite the fears, the insecurities you’ve drilled into your head a thousand times over, you don’t want to let go. So you’ll be selfish, you’ll take and take until there’s nothing left for him to give. And in return, he’ll have all of you at his hands, at his feet and his heart, to answer to his every demand and call.

When you cross the intersection just before Hinata’s dorm, you wordlessly pull him into an alleyway between two shops. Hinata manages to get out a “hey, what the-” before your hands cup his cheeks and you lean down to press your lips to his. You feel more than hear him squeak against your mouth, a protest dying in his throat as he melts into the kiss. A second later, his hands rise to grip tightly at your jacket, pulling you closer. He smiles against your lips, and you think that there’s nothing else you want more than to show Hinata how much you care, how much you want him in your life. You’ve never been good with words, and you can only hope that Hinata will understand how you feel and how much you feel for him through this kiss.

I love you, you think as you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, and his eyelids (he giggles at that and you file away the sound under your “things you’ll never forget” folder) before coming back down to seal your lips together again.

“This is weird,” Hinata says when he pulls back for air, eyes hazy and smile languid.

“What.” You deadpan.

“We’re kissing in an alley.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, face turning red when you remember how out-of-the-blue this was. Hinata just laughs, pulling you by the collar of your jacket for another kiss. Well, it doesn’t matter, you think. Even if you are kissing in an alleyway, that doesn’t change the feelings put behind it. You don’t care where you are because Hinata’s with you; his bright light that outshines any darkness, his soft skin under the touch of your fingers, his scent that smells distinctly like freshly washed sheets beneath the coffee bean undertones-

Wait.

“sh*t,” you gasp, pulling back from the kiss, “sh*t, sh*t.”

“W-Wha?” Hinata stammers, confused.

“I- laundry,” you say helpfully, “I was doing laundry before I left and I forgot-”

Hinata bursts out laughing before you get a chance to finish, leaning forward into your chest. You can feel the vibrations of his laughter against your ribcage, his breathy “oh my god” as he struggles to recollect himself. He laughs himself into oblivion, pulling back to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Laundry,” he repeats, grin wide on his face, “why were you doing laundry at 3am?”

“Oi, I told you I couldn’t sleep,” you growl, flicking him once on the forehead. He scrunches up his nose, swatting your hand away. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” he says, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your cheek, “have fun with your laundry.”

“Shut up!”

Hinata waves goodbye before heading down the path toward his residence. You stand there, idle as you watch him slowly disappear beyond the gated area. Heat lingers on your cheek from the kiss, and you bring a hand up to touch. The thought of your sheets sitting in your laundry machine, soaking wet and possibly moulding, snaps you out of your daze and gets you moving back toward your apartment.

When you get back, the same guard is still stationed in the lobby. He has this perplexed expression on his face – as if he’s wondering where the hell you went at 3 in the morning and why you came back just before the crack of dawn. Of course, he doesn’t say anything and you don’t either. You step into the elevator feeling awkward and oddly exposed.

Your apartment door unlocks with ease and you dash to the washing machine, nearly forgetting to take off your shoes beforehand. You open the washer door, immediately bunching up your drenched sheets and putting them to your nose. A sigh of relief escapes your lips; they don’t smell bad, so you won’t have to put them in for another wash. With a grunt, you shove the wet laundry into the basin before opening up your dryer and chucking them in. You fiddle around with the dials and switches, pressing the start button when you’re satisfied. You place your hands on top of the machine, leaning your weight forward.

You close your eyes. The lull of the dryer is your only accompaniment as you watch rays of light slowly shine through your apartment, signalling the start of a new day.

Chapter 24

Chapter Text

As time passes, you find that you learn more and more about Hinata every day.

You learn that the familiar curl of Hinata’s lips is meant for you and only you. You learn of the rosy flush of his cheeks when you daringly press your lips to the bones of his wrist. You learn that Hinata is unafraid to seek out your touch, easily brushing his knuckles against the skin of your hand. You learn of the constellations of stars in his eyes, each that burns bright with unyielding and fiery passion. But most of all, you learn that nothing will compare to the fire that Hinata ignites in your veins, the fireworks and explosions that resound against your rib cage, the music that dances in your ears whenever he’s near.

Like the first snowfall of the year, like crackling embers under the pit of a fire, you slowly submerge yourself in this feeling of love.

*

“You know,” you say, eyes glued to the television screen, “when you suggested watching a horror film, I thought that meant you liked them.”

“I do like them!” Hinata retorts before smothering his face into your shoulder at the sight of another bloody doll. You pretend not to hear the small “eep” he muffles into your sweater. “I’m just...not that good at watching them.”

“Then why’d you pick it?” You ask, watching as the main character once again manages to lock herself inside the attic with the creepy doll. Hinata curls a little closer to you when the music picks up, wincing as the girl scrambles desperately to get away from the demon.

“Cause-” Hinata starts, only to jolt when the doll sucks the girl’s soul out from her chest (is this really an award winning movie?). “M-My friends said it was a good movie, so.”

You snort, reaching out to gently run your hand through Hinata’s hair. It’s soft, you think as Hinata leans into the touch, cheek resting against your shoulder. He mumbles something under his breath, probably something along the lines of shut up I’m not scared, before flinching at one of the pop up scares. He punches you lightly in the side when you let out a small laugh at his reaction, but halfway through the movie when he’s completely curled against your side, legs thrown over yours and an arm wrapped loosely around your waist, you don’t complain.

“Well that was pretty good,” Hinata exclaims as the credits roll, slowly untangling himself from the couch. He crawls over to your TV, pressing the eject button on the CD player.

Rolling your eyes, you distinctly recall Hinata shielding his eyes for more than 10 minutes at one point. “You didn’t even watch half of it.”

“So?” He pouts, placing the CD back inside its case. “I still liked it.”

You hum, shooting Hinata a disbelieving look as he crawls back to your side. He lies down, resting his head on your lap as his feet dangle over the arm of the couch. With a smile, Hinata reaches up to cup your cheek with his palm. You lean into the touch before quickly pinching the bridge of his nose. His expression scrunches up ( ‘Really?’ He asks with his eyes) and he pokes you in the cheek in retaliation. Cute, you think as you push Hinata’s hair back, running your thumb lightly across the skin above his brow. He sighs as you snake your fingers between silky strands, gently dragging your nails across his scalp.

You smile, watching as Hinata’s eyes slowly slip shut. It’s the little moments like these that get to you, you think. In between the sleepless nights spent in the company of gunpowder and red, it’s not often that you just get to relax and not think about anything. You’re pretty sure that the same goes for Hinata. Though, his case being stress from his classes and the pressure of beating out other competitors to find a job. Both of you haven’t had a day off in a while (not one that landed on the same date, anyway), instead settling with texts in between classes and late-night phone calls. So when Hinata messaged you earlier today asking to come over - with several exclamation points and smiley faces that you’ve deemed utterly pointless - there was more than enough reason to agree.

Hinata squirms in your lap and turns his head to rest his cheek against your thigh. He mumbles something about you being the best pillow in the world before nuzzling your lap. You brush your thumb across his cheek, just below his lashes. Isn’t it crazy, you think, how so much can change in so little time? Even just a month ago, you never could’ve seen yourself like this - basking in someone else’s presence, caring for that someone, eventually loving that someone - and yet here you are. There’s nothing really unusual about this anymore, not when you’ve felt this beating in your chest so many times, but the feeling of excitement and anxiousness still lingers with every word, every touch. You think you’d be used to it by now, and yet you’re proven wrong every time his fingers are intertwined with yours, every time he gently rubs his thumb against the skin of your hand.

It’s weird, you think, how he makes you feel like you’ve taken your first breath of air, like the first drop of rain after a drought. He makes you feel alive, like your heightened senses have become sensitive to the lightest touch, like the beating in your chest has never felt so prominent, like the heat that burns from your fingertips to your toes. He makes you feel like you belong, like you were the final piece in his puzzle, like you were the scattered plain of dots he so desperately wanted to connect. He...

He makes you feel like you could be invincible.

Hinata’s eyes eventually flutter open, a lazy grin on his face as he glances up at you. Wow, you think to yourself, awestruck by his expression that you know is meant for you. Your gaze falls to his lips and you drag your thumb lightly across his bottom lip. He kisses the pad of your thumb before grabbing your hand and spreading your fingers apart. Tenderly, slowly, deliberately, he presses his lips against each of your fingertips. You blush, watching as Hinata pays extra attention to the scars across your knuckles and the cuts upon your palm.

He whispers something you can’t quite hear, words lost somewhere in the spaces between your fingers. You don’t pay it any mind, especially not when Hinata slowly sits up and pushes back your sleeve, leaving a trail of kisses up your forearm. He looks up at you from beneath his lashes and you swallow, feeling your cheeks blaze under his stare. “Hinata,” you say, voice hoarse and somewhat breathless, before placing your hand on his chin and tugging him in for a kiss.

A small sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. He kisses you sweetly, gently, lips ghosting over yours with a smile. You slide your hand from his chin to his cheek, pausing before resting it on the back of his head and threading your fingers through his hair. He fists his hands in the front of your sweater, pulling you closer as he takes your bottom lip between his own. When you pull back for air, he has your bottom lip trapped between his teeth, nibbling lightly before letting go with a small smirk.

Hinata rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. It’s not often that you see this side of Hinata - the quietness, the placidity of his actions - and you wonder what’s caused this. You’re used to the bubbly laughter and energetic responses, but not so much the shy glances and muted smiles. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you think as Hinata’s fingers slowly uncurl from your sweater, inching upward to run across your shoulders and loop around your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingertips leave trails of heat upon your nape, skin alight as Hinata slowly closes the gap once more.

He kisses you like you’re something to be protected - hands carefully holding, thumbs delicately tracing, lips slowly pressing. It makes your heart hammer in your chest, makes you wonder if it’s like he knows that you’re vulnerable to his touch, makes you wonder what exactly you did to deserve someone like Hinata in your life. And as you kiss him, you can’t help but be greedy and want more; to want to hold him by his hips, to want to feel his pulse beneath your touch, to want to hear the crystal clear beat of his heart. And it’s that desire that draws a groan from your throat, Hinata’s name spilling easily from your lips when his tongue traces a slow line across your lower lip.

You think maybe it’s that same desire that doesn’t resist when Hinata slings a leg across your lap, straddling your thighs and kissing you with fervour. Maybe it’s that same desire that causes you to gasp, causes you to tighten your fingers in his hair and pull. Maybe it’s that same desire that gives you the courage to loop your arm around his waist, your hand splayed across the small of his back, pressing him closer. Maybe it’s that same desire that revels in the small whimper Hinata makes against your lips as you lick along the roof of his mouth, deliberately, tantalizingly slow.

It’s definitely that same desire that causes you to feel both startled and disappointed when you hear the shrill ring of your phone.

Hinata pulls away, eyes wide and breathing hard. He glances in the direction of the sound before resting his forehead against yours. “Your phone,” he breathes out, sounding distracted.

I could ignore it, you think as your ringtone repeats, eyes trained on Hinata’s lips. They’re tinted red from kissing, and you revel in the fact that it was you who did this; the flush of his cheeks, the hooded look in his eyes, the tight grip of his hands in the shoulders of your sweater. It’d be easy to pretend that the noise didn’t exist, especially when you have Hinata so invitingly in your lap. You nose along his cheek, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. You feel more than hear Hinata giggle as your lips trail down his neck, just barely touching before you reach his collarbone.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says, smile evident in his voice, “your phone is still ringing.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble into his shoulder, tightening your grip around his waist. Hinata snorts, pushing lightly at your chest to put some distance between you two.

“Just pick it up!” Hinata exclaims. “What if it’s important?”

You grumble. Hinata smiles, knowing that he’s won, and kisses your forehead before crawling off your lap. Ignoring the sudden loss of heat, you stand to grab your phone from the arm of the couch. The caller ID tells you that it’s Ukai calling, and you feel a sudden sinking feeling in your stomach. You excuse yourself before stepping into your kitchen area and pressing the answer button on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Kageyama,” Ukai says, voice scratchy and rushed, “I’m gonna need you to come in ASAP.”

You drum your fingers on the counter, eyes flitting to the peak of orange hair behind your couch. “With all due respect, wasn’t today supposed to be my day off?”

Over the line, you hear Ukai slam his fist against a surface, the sound of sheets of paper fluttering in the background. He growls, “Yes, but you should know by now that people like us don’t always get days off. Report to my office. Now. ”

Ukai hangs up before you can protest. You heave out a sigh, muttering out a, “yes sir,” to no one in particular. There was a tone of urgency in your boss’s voice, and no matter how much you’d rather stay here with Hinata, you know better than to tempt Ukai.

“I have to go in to work.” You announce. From the couch, you hear Hinata shuffle about. You walk past the couch and into your room to change.

“You’ve been going to work a lot,” Hinata speculates when you re-enter, side-eyeing you with an expression you can’t quite place. “Wasn’t today supposed to be your day off?”

“My schedule’s subject to change at any time,” you say automatically, pushing down the guilt from having to lie to Hinata.

“Can’t someone else take your shift?”

“It’s out of my control, sorry.” Hinata frowns, eyebrows furrowed as he tugs at your sleeve. He looks down, mouth opening before shutting again. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been called into work in the past two weeks alone. You know that Hinata wants to ask you to stay, and you feel bad for not being able to offer up any other explanation than just “work.” But with how hectic things have been down at Karasuno, you don’t dare to go against Ukai any further.

Hinata sighs, his hand dropping from your sleeve into his lap. He shoots you a glare, though the pout on his lips tells you that he’s not actually mad. “You’re always so busy now,” Hinata whines, sinking against the couch. “And you keep coming back really late. Shouldn’t you take a break? Or ask for more reasonable hours? You’ve been looking kinda sickish lately.”

“Hey,” you protest, raising an eyebrow at Hinata’s comment.

“It’s true though!” Hinata meets your gaze head on. “You look paler every time I see you... Are you getting enough sleep? Haven’t you been up really late recently?”

You look away. There’s no way that you can tell him the reason why you’ve been losing sleep. You didn’t even think that it was noticeable – you haven’t yawned or dozed off while he was here, so how could he have been able to tell? You don’t like it when Hinata worries over you. It makes you feel like you’re burdening him your issues that he shouldn’t have to be concerned about in the first place. The couch sinks slightly when you sit down, and you reach out to ruffle Hinata’s hair.

“Idiot,” you say and Hinata immediately narrows his eyes at the nickname, “I’m fine. I’ve just been busy, okay?”

Something in Hinata’s eyes tells you that he doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t push the subject any further. “Fine,” he says as you pull your hand back, “I’ll wait until you come back, then.”

You blink. “What?”

“That’s fine, right?” Hinata asks, voice faltering slightly. “It’s not like I’ll do anything, like, weird, or whatever-”

“T-That’s not what- I wasn’t thinking of that-”

“-so I’ll just, wait until you come back. Cause. I want to see you. Okay?”

You hide your face behind your hand, hoping that Hinata can’t see the flush of red running up your neck and burning bright on your cheeks. How can he say things like that without getting embarrassed? You swallow, tempted by the thought of Hinata waiting for you at home. But you can’t let yourself be distracted by something like that, not when there’s the possibility of Hinata finding out things if he were to stay.

Thinking of Hinata being alone in your apartment makes you anxious, makes you wonder if he’ll accidentally stumble across something you left astray from work even though you doubt that you still have anything stored in your apartment. If he were to accidentally find something – a knife set, a gun, possibly something worse – you don’t know how you’d explain yourself. You’re scared that he’ll see you for who you are, that he’ll finally realize how twisted and disgusting you truly are. And you don’t want that; you’re not sure if you would be able to handle Hinata looking at you with those eyes you’ve seen far too many times on others – an expression of hatred, revulsion, disgust. Anyone other than Hinata.

But as he’s seated here in front of you, a pout on his lips and a hopeful look in his eyes, you’re not sure if you can bring yourself to say no.

“Okay,” you say a moment later, running a hand through your hair, “fine.” Hinata beams, and you can’t help but think that his smile is all the reward you need. “Don’t burn down my apartment.”

“Shut up! I won’t!” He glares at you half-heartedly, slapping you lightly on the arm. You roll your eyes, telling Hinata that you’ll be going now. But before you can get up, you feel two hands pull on the collar of your sweater and Hinata’s lips meet yours once again. You close your eyes, feeling yourself slowly melt into the kiss. The temptation of not going to work and staying for this is very much present, but you know that you can’t when you reluctantly break away from the kiss. Hinata seems to get the message when your eyes glance toward the front door, so he pushes you on the shoulder and smiles as he tells you to get going.

You eventually manage to leave, a tuft of orange hair behind the couch the last thing you see before your door closes shut. Warmth still lingers on your lips when you descend down the elevator, and you have to resist the urge to touch. Maybe this mission won’t take very long, you hope, thinking of the boy waiting patiently for you behind closed doors. You don’t think you’ve ever anticipated the end of a job so badly, though that’s probably because you’ve never had something waiting for you when it was over. And when you step outside into the frigid air, you can’t help but wish that you didn’t have to go.

*

When you come back to your senses, there is blood.

Everywhere.

Your dagger slides easily out of the man’s neck, the blade laced with the blood of hundreds. His limp body falls to the ground with a thump, joining the others you’ve left in a trail behind you. You’re panting, shoulders rising heavily with every laboured breath. A bead of sweat runs down your chin, dripping down and disappearing into the sea of red. The taste of iron lies heavily on your tongue, but upon your lips there are no stains. Instead, there’s crimson painted on your fingers and across your palm, and you know all too well that the colour will never wash away.

It’s cold, you think as you wipe your dagger against your pants, not caring that it stains the fabric. There’s a chill of wind through a cracked window, and you can see flutters of snow through the glass. The sun has almost completely set, orange slowly fading into spans of navy blue and black. You would think that the sight was beautiful if you weren’t already surrounded by a field of abolished red and frozen pulses.

With your back close to the wall, you slowly walk back down the hallway. You keep your gaze away from their eyes as you step over your victims’ lifeless bodies, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You tell yourself that your knees do not shake when you walk, that your fingers do not tremble against your side, that tears do not threaten to burn at your eyes. There can’t be a sting of dread at the base of your throat, or a sense of guilt creeping into the crevices of your mind, because this is what you are supposed to do. This was what Ukai assigned you to do. It was your job and duty to Karasuno to complete your task. You couldn’t have disobeyed orders, couldn’t have not killed all of those people, because this was your mission.

But this isn’t a mission, you think as you pass by dead body after body, this is a massacre.

Your crown-adorned bandana sits heavily upon your face, its gold design smeared with charcoal and grime. This isn’t right, you think with a heavy heart. You’re not unfamiliar with death – you’ve sent countless lives there, after all – but you can’t help but think that there’s something wrong. Several fell to your hands tonight, and it’s disgusting that you can’t remember a single name. Their profiles flash beneath your eyelids, and you know that not every death tonight had a purpose. You think back to the notebook lying under your bed and the numerous ticks scratched on each page. Knowing that you’ll have to add almost 30 more to your list makes you sick to your stomach.

For the first time since you’ve committed yourself to this life, you wonder why it is that they had to die. Past, present or future, why did Ukai tell you to kill them? Why did you accept without a single protest? Questions of self-doubt and discontentment swarm your mind, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth and a feeling of resentment in your chest. Your dagger feels heavy in your hands and the gun in your holster weighs you down with every step. You want to take them off, to leave your weapons on the ground and run, to try and forget about what you’ve done. You want to burn the memories of gun shots and explosions to the ground, and shed the part of you that’s become accustomed to this.

But you know that the scent of gunpowder will still follow in your trail, leaving prints of blood that will forever engrave themselves into your hands. They won’t let you forget; of the faces of the dead, of the still living, of those who seek revenge, of those who were scarred beyond return. Despite that, you still want to try. You don’t want to listen to their screams of agony when you co*ck a pistol to their temple, or the squelch of blood and skin when your blade slices their neck. You don’t want to go to bed knowing that you’re the one who took away someone’s father, mother, sibling, child, anymore. I don’t want to kill anymore.

You decide that you’ll talk to Ukai about this when you return. The thought of your boss’ reaction to this scares you because you know that he won’t take it well. Ukai has no use for those who disobey or do not have the courage to carry out a mission. So you’re almost positive that he’ll be infuriated by this, that he’ll scowl at your weakness, that he’ll ask where the hell his King went. You don’t want to disappoint Ukai (never in a million years would you ever want to see that look of disappointment on Ukai’s face, especially not when he was the one to rescue you from the depths all those years ago) but you’re not sure if you can do this any longer without completely losing yourself.

With all of your experience, you should know by now that over excessive thinking on the job is never good. So when an arm loops around your neck from behind you and pulls, you know that you only have yourself to blame.

“F- ahck!” You choke out, stumbling backward into the hold. Your attacker has your back pressed to their chest, their hand grabbing tightly onto your dominant wrist to prevent you from using your dagger. Their arm tightens around your neck and you feel yourself begin to panic. Your vision swarms, the sensation of dying present with every passing second. With your free hand, you scramble to pull at the arm, but their hold is secure. You thrash about in their grasp, feeling yourself slowly slipping into darkness. I have to get out I have to get out I have to no no no no NO-

You bring your right knee to your chest and kick backwards as hard as you can. Your boot collides roughly against their stomach and their grip around your neck loosens for a split second. You take your chance to spin out of their grasp, tumbling to the ground as you gasp for air. The person who ambushed you falls back, clutching their stomach and wheezing at the kick. Raising a hand to your neck, you press your fingers along your jaw. Your throat feels raw, and there’s still a ghost-like sensation of tightness around your neck.

When you catch your breath, you pick yourself off the floor. You finally get a good look at your attacker’s face, though you’re disappointed when you don’t recognize him. Tightening your grip around your dagger, you walk toward the man with a glare. He glares back at you, raising his fists in front of his face and staggering his feet. He doesn’t have a weapon, you realize as you mimic his stance, twirling your dagger so its blade faces down and away from you. This’ll be easy, you think as you go in for the first swing.

Your eyes widen when the man blocks your punch with ease. He takes advantage of your surprise by going for an undercut, his knuckles colliding roughly with your chin at the contact. You reel back, wincing at the pain in your jaw. The man smirks at you, like he knows that he’s going to win this fight, and that pisses you off. With your free hand, you reach around to untie the bandana around your face, throwing it to the side as you spit on the ground. Now you know that you have to take this fight seriously, and this time, you wait for him to make the first move.

The man lunges forward, aiming to sock you in the face again. You block the hit with your forearm, stumbling slightly by the force of his swing. He’s strong, you note as he immediately spins into a kick toward your side. You grab him by the ankle before his foot connects and you twist his leg until he collapses to the ground. He recovers quickly though, and swings his other leg around to sweep your feet out from under you. You fall on your ass, quickly rolling away to avoid the punch he sends toward your face. He grabs you by the shoulder, pinning you to the ground before you can get up. He straddles your lap as his fingers grasp tightly around your neck, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

You gasp, the feeling of death creeping up on your shoulders once more before you stab your dagger into the man’s arm. He screams when you pull the blade out and stab him again in the same place, blood quickly drenching his sleeve and trickling to the ground. He releases your neck to clutch his wound, and you take the chance to punch him in the face.

Payback, you think as he falls to his side. Ignoring the pain around your neck, you manage to reverse your positions and pin him down instead. His eyes widen when you raise your dagger above your head, blade pointed directly at his throat. You don’t allow him a chance to scream, bringing the knife to his neck as quickly as he noticed it. Blood gushes from the wound as you pull the blade out, and the man’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He hacks and coughs, red liquid quickly flooding his mouth and trickling down his chin. You watch as his arms flail and twitch before stopping completely, his head lolling to the side.

f*ck you, you think as you stand up, dagger tucked into its sleeve near your gun. You run a bloodied hand through your hair, not caring that it’ll leave a trail of red across your forehead. Your jaw still stings from the punch, and you’re sure that floods of blue and purple will bloom across your skin. That was probably one of the more gruesome deaths you’ve had to deliver, and despite it being in self-defence, a feeling of self-hatred still consumes you. Another to add to the list, you think sardonically. You walk over to pick up your bandana from the ground, grimacing when you notice that it’s been drenched in a mix of sweat and blood. You tear your eyes away from the dirtied crown, shoving the bandana in your pocket before quietly making your way out of the building.

Snow continues to fall from the sky when you step outside. A blanket of white covers the ground, glistening under the moonlight. It’s a stark contrast to yourself, black and red against white, though you think that it’s always been like that. You, who’s clouded in darkness, pitted against the innocence of the world.

The snow crunches under your boots as you slowly trek your way back.

*

“Come in.”

You push open the office doors to find Ukai sitting behind his desk as usual. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you walk in, his attention focused on the heaps of paperwork in front of him. You don’t mind – it’s not like this is the first time it’s happened – but you’re a bit on edge for what’s to come.

There’s a faint linger of smoke in the air. You’re surprised that you don’t see a cigarette tucked between Ukai’s mouth, though the smears of black on his ash tray tell you that he’s been smoking. He looks tired; bags under his eyes, worry lines between his brows, hair dishevelled and astray. You realize that he’s probably been tired for a while now – though under the pressure of the potential threat of Hitmen’s Associates, you think that it’d be hard not to be.

The door closes quietly behind you as you make your way to the desk. Ukai scratches the back of his head, ruffling his hair in the process. It’s not until you’re standing directly across him that he spares you a glance, his eyes widening when he sees the mosaic of colours on your jaw.

“What the f*ck happened to you?” Ukai says, setting down his pen. He grabs a paper from the corner of his desk, skimming it before mumbling, “You didn’t mention any injuries in your mission report. Neither did Sugawara.”

You think back to earlier when you had returned, blood staining your clothes and hands. Sugawara had seen you before you could escape to the showers, worry laced in his voice as he ushered you out of sight of the others. To your relief, he didn’t ask how you got your wound but demanded that you go to the infirmary after showering. You begrudgingly agreed, but in return asked for him to keep quiet about the bruise.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you say, your hand reaching up to lightly run across your jaw. He raises an eyebrow at you, a sceptical look on his face, but you speak up before he can ask again. “We... I need to talk to you.”

Ukai stares at you before nodding, an understanding look on his face. “Ah, the money, right? Don’t worry, I didn’t forget, it’s right-”

“No,” you interrupt just as Ukai stands from his desk, “that, no. That’s not what I was going to say.”

Slowly, Ukai sinks back into his chair. He rests his elbows on his desk, leaning forward with a somewhat surprised expression. “Alright, shoot.”

You swallow. “Why did I have to kill those people today?”

“It’s not like you to not read the mission briefings, Kageyama,” Ukai says, twirling his pen between his fingers before jotting something down.

“No, I did,” you say, feeling yourself beginning to sweat, “that’s not what I meant.”

Ukai hums, clearly distracted by the work in front of him. You know that he’s busy and means well (most of the time), but you can’t help the feeling of disappointment when he doesn’t seem to be taking you seriously. Maybe I should just drop it, you think as you watch Ukai flip to the next page of his stack. You don’t want to bug him anymore, but the memory of blood on your hands stops you from leaving. You can’t steal, lie or kill like you used to – without a guilty conscience and only thinking of getting the job done. It’s not like that anymore, not when your hands shake at even the thought of pulling the trigger. This is something you need to do, something that you should’ve done a long time ago.

When Ukai doesn’t say anything further, you continue. “Why... Why did I have to kill so many people?”

“What are you talking about?” Ukai says, eyes flitting from his paper to you for a split second. “It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

“I know, but.” You pause, gesturing helplessly with your hands. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the right words to say. “This isn’t right, Ukai.”

That gets Ukai’s attention. He halts in his writing, looking back to you with narrowed eyes. “...What are you trying to say, Kageyama?”

“This,” you clench your teeth, “what we’re doing, killing people, I don’t- it’s. It’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” Ukai says, as if he’s never heard of the word before, like it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you know what those people have done? Theft, murder, torture, the kinds of things you’d only have nightmares about. You name it, they’ve done it in multitudes.” Ukai pulls open his desk drawer, reaching for a box of cigarettes you’ve seen countless times before. He lights it with ease, blowing smoke from his mouth with practice. “I know that what we do can’t necessarily be considered ‘right.’ But that doesn’t mean that those on our hit list are any more innocent than we are. We accept missions based on requests from others that demand to see bad people put into the ground. All of our victims have been given the okay based on our screening team. We don’t kill people who’ve shoplifted or cheated on their significant others. They’re bad people, Kageyama. Don’t tell me that they didn’t deserve what they got.”

“I know that,” you whisper, and you do, you really do, “I know that I’ve killed people who’ve done worse than I have. I’m aware of that. But...” You bow your head, unable to look Ukai in the eye. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

When Ukai speaks, his voice is terrifyingly level. “What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?”

You gulp, steeling yourself to meet Ukai’s eyes once again. If you’re going to do this, you have to show him that you’re serious, that you’re not willing to back down. “I don’t know if I can kill people anymore, Ukai.”

He shoots you a look of disbelief, but you stay silent. You don’t know how to explain the disgust you feel when you come home from a mission, red washed clean from your clothes but blood still clinging to your hands. You don’t know how to explain the sickening rise of bile in your throat when another victim falls to your hands, eyes lifeless and skin cold. You don’t know how to explain the utter guilt that comes to haunt you in your dreams, that takes you away from sleep and slowly eats away at your sanity. How can you even begin to justify this feeling when you can barely think about it without wanting to run away, to hide yourself from your own burdens and fears?

You nearly flinch when Ukai suddenly stands, hands placed on his table and leaning forward. His cigarette hangs loosely between his teeth before he plucks it out, holding it in his hand. The exhale of smoke that streams from his mouth is rapid and fades quickly into the office air. “Kageyama,” he says, voice gruff and stern, “I took you in years ago, and you know that I care about you more than anyone else at Karasuno. I meant what I said to you on New Years, that I wished that you could’ve been so much more than this.”

Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

“But,” Ukai continues, looking you directly in the eye, “this is our job. We are hitmen. We are assigned a mission to kill people, and we do just that. I know that not everyone can handle holding someone else’s life in their hands, heck, I know people who’ve changed infinitely because of it. But you,” he pauses, pointing his finger in your direction, “you are important to us, to Karasuno, as our King. There’s too much that’s happening with the H.A, and we can’t afford for you to go soft on us. You know what we’re dealing with right now. There’s too much at risk for me to allow you to leave. I can’t accept this.”

“Ukai, please,” you plead, desperate for his approval to leave. Though you know you could just walk out of here and never look back again, you know you’ll never be completely free until you’ve gotten his okay. You leaving won’t matter unless you make a clean cut, deep enough to sever all ties and start anew.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Ukai flips his binders shut, stacking all of the papers in the corner of his desk. You watch as he walks past you with an unreadable expression, heading toward the exit.

“Kageyama,” Ukai says as he pauses by the door, flicking off the light switch and surrounding you in darkness. The hallway light casts an eerie shadow on Ukai’s face when he turns to glance back at you. “One person dies at your hands to save the lives of countless others. Don’t forget that.”

Ukai leaves, the door shutting behind him with a click. You’re left alone in his office, standing still in the middle of the room. It feels like the ceiling is caving in on you, trapping you in this box you can’t seem to escape. You feel like you’re suffocating, an invisible pair of hands strangling your lungs and ripping them out. Though this is what you expected, what you were desperately preparing yourself for before knocking on his office door, this isn’t what you wanted. You know that you won’t go against Ukai’s words because betraying him would be unthinkable, unfathomable. But the thought of being bound to killing people for the rest of your life weighs an immense burden on your shoulders, makes you feel chained to the trigger of your gun and the blade of your dagger.

You don’t know how long you stand there, lost in your own mind, but by the time you get back to your apartment, all you want to do is wrap yourself in a blanket and never come back out. You’re exhausted; not only from the mission but from your conversation with Ukai as well. As the elevator ascends, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this is what was meant to be, if maybe it was impossible for you to have avoided this. You wonder if there was anything you could’ve done in the past to have prevented this, but you know that you can’t go back and change it.

The door to your apartment creaks as you push it open and step back into familiar corners. It’s dark inside – the only light coming from the static of your unattended TV – and you wince when you turn the lights back on. You go into your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, you swirl the liquid around your cup, watching the water churn about and settle to a stop. You run a hand through your hair, letting out a sigh before you drink from the cup.

“Hn.. Huh? Kageyama?”

You barely manage to not choke on the water as you whip your head around in surprise. Hinata’s sleepily rubbing one of his eyes from behind the couch, his hair tousled and in disarray. sh*t, with all that had happened, you had forgotten that Hinata was still here.

“It’s late.” You murmur, glancing at the clock on your wall. “Shouldn’t you be heading back?”

Hinata yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth with a hand. His voice is still laced with sleep when he speaks. “I told you I would wait for you to come back. Don’t you remember? I didn’t burn anything, like you said.”

The couch squeaks as Hinata sits up and makes his way toward you. He leans his elbows on the counter, smiling up at you. “You should head back soon.” You say quietly. “Sorry I was so late.”

“It’s fine,” Hinata says, shrugging, “I got to take a nap anyway so I wasn’t all that bored. Though you did get back a lot later than I thou-”

He falls silent. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. When you turn to him in curiosity, you’re met with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. His gaze doesn’t meet yours; instead it’s locked on the area around your chin, and Hinata doesn’t hesitate to move closer.

