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Kageyama’s mother is one of those overzealous, slightly clueless people who’ll forget which day of the week it is and start celebrating his birthday two weeks before it actually arrives. Most wouldn’t even believe he’s her son, if it weren’t for the remarkable similarities in their appearances. Kageyama is a splitting image of his mother- straight black hair, narrow eyes and a naturally intimidating impression. When she gets angry - that’s a truly terrifying image. Most of the time, though, she’s all smiles and hugs and rainbows and happy things; just a big ball of energy.
Which is beginning to piss Kageyama off, really, just because of how much it reminds him of Hinata.
Up until now, he hadn’t minded having the jumpy redhead around- though he’d never admit it to anyone, Hinata’s eagerness is one of the most endearing things about him. Annoying, but lovable all the same- and that’s just the problem.
He and Hinata are friends. He’s willing to admit that much; after all, they spend every day and almost every moment together. So if anyone considers their relationship to be that way, he won’t challenge them. But friends aren’t supposed to make his heart rush into frantic pulsations whenever they’re around him, aren’t supposed to make every accidental brush of their hands send resounding shockwaves through his body, aren’t supposed to make all the blood he has come rushing to his cheeks whenever they look at him.
At first, he’d tried to deal with it – tried to calm his racing heartbeat down, tried to stop himself from shivering every time Hinata touched him, tried to hide the red blooming across his face at every glance thrown his way – but it had soon become so unbearable that he’d resolved to ignore Hinata altogether while he figured out what was wrong with him.
And that’s why he’s sitting awkwardly at his barely-used computer (a gift from his uncle, who he’s only ever met once), unsure of what to type in to the search bar. Can he even type? It’s been so long since he actually used the internet that he doesn’t even know if he can do anything but single-finger type. He almost picks up his phone and calls Hinata for help, then mentally slaps himself for being an idiot. Really, calling the redhead would only make things worse, and what would he say, anyways? Hi, Hinata. I’m calling you to ask you how to use the computer to find out what you’re doing to me.
Two hours and numerous frustrated outbursts of destructive anger later, he’s managed to come to the conclusion that he has a rare strain of some even-rarer disease and will die in two months.
And so continues the unfortunate tale of Kageyama Tobio, fifteen years old and dead in two months, with no friends to break the news to. He can’t really say that it isn’t affecting his performance- okay, it is affecting his performance in volleyball, though that might just be one of the symptoms of whatever disease he has- inability to perform well as a setter in a high-school volleyball team. But then, it’s just Hinata who makes him dizzy when he prepares to toss the ball, just Hinata who makes his muscles tense up and his stomach churn. Maybe the disease is selective?
It doesn’t matter, though, since it’s clear that at least Sugawara’s noticed when he comes walking up to Kageyama – who’s bent over in the storage room alone, feeling like he has to hurl – with a knowing smile on his face. Shit, he thinks as soon as he sees the figure come into his field of vision, and in his nausea and dizziness tries to run away, only to crash straight into the wall.
#
When he comes to, he’s lying precariously on the thin bench in the gym, Suga’s worried face hovering way-too-close-for-comfort over his. “Are you okay?” Suga asks. “You ran headfirst into the wall and knocked yourself out.”
Blinking groggily, he feels his forehead to find an ice pack and knows not to remove it, lest he feel the throbbing pain that would surely be there if he did. He points both middle fingers in random directions and slurs, “Fuck you, too,” to the wall and the ceiling, and trying (in vain) to ignore the concerned expression on Suga’s face, sits up (and the ice pack miraculously stays on by whatever magic Suga has performed). “How long was I out?” he asks.
Suga checks his watch. “Thirty minutes, about,” he says. “Everyone else’s gone, even Hinata, though he was a tough one.” He chuckles. “He cares about you, you know. Daichi and Asahi had to drag him out the door and force him on his bike, and even they didn’t leave until ten minutes ago.”
