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He’s five years old when he walks into kindergarten and meets the cheerfully noisy little orangehead. Kageyama dislikes his face on the spot - it’s much too bright and he smiles too easily.
“Tobio, be nice.” Though his mother is all smiles as she greets his teacher and other parents with polite chatter, the voice she aims his way has him straightening his back and forcing his face muscles to pull into a proper smile for once.
The baby orange (he is so so tiny were they really the same age?) catches sight of him and immediately hops over, not caring for personal space. “Are you Kageyama Tobio?”
“How do you know my name?” he retaliates instead of answering, forgetting his mother is right there.
Luckily, his new teacher intervenes and Hayashi-sensei is now his favorite person in the world as she explains the nametags she placed on everyone’s desk so the class could get to know one another more easily.
She adds with a fond tousle that, “Hinata-kun’s been asking for his table partner ever since he arrived.”
“We’re right in the middle!” Hinata grabs his hand excitedly and drags them over. Kageyama wonders why, of all the kids in class, he gets seated next to the loud pesky one.
He’s six years old when he resigns himself to the unfortunate fate of having a certain Hinata Shouyou tagging along wherever he goes.
Kageyama’s still not sure how this happened. One race led to another ball catching match until the school finally called their moms in after Hinata got stuck in a tree when he tried to show Kageyama he was obviously the better climber- No you’re not, shorty! Yes I am, watch me!
He thought after classes separated them, Hinata would finally get out of his life but, no, Kageyama still gets his lunch stolen everyday, on top of being forced to listen to nonstop chattering about all sorts of nonsense he couldn’t care less about.
Hiding was a futile effort. Two months in and Kageyama thinks he’s already exhausted every potential hiding spot the school has to offer. He has a sneaking suspicion Hinata’s enlisted the help of every kid in their grade to spy on him since who in their right mind would think to look on the roof of the old sports shed in the very back of the school?
“Eat your own,” Kageyama would growl as Hinata helps himself to a tamagoyaki but long gone were the days when glaring angrily would scare the smaller boy off. He missed those days.
He complained to his mom once because Hinata’s boxed lunch was always packed full but for some reason, the little piece of - “Tobio! Watch your language!” insists on getting a sip of Kageyama’s milkbox or a bite of his sandwich or ow ow ow, mom, my ear!
After extracting a sullen promise from him not to say words like that again, his mother continues, “Be nice to Shouyou-kun, he’s the only friend you have.”
Kageyama makes a face at that because he never asked for an intrusive annoyance called Hinata Shouyou showing up at his front door every morning. Also, they’re not friends.
He’s seven years old when he grudgingly acknowledges Hinata Shouyou as his best friend. Not that Kageyama would ever tell him, at least not in so many words.
“Dummy! For the last time, don’t receive with your face!”
“Not my fault, stupid! Stop serving into my face!”
“I’m aiming perfect serves at you. You’re the one standing all weirdly.” He pinches Hinata’s nose, who whimpers pathetically as he smacks his hand away. “I don’t think it’s broken. Are you okay?” He feels a very slight twinge of guilt when he sees tiny pricks of tears even though it really was Hinata’s fault. Mostly. Partly. Sort of.
“It hurts.” Hinata wrinkles his red nose and Kageyama deems it still functioning properly. He’s about to suggest they take a quick break but Hinata beats him to it. “One more!”
This time, Hinata manages to return the ball, albeit clumsily. It would’ve been an out had they been playing on court but Kageyama keeps the thought to himself when Hinata tackle-hugs him and spins them around, babbling happily, I did it, Kageyama, did you see? Did you see?
Instead, he uses the last of his allowance to buy a few extra meat buns later, quietly regretting not being able to drink milkboxes for the rest of the week. But when Hinata looks at him like he’s the best thing next to volleyball, still glowing and grinning even wider than before, he decides it’s a worthwhile sacrifice.
(He also thinks he doesn’t really mind Hinata smiling so much as it was preferable to not-smiling Hinata)
He’s eight years old when Hinata starts talking about crushes and falling in love and dating and other mushy grown-up romantic stuff. The still smaller boy (“But I’ll be taller than you someday, just wait!”) is all sparkles and wild gestures as he talks about holding hands with a cute girl and Kageyama just. Doesn’t. Understand.
“What the point?” he asks. “Crushes are dumb and dating sounds like a pain.” He’d rather hang out with his volleyball any day.
Hinata pouts, calls him grumpy and boring, to which Kageyama retaliates, “Do you think girls will toss to you?”
“Yeah, they do! I was visiting relatives last month and my cousin’s on the girl’s middle school team and they were all super strong, like their spikes were ‘BWAM’ and their serves were so ‘GWAH!’”
Irritation prickles his skin and he retorts, more sharply than he’d intended, “Well, can they toss as good as me?”
Hinata looks shocked. “No, of course not. No one tosses as good as you.” He says it so matter-of-factly, Kageyama feels a bit guilty for doubting him. He nods, satisfied that the topic has moved back to volleyball as Hinata bounces on heels, demanding tosses.
He’s nine years old when he “accidentally” terrorizes a fifth grader and three sixth graders with significantly more weight and muscle than him.
It’s starts with Hinata, who decided to bravely (Kageyama would vehemently argue stupidly) stand up to a group of moronic jerks picking on some poor scrawny kid no one else in the school gave a damn about, never mind barely reaching the smallest bully’s stomach.
Hinata, whom he heard later, was shaking from head to toe as he told the sixth years to “B-b-back off a-a-and pick someone your own s-s-s-size.”
Hinata, whom he found trying to wash the purple bruises and red cuts away in the restroom, the kid he sorta saved apologizing and crying a mile and Hinata was crying too but he was also reassuring the kid he was fine, it doesn’t hurt, even though it so, so obviously it did.
Kageyama tells him go to the infirmary, yells at him really, whatever expression he had making the scrawny kid burst into fresh tears and Hinata’s chiding him to, “Stop scaring Yamaguchi so much, he’s been through a lot.”
“And what about you, you stupid, idiot, dumb little-” Kageyama’s about ready to throttle him but stops when Hinata hisses as he bangs his elbow against the sink and the pained sound just makes Kageyama lose it completely.
He marches them both to see the school nurse, keeping a tight but careful grip on Hinata’s arm, to keep him from running away because he knows how much the idiot hates visiting places smelling of antiseptics, why else would he be trying to bandage himself up with the school restroom’s paper towels?
He loses track of how many times he calls Hinata stupid or some variant of the adjective/noun.
“Why didn’t you get me?”
“Well, they were all ganging up on Yamaguchi, if I left to find you, who knows what state he would be in now. We might not even be able to recognize him!”
“Idiot! I meant, after! You weren’t going to class looking like this, were you?”
“I-” Hinata surveys himself, seemingly for the first time even though he’d been standing in front of a goddamn mirror. Kageyama did not remember signing up for this.
“It’s not that bad. I didn’t want to worry you,” he adds hastily and Kageyama mentally bangs his head against a metaphoric brick wall.
“You thought I wouldn’t worry after seeing you like this? What kind of friend do you think I am?”
Hinata gaps at him until Kageyama realizes what he just said and he has to grit his teeth to force down the sudden rise of embarrassment threatening to engulf his face.
“Thought you might not notice,” Hinata finally mumbles, quietly and unconvincingly.
“What were you going to tell me? You ran into a door or fell down the stairs?” Kageyama scoffs disbelievingly.
“...not the first time it happened,” Hinata replies after a very long pause.
“When you get better, I’m going to kill you myself.”
But first he’s going to find the kids who did this and whatever expression he was wearing as he approached the group of morons could apparently send even the meanest demons scrambling back to hell, according to a nearby blonde who apparently found great amusement in watching the whole show.
He’s ten years old and receiving his first Valentine’s Day chocolate confessions from...from...what was her name again? Was she even in his class? Wait, was she even in his grade?
She was saying something about being utterly amazed when watching him play the other day (he knows, Hinata reminds him every other hour, hanging off his arms and back like a stupid little orange monkey the whole time), she would be really happy if he accepted the chocolates she made.
Kageyama shuffles his feet uncomfortably, drawing a blank on how to word a rejection nicely. Hinata would know. Heck, Hinata would be melting at this point; the idiot couldn’t talk to girls without erupting. It was so funny it was almost cu- dumb. It was utterly dumb because it was Hinata and Hinata is dumb.
“Kageyama-kun?”
“Um. Sorry. Thanks?”
She seems glad enough that he’s taking the chocolate, even though he doesn’t like sweets all that much. Thankfully, she scurries away, face red. As she ducks behind the corner, Kageyama hears a chorus of squeals and congratulations and he wonders at the point of it all as he heads back to class.
Hinata’s in Kageyama’s classroom, sitting at Kageyama’s desk, glaring resentfully at Kageyama as he walks in.
“You got chocolate,” he accused in a tone indicating it was nothing short of a crime.
“I didn’t ask for it.” He unceremoniously tosses the box onto the desk.
“She confessed to you.” Hinata pokes at it, looking offended.
“It wasn’t that great.” Kageyama internally winces at the memory, hoping to never go through something so awkward again. “I don’t think she even told me her name.”
“That’s not fair.” Hinata wails, completely ignoring him. “You don’t even care about dating or everyone knows you hate sweets.” His cheeks puff out, pouting like he always does when he’s upset.
Kageyama resists the urge to deflate them. “Look, do you want the chocolates or not? Otherwise, I’m tossing them in the trash-”
“Waah! I want them, I want them!” Hinata happily gobbles it all up and Kageyama wonders when the other boy will start receiving his own chocolates and letters. The thought makes his chest tighten with an unpleasant sensation.
He’s eleven years old when he looks at Hinata and it suddenly hurts to breathe.
It’s when they’re walking home on a seemingly normal day, one of Hinata’s small hands clasped in his like they were still six years old while the other holds a meat bun he’s happily munching away on that Kageyama notices the sparkles and glitters showering his best friend in some weird ephemeral cascade.
He stops, blinking until he gets nauseous and Hinata’s worried face swims into view and he has to look away because he feels like he’s burning, as though Hinata really was the sun incarnate like so many people say he was, a being so bright and radiant, he might go blind if he stared too long.
Hinata headbutts him for not responding and Kageyama chases him down, determinedly shaking off the warm feeling he got from Hinata’s hand in his.
He’s twelve years old and doing his best to ignore the existence of one Hinata Shouyou.
Kageyama spends all of the first semester avoiding the other boy in the halls, ducking into restroom stalls whenever he sees the flash of conspicuous orange.
Hinata’s rightfully furious, not to mention unreasonably stubborn. Unfortunately, Kageyama matches that stubbornness in equal measures, so now neither of them will speak to the other unless absolutely necessary. When they did, it was terse and awkward, less a conversation and more of an exchange of messages.
He doesn’t need Hinata, Kageyama tells himself when he wanders by Hinata’s classroom during lunch. His stomach drops when he notices his (former?) best friend in the midst of a group composed of some people from his own class – (what right did they have to hang with Hinata?).
Kindaichi and Kunimi find him in the clubroom after school, alone and both throw a questioning look his way. “Hinata’s not with you? The two of you fight or something?”
“I’m not his keeper. Hinata can do whatever the hell he wants,” he snaps just as the door opens and Hinata bursts in, laughing with Yamaguchi. It dies instantly the moment he sees Kageyama and the nearly palpable tension has everyone looking awkwardly or worriedly between the two of them until the vice-captain comes in, yelling at them to “Hurry the hell up, practice started five minutes ago!”
He’s thirteen when he throws his entire being into volleyball.
Kageyama tells himself he’s aiming for the top of the world, he needs to focus all his energy and concentration into the sport. The fact that he didn’t have Hinata with him anymore made little difference.
It’s not like he needs him or misses him or anything. At least, that’s what he tells Sugawara when his cousin comes over and finds him trying to practice tosses on his own.
Sugawara gently reminds him volleyball was a sport played with six people and “You can’t serve, receive, toss and spike all on your own, Kageyama.” He grunts acknowledgement but pretends not to hear.
(He also ignores his mom whenever she tells him to call Hinata up, it’s been so long since Shouyou-kun’s been over, Tobio, are you listening to me?)
He’s fourteen when he thinks he’s fucked up for good.
Scratch that. Kageyama knows he’s fucked up since he’s broken golden rule number one which was to never make Hinata cry and yet here they were, the shorter boy in front of him. Crying.
Can he just. Call Tsukishima up and ask the blonde to bury him alive? That was currently a more preferable option and he more than deserved it.
He feels five all over again, when he didn’t know better and accidentally made half the class burst into tears when he looked at them.
He reaches out a hesitant hand, places it gingerly on Hinata’s head and shitshitshit that was the wrong move apparently, he didn’t think it was possible for Hinata to cry harder.
Then he’s keeling backwards, barely balancing himself in time as Hinata latches onto his front, bawling incoherencies that Kageyama can somehow still understand.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just-” He fumbles his words, wishing not for the first time that he possessed the verbal eloquence of the former captain. Hinata’s fists tighten as Kageyama wraps an arm around the other boy’s still shaking shoulder, tentatively rubbing his back until he calms down.