“What happened to your chin?” He nearly whispers, hand reaching out to touch. You suddenly remember the purpling bruise on the underside of your jaw, and you flinch before he can touch it. Though the pain is still present, you had mostly forgotten about the injury until now. You berate yourself for allowing Hinata to see it, to see something that might give you away, to see something that will make him worry over you. Turning your body away from him, you try to walk away and avoid the topic. He follows though, storming behind you as his hand reaches out again, this time his fingers grabbing firmly onto both sides of your jaw. “Why-”

“Don’t touch me,” you bite out, reflexively slapping Hinata’s hand away. Hinata’s expression curls into one of shock, eyes widening at his own hand. A sense of guilt creeps into the back of your mind; you didn’t mean to snap at him like that, but you don’t want him to ask anymore questions. You turn away and walk out of the kitchen area, but Hinata’s voice follows closely behind.

“I’m just worried about you,” Hinata says, clearly miffed by what just happened, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s none of your business.” You snap, heading to the couch to turn off your TV. That seems to get Hinata’s attention, as he runs over to snatch the remote from your hands, eyes burning as he glares at you.

“What do you mean it’s none of my business? Of course it’s my business, I don’t want to see you hurt.” Hinata angrily presses the button on the remote, turning the TV off. He throws the remote back on the couch, facing you with an expression you can’t quite read. “You get back late from work with a bruise on your face, what else am I supposed to say? ‘Oh Kageyama, that purplish-blue thing on your chin totally doesn’t look out of place’?”

“You didn’t have to say anything in the first place.” You say, feeling yourself starting to get irritated. It’s been a long day, and the last thing you want right now is to be fighting with Hinata. You walk away, heading toward your room in hopes that he’ll just drop it and leave it alone. But knowing Hinata, you know that won’t be the case. He grabs you by the wrist before you make it to your bedroom door, pulling you back to face him.

“I didn’t have to say anything? Like the other times you’ve shown up with bruises or cuts? You want me to just ignore the fact that you’re getting hurt somehow and you’re not telling me anything?” Hinata says, the volume of his voice rising with every question. His hands ball into fists at his side, shoulders shaking slightly in frustration. “It pisses me off, Kageyama, that you won’t tell me anything and still expect me to just... I don’t know, forget about it?! How is that even fair?!”

You narrow your eyes, walking toward Hinata and pointing a finger to his chest. You growl, “Did I ever make a promise to you that I’d tell you anything and everything about me?”

“No, you didn’t, but this isn’t about promises!” Hinata yells, eyes burning as he meets your glare dead on. “This is about you putting yourself at risk and not telling me when you’re hurt. This is about you obviously lying to me just so you can avoid telling me the truth!”

It’s like something snaps inside of your head when you hear Hinata’s words, like the opening of the gate to the flood of thoughts you’ve purposely held back.

“And so what if I am lying to you?” You can feel your own voice rising with every word. You take one step forward, but Hinata doesn’t back down. “Haven’t you ever thought that maybe I’m not telling you certain things for a reason?”

Hinata flinches, his face scrunching up like he can’t even believe what you’re saying right now. “A reason? Is that reason really so important that you can’t even tell me when you’re f*cking hurt?!”

“Does it f*cking matter?!” You yell, throwing your hands up in the air. “Why the f*ck does it matter if I am getting hurt? What can you possibly do about it?”

Hinata falls quiet. You’re breathing heavily by the time you finish yelling, shoulders rising with each breath. Until now, you hadn’t noticed how close you had gotten, Hinata’s face only a few inches away from your own. Your heart pounds wildly against your chest as you watch Hinata’s shoulders slump, his gaze breaking away from yours to settle on the ground. His fists unclench, hands falling loosely at his sides. Hinata remains silent, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. The air around you feels heavy, like you can’t quite breathe or move. You close your mouth awkwardly, fighting down the tightening feeling in your throat. What-

“I care.” Hinata says quietly, wrapping his arms around himself. He lifts his head up and you’re taken aback to see tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “It matters because I care about you, Kageyama. Are you such an idiot that you can’t even see that?”

His voice cracks on the lilt of his question, and he curls further into himself. You feel like someone’s just dumped a bucket of ice water on you, the cold seeping into your skin and settling deep in your bones. The feeling of guilt follows soon after, overwhelming you with regret of your own words and actions. You want to take it back, to go back in time and take back what you said to Hinata, because seeing him like this – biting his bottom lip and eyes watering – isn’t and will never be worth venting out your own frustrations.

How could you do this to him? You shouldn’t have slapped his hand away, shouldn’t have avoided his questions so heavily, shouldn’t have blatantly yelled at him like that. Hinata didn’t deserve that, not when he was just worried about you and all you did was shove that concern right back into his face. You feel like the biggest asshole in the world, and at this point you’re pretty sure that you are.

“Hinata,” you say, hesitantly reaching out. He turns his head away, hiding his face behind his arm. You hear a slight sniffle, followed by a single tear running down his cheek, and you feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. Hinata’s crying, your mind screams at you, scrambling around and searching for a way for you to fix this.

“Hinata,” you try again, voice shaky, “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” Hinata doesn’t say anything, still burying his face into his arm and wiping away his tears. f*ck, your throat tightens, the pounding of your heart almost painful when you see Hinata’s bottom lip quiver. I f*cked up, I f*cked up real f*cking bad, you think, please don’t cry, you can’t cry Hinata, please, you have to smile Hinata, please smile-

“Hinata, please, don’t- don’t cry, I’m sorry,” you mutter but the only response you get from Hinata is a choked sob from the back of his throat. “Hinata,” you plead again because you can feel yourself starting to get desperate; desperate to stop Hinata from crying, desperate to apologize to Hinata, desperate to not make Hinata sad anymore. You don’t want this – hell, you’ve never wanted this. You’ve always been afraid of f*cking this up, of ruining the one good thing you had, and now that you’re nearly there, what do you do?

What if I can’t fix this? What if you’ve f*cked up so bad that there’s no way to apologize and go back? What if you can’t fix this anymore? What if Hinata won’t forgive you? What if Hinata hates me? No no no no-

You don’t want that.

Desperate, you grab Hinata by the wrist and try to pull his arm from his face. Hinata makes a sound of discontent, trying to pull back but you tug harder, eventually revealing his tear streaked face. You swallow down the bubble of guilt in your throat as Hinata’s hand goes limp in your grip. He looks at you with resignation, giving up on trying to hide the fact that he’s crying.

“Hey,” you say softly, letting go of his wrist to gently put your hands on both sides of his cheeks. He sniffles as you use your thumbs to dry the tears on Hinata’s face, and you hate yourself for doing this to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” You want Hinata to smile like he always does, eyes shining and crinkling at the corners. Sadness doesn’t suit him, not one bit, and you hate that he’s crying because of you. “I- I know that you care. It matters. I’m sorry. Work has been...hectic recently, and I was angry and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. You’re right, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Hinata looks at you with a fresh batch of tears in his eyes threatening to spill out. You trace your thumb beneath his eye, wiping away the first tear that drips from the corner of his eye. “Hinata,” you say, this time leaning your forehead against his own. He closes his eyes and you watch as his lashes flutter shut, drops of tears slowly running down his cheeks. “Hinata,” you say again and his eyes open to meet yours, nose and cheeks red from crying.

You don’t want Hinata to be sad anymore. You’d do anything to stop Hinata from crying, to get him to forgive you, to make him happy again, because...

“I love you,” you croak out, meeting Hinata’s stare, “so please don’t cry anymore.”

You watch as Hinata’s eyes slowly widen, his mouth falling open slightly in shock. In all honesty, you hadn’t meant to say that – it slipped out of your mouth by accident – but that doesn’t mean that it’s any less sincere. It was something you realized a while ago, the fact that you love Hinata, and you didn’t think it would feel this relieving to get it off your chest (even if it’s in this situation). You love Hinata, and there’s nothing more that you want right now than for him to know that.

When Hinata doesn’t say anything for a good minute, you start to wonder if maybe you shouldn’t have done that. Was it too soon to tell someone that you love them when you’ve only been with them for approximately a month? You’ve never been in this position before, so you’re not really sure about things like relationship etiquette and whatnot. What if he freaks out? You can feel yourself starting to stress out, but you tell yourself that it’s okay if Hinata doesn’t love you back – as long as he knows that you do, you can be happy. If he doesn’t feel that it’s love yet, it’s okay-

Your train of thought is cut off by the abrupt downpour of tears from Hinata’s eyes. A loud sob wracks his throat and your eyes widen, shocked by how Hinata seems to be crying even harder now. You start to freak out, regretting your words, oh god oh god oh sh*t, sh*t, f*ck, I shouldn’t have said that, f*ck me, f*cking hell, oh god sh*t-

But suddenly, Hinata’s hand reaches up to grab yours on his cheek, slowly intertwining your fingers together. His palm is warm against the back of yours and he hiccups quietly before speaking.

“Stupid,” Hinata says, crying and sniffling a little more. You feel yourself begin to sweat (mostly out of confusion) just as Hinata smiles weakly and squeezes your hand. “Me... Me too. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now.”

It’s stupid, but you swear you can feel your heart skip a beat at Hinata’s words. You feel breathless, like you’re walking on a cloud, to hear Hinata say that he loves you back. He loves me, you think as you watch him cry even harder, eyes scrunching up and lips curling into a half smile, half sob. You hope that these tears are those of happiness this time, but you still don’t want to see him cry. With a soft smile, you lean in to press a kiss to the teardrops on his cheeks, the corners of his eyes, the tip of his nose, the underside of his chin. He laughs weakly as you kiss his eyelids, his temple, and the space between his brows.

“Please stop crying.” You say as you lean your forehead back against Hinata’s.

“I-I’m trying not to!” He sputters, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. You rub your thumb lightly across his cheek, smiling when he squeezes your hand once more.

“Stupid,” you murmur affectionately. Looking into his eyes, you feel relieved to see that familiar twinkle again, to see Hinata being Hinata again. You do your best to wipe away the rest of his tears, though he complains and says he can do it himself. When his cheeks are dry, you see his gaze fall down to your lips. Before you know it, your eyes slip shut as you lean in to carefully meet Hinata halfway.

This kiss is sweet but cautious, the unspoken question of is this okay lingering in the air. But you think that it is, because Hinata doesn’t protest when you take his top lip between your own. Instead he seems eager to comply, his lips soft as they press against yours. When he pulls back for air, he breathes out your name in the space between your mouths before closing the distance once more. He tightens his grip on your hand as you kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your chest and gripping tightly into your shirt.

You pull a small whimper from the back of his throat when you part his lips, mouths open and barely touching. You lean in hesitantly, your tongue tracing a slow line across his bottom lip like he did before, asking for permission. He grants it immediately, leaning closer as he lets you slowly lick along the back of his teeth. You gasp when Hinata’s tongue meets yours, timid yet daring at the same time. The hand Hinata doesn’t have in his grasp snakes down to rest at his hip, tugging him close.

As you kiss, you’re overcome with a desire to make Hinata feel special, to make him realize how much you really love him, to make up for the stupid mess you caused. So when Hinata pulls back for air, face flushed and panting, you lean down to whisper, “Stay the night?” into the crook of his neck.

You press a kiss to his neck, feeling your face heat up from your own question. You tighten your grip on his hip before snaking your arm around his waist and pulling him into a hug. Your ears burn bright with embarrassment as you rest your head on Hinata’s shoulder, waiting for his response. When you’re met with only the sound of your beating heart, you wonder if you’re pressuring him into too much.

Pulling back slightly from the hug, you say, “It’s okay if you don’t-”

“No,” he interrupts, and you pull back to face him. He looks up at you with a smile, leaning up on his toes to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll stay. I want to.”

You blush, the implications of your words coming back full circle and hitting you square in the face. Hinata grins at your embarrassed look, leaning up again to kiss you on the mouth. He takes your intertwined hands off his cheek, holding them between you. Hinata tugs on your hand, pulling you in the direction of your room.

As he closes the door behind you, you realize that this is the first time Hinata’s ever been in your room. You suddenly feel self-conscious of the lack of decor in your bedroom, but Hinata doesn’t seem to pay it any attention. An apology about the slight mess in your room barely makes its way out of your mouth before Hinata wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down for a kiss.

“H-Hina-” You sputter before falling into the kiss, letting him tug you down and curl his fingers in your hair. Your arms wrap around his waist as you kiss, his knees bumping against yours as he pushes you toward the bed.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit down, relishing in the feeling of Hinata’s soft lips, of having him close. He never breaks the kiss as he climbs onto the bed, sitting in your lap and hooking his ankles behind your back. He lets you run your hands across his hips, down the side of his thighs before coming back to rest on his waist again. Hinata untangles his fingers from your hair, trailing them down the nape of your neck and fanning them out over the span of your shoulder blades. I love you, you think as you break the kiss to mouth along his jaw, sucking lightly at one spot. The small moan that escapes Hinata’s lips settles deep in the pit of your stomach, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget that sound.

Your fingers land on the skin where Hinata’s shirt rises up, and you trail light circles on his hip with your thumb. He pulls back, a rosy blush on his cheeks, and your eyes land on the small hickey blooming at the base of his neck. You watch as Hinata’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down his throat before he reaches down for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. He tosses his shirt somewhere across the room but you don’t care, too distracted by the sight of Hinata shirtless in front of you. Your hands hover near his waist, unsure if you can touch, but Hinata grabs your wrists and places them on his hips. You can feel him shiver beneath your fingertips, and you bite your lip before slowly pressing kisses down his front.

Your lips trail down his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, before pausing at the peeks of his hip bones. You glance up at Hinata to see a full blown blush on his face, one hand covering his mouth and the other settling back into your hair. He nods, like he’s giving you permission, and you blush, suddenly realizing what you’re doing.

You stop though, wrapping your arms around his waist and flipping him over. His back hits the bed, a surprised look on his face as you crawl on your knees over him. He seems surprised but not unwilling as he smiles, grabbing you by the face and pulling you down for another kiss.

Between the kisses and fleeting touches, your clothes both slowly come off, thrown hazardously and uncaringly across your room. You don’t think that you’ll ever forget this; the way Hinata comes apart beautifully underneath you, face flushed and breathing heavy, hands grasping for skin and sheets. You’ll never forget the way Hinata responds to your touch, arching into your hands with every press of skin. You’ll never forget how Hinata flushes when you tell him you love him, hips pressing back as his nails dig into the span of your back. You’ll never forget the way Hinata whispers it back in hushed breaths and heated moans, legs wrapped around your waist as he breathes out your name.

And afterwards, when he kisses you languidly, legs tangled with yours in the sheets, skin against skin, you don’t think that you’ve ever felt so utterly happy and in love.

Chapter 25

Chapter Text

A bed of grass stretches out toward the horizon, where the setting sun paints the sky with purples, oranges and reds. There’s a slight breeze in the air that lightly tousles your hair and skims the nape of your neck. Small flowers litter the ground around you, still vibrant against forgotten greens crushed beneath your body. You drag your hand across the dirt, tugging at the grass until its roots rise above the ground. The handful of uprooted grass slowly dissolves into black ash and slips through your fingers with the wind.

The next time you look up, a hand reaches out to you. The palm is littered with the same black ash, but a small, red flower blooms from the base of their wrist. You stare at the lines that run down their fingers, each connecting between plains of skin and ash. Dirt crusts beneath their fingernails, between their knuckles, and disappears into the span of their arm. You don’t quite understand it – the sudden appearance of this hand, the flower-like form it holds – but you reach out to grab their hand with your own.

It tugs you to your feet, beckoning you forward as if it’s telling you to follow. You let the hand guide you through the grass, not once looking back to the place you once sat. It leads you beyond the meadow, beyond the clearing to a vast body of shimmering water. You follow it toward the shore, waves lapping gently at your feet. It inches you closer, until the water has long gone risen above your shins and past your waist. Slowly, the hand pulls you deeper and deeper into the water until you’re struggling to keep your head afloat.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you tilt your head toward the sky, feeling the rush of water slowly inching up your jaw. Stop, you try to tell the hand, but it continues to pull you underneath, leaving you with no choice but to follow.

But strangely, as you submerge yourself underneath, you don’t feel the suffocation of drowning or the anticipated lack of air. You release your breath, surprised to discover that you can somehow breathe underwater. Confused, you look toward the hand, but are only met with your own empty palm. You grasp at the space in front of you but the hand doesn’t return. A feeling of panic begins to settle in your chest, but it’s quickly pushed aside when you notice the array of colours around you.

Towards the surface, the water glimmers a greenish-yellow colour and fades into teal as you sink deeper to the sand. Small air bubbles dance around you before floating up to the surface and disappearing into the light. Schools of colourful fish pass you by, so close that you could reach out and touch. At the base of your feet, orange glows beneath the sand and opal rocks cover the ground. When you lift your foot, your footprint glows warm lavender before dissipating into the sand.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before, like a place from a fairy tale come to life.

You hold your arms out to your sides and slowly spin around. Though you can breathe here, the water still limits you from moving like you would on land. You let out a small sigh, watching as a bubble of air rolls off your tongue and floats out in front of you. You reach out and poke the bubble with your index finger, startling when it pops and the sound of giggles suddenly floods your ears. The voice is crystal clear, almost as if the source of the sound is right next to you. But when you turn around, there’s nothing in sight but sand and blue waters.

I’m over here, the voice giggles again and you whip your head to the right. A dark, silhouette figure sits atop a large rock, clicking their heels together as they tilt their head teasingly to the side. It giggles again, hiding behind a shadowed hand, but this time its voice is significantly deeper. You try to take a step back, only to stumble when you realize your feet feel like they’ve been replaced with blocks of lead.

Tobio, the voice murmurs your name almost affectionately, holding out a hand in your direction. You watch as the shadows of their palm slowly fade to reveal pale skin and familiar lines, soon morphing into the hand that led you here in the first place. The flower still blooms beautifully from their wrist, its stem wrapping delicately around their arm.

Who are you? You ask. Why did you lead me here?

The shadow tilts its head again, like it’s confused as to why you haven’t taken its hand. You hear the sound of giggles again before it hops off the rock, walking towards you with their palm outstretched. It stops just before their fingers can reach you and it slowly lowers its hand.

Have you found it? It asks instead of answering your question. You blink in surprise, and the shadow laughs at your expression. You don’t understand what they mean – found what?

They grab your hand, and you watch as the red flower slowly wraps itself around your thumb. You think that you should be afraid, be suspicious of this strange entity touching your hand, but you’re not. You can’t explain it – the way you somehow feel at peace when the shadow slowly grips your palm, trailing a smooth thumb across your knuckles.

Look, Tobio.

A blinding white light shines from your peripheral and you turn your head toward the source. You find your gaze trapped in a whirlpool of light and water, captivating you and drawing you in. It feels as if there’s a magnetic force that pulls you closer, makes you want to reach out and touch. The shadow figure nudges you forward before carefully letting go of your hand. You look back in surprise, watching as the flower unravels from your thumb and retreats back to its owner. The shadow does not have a face, but you swear you can see them send you an almost wistful smile.

You take a step toward the light, only to pause when black ash seems to curl around you. You turn your head to the shadow, only to see that they are the source of the ash and they’ve begun to fade away. When you take another step, more ash falls from their limbs and slowly disappears into the water. Scared, you take a step back, but they just shake their head.

Go, it says, and you have no choice but to obey. Your feet move without your control, guiding you closer and closer to the light. You open your mouth to try to say something – anything – but you can’t find the words. The shadow lifts a hand to wave in goodbye before that too slowly fades to ash. You turn your head away at the last step, unable to look any longer. A small voice echoes in your mind just before you’re enveloped in the light.

Have you found it?

*

Your sleep crusted eyes slowly blink awake, straining to see against the morning light. Sunlight streams in through the blinds, casting lines of warm gold across the room. Vision blurred, you barely register the soft sheets against your skin, the pillow beneath your head. There’s a heaviness in your limbs that sinks deep into your bones and you’re unsure if it’s fatigue, sleepiness, or both. You vaguely remember having a dream, but you can’t recall what it was about. Images of water and flowers flash by in your memory, but they’re gone as soon as they appeared. It was a nice dream, you think as you close your eyes, letting the silence lull you back into half-consciousness.

You’re not sure how long you spend lying there flitting in and out of consciousness. Seconds, minutes, or even hours maybe, but you do know that it only takes a minute from then to register the body curled against your chest, the tickle of hair against your nose, the arm you’ve casually slung across his waist. And after that, it only takes a second for you to remember what happened the night before – kissing away the tears on his face, pressing him further into the mattress, feeling the way his legs shivered against your waist, the way he threw his head back in a heated gasp, and-

A furious blush quickly rises up your neck and to your cheeks. Right, you think to yourself, that- last night, that wasn’t a dream- it was, it really happened. It seems almost surreal; how one moment you were arguing and lashing out, and the next he was in your arms and you couldn’t imagine being without him.

Hinata.

You exhale slowly as you open your eyes. Your gaze falls to his exposed neck and shoulder blades, both uncovered by lowered sheets from sleep. His shoulders rise slightly with each breath, his hair falling just above the nape of his neck. You find yourself entranced by the tiny moles on his spine that span across his back, not too often yet not too sparse. You shuffle closer, barely tightening your grip around his waist as your nose ghosts across his neck. His skin is warm against yours, and he smells like lavender and fresh laundry and- and like you. You press a light kiss to one of his moles, slowly trailing your lips to the next, and like stars in the sky, you connect them through constellations. You smile against his skin, burying your face in the space between his shoulder blades.

He’s here with you, and you don’t think you could be happier.

Moments later, you feel Hinata shift slightly in your arms. His legs, tangled with yours, press impossibly closer and you hear a small grumble from his lips. You hide a smile when you hear his sleepy, “wha,” before he lets out a yawn. Hinata mumbles something you can’t quite catch, resting his arm over the one you’ve slung across his waist and sliding his fingers between your own. He squeezes, letting out a content sigh.

“Mornin’,” you mumble, pressing a kiss in the space between his neck and shoulder.

Hinata gurgles out something that sounds like a “good morning” before snuggling closer to you. He squishes your nose against his neck and snickers when he hears your noise of complaint. You growl, playfully biting at his unmarked shoulder. Hinata just giggles, and you can feel the vibrations of his laughter against your skin. You hug him tighter, until there isn’t more than a hair’s breadth of space between you.

You lay there quietly, watching the steady rise of Hinata’s shoulders, the way his muscles flex under his skin with each breath. Hinata traces circles on your fingers, across your knuckles and up to your wrist before repeating again. You press another light kiss to the nape of his neck, relishing in the content sigh that escapes his lips.

Suddenly, you feel Hinata stiffen in your arms. His fingers stop playing with your hand, and you feel yourself freeze. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong, but you don’t get a chance before Hinata abruptly flips over to face you.

The first thing you notice is the flush of red on his cheeks. The second is the way his sleep-mussed hair perfectly frames his face. The third, and probably most prominent of all, is the blooming patches of red and purple that trail from his neck down to his collarbones. You feel your own face heating up at the memory of leaning down, kissing at his neck, nibbling at the skin there, marking him as yours. And now, seeing the hickeys adorning his skin nearly causes your brain to short-wire.

When you glance back at Hinata’s face, you’re sure that he’s going to point out you staring shamelessly at his chest, but his attention lies elsewhere. You follow his gaze, not quite toward your neck and not quite near your mouth. He stares, a troubled expression on his face, before he reaches out with a tentative hand toward your chin. Hinata’s fingers slowly graze across your jaw, his eyes never leaving as you lean into his touch. You flinch when he passes a specific spot, his hand pausing when he notices your expression of pain. He lightly thumbs at the area once again before you remember the bruise on your jaw, the reason why you and he had even argued in the first place.

You reach up to grab his hand with your own. You press his palm to your cheek, letting out a small sigh before sliding his hand down to your chest, just over your heart. His fingers curl at the touch, but you press him closer until you can feel your own heartbeat through his hand. It beats for you, you think as he watches your intertwined fingers, and you hope that he understands through the quickening of your pulse, the heat of your chest that says I’m here, I’m alive, I love you.

“Y-you’re so,” Hinata splutters, voice quiet and face flushed, “ugh.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Ugh? What the hell-”

“Uggghhhhh,” Hinata groans before burying his face into the sheets, his red ears still on display for you to see. He mumbles, barely coherent, “this is so embarrassing.”

You smile, but you can’t help but feel embarrassed by your own actions as well. That was so cheesy, you think as you squeeze his hand against your chest. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment type of thing, but you can’t help but think that it had to be done. The way he looked at you, like he could see through the pain you’ve suffered, was almost frightening. You didn’t want him to feel that way, to feel like you were sad and hurting and there was nothing he could do.

(Of course, you know that you are all of those things – sad, hurt, broken, and everything in between. But what Hinata doesn’t realize is that he is the reason you can forget that part of you.)

Hinata eventually peeks out from the sheets, eyeing you suspiciously. You give him your best what the hell are you doing look before he sticks out his tongue at you. “Your hair is a mess.” He says.

“You’re one to talk,” you snort. He pouts, and there’s no way you’re going to admit to him that you actually thought his hair was cute. You reach out to ruffle his hair. “How does it stick up like that?”

“Shut up!” Hinata complains but there’s no real bite to his words. He does try to untangle your fingers from his hair, but that only provokes you to mess it up even further. Hinata whines before he turns to the side, grabbing one of the pillows from his side of the bed and promptly shoving it in your face.

“Wha-!” You gasp, feeling two hands pressing the pillow roughly against your cheek. You fall back onto the bed, arms flailing as Hinata giggles from above you. He shakes the pillow against your head, ruffling up your hair. When he pulls back, you can feel the static electricity causing your hair to rise and levitate toward the pillow. Hinata just sits back and laughs at the sour look on your face, hugging the pillow to his chest.

You sit up as well, sheets pooled around your waist. Hinata rests his head on the pillow he’s hugging, his gaze falling to your exposed chest. His mouth falls open slightly before a scarlet blush floods his face and he’s burying his head into the pillow.

“Oh my godddd,” his muffled voice whines. You raise an eyebrow but Hinata just mumbles incoherently into the pillow. You think you hear something along the lines of “hot” or “how” but you just flick him lightly on the top of his head.

“C’mon, get up.” You say, but Hinata just lets out a muffled scream. You roll your eyes, almost about to lift off your sheets before you realize – ah. I’m naked.

Your eyes dart around the room. Luckily, your boxers are just at the foot of your bed and it won’t be much of an effort to get them back on. You spare a glance back at Hinata, only to see that he’s still having some sort of internal meltdown with your pillow. Shuffling to the end of the bed, you’re careful not to expose anything, well, underneath, as you reach down for your boxers and gingerly put them on.

Sitting back on the bed, you scratch your head. Your shirt is halfway across the room, splayed hazardously across the floor with Hinata’s, and you don’t even want to think about where your pants are right now. It’s another reminder of what happened last night; of careful touches and bated breaths, of fingers clutched in your hair and canting hips, of wet kisses and choked moans-

Stop, you scream to yourself, flustered by your own thoughts. You can’t be thinking of this right now, not when Hinata’s right there and he’s totally going to see if you get all hot and bothered like this. But I can’t help it, you think, not when the reason for it all is sitting right there on your bed, still unclothed and draped in your sheets. You let out a breath through your teeth, steeling yourself before standing up to gather up your clothes.

“Here,” you say, tossing Hinata’s clothes into his lap. He peeks out from the pillow, eyes squinting as he eyes the bundle of clothes. You meet his gaze just as you’re tugging on a t-shirt, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “I’m going to the washroom,” you mumble just before you leave the bedroom.

You go through your morning routine without much trouble, but it isn’t until you’ve finished rinsing your face that you look in the mirror and see the monstrosity on your neck.

“HINATA.”

You stomp back into the bedroom to find said boy still lazing on your bed, though this time he’s wearing a shirt. His eyes widen at your expression. “What?”

Pointing at the hickey on your neck, you say, “It’s f*cking huge! ”

Hinata blushes profusely, but he doesn’t back down. “You left like thirty on me!”

“Well- okay, yeah,” you splutter, glancing at the splotch of red just barely peeking out of Hinata’s collar, “but at least you can hide yours. This one is right where everyone can see!”

Hinata eyes the hickey. Nevermind the bruise on your jaw, you barely paid attention to it when you noticed the love bite in the mirror. “It is pretty big,” Hinata says, and he has the decency to sound a little guilty. A little. “But you can cover it up with a scarf? Maybe?”

“I don’t think I have a scarf big enough to hide this,” you hiss, a hand placed over the mark. You swear you can still feel the warmth from Hinata’s lips pressed to your neck, his teeth digging into your skin, and-

“At least you only have one.” Hinata narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You can’t really argue with that, but still. Yours is humongous in comparison to the little ones littered across Hinata’s skin.

“Whatever,” you grumble, walking over to your dresser to look for some pants.

“Though,” Hinata hums absentmindedly, not meeting your eye, “I kind of like them.”

You whip your head around, only to see Hinata burying his face in a pillow again. Shouldn’t you be the one that’s embarrassed and not him? He’s the one who said it anyway, but you suppose that second-hand embarrassment is still pretty horrific. You take a seat on the edge of the bed and reach out to ruffle Hinata’s hair. He just groans, muttering “I can’t believe I just said that” into the pillow.

“Neither can I,” you admit and Hinata raises his head to hit you with the pillow. You catch it just before it hits you and you rip the pillow out of Hinata’s hands, smirking at him before pushing it into his face. He squeals, grabbing another pillow and throwing it at your face. It hits before you have a chance to react, but you grab the pillow and climb on the bed to smother Hinata with a laugh. He giggles beneath you, muffled by the sheets and your struggle to hold him down. Hinata puts up a good fight, tries to kick you in the side and catch you off guard, but he eventually gives up and settles into the sheets.

When you notice he’s finished struggling, you raise the pillow to reveal Hinata’s flustered face and wild hair. He blinks back tears of mirth before giving you a wide smile, and you swear you can feel your heart skip a beat. One of your knees lies in the space between his legs, the other on the outside of his hip. Your hands are fisted in the sheets near his shoulders, one still gripping at the pillow. Hinata’s hands are over his head, and his shirt rides up just enough to see the beginnings of his hip bone.

You...hadn’t meant for this to happen, really, but now that you’re here, with Hinata beneath you and a smile on his face, you can’t help but think that this is what’s meant to be. He sighs, reaching up to cup your cheek with his palm. His thumb skirts along the lower line of your eye, trailing down to the corner of your mouth and up to your cheekbone. You lean down just a little closer, eyes falling on Hinata’s long eyelashes, the curve of his nose, the pink flush of his lips. His fingers slide along your jaw, pausing before your bruise and lightly ghosting across the mark on your neck. He splays his fingers across your collarbone, running his hand up your shoulder to the back of your neck. Through it all, the mindless touches, the caress of his fingertips, you hadn’t noticed yourself slowly inching closer and closer, your arm bending to support your own weight, until you were less than an inch from his face.

Hinata’s fingers slide slowly into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp. You can almost feel the heat radiating from his skin, the ghost of breath mingling in the miniscule space between your lips. Hinata tilts his head slightly to the side, slow and deliberate. It’s almost seductive, you think, the way he unknowingly exposes his neck, the way he looks up at you through his lashes, the way he stares unabashedly at your mouth. He makes your heart pound in your chest, makes you see the stars and think of him, makes you feel infinitely more than you’ve ever felt before. You don’t want to lose this – the press of his palm against your skin, the shimmer in his eyes with every smile, the warmth that spreads through your chest when he’s near. And as you watch Hinata’s eyes slowly flutter shut, as he leans up to slowly bridge the gap between you, you know that you were made for each other in every way.

A shrill ring of a phone cuts through the air just before your lips touch. You freeze, and you feel Hinata’s hand go rigid in your hair as he opens his eyes. The ringtone isn’t yours – it’s Hinata’s phone, you realize – so you forget about the kiss altogether to just flop down on Hinata and bury your face in his shoulder. He lets out an “oof” when you do, muttering about how heavy you are and how your hair is tickling his cheek. You lay there for a second longer, breathing in his scent, before slowly peeling yourself off. His phone is still ringing. You sit back on your calves, slapping Hinata lightly on the hip as you tell him to, “Pick up your phone.”

Hinata begrudgingly slides off the bed at your insistence. When he stands, however, he lets out a small yelp before he falls to the ground. Shocked, you crawl over to see Hinata holding his hip, a blush on his face as an “I’m sore” tumbles out of his mouth. The only sound in the room is the ringing of his phone, and you have to fight the urge to bury your face in your hands. Hinata doesn’t meet your eye as he slowly rises to his feet, wandering out of your room in search for his phone. You rest your chin on your mattress, exhaling sharply through your nose. I need a moment.

When you think you’ve calmed down enough to think straight, you leave your bedroom to find Hinata sitting on the couch, his phone pressed to his ear. You quietly slink into the kitchen, grabbing two packs of instant coffee before plugging in the kettle. Hinata’s voice is soft in the background as you mull around, opening the fridge to grab the cream and shutting it close with the bump of your hip. The kettle whistles just as you hear Hinata’s laughter across the room. You rip open the coffee packs, emptying the contents into two mugs and filling them with water. Steam rises from the cups as you pour, and the kettle hisses when you move it back to its place on the counter.

You end up feeling very... domestic as you pour cream and sugar into Hinata’s mug and mix it with a spoon. Walking over with both cups, you hand Hinata his and he thanks you with a smile before putting down his phone. He blows lightly at the surface before slowly taking a sip.

“Ah,” Hinata says suddenly, setting down the mug on the coffee table, “I have to leave soon.”

You nod, ignoring the feeling of disappointment in your chest. “Class?”

“Nah, just meeting up with some classmates. I almost forgot! Hehe...” Hinata trails off before standing up. You follow him to the door as he picks up his jacket and keys along the way. He slips on his shoes, pausing when his hand lands on the door handle. Hinata turns around, a pensive look on his face, and you think that he looks cute the way he’s all bundled up for the outdoors. Though, you don’t get much time to dwell on that thought before Hinata pulls you down by the collar of your shirt for a kiss.

It’s nothing more than a press of lips, but it’s warm and soft and Hinata. You think back to when you were rudely interrupted earlier, and you wonder if this is Hinata making up for it. I hope so, you think as you pull back slightly for air, watching Hinata’s expression through hooded eyes. You lean in again, this time kissing him properly with a hand on his cheek, tilting his head back as your lips slide together. He smiles against your kiss and you can’t help but to smile back. He tastes like sweetened coffee and morning rain, and you don’t find that you mind.

Hinata breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You can feel how close he is, how his nose brushes against yours when you tilt your head. You lean in again, but Hinata backs away slightly, muttering an unconvincing, “I-I have to go.” When he tries to pull back, you chase after him, not letting the distance between your lips widen by more than an inch. You can hear his breath hitch when you tease him, hovering close enough to kiss but not quite there. Hinata leans forward and this time, you’re the one who leans back just before contact is made. You relish in the unsatisfied whine that Hinata lets out and you apologize by sealing your lips with a kiss.

“Mm, Kage- Kageyama.” Hinata says against your lips before finally pushing you away with a hand on your chest. His face is flushed and you’re sure that yours is the same. “Jeez, I’m serious! I really have to go.”

“Then go,” you say, voice low and more breathless than you’d like to admit. It’s a taunt, an empty invitation for him to leave. You can see the conflicting emotions that run across Hinata’s face in the span of a second – embarrassment, determination, uncertainty, irritation. You secretly hope that he won’t take on your challenge, that he’ll instead stay with you for just a bit longer, but you know that he has to go.

You’re about to give in and lean back, but Hinata quickly leans in and pecks your lips before you get a chance. And just as fast, he’s yelling out an “okay bye” before he disappears out the door. You’re left standing in the doorway, holding your mug in surprise. You bring your free hand up to your mouth.

Well... You weren’t expecting that.

*

“Kageyama, glad you could make it.” Ukai says offhandedly, mulling around the office with a cigarette in his mouth. Despite his words, Ukai doesn’t exactly look glad that you’re here. You’d say he’s more stressed than anything, and you can’t really blame him. You watch as he rips open cabinet after cabinet, clicking his tongue when he can’t find whatever it is he’s looking for.

You wait patiently near the office doors until Ukai finally remembers to ask you to sit. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, you think as you take a seat. One of the middle buttons on Ukai’s shirt has been done up with the wrong hole, making his torso appear almost lopsided. His slacks are wrinkled, unlike their usual ironed and pressed state. You can see the way Ukai’s fingers jitter against his side; even with a cigarette to his lips, he still can’t calm down.

“Ukai,” you start, “are you okay?”

He flings open one of the cabinet doors so fast you’re sure that he’s going to rip it right off the hinges. Luckily, it doesn’t break, and Ukai seems to find what he was looking for. He grabs the portfolio from the top shelf before he slams the door close.

“I’ve thought about what you said.” Ukai says instead, walking back over to his desk. His eyes are glued to the contents of the file as he speaks, not once glancing up as he manoeuvres around his chair to sit.

“...What I said?” You question.

Ukai nods, his fingers skimming along the edges of the sheets. “About you not wanting to kill people anymore. About you wanting to leave.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You weren’t under the impression that this was up for discussion. Ukai had sounded final when he told you that this was your job, that he couldn’t let you leave because you were much too vital to let go. It’s difficult, but you try not to get your hopes up. It’s not often that Ukai rethinks his decision, and if he did, you’re sure that there would be some sort of catch.

Ukai scratches his head, closing the file with a sigh. He leans his head back against his chair, closing his eyes and running a hand across his face.

“I’ll let you leave,” Ukai says, and you freeze in your seat because you know it won’t be as simple as that, “if we both live to see past the conflict with Hitmen’s Associates.”

You narrow your eyes. “Both?”

“What, are you saying that we both won’t live?” Ukai smirks.

“I didn’t say that...” You mutter.

He waves a hand in dismissal. “Yes,” Ukai blows out a stream of smoke, “both, because if I don’t survive somehow, there’s no one better I could think of to take over Karasuno.”

You feel a chill run down your spine. You know that it’s highly unlikely for Ukai to die because he’s not exactly out in the field anymore – in fact, you’re positive that if there was only to be one survivor from this entire mess, it’d be him. But, that’s not what’s causing your blood to run cold, nor what’s causing you to clench your fists until your nails break skin.

“Why me?” You croak out, even though you already know the answer.

“You’re the best.” Ukai says easily, like he didn’t even have to give it a second thought. “Not just out on the field, but I know you’d be capable of doing what I do. Analyzing. Collecting information. Leading the rest of these bastards.”

You swallow. Ukai sounds so confident in you, sounds so sure that you would be the right choice, but that isn’t what you want. Leaving Karasuno was your original intention, not being roped into this sudden inheritance situation. You don’t have the confidence in yourself to be able to do what Ukai does. You respect him for being able to command this organization, for being able to think under pressure for the good of the team. The fact that he thinks that you can do the same is almost absurd.

“Of course, you’d only be taking over if,” Ukai stresses the word, bringing the cigarette to his lips once more with a smirk, “I died. Don’t go writing me off so soon. Who do you think I am?”

Despite the situation, Ukai’s words bring a small smile to your face. You let out a quiet scoff. “An old man who doesn’t know how to give up.”

“Oi,” Ukai narrows his eyes, pointing the butt of his cigarette at your face. “I’m not even 10 years older than you. Watch your mouth, you little brat.”

“So,” you start, ignoring his empty threat, “if we’re both alive after this, I can leave.”

Ukai lets out a sigh and sounds very reluctant when he answers with a, “Yes.”

“That easy?” You ask.

He shoots you a deadpan look.

“No more missions? No strings attached?” You try again.

“Don’t make me regret my decision,” Ukai mumbles under his breath. “That’s it. We’ll burn your file and every trace you’ve possibly left. No more contact with you, no more contact with us.”

No more contact. The words linger in your mind, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You know that this is what you wanted – to be free from this place, to be free from what you’ve done in the past – but you hadn’t realized the implications of completely letting go. Are you ready to say goodbye to Ukai, the person who saved you all those years ago? Are you ready to cut off your friendship with Sugawara, the first friend you think you’ve ever made?

You don’t know if you’re prepared for that.

But the thought of staying, the thought of having to continue living like this for the rest of your life, the thought of never being able to really be with Hinata in every way leaves you sick to your stomach.

“Okay,” you say even though you know you owe Ukai more than just that, even though you’ll never be able to repay Sugawara for his patience and time. It hurts, but you know that this is what you want – what you need. You bow your head, hands fisted in your lap. “Thank you.”

Ukai just grunts in response. When you look back up, he’s staring at you with narrowed eyes. You squirm in your seat. His gaze is unsettling, but he speaks up before you get a chance to think too hard about it. “What’s that thing on your neck?”

You immediately slam your palm to the hickey on your neck. Ukai raises an eyebrow as his face slowly contorts into a knowing expression. You blush under his scrutiny, mouth opening and closing in embarrassment. “I-”

You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that your excuse is cut off by the sound of alarms pouring in from every inch of the building. Ukai’s eyes become alert and he jolts out of his seat, his hand instantly finding the landline and dialling for the front desk. You stand up, not caring how the chair falls over from the sudden action. You train your eyes on the windows, the office door, anywhere that may be a risk of an intruder. Ukai barks something into the receiver as you take a protective stance in front of him, senses sharp and focus solely on protecting the man behind you.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” You hear Ukai growl. “There’s no way that the alarms just set themselves off. Find out the cause and report back to me immediately-”

You hear a pounding of footsteps rapidly approaching from the hallway. You dash across the room, shoving the glass door open just as the mystery person runs into it. There’s a loud thump from the contact and oh sh*t, you realize that they aren’t an intruder but one of the workers you’ve seen occasionally in the labs. They fall to the ground, clutching their nose with a groan of “Kageyama, why,” and you guiltily reach a hand out to help them up. They stand with ease, shooting you a look of disdain before going into Ukai’s office.

“It’s Hitmen’s,” they say, and Ukai turns to them with a glare. “We rushed over as soon as we noticed something wrong on the security tapes. Four, maybe five people infiltrated from the northwest vents, it was hard to tell. There’s no other footage other than that.” They throw a small device into Ukai’s hands. “We found that on one of the main computers in the lab. We’re pretty sure it’s a chip that rewired our security cameras and disabled the trip we installed not too long ago.”

“Kageyama,” Ukai says before you get lost in the technical talk, “go to Sugawara and get your sh*t. I’m sending him the details right now and he’ll fill you in on what you need to do.”

You nod, not sparing them a second glance before you’re out the doors to the emergency stairs. The alarm is even louder in the staircase, and you feel your eyes tire from the constant flashing red and blue. You go down the stairs two at a time, eyes alert for any signs of the intruders as you make your way to the fourth floor.

Sugawara doesn’t look surprised when you slam the door open to the weaponry room. He chucks your backpack at you before you head into the locker room to grab the rest of your things. There are two other people in the room with you but you don’t pay them any mind, instead changing into your black shirt and pants. When you emerge from the room, your crowned bandana tied hastily above your mouth, Sugawara comes to strap your holster onto your belt.

“Locate and follow,” Sugawara says as he slips the final strap around your belt loop. He rushes off to the back table, picks up your gun and chucks it in your direction without looking back. You catch it with ease, checking for the safety before you slide it in the holster. Sugawara comes back with another holster and tells you to turn so he can equip it on. “Those are your orders. We’ve got bomb squad scanning the perimeter for threats, but your job is to find the intruders and track them down. The second gun,” he says as he slides a different looking pistol into the holster he just attached to your hip, “is a tranquilizer. There’s more ammo in the outer pocket of the backpack for both. You’re under orders to bring them back for questioning, but do not put your life at risk. When you detain them, call for backup through the transceiver.”

Sugawara hooks something onto your left ear, tapping it with his index finger. You hear a distinct chime before the sound of a click. “If it’s too dangerous for you to capture them alive or if your life is at risk, do not try to bring them back alive.” He looks at you in the eye when he says this. “This is a direct order from Ukai. Your life is more valuable than information that we might already know. Kill them if you have to.”

You nod, tightening the straps of your backpack. Sugawara stares at you for a second longer before patting your shoulder and telling you to get going. You’re out of the door in a matter of seconds, heading back toward the emergency stairs. You travel up to the sixth floor, eyes scanning the hallway for the air duct. It’s the largest one in the building, you recall Ukai telling you once, and you’re relieved when you find it without much trouble. The vent lock breaks with an easy kick, and you waste no time to crawl inside.

The dust tickles your nose and you ignore the irritation in your knees as you crawl through the duct. You’re careful to be quiet, though you’re confident that they won’t hear you so long as the alarm continues to ring. Each time you come across an opening beneath you, you peek through the cracks to check for unfamiliar figures in the halls. At the end of the hall, the path ends but the duct travels upward to the next floor. You shimmy over to reach for the handles on the upward duct to climb up. The duct is getting narrower as you ascend, but there’s still enough space for you to move around without getting stuck.

You continue crawling through the next duct until you hear a rush of footsteps beneath you. You pause at the opening, peeking down into the hallway through the slits. There are two men in black, similar to how you’re dressed, but you know they’re not from Karasuno. You crawl forward so that your feet are positioned just above the opening of the duct. With a deep breath, you count to three before violently kicking in the vent.

The vent cover falls onto one of the men’s head with a loud bang, and you hear their noise of surprise. You quickly push your legs down through the hole in the duct and you drop from the ceiling, wrapping your legs around the man’s neck and twisting your hips as you land. He falls to the ground with you, and you quickly reach for the tranquilizer before he can recover. You position the gun directly at his shoulder before firing, and you can feel him slip unconscious as he loses his struggle to fight. When you turn your attention to the second man, he’s bolting down the hall toward the staircase.

You tap the transceiver as you chase after him. “There’s one of them unconscious on the sixth floor. I have a second one in my sight but I haven’t seen any others yet.”

“Copy that,” a voice says back to you before you hear the sound of static and another click.

The man makes a left down the hall, and when you turn the corner he’s gone. You keep the tranquilizer pointed out in front of you, careful as you proceed down the hallway. There’s a slightly ajar door to your right, and you quietly slip into the room. It’s a storage office filled with boxes and unused furniture. You carefully step over the boxes at your feet, eyes scanning the room for movement. It’s quiet, but you’re almost certain that the man is hiding in here.

You hear the sound of glass shattering to your left, followed by a low “sh*t” before you immediately fire in that direction. The darts miss your target and hit the boxes, but it lures him out of his hiding spot and he lunges for your gun. You swing your arm out of the way but he goes for your hips, tackling you to the ground. He jumps away and smacks the tranquilizer out of your hand before you can collect yourself, and you watch as the gun flies to the other side of the room. He runs toward it, leaving you to yourself. You sit up, quickly grabbing your pistol from the other holster and clicking the safety off before you fire three rounds at his legs.

The man falls to the ground with a scream of pain, blood gushing from his calves as he holds his hands to his knees. He curses your name and spits at your feet as you pass by him to pick up your gun. You point the tranquilizer at his chest and fire. His cries die down within seconds, and you leave him there to bleed on the ground.

“There’s another one unconscious in the storage room on the same floor.” You say into the transceiver. Placing your guns back into their holsters, you take another look at the man on the floor. “He might be bleeding to death, though.”

You hear a vague groan in your ear but there aren’t any complaints from the other side. You leave the storage room, shutting the door behind you. There’s the sound of footsteps to your left, but your suspicion drops when you see that it’s an investigation team that’s come to pick up the body. That was fast, you think as you see their infirmary personnel shoot you a look. They disappear behind the door, and that’s that.

“Yo, King,” you hear through the transceiver a minute later as you’re searching through the rest of the sixth floor, “as much as I hate to request this from you, some backup would be nice in the west wing of the third floor.”

“Tsukishima?” You say into the device, slightly bewildered.

There’s the sound of someone falling to the ground, and you hear Tsukishima grunt. “Yes, this is Tsukishima. Sorry if my peasant-like voice disturbs you, but your help would be greatly appreciated right about now.”

“On it,” you mumble before you’re racing down the emergency stairs, nearly slipping on one of the steps in your haste. You burst through the doors and down the hall, slowing down when you see Tsukishima fighting off two men at the end.

You reach for your gun, only to pause when you realize that you can’t risk shooting Tsukishima. Not that you don’t have confidence in your abilities of course, but you don’t want to deal with that glasses bastard complaining about how you fired without concern over him later. You click your tongue, running toward the mess with a shout of “OI!”

Both of the men in black turn to the sound of your voice, and Tsukishima takes the opening to sock one of them in the face. The other one turns his attention to you, dagger in hand as he lashes at your neck. You duck, feeling the wind of his swing near your head, before grabbing his wrist and twisting it until he drops the knife. Before he can reach for his gun, you pull out your tranquilizer and shoot him in the wrist. The man crumples to the ground with a thump, just as Tsukishima delivers a swift kick to the other man’s head, knocking him unconscious. He pulls out his own tranquilizer and fires it at the man’s leg, just for good measure.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Tsukishima shoots you a glare from behind his glasses, wiping his hand on his shirt. “I thought bomb squad was on perimeter patrol.”

“I saw them from my post. I wasn’t going to just stand around and wait for you to find them.” He sneers, and you wonder why you even cared about risking shooting Tsukishima in the first place.

“Whatever, just, get back to patrol or something.” You bite out, feeling the irritation creeping up your neck. Tsukishima just shrugs, tucking in his gun before disappearing down the hall. You stare down at the men on the floor, kicking one of them lightly on the leg before tapping your transceiver. “Two more detained on the third floor. Unconscious on the ground.”

“There’s still one more,” Ukai’s voice buzzes in your ears, a sense of urgency hidden behind his tone, “be very careful, Kageyama, there’s a very high chance that they’ve stolen one of our explosives-”

“What? How did they-”

“-and are attempting to escape the building. Our security cameras are still fried from their stupid f*cking device, so we can’t back you up with eyes right now. Check your windows for any suspicious figures leaving the premises. Do not let them get away with that bomb, Kageyama.”

You let out a ragged sigh, “Okay, I’m on it.”

“We’ll be sending backup with you. They’re tracking your location, so just do what you have to do to find our man.”

You try not to think about when it was that Ukai managed to get a tracking device on you. “Please don’t send Tsukishima.” You plead as you dash down the hall to the large windows facing the east side of the building. Nothing seems out of the ordinary for the most part, and you quickly make your way to the northern hallway.

“Yeah, please don’t send me.” You hear Tsukishima agree from the line, and Ukai lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Ukai growls in your ear. “Report anything you see immediately.”

You practically plaster your face against the northern windows, eyes scanning the parking lot. From the corner of your eye, you spot a dark figure running away with a backpack in their hands. You run toward the staircase, furiously tapping the transceiver on your ear. “They’re escaping through the northern parking lot, heading northwest toward the intersection. Heading there now.”

You practically fly down the stairs, bolting out of the exit and running toward the escaping figure. You pull out your gun, aiming to see if you can get a clean shot at his legs from this distance. It’s nearly impossible, you find, as you’re sprinting across the parking lot. The ice on the ground makes it difficult for you to focus on not falling and aiming correctly at the same time. Plus, you can’t risk accidentally setting off a potential bomb. You tuck the gun back into your holster, leaping over the snowy hood of a car as you chase them toward the intersection.

They’re fast, you note as they run across the street without looking to check for traffic. Several cars honk as they’re forced to slow down for them, and you growl when they turn back to look at you before disappearing into an alley across the street. You’re forced to wait for the light to turn green on your side before crossing – the traffic is too heavy for you to pull a move like they did. As you wait, you turn your head to see your back up finally arrive. There’s three of them, two you’ve seen in training sessions and one you’ve worked with on a mission before. They nod at you just as the light turns green, and you all run across the street into the alley.

You find yourselves in a maze of buildings, and you pause at a split in the road. “We’ll split up,” you tell them, “you follow me left, the other two go right. Send a signal through the transceiver if you find anything.”

You’re already running down the path before you finish your sentence, the other following you closely behind. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but you know better than to let your guard down for even a second. When you come to another split in the road, you tell your partner to keep going straight as you take the route to the right. You try to listen for footsteps, but it’s difficult when you’re not sure if it’s the stranger’s footsteps or your backup’s.

A cold breeze sweeps through the path, leaving you shivering in your too-thin long sleeve. You continue searching through the alleys, eventually coming to a dead end. Cursing, you’re almost about to turn around when you notice the backpack on the floor. You immediately whip around, only to see that there’s no one behind you. “I think I might’ve found the bomb,” you say as you tap on the transceiver, “but there’s no sight of the person. Keep searching for them, I’ll take care of this.”

Slowly, you make your way over to the backpack. You unzip it with caution, opening the bag to reveal the bomb that you were looking for. Luckily, it hasn’t been set yet and you breathe out a sigh of relief. Your palms had begun to sweat just from the thought of dealing with another bomb. However, you can’t help but feel unsettled that this was too easy. Why would they just leave the bomb in a dead end between the buildings like this? It doesn’t make any sense.

You stiffen, standing up and backing away from the backpack. Unless-

“It’s a trap.”

The click of a gun. You feel the press of the barrel against the back of your head. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, loud enough that you can hear it pounding in your ears. Your hands shake at your sides, hovering just over where your gun lies in its holster. It’s too dangerous to risk a move right now, so you hesitantly wait for them to speak again.

“Hands up.” They demand, and as you slowly raise your hands above your head, you can’t help but think that the voice is startlingly familiar. You swallow, almost letting out a huff of laughter when you finally recognize the voice.

“Kenma,” you bite out, and you feel the gun press harder against your skull. He doesn’t say anything in response, but the silence is enough of an answer for you.

I should’ve known that it would’ve been him, you think. You’ve gone too long in the conflict with Hitmen’s Associates to not risk running into Kenma on a mission even once. By now, you’re sure that this confrontation is long overdue, even if you’ve got the shorter end of the stick.

“Tell your boss to call off the attack on Hitmen’s Associates.” Kenma says after a moment, voice low and daunting.

You narrow your eyes. Ukai never mentioned anything about- “What attack? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kenma slides the gun down the back of your head, pressing the barrel directly on the skin of your neck. Your breath hitches at the sensation and you close your eyes, willing yourself not to shiver in fear.

“It’s best for the both of us if you don’t play dumb, Kageyama.” He says, and you vaguely hear the shuffling of a jacket behind you.

“I don’t-” You stutter, but you’re interrupted by the press of cold metal against your ear. Your shoulders stiffen at the contact, and you hear an outgoing dial tone in your ears. It’s a phone, you realize, confused as to why Kenma would have you make a call right now.

“When he picks up, don’t say a word or I’ll shoot,” Kenma growls lowly, and you barely have time to register his threat before you hear a click and a familiar voice in your ears.

“Hello? Kenma?”Your knees nearly crumble because you know who this is, you know this voice and you don’t know what to do because it’s Hinata. You can feel your chest tighten in fear, and your throat closes up when you remember that you can’t say anything, that you can only listen. “...Hello? Are you there?”

Never in your life have you ever wanted to kill someone so badly. Your hands ball into fists in the air, and your knuckles flush white as you dig your nails into your palm. How dare Kenma use Hinata as leverage over you, how dare he practically hold his own friend hostage just to benefit his organization. You want to reach for your gun, Kenma’s own against your neck be damned, but you know you have to hold back. It’s not worth it if he gets the first shot in before you even get a chance to reach for the trigger.

“Kenma...? Are you back from the store yet? Ah, your friends have been wondering when you’d be back and they were asking, uh, sorry what did you say again?” Hinata’s voice is muted for a moment as he asks the other person to repeat their question. “He’s asking if you ‘secured the king’? Whatever that means.”

Suddenly, you think back to earlier today when Hinata had told you that he was going to be meeting up with his classmates. You curse silently – does that mean that was a trap as well? You regret ever letting him go, but most of all, you regret not having had killed Kenma from the start when you found out he was part of the H.A.

“Are you there? ...Well, hurry back because we’re getting hungry and-“ You hear the sound of a body hitting the floor followed by Hinata’s surprised yelp, and your heart sinks to your stomach. “H-Hey! What are you do- mm, mmph!”

Hinata’s muffled cries are cut off by the sound of a click and the dial tone. Slowly, Kenma lowers the phone from your ear and you spit out, uncaring of the consequences and seeing red, “You f*cking bastard.”

Kenma only presses the gun harder against your neck. When he speaks, it’s emotionless, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a voice so deadly.

“Tell your boss to call off the attack, or we’ll kill Hinata.”