The mention of Hinata immediately sends Kageyama’s heart into fits, and he tenses up instinctively, trying to hide the galloping pulses from Suga’s discovery. His senpai, however, isn’t about to be fooled so easily and shoots a pointed, knowing glance in his direction.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It’s probably best to play dumb, so he tries his best at a confused look. “Talk about what?” he asks, but the moment the words fly out of his mouth way too fast, he’s sure Suga can tell he’s lying. He squirms under the gentle but accusatory stare (and wonders how it’s even fucking possible) for a few moments more before finally cracking and blurting out, “I’mgoingtodieintwomonthsandit’sall. Fucking. Hinata’s. Fault.”
Suga starts. “That…wasn’t the answer I was expecting,” he says. “And who told you you’re dying?”
“I have the fucking symptoms of some rare African disease and I’m going to die in two months,” he says, but it’s like he can’t even convince himself of that anymore, because the more he says it, the more he thinks about it, the more untrue it sounds. “At least,” he mutters, “that’s what the internet said.”
“And what exactly did you search up?” Suga queries, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh, my symptoms?” Kageyama answers, and a tiny part of his mind wonders how the words are flowing so easily out of his mouth right now. “A fast heartbeat, muscle spasms and, um, blushing all the time?”
Suga nods gravely, though there’s a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “I knew it,” he says, so softly that Kageyama has to strain his ears to hear it. “I knew it,” he says, louder this time, and bursts into a smile that only Suga can pull off- one that’s triumphant but somehow reassuring at the same time. Grinning, he looks to Kageyama and it reminds him so much of the mothers he always saw on television; the perfect, always smiling ones, not his mother, and Kageyama can’t help but feel happy himself-
Until Suga says, “You’re in love, Kageyama.”
It takes a moment, takes several moments for him to process just what Suga has told him, and when he does he sputters a few times before crying out, “What the fucking hell?” It resounds throughout the entire gym, bouncing between the walls and ceiling and floor, and it kind of reminds him of the way Hinata’s always leaping around and full of energy, and he blushes furiously. This is so beyond incredulous embarrassment that- he must have heard something wrong, surely, because he promised he’d dedicate his life to volleyball, so why the fuck is he going around and supposedly falling in love? And all his brain cells have probably shut down now, so all he can mumble is a pathetic, “But I don’t like girls,” which is only more terrible confirmation of who he’s in love with, and oh god, this cannot be happening, he cannot be falling in love with-
“Hinata. It’s him, isn’t it?’ Suga asks, snapping him out of his getting-more-insane-as-he-goes thoughts, and he shakes his head in vehement denial, though they both know that Suga’s right. Calmly, gently, Suga places a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “It’s okay, you know. I mean, it’s only natural. But you can’t keep it a secret forever.”
“Just watch me fucking try, then,” Kageyama mutters, but it does little to faze his senpai.
“You should tell him,” Suga says, and they’re both silent for a moment before he peels the ice pack from Kageyama’s forehead and tosses it into the trashcan. “You might have a small concussion, but it shouldn’t be anything serious. Try and get some rest.” He stands up and is about to walk away, but adds, “And think about what I said, okay?”
Kageyama nods.
#
Things don’t get much easier; if anything, they get worse. Now that he knows he’s in love, he can’t even be within a five-metre radius of Hinata, much less hear his voice or look at him. And the worst part arises when he wakes up one morning to find…a less than welcome mess in his sheets. He’s pretty sure that the rest of the team has realized it, too- of course, everyone besides Hinata, and though it’s embarrassing and stressful, as long as Hinata doesn’t find out, his sanity will be kept in check.
Suga’s words haven’t slipped away from him, though, and now that he doesn’t race Hinata to practice and walk back home with him – or interact with him in general, which had been a large part of his life – he’s finding a lot of time to mull over the advice. Logically, it would seem like a good idea to tell him- to get his feelings off his chest and be free (finally), but he can’t force himself to approach him at all, much less confess his feelings towards him. And whenever he does consider it, whenever he gets the chance, there’s this small but stubborn part of his mind that feels terrified.
But what could he be so scared of? Suga approaches him again a week later and asks him how things are going, and he lies, saying that it’s fine. Of course, he’s always been a horrible liar and Suga sees right through him, forcing him yet again to admit that he’s scared. He expects a laugh or at least a small smile of amusement at his pathetic behavior, but Suga just tells him that it’s natural to feel scared, and that of course Hinata would, in the worst case, let him down just like Hinata would talk to anyone, so he shouldn’t feel scared at all.
Maybe Suga’s good with advice, but he’s pretty sure that with things like this one would need experience to truthfully say anything, so he goes home and consults the internet again.
How to confess to your friend, he types, and isn’t really shocked to find a bunch of sites intended for girls, so he reloads the search bar. It’s not really that he doesn’t know how to confess, strictly, but he’s just too scared to take the opportunity and risk rejection. So how-?
Someone knocks at the door and there’s angry screaming outside, and he wonders if it’s his next door neighbor. “Coming,” he says, and ambles towards the front door in no rush whatsoever to have to deal with the pot-bellied old man like he had to last time. “What is it,” he grumbles, opening the door to find a shock of orange hair suspiciously below eye-level, and he realizes that it’s not Hamada-san (something that brings both relief and despair), but Hinata.
Just as his heart begins pounding way too hard and his palms begin to sweat oceans, Hinata stomps inside, uttering a quick, “Sorry for the intrusion,” kicks of his shoes and stands there, glaring at Kageyama. “Well?” he demands, and Kageyama can’t even look at him for fear of – and he really doesn’t want to consider the possibility – popping a boner or something right there. That only serves to aggravate Hinata even further, and his voice begins rising in anger as he speaks. “You’ve avoided me for, like, the past month and when I text you, you won’t answer! What the fuck is wrong with you, Bakageyama?”
Shit. He’s really in a tight spot now, stuck between an inability to speak and a pressuring redhead, so he begins backing away, hoping that whatever expression on his face isn’t too stupid, although that really shouldn’t be the subject of his worries right now. It’s a weak effort, since Hinata immediately starts following him all the way to his room, and he stumbles in to realize that his computer is still on. With the search results.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. And then Hinata’s storming in, his hair ruffled and trying at a glare that only makes him look more endearing, and god-dammit why does he have to be so cute when he’s cornering Kageyama and screaming, “Tell me what’s wrong with you! Kageyama, I want to help! I’m your friend!” but all Kageyama can process is the stupid computer, so he steels his nerves and squishes Hinata’s cheeks between his palms, effectively directing his attention to Kageyama’s face.
“What the hell?” Hinata demands, and it’s just too much, so Kageyama leans down and kisses him.
Hinata stops struggling immediately, and Kageyama lets go, turning away in complete shame because he had to screw this up, he had to lose every chance of keeping the first (and surely last) friendship he ever had. He can’t see what Hinata’s doing, but surely the redhead’s resenting him, thinking that he’s disgusting, and surely he’ll pack up and leave forever. It’s probably for the best, anyways, since he’ll have to pack his bags and move to some remote country from the shame and embarrassment-
And Hinata stands on his toes, pulls Kageyama’s face down to his and kisses him back. His face is red, just like Kageyama’s probably is, and he’s averting his gaze, as Kageyama mutters, “…that’s what’s wrong with me, dumbass.”
“Yeah,” Hinata says, breathless, “me too,” and though they’re both idiots who can’t take a hint, they understand.
#
Suga gives them both knowing looks when they come back to practice the next day, bickering like they usually do and Kageyama blushes, prompting Hinata to ask what’s wrong.
“I thought I was going to die when I first realized I liked you,” he puts forward surprisingly unabashedly, “because the internet told me I had a rare and deadly disease.”
“You actually trusted the internet?” Hinata asks, incredulous, and Kageyama glares at him as he tries to suppress his giggles. “What an idiot.”
Daichi, who’s been standing behind them the entire time, whispers to Suga, “He used the internet when he first realized his feelings, too.”