“Hey, Hinata, please don’t cry anymore? I’ll buy you meat buns or curry buns. They started selling barbeque buns, too. Or do you want tosses? I’ll toss to you, for as long as you want. Or you can punch me or kick me or whatever.”
Kageyama’s desperate, he doesn’t want to see Hinata’s face all scrunched up, wishes he wasn’t the reason for the tearstains on his cheeks, can’t even care Hinata’s using his shirt to dry his eyes.
“I want all the buns,” Hinata says finally, hiccupping slightly. “For a month. And I want you to never stop tossing to me.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. But you know I’m trying to reach the top-”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
“So you need to come with me, if you want me to keep tossing to you.”
Hinata punches him in the stomach, face red with anger and nearly knocks all the breathe out of him. Kageyama’s forgotten how much ridiculous arm strength Hinata had for his short stature. “Of course I’m going with you. I’ll even get to the top before you!”
They have a staredown for a few minutes before Hinata suddenly realizes what he’s done and starts stammering panicked apologies that gets cut off when Kageyama flicks him on the forehead. “Before that, work on your shitty receives.”
“…can I punch you again?”
“No.”
He’s fifteen when jealously smacks him upside over in the form of sweet, petite Yachi Hitoka. It’s not only absolutely terrible, it’s also terribly conflicting because Yachi is hands-down the nicest person Kageyama’s ever met - she has a seemingly endless supply of patience, not to mention she’s incredibly smart and she’s also the only one who doesn’t burst out laughing at the victims of stray volleyballs.
In short, she’s practically a living saint, on top of being unarguably the prettiest girl in their grade level. Even Tsukishimais civil when he talks to her.
Kageyama sees the way Hinata gravitates towards her, sees how he positively lights up when something he does or says make her laugh, sees the two of them hanging out together, more often than not these days.
And he hates it. Loathes everything about it.
Yachi’s the only girl Hinata’s ever been able to hold a proper conversation with. As Hinata’s friend, as his best friend, in fact, Kageyama should’ve been happy, maybe proud even, that Hinata’s finally making progress on this front.
The two make a perfect match, he begrudgingly admits. A cute pair is what Nishinoya calls them.
Nevertheless, his blood curdles when he walks into the classroom and sees Hinata bent over his desk, listening attentively as the small blonde carefully goes over her notes for him, the two of them leaning far, far to close for Kageyama’s liking.
He’s sixteen and head over heels in love with his best friend and probably has been for his whole life.
Except now he’s realized this, Kageyama doesn’t know how to act anymore, what was considered “normal behavior” anyway? The lines between actions of platonic friendship and romantic interest are blurring at an alarmingly rapid pace.
It’s worse since Hinata still swings their hands together on the way home (but only after they’ve parted ways from Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, only when it was just the two of them) and walks frustratingly close (but not close enough, never close enough) and it’s all Kageyama can do to hold back urges to tighten his grip and pull the other boy in-
He pulls his hand away instead and tucks it into the safe depths of his pockets as he unabashedly uses the damn it dumbass, it’s the middle of winter excuse.
He’s seventeen when he finally kisses Hinata. Or maybe Hinata kisses him - his memory is somewhat fuzzy.
They’re on Kageyama’s bed and he can’t remember what they were doing - tussling match? tickle battle? poking war? Kageyama does know he’s absolutely terrified but also terribly confused since he doesn’t really want to stop either.
Hinata’s mouth feels soft and warm and addicting. He feels Hinata’s hands tremble as he tugs on Kageyama’s collar – wait, was he kissing him back?
The realization jolts Kageyama back to his senses and he pushes Hinata back at arms length. He’s finding it next to impossible to word a sentence cohesively with the red flush of Hinata’s cheeks distracting most of his thoughts.
Then Hinata’s crawling forward and their mouths meet again, teeth clicking painfully because Hinata pulled too hard, too fast. Kageyama tastes metallic iron and the sting of cut skin and he reluctantly breaks apart when the pressure sent a sharp jolt of pain.
Hinata’s lips were swollen and parted, his breathing erratic, a deep scarlet coloring his face and neck. “Stupid, what took you so long?” There’s a small, noticeable gash on his lower lip but he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been waiting yearsfor this.”
He’s pouting and Kageyama learns he can’t handle Hinata Shouyou when he combines his pouts with lidded eyes that keep not-so-subtly flickering down to his lips.
Kageyama’s not really thinking when he leans forward again, mumbling, “You could’ve done something yourself, dumbass.” Hinata feels like a heater in his arms. A low whine escapes him when Kageyama runs his fingers through the soft mess of his hair.
He jolts with a start when Hinata squirms in his lap, the movement sending adrenalized pleasure throughout his body that has him aching to do more. He kind of thinks he could maybe do this forever but then Hinata breaks the kiss with a quiet “pwah~” and Kageyama finally notices that he sort of forgot to breathe for the past who knows how many minutes had elapsed.
“Um,” he starts intelligently and “oofs” when Hinata buries his face against Kageyama, his muffled words resonating vibrating deeply into his chest. “What?”
“I said I wasn’t completely sure you felt the same, you know you’re not only emotionally constipated, you’re still just as bad at expressing yourself as you did back in middle school, you made me think you hated me for a year. A year, Kageyama-”
“Oh my god, Hinata, shut up.” Kageyama would have murdered him if he also didn’t want to continue making out with him just as bad.
Like the mature, almost adult that he is, Hinata sticks his tongue out. “Make me.”
He’s eighteen when he asks Hinata to move in with him. It made sense, considering how close their campuses were to one another.
“I already found a place, actually.” Kageyama keeps talking, because Hinata’s not saying anything, just staring at him over the history notes they’ve been pretending to study for the last half hour. “The station’s about two blocks away and it’s located about halfway between our universities.”
Hinata still hasn’t said a word and Kageyama starts to backtrack in his panic. “I mean, obviously there’s a lot to discuss and it’s not far from campus but it’s also not particularly close. There’s other options too. If you want to live elsewhere, or if you want to live on your own or with someone else-”
Hinata throws an eraser at his forehead. Of course, his aim is terrible and it hits Kageyama’s eye instead. However, his next words make Kageyama forget the stinging pain.
“Stupid Kageyama. Why would I live with someone else?”
They’re nineteen when he wakes up to a mess of tousled orange tickling his nose.
Kageyama’s struck again by how simultaneously familiar and foreign it felt to see Hinata first thing in the morning. He drinks in the sight of slow inhales and exhales, smoothing the loose strands of hair until Hinata stirs and blearily opens his eyes.
“Morning. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.” Hinata huffs and closes his eyes again, nudging closer so his head laid half on the pillow, half on Kageyama’s shoulder.
“Hey, wake up. Just because we have the day-off doesn’t mean you get to laze about.”
“It hurts to move, stupid Kageyama,” Hinata grumbles, shooting him an accusatory glare and Kageyama’s stomach churns a bit with guilt because it was partly his fault. “Three more minutes.”
He also knows if he lets him, the three minutes will turn into three hours, so he blows a quick breath of air against the shell of Hinata’s ear. The surprised yelp has Kageyama grinning with satisfied triumph until Hinata faces him with a look of vengeance.
He doesn’t have time to get away before Hinata’s leans in and starts blowing raspberries against his neck. Kageyama’s trying not to laugh as he grips the other boy’s hair, trying to pull him off, because that would mean losing but then Hinata’s raspberries slowly turn to nuzzles, then to soft kisses and Kageyama forgets when he stops trying to separate them and when he starts hugging Hinata closer and kissing him back.
(It did turn into three hours in the end).
They’re twenty when he accidentally says, “I love you” to Hinata.
Kageyama freezes in the midst of grabbing plates, half-hoping he’d misspoken or Hinata hadn’t heard him or better yet, he was dreaming and would wake up any moment now.
“Y-you really mean that?” So much for hope.
Hinata’s in charge of dinner but upon Kageyama’s impromptu declaration, he’s stopped paying the stove any attention and the pot’s boiling over turn the heat down, dumbass.
Kageyama goes to look for a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess, praying the other boy won’t pursue the topic further. Unfortunately, the size of their kitchen made escape from unwanted conversations next to impossible.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Hinata corners him against the counter, stubbornness lighting up his eyes and Kageyama’s insides churn because he really hadn’t meant to say it out loud, even though he’d spent more than a bit of time thinking it recently.
“I- um, that is- uhh,” he stammers and Hinata the little shit grins sadistically, obviously enjoying Kageyama’s discomfort.
Whatever else he was going to sputter out gets lost and forgotten when Hinata reaches up, cupping his face he brings their mouths together.
“You know, I love you, too.” Hinata tells him later, voice muffled because he was hiding his face, only the tip of his ears, tinged a bright red shade, giving away his embarrassment. “Like, a lot. For a long time. And probably will, for the rest of my life.”
Kageyama doesn’t know how word his agreement without choking up and ends up making some strangled sounds that he hopes Hinata will interpret as I feel the same, dumbass Hinata.