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The applause, as always, is deafening.
Under other circumstances, Kageyama might have reveled in it.
He's never been in it for the fans or the fame but even he cannot deny the pleasure he feels at having his talent and his skills recognized. But that is not what this is about.
They are playing a training match and, thanks to his help, Hinata has just scored a spectacular point.
That, however, is not why the girls on the stands are cheering. They don't care about volleyball. They don't even care about their school's success or reputation. They are only here for one reason.
Kageyama's heart that had taken a particularly high leap after their team's point now takes a plummeting fall. It always does in moments like this.
Playing, scoring, winning has this bitter aftertaste now, this unpleasant side note like someone bashing their forehead into the piano keys during an otherwise perfectly harmonized symphony.
Stiffly, automatically like a robot, he turns to his right.
This used to be the point where he and Hinata would fist bump and high-five each other. Hinata's face would be flushed with exertion and excitement, his eyes glowing like a kid's in a candy store.
But that's all in the past now.
There are no carefree cheers now, no toothy grins. Hinata's blush is deep red, his gaze shuttered as he steps a little closer in apprehension.
Kageyama purses his lips, a hard white line slanted across his face. Then he bends down to press a tiny kiss to Hinata's mouth.
The girls on the stands screech so loudly that Kageyama can't even pretend that this is anything but fake.
Originally, it all began because behind all those sweet smiles Suga was actually deceptively evil.
At least Kageyama has to hold Suga responsible, otherwise he would have to blame it on Yachi and that was just not done. After all, she could never have foreseen any of this.
In her innocene and boundless enthusiasm for the volleyball club, she had brought some of her friends along to watch one of the training matches.
“They're not really into sports,” she had admitted, “But I told them all about Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun's quick, and suddenly they all wanted to see it.”
“Ooh,” Tanaka had said obnoxiously, nudging Nishinoya in the side, “The first-years have fan girls.”
Turned out it wasn't so much as Kageyama and Hinata having fan girls as Kageyama and Hinata having fan girls.
“BL lovers,” Shimizu had explained knowledgeably, pushing her glasses up her nose, “They want to see Kageyama-kun and Hinata-kun interact.”
That certainly explained why they had erupted into loud screeches whenever the two so much as high-fived each other.
“BL?” Hinata had echoed, blinking around like a baby bird, “What does that mean?”
“Boys' Love,” Nishinoya had laughed, throwing an arm around Hinata's neck, “It means, my little kouhai, that they want you and Kageyama to snog on the court.”
Hinata had gone so red he looked ready to self-implode. Kageyama had wanted to die.
Those were girls from their year after all. Kageyama had no interest in them but he still didn't wanted to be thought of like... well, this.
“Too bad,” Coach Ukai had lamented wistfully, “It's been a while since Karasuno had any real fan support. Would have been good for our reputation.”
“Team morale, too,” Daichi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“If we gained more of a fan following, the dean might even raise our financial support,” Takeda-sensei had added dreamily.
For a moment everyone got lost in that blissful fantasy. Until Tanaka had to go and destroy it.
“Pity they only wanted to see the chibis get their freak on,” he said.
“Actually,” Suga had suddenly spoken up, everyone's head swiveling towards him, “We might use that to our advantage.”
“Suga, no,” Asahi had moaned, hiding his face in his hands, but just went ignored by Suga.
“Is it so bad if they're not really here for volleyball?” he had asked, blinking his innocent eyes and smiling his innocent smile, “Fans are fans, right?”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Daichi frowned.
Suga's smile widened.
“Fan service,” he replied simply, and that's how Kageyama's life in hell began.
“Hey, Kageyama,” Umeda, one of his classmates asks him just before Maths, slamming her hand down on his desk, “Amaya from class 4 said you and Hinata are dating. That true?”
Kageyama whose brain is already mush from trying to revise yesterday's notes nearly chokes on his tongue.
“No- what- why-” he stammers out, intensely aware of the other people hovering close and listening in.
Due to the fact that he never really participated in class or interacted with anyone outside of volleyball, most of his classmates seemed to think that he was the cool and silent type, like the protagonist of some manga. It was kinda useful because it meant they generally left him alone.
Now, Umeda is blowing a hole into that scheme in the worst way possible.
“Well, Amaya said something about the two of you being, like,” she makes this elaborate but indecipherable gesture in front of her face, “Soulmates or something.”
“Destined for each other,” Hiroshi pipes up from behind her.
“Yeah, that,” Umeda agrees, “With that whole mind-reading shirt and what-not.”
“It's not mind-reading,” Kageyama objectes, hands clenching around his knees under the desk, “It's just... team play and... skill.”
“Hm,” Umeda narrows her eyes at him, “Then why do other high schools apparently freak out about it? My cousin used to play for Kintaka High and even he's heard about you.”
“We just... work well together,” Kageyama claims.
“So, no dating?” she prompts.
Kageyama opens his mouth but then remembers what the sempai had said, and clamps it shut again, preferring to say nothing at all.
Umeda gives him a calculating look.
“Interesting,” she says slowly.
She's there at the next training match, along with Hiroshi and three other girls from his class. And obviously, Yachi's friends are still there, too.
“Woah,” Tanaka blinks up at the stands, “Cute girls really are into gay guys, huh?”
He exchanges a meaningful look with Nishinoya.
A second later, Noya has already jumped into his arms and is rubbing his cheek all over Tanaka's buzz cut.
“Oh, Ryuunosuke,” the libero croons loudly, “I love you with the passion of a thousand burning suns!”
“My beautiful Yuu-chan!” Tanaka replies just as ardently, “Let us elope to Las Vegas and get married under the eyes of God and Elvis!”
Then he peers past Noya's spiky hair and up to the stands, “Is it working?”
The girls are indeed watching and giggling to each other.
“Good work, guys,” Daichi praises them, “Always taking one for the team.”
“Take-chan said I'm not allowed to pimp you kids out like this,” Ukai adds with a crooked grin, “But if you are willing to do it, I see no reason why to object.”
“Great,” Suga says and then turns towards Kageyama who stands frozen with terror.
“No worries,” Suga tells him soothingly, “You and Hinata just have to do what you always do.”
He probably intends it to be reassuring but actually it just makes everything worse.
“Good work,” Kageyama tells Hinata, stiffly patting him on the back.
“Y-yeah!” Hinata agrees, forcing a smile, and then stumbles back to his position.
The opposing team steals glances up at the cheering girls, apparently not quite sure what to make of them.
“You can do better than that,” Daichi calls out to Kageyama, “Be a bit more touchy-feely.”
Touchy-feely is one of the last adjectives Kageyama has ever associated with himself.
“Ruffle his hair maybe,” Asahi adds more gently, “You always do that anyway, right?”
Kageyama does but only because Hinata always lights up like a fairy light and his hair pretty nice under Kageyama's calloused fingers. He does it because he is proud of Hinata and because it's the easiest way to express it. He doesn't want to do it just because the captain ordered it and there are people watching.
Hinata's next spike ends up off-court and he pouts a little in disappointment.
“Don't mind,” Kageyama tells him gruffly and ruffles his hair.
The girls' cheers reverberate throughout the gym.
Kageyama can't pass through the halls anymore without having some girl glance at him and blush. Most teenage boys would probably dream about situations like that but not with this complicated set of strings attached.
Kageyama doesn't really care much about his reputation or social status or whatever.
But it's quite annoying to feel like people are constantly watching him go find Hinata during lunch. They always spent their breaks together and it had never been anything weird. But now it's made out to be this dirty little secret, like they are going to do anything apart from eating their lunches and Kageyama tossing Hinata some balls.
Training becomes weird, too. They still discuss game strategy but now they talk about fan service tactics, too.
“Noya should help Asahi tie his hair,” Suga reads off his clipboard, “Narita and Ennoshita, you'll share a water bottle. Tsukishima,-”
“No,” Tsukishima refuses simply, arms crossed.
Kageyama would never admit it but he kind of wishes he had the same strength of will in these matters.
“You just have to let Yamaguchi clean your glasses,” Suga explains patiently.
“Come on, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi tugs at his sleeve, “That's not so bad.”
“Suga, why don't you and the captain ever figure in this whole stunt?” Tanaka asks pointedly.
“Oh right,” Suga gives a sugary smile, “When I'm rotated in, Daichi is going to kiss my cheek.”
“What?” Daichi splutters, “I'm not-”
“So inspiring. Always taking one for the team,” Ukai whistles and pats his shoulder, “Also, I think Hinata and Kageyama need to up their game.”
“Eh?” Hinata complains, “But we've been training real hard.”
“Figures,” Tsukishima snickers and Kageyama cuffs Hinata over the head, “Not that kind of game.”
“Oh,” Hinata blushes and ducks his head, “But we already hugged last time and all.”
There had also been a lot of high-fiveing, wistful looks, fake smiles, and one rather embarrassing piggy back ride.
Kageyama knew that high school was hell for most people but he'd never expected it to turn out like this for him.
“I have evaluated the data from several BL manga and anime,” Shimizu explains in a clinical voice, “Statistically speaking, we need to move on to the kissing now.”
“I'm not kissing that idiot,” Kageyama objects. There's team work and sacrifice, and then there's prostitution and eternal regret.
Nishinoya's hand shoots up.
“I can kiss my favorite kouhai!” he volunteers and Kageyama's stomach lurches.
“No, that wouldn't work,” Shimizu shakes her head, “The fans are really invested in Kageyama-kun and Hinta-kun's relationship by this point. Hitoka-chan did a poll among her friends.”
“Sorry,” Yachi whimpers.
“I can kiss Asahi then!” Noya offers instead. Asahi makes a strangled noise.
“Done,” Suga agrees and ticks something off his list, “And Kageyama, it really wouldn't have to be a real kiss. Just a small peck.”
“We could really do with a new net,” Takeda-sensei muses idly.
“Some of the second and third-years have already asked me about coming to see a game as well,” Shimizu adds, “It'd be a shame to disappoint them.”
“Oh fine!” Kageyama bits out, feeling cornered, “I'll do it!”
The sempai offer him proud smiles, but even amidst all his anger he is painfully aware of how Hinata is not saying anything at all.
“I'm really very sorry,” Yachi tells him after training, bowing deeply, “This is all my fault.”
“It's alright,” Kageyama says awkwardly, “It's really all Suga's doing. And Daichi's. And Ukai's. And everyone else, really.”
“Still,” Yachi looks miserable, “At least my friends are finally taking volleyball seriously.”
“Eh?” Kageyama frowns, “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Yachi says thoughtfully, “They asked me about the rules the other day. And Kimiko-chan is even thinking about joining the girls' team next year.”
“Oh,” Kageyama blinks, “I still don't get why they're into this whole... fan service thing and all.”
Yachi blushes a little.
“Ah,” she stammers, “It's just kind of cute to see... cute boys do... cute stuff. I guess.”
“I'm not cute,” he says and she laughs.
“You really are,” she replies, “When you're with Hinata-kun, you are.”
He stares at her. She stares back, belatedly seeming to realize what she has just said.
“Are you into this, too?” he asks warily.
“No?” she chuckles nervously, “I mean... I wasn't? But... it's kinda fun. I'm sorry, I know this must be horrible for you. Finding a girlfriend will be difficult now.”
“I don't want a girlfriend,” Kageyama says plainly, “I just want to play volleyball.”
He also doesn't want to kiss his best friend in front of dozens of people but he's really trying to not think about that anymore.
“You waited,” he notes when he finds Hinata still waiting by the school gate.
Hinata shrugs.
“We always walk home together, so,” he mumbles, toying with the handles of his bike.
It shouldn't be like this, Kageyama thinks.
Things had never been this awkward between them, not even at the very beginning of their tentative friendship. So Kageyama hates it, hates not quite daring to look Hinata in the eye right now, hates how because of the forced closeness they have developed this distance in turn.
He had never really noticed often they touched, all casual and comfortable. But now there is this weight to it. Now they know that people see it and twist it and turn it into something that doesn't really belong to Hinata and Kageyama anymore.
The sun is setting and Hinata's hair looks like a flame in the light, vibrant and impossible to tame.
Kageyama catches himself with thoughts like this sometimes. About wanting to reach out and catch the warmth of it in his palm, wanting to see whether that peculiar brilliance Hinata has about him is something tangible or entirely ephemeral. Whether it's only there in his imagination.
Thing is, he doesn't want anyone else to find out the answer to that question. And if he himself ever were to find out... well, he doesn't want anyone to witness that either.
“I don't mind, you know,” Hinata says suddenly when they are halfway down the road.
Kageyama startles, “What?”
“The kissing,” Hinata clarifies, his eyes fixed straight ahead and his shoulders hunching a little, “It's like Suga said. It wouldn't be real. So it's not like we'd be wasting our first kisses or something.”
So far, Kageyama hadn't even thought about that particular conundrum.
“I don't care about that,” he snaps, angry at himself and this entire situation.
“Good,” Hinata says and climbs onto his bike, “Then we can try it during the match next week.”
He drives off without so much as a goodbye. Kageyama is left behind in the dying of the light, kicking at the sidewalk and cursing the world.
So they kiss. It's really nothing to freak out about. Kageyama has kissed his grandmother plenty times in pretty much the same way. Probably looking less pained, too. At least he could be sure that his grandmother loved him, too, and that she was not just doing it for the gawking masses.
But his grandmother is actually quite tall, so with Hinata he has to stoop down a little. Hinata smells different, not like lilac perfume and green tea, but deodorant and fresh sweat and soba bread.
It's okay. It's awful.
People are cheering. Tanaka claps them on the back like this were more of an achievement than the point they scored.
When they win the game, Noya steals the show by climbing Asahi like a tree and planting a big kiss smack on his mouth. Kageyama isn't looking too closely but he thinks he sees some tongue. Asahi seems ready to faint. Noya and Tanaka high-five each other. Suga gives everyone a beatific smile. The opposing team seems more baffled at Karasuno's insanity than disappointed at their own loss. Ukai looks pleased. The fans are still clapping and shouting and laughing.
That night, Kageyama lies in bed, staring into the dark. He thinks of Hinata's lips being surprisingly malleable underneath his own pursed ones, about his breath hitching just a tiny bit as they touched.
He thinks of Noya's tongue in Asahi's mouth and Suga's hand slapping Daichi's ass and Ennoshita lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.
And then all of that swirls and mingles and morphs into the familiar weight of Hinata jumping him, his thighs tightening around Kageyama's hips, not squabbling over food, but with Hinata's long lean fingers sinking into his dark hair and pulling him closer. He thinks of that hitched breath and wonders how a tongue would feel against his own, whether it's slimy and disgusting or just nice and warm. He thinks of his hands reaching down to cup Hinata's ass and grinding against him, feeling Hinata's abs against his own, their chests brushing, their nipples, their-
He thinks of angling his head to the side, thinks of kissing Hinata and kissing him and kissing him for real, and he turns over in his bed, buries his face in his pillow and doesn't ask himself why he feel like crying instead of yelling.
One day they overhear a conversation between Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei.
"How far are you willing to go for this team?" Takeda asks seriously, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"Uh," Ukai glances at him, "How do you mean that?"
"Some of my students asked me whether we are dating," Takeda replies, "So maybe if we-"
"No, absolutely not," Ukai cuts him off, immediately making a beeline for the gym's exit.
"Come on, Ukai!" Takeda calls after him, "Karasuno's fate and future rest in your hands!"
"Then I'm gladly gonna drop them!" Ukai snaps over his shoulder.
"Don't be a wuss, Coach!" Daichi hollers, "Take one for the team!"
It doesn't exactly become easier, but it does become familiar.
Kissing someone against your will shouldn't be routine, but they have reached the point where no one in the team even really objects to any of it anymore.
They are having fun, for some unfathomable reason, like this is all a big joke, a game aside from the matches they are actually playing.
“I got a date this Saturday,” Tanaka announces proudly, “She's a first-year. Umeda from class 3.”
“I got a girlfriend,” Narita only grins, “A third-year from Kintaka High.”
Worse than that is this weird competition they now have going on, about who can make the fan girls screech the loudest.
Within just one game Nishinoya had managed to steal kisses from Tanaka, Asahi, Ennoshita and Suga. He had made a grab for Hinata, too, but Hinata had turned his face to the side at the very last moment. Once, Yamaguchi had darted up and daringly pecked a kiss to the corner of Tsukishima's mouth, before pressing his hands over his lips to stifle his laughter and hide his blush and running away. Some girl had thrown her bra at him afterwards.
And it isn't like Kageyama is keeping track but he's pretty sure that Suga is currently in the lead, mostly because of the way he had grabbed the captain by the collar and fitted his open mouth against Daichi's, pale eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, teeth tugging at Daichi's lower lip, in one long full-bodied drag.
It hadn't only been the fan girls cat-calling then, but Tanaka and, strangely, the referee.
Daichi had been so out of it afterwards that he had to be subbed out. Henceforth, Coach Ukai had decreed that any fan service of that caliber was to be reserved for when the matches were already over.
“Where'd you even learn to kiss like that?” Noya had asked, eyes wide in admiration.
“Soap operas,” Suga said and winked.
“Is that... is that they entire girls' team up there?” Daichi asks with mild mortification. Maybe he is finally realizing what a terrible idea this whole thing had been from the start.
“Michimiya said she heard about you and Suga,” Asahi says blandly. In an effort of self-preservation he seems to have settled on complete and utter indifference to whatever happened to him and his body, going so far as to change his shirt mid-game in order to show off his abs, just like Suga had instructed him.
“Did you notice that we are known as the gayest team in all of Japan?” Tsukishima asks scathingly.
Ukai cocks an eyebrow at him, “Did you notice the brand-new team bus the school board sponsored?”
“My mother said that, when it comes to advertising, everything is fair game,” Yachi points out.
“I did another poll among our classmates,” Shimizu says, “I'm sure that we could gain more male fans if we provided some shojo ai as well.”
Yachi seems to need a moment to understand but once she does she is unable to even look at Shimizu for ten days straight.
The worst thing, maybe, is how Kageyama and Hinata act like absolutely nothing has changed.
They still practice during their lunch breaks, still study together, still watch awful horror movies, still help Natsu bake misshapen chocolate cookies on Sunday afternoons.
But when they sit together now and play video games or read sport magazines on the floor, Kageyama cannot help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Hinata in a quiet moment like this, without the feel of thudding feet reverberating though the gym floor and into his rib cage, setting his heart off-rhythm, without hands clapping like thunder storms and the banshee screaming of the fan girls.
He thinks he could kiss Hinata all slow and sensual, kind of like Suga did with Daichi, but less mirth and more of a marvel. He'd duck his head and wait a moment for Hinata to catch on, to watch his eyes widen and his pupils dilate. He'd give him time to step back and refuse, the way they never get to on court. And then, when Hinata wouldn't move out of the way, Kageyama would lean all the way in, or maybe Hinata would first, and Kageyama would press his closed mouth to Hinata's, only to open it and part Hinata's lips right along with it.
He would feel Hinata's breath then, actually taste him on his tongue, would tentatively dip the tip of it against the wet inside of Hinata's lower lip.
He thinks that he would be able to feel Hinata's heartbeat fluttering against his chest like a bird, not a small one, but a crow intending to soar up to the skies.
He thinks he might like Hinata in ways that have less to do with fake affection and more with the way Hinata pouts after missing a toss, only to ask for another. And he can no longer tell whether he has been thinking this since he had been forced to kiss Hinata, or when he had first seen Hinata press his red and tingling hand against his chest after a successful spike.
The worst thing, maybe, is how Kageyama and Hinata act like absolutely nothing has changed, while Kageyama knows that nothing will ever be the same.
“I'm so proud that you've made it into the finals,” Hinata's mother gushes when he's staying over for dinner, “I don't know about your father yet, but me and Natsu will definitely come to watch on the last day.”
“Please don't,” Hinata says quickly, his eyes wide.
His mother gives him a confused look, “But I thought you'd like us to come?”
Hinata chews on chopsticks in consternation.
“I don't wanna jinx it,” he claims, “If you come to watch it's like we're bound to lose.”
“Non-sense,” she shakes her head, “Win or lose, what does it matter? I just want to see a good game. Right, Kageyama-kun?”
“Yes,” he mumbles into his rice.
Of course Hinata would be reluctant for his family to find out about the fan service.
“I wanna see nii-san play and go all WOAH and RAWR with Kage-kun's tosses!” Natsu claims, rice grains spilling from her mouth.
Hinata sends her an annoyed look, “That's not even how it goes. It's more like-”
And he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, palm held up in front of his face, but then he doesn't say anything at all, just frowns and deflates a little.
“We'll definitely come to see the game,” his mother says into the tepid silence, and Kageyama cannot help but wonder whether Hinata just ran out of words or out of feelings.
They made it. It's the final game of the season and once more they are facing off against Aobajousai. It feels like a prophetic moment and everyone seems to know it. The atmosphere in the gym is positively electric, prickling against the exposed skin of Kageyama's arms, spreading goose flesh.
The left side of the stands is filled in Karasuno black and orange, and somewhere in the back he thinks he can see Natsu's hair fitting right in.
“How many are there?” Ennoshita marvels, blinking up at the banners and t-shirts.
“The official Karasuno volleyball club fan club has fifty-three members,” Shimizu replies, “However, that is not counting the unofficial fan clubs and students from other schools.”
“Kick their asses, Ryuunosuke!” Umeda hollers down, and Kageyama spots the captain from the girls' team demonstrate a spike to some bright-eyed first-years.
Before the match, Coach and Captain give a motivational speech.
“Karasuno has been called many names in the past years,” Ukai says, arms crossed and face set in marble. His grandfather is here somewhere and this is their moment of triumph, no matter the outcome.
“We are no longer the Flightless Crows or the Fallen Giants,” he sends a meaningful look towards an unrepentant Tsukishima, “We are not even the gayest team in all of Japan. We are Karasuno who have clawed their way from the bottom to the top. I'm not telling you to win. But I want you to give your best and to be damn proud of yourselves.”
“Seconded, safe for the last bit,” Daichi says, “This is my last chance to win this thing and if there ever was a team that could do this, it's us. No matter what the past months have brought us, I don't want you to win for the fans or for the school. I want you to win for your sempai, for your friends and families who've helped you study and picked you up from late-night practices. I want you to win for Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei without whom we would never have made it here. Win for Shimizu and Yachi who are the best managers anyone could ask for. But lastly, win for yourselves. Win for the team and the time we've spent together. Win to wipe those smug grins of Aobajousai's faces!”
“Ossu!” everyone yells.
They line up, they bow, they get into position.
“Nice to see you again, Tobio-kun,” Oikawa titters when they finally face each other, only the thin net separating them, “Too bad no one really cares about your skills as a setter anymore, hm?”
And he darts a meaningful look at Hinata, like always seeing so much more than anyone else, and suddenly Kageyama wishes he could just punch him.
But it's Hinata who stops him.
“We'll make you eat those words!” he growls, his eyes wide and dangerous, “Kageyama is the best damn setter there is so you better watch it!”
Oikawa's eyes narrow, but Kageyama barely notices over the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins.
Win for your sempai, he recalls Daichi's words, Win for the team.
Win for Hinata, he thinks and decides to do exactly that.
By the end of it, Kageyama is covered in bruises from throwing himself to the floor in order to catch the ball. His entire body aches, muscles sore but stubborn. His feet are uncomfortably hot and damp in their shoes, and his palms sting. Sweat is running down his face in rivulets and he brushes it away with his forearm.
There is no fan service this time, no kissy faces thrown towards the girls. Only determination.
No one has so much as glanced towards the stands. Nothing exits but the court, the ball, the game.
This is it. Once more, Karasuno and Aobajousai are almost even. The next point might make or break it.
Kageyama almost feels himself thrown back to half a year ago. But half a year ago, they had lost. Half a year ago, the team had not been as much of a team. Half a year ago, Kageyama had not yet wondered what it would feel like for Hinata to kiss him back.
Kageyama serves, Iwaizumi returns, Oikawa sets, Kindaichi spikes, Noya saves, Kageyama feigns, Asahi jumps, Tanaka leaps – and Hinata soars.
Kageyama sends him the ball, right into his hand, and Hinata's eyes are clenched shut, even as his palm slams the ball not just past the block, but above them, behind, past Iwaizumi's skidding hands and knees, past Oikawa's suddenly wide and frantic eyes, past the defense, past the offense, past anyone who had ever doubted them.
The ball hits the ground with an echoing thud. Everyone stills, stares.
Then, the referee's whistle cuts through the silence, and suddenly the world is turned on its head.
Kageyama can't hear anything, can only assume that the rest of the team must be yelling their heart out, that the fans must be on their feet, clapping the hands raw, chanting their throats sore.
But there's no symphony now, no dissonance. There's only Hinata, feet back on the floor and his face so stunned that he doesn't even seem to know what has happened.
They have won. Karasuno has won. Hinata and Kageyama have won.
“We did it,” Hinata whispers, his lips barely moving with it, but Kageyama's eyes are drawn towards them anyway.
He had wanted a quiet moment for this, hadn't he? Everything is quiet now, almost serene, the world bereft of its distractions and demands.
Kageyama takes a step forward, the ground seeming to quaver and tilt underneath his feet, so he reaches out a hand, hoping to steady himself on Hinata, and Hinata is already reaching back, maybe with the same intent or maybe with something else entirely.
There is a bit of a short-circuit happening in Kageyama's brain, but after a blink and a breath he suddenly finds himself with an armful, a mouthful, a heartful of Hinata. And he has the perfect size, seamlessly fits himself into every crevice, every nook, and the world is knocked back into orbit.
Hinata kisses like he spikes, with reckless abandon, eyes clenched shut, nose crinkling, his entire body caught mid-flight. And Kageyama tries to kiss like he sets, aiming, angling, knowing exactly what Hinata needs.
There are both covered in sweat and he barely feels his body anymore, but he feels Hinata's tongue against his, feels his fingers tightening on the back of his shirt.
The team must be watching them, and Oikawa and Ukai and Umeda and Natsu and the talent scouts and journalists, and Kageyama does not care about any of them, does not care about them at all, but somehow, somehow he wants them to see this anyway.
Hinata makes this... this small whimpering noise against him and pulls back, opening his eyes again. Kageyama wants to ask something, though he isn't quite sure what.
“Yes,” Hinata whispers anyway and kisses him again.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Tanaka asks later, wide-eyed and stunned.
“Teamwork,” Kageyama claims and throws his arm around Hinata, drawing him closer.
Hinata just buries his smile in Kageyama's shoulder and holds on tight.