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It’s miserably hot, but Kageyama can’t feel it. He is absolutely frozen. Surrounded by water bottles, clinging to a volleyball like it would keep him afloat in the torrent of emotions washing him away, he stands completely still in the middle of the volleyball court. He is a deer in the headlights, except he is not a deer and the headlights are not headlights, but the most beautiful man Kageyama has ever seen in his life.
“Excuse me.” The Fukurodani setter says again, stepping further into the gym. He forces the door open further and more hot air claws it way in.
Why is he here? Why is he HERE? Kageyama hides behind one of the poles holding up the net, watching Akaashi reach down to touch his toes as he begins his stretches. God, lord of volleyball please, why is he here? Why is Kageyama’s heart racing like this?
It’s because he’s a great player. Kageyama reasons with himself. Of course he would be excited that the setter from one of the top teams in Tokyo was in the same room as him. This was just a natural reaction. Definitely.
Akaashi moves onto another stretch and Kageyama tries to focus on doing another toss.
At least the action still comes naturally. Volleyball is like a second language to him, an extension of himself. He can envision Hinata running, the way his arms move back as he—
“Is it alright if I practice here as well?”
Kageyama snaps up straight, his concentration broken, the wild set sending the ball flying in the opposite direction. They both watch in silence as it slams the wall, bounces once against the floor, and slowly rolls back, as if to apologize. Kageyama picks it up and turns around. His face says the toss was intentional, but inside he has done nothing but scream for the last 15 seconds.
“Um.” Says Akaashi.
It is silent yet again. Kageyama tries to think of something to say, but the only things coming to mind are “how do you set so well how do you control your wing spiker how do you have such accuracy with your toss do you want to go on a date with me do you like milk would you like to drink some milk with me one day maybe”.
“Are you alright?” Akaashi asks finally. He looks more than a little concerned.
Kageyama thinks for the first time since Akaashi walked into the room. “Uh… yes… Yes, I'm okay. That’s a. New Toss. I came up with. It’s still in the works.” Smooth. He fucking nailed it. Kageyama turns around and does a tiny fist pump. He can hear the cheer from the crowd in his ears. So this is what it's like talking to a national level setter…
Akaashi doesn't seem convinced, but he politely remains silent. It is a talent honed from his years on Fukurodani. He is a master. He is so tired. “I see,” he says calmly when Kageyama’s fantasy ends. “Then I won't bother you. Good luck with your work. I am interested in seeing your new quick soon.”
Wait. No. This was the exact opposite of what Kageyama wanted. He didn't even get to see Akaashi practice! The thick air settles into Kageyama’s lungs and the disappointment swallows down his words. National level… he’s a national level player, that's the only reason that Kageyama wants Akaashi here. He is blindsided by talent, not the incredible, overwhelming elegance that runs off Akaashi in waves.
Akaashi returns his kneepads and water bottle to his bag carefully, slowly. He zips the zipper one tooth at a time. Kageyama watches from his lonely spot on the court, distressed. The feeling rings familiar, but all he can think about is stopping Akaashi before his meticulous zipping is over. The slow burn in his chest ignites and Kageyama explodes into a bow.
“Please practice with me!” The words echo in the silence of the gym. The ball previously in his hands vanishes, the only reminder of its existence is the soft sound of it hitting the ground. Sweat runs down his nose and Kageyama watches it drip onto the floor, once, twice, until he is overtaken by a shadow.
This is absolutely not just admiration. Kageyama looks up and it’s as if he has been floored all over again.
Akaashi looks pleased. There is a ghost of a smile on his face, the suggestion of a sparkle in his eye. He hands Kageyama the volleyball back, the battered, wrapped fingers still confident as they move. “I would love to.”
“YAMAGUCHI!”
Yamaguchi immediately drops his volleyball and begins to run. Kageyama is unphased by this. He chases his teammate out of the gym into the boiling air; the sun going down has done nothing to expel the heat of the day. No one else practicing in the gym follows them. This has happened too many times in the past few days for them to care anymore.
Yamaguchi doesn't make it far before Kageyama’s overwhelming presence catches him. They pant in silence for a moment, winded by a day of work. It would be nice, maybe something out of a movie, if they weren't gasping and covered in sweat and dirt.
“I stood next to the Fukurodani setter for 40 seconds today,” says Kageyama.
No one else will listen to his accomplishments of the day. Hinata thinks it's weird, Sugawara is always busy talking to coaches and practicing with Nishinoya and Asahi in the other gym, Ennoshita is kind of scary and Kageyama can't figure out why, Tsukishima is nowhere to be found (and maybe that's a good thing.) Yamaguchi is the only person Kageyama has been able to wrangle into listening about his “listen, this is just hypothetically, but” crush on Akaashi.
Even then, it was an accident. Yamaguchi was the unfortunate soul who discovered Kageyama pacing in the gym, face flushed red and not from exertion. In his infinite kindness, and against his better judgement, Yamaguchi asked what was wrong. His first mistake.
The second, his most fatal, was being willing to listen.
“Please leave me alone,” says Yamaguchi.
Kageyama does not leave him alone. Though he says nothing else, the idea of being ever-present, watching, is enough to make Yamaguchi uncomfortable. It's been two days since their encounter in the gym and Yamaguchi needs this to be over immediately. They sit down in the grass under where the star's are supposed to be, but there is nothing but blackness above them.
“Did you talk to him?” Yamaguchi asks finally when it is apparent that Kageyama is not going to say anything else.
Kageyama shakes his head. He was too busy counting the seconds be spent standing next to Akaashi in the line for food (40. 302 if you count watching him before he got in line. He bought four onigiri! Four!! Kageyama was very impressed and made a mental note to eat more rice.) There was no talking done today, but he still considers it a victory.
“Just talk to him. Please.” It's not even a suggestion at this point. Yamaguchi is begging. If he wasn't already exhausted and dirty he would be on his knees, shaking Kageyama like he did to another tall, obvlious asshole. This was a path Yamaguchi never saw himself going down.
Kageyama freezes again, the proverbial deer returning.
Yamaguchi sighs. “I told you. We're leaving tomorrow. If you don't talk to him, you might not ever see him! Just—just get his number or email or something! Then you don't have to talk to him face-to-face!”
Writing out an email seems just as terrifying as talking, but perhaps it is a step in the right direction. Kageyama watches Yamaguchi for more instructions. The fluttery feeling in his stomach has returned, what Yamaguchi described as butterflies the first day they talked in his exact spot. Kageyama tried to deny it—“It's the same feeling of getting a perfect set!”—but it is not. It is something new and intimidating that surges into his chest whenever he sees Akaashi in passing and nestles in his stomach whenever he thinks about Akaashi’s bruised fingers brushing over his own.
It's love. It's love and Kageyama is terrified.
Yamaguchi sighs again at the play of emotions staged on Kageyama’s face. “Look, it's not going to get any better unless you do something. Just go… talk about volleyball! You like volleyball, he… likes volleyball…” Yamaguchi gestures to try and enunciate his point, but Kageyama looks lost. Yamaguchi does a setting motion instead and the sudden understanding on Kageyama’s face makes him want to lay down in the dirt and spend the rest of his life there.
It is silent again. Kageyama doesn't stop Yamaguchi from leaving this time. He simply watches his team member walk back towards the gym, shaking his head as he goes. Idly, Kageyama thinks he would make a good captain. That thought is forgotten when Akaashi Keiji rounds the corner.
Akaashi looks wiped. He’s covered in sweat, a ring of wet fabric around his neck marring his otherwise pristine white t-shirt. The heat of the day has not been kind to him, nor the balmy air of the night. Kageyama watches him walk, toweling his messy hair with the rag tossed over his shoulder and, framed by the grass and the trees and the night, Kageyama forgets how to breathe. He swallows so hard that it’s audible.
Akaashi pauses where Kageyama is sitting in the grass. He pulls on the collar of his shirt so the fabric billows out and Kageyama sees a sliver of the taut, lean muscles that make up his stomach. Oh no. Ohhhh no.
“Hello.” Akaashi rubs the back of his neck with his rag and tips his head back to drink more water. The motion is something so simple, but Kageyama’s mouth goes dry anyway. There is a pause as Akaashi brings the bottle away from his lips and glances down. “It’s hot, hmm?” It’s a casual question, but suddenly Kageyama doesn’t know what any of the words mean.
He thinks back to Yamaguchi, the pleading desperation on his face. He knows what he must do.
Volleyball. Kageyama Tobio must talk about volleyball.
“You’re a good setter,” Kageyama replies. The pressure on his chest makes it hard to breath in the sticky air. “The way you played in the last game was… amazing.”
He’s blushing so hard that he can feel the heat coming off his face, even against the hot wind. Akaashi, the expression on his face unreadable, nods once before he turns back to the horizon. “Thank you. I have worked hard to get where I am. There is no doubt in my mind that you’ve done the same.”
An Actual Genuine Compliment. Maybe. Kageyama actually can’t really tell, but the swell of happiness in his chest is otherworldly, regardless.
“I learned a lot from our practice the other day,” Akaashi continues, still speaking to the hill that Kageyama is too familiar with at this point. “I would very much like to do that again, if it’s okay with you.”
“Y—I…” Tobio.exe has crashed. Akaashi wants to be around him. This isn’t like Oikawa, not even like Kenma, this is someone who willing wants to work with him. Someone who wants to practice with him when he doesn’t have to, hell, who wants to be around him while he doesn’t have to. Kageyama nods while he speaks, the genuine enthusiasm in his voice noticeable. “Yes! Please! Anytime!”
Akaashi turns his back to the skyline and offers his hand to Kageyama. His fingers are still wrapped, but even against the rough bandages, Kageyama can tell that his hands are soft and warm. They stand face to face for a moment, the haze of the rest of the world resting between them, the bruises on Akaashi’s fingers the same as the sky.
“When is Fukurodani leaving tomorrow?” Kageyama blurts out before he can think of a reason why he shouldn’t.
Akaashi blinks once, but his face smooths away any inkling of surprise quickly. “Ah, I’m not sure. Sometime in the early evening. We generally stay behind a little longer than most of the other teams to help clean up, simply because our school is nearby. Why?”
“No— Don’t— don’t reason about it!” Regret. Kageyama’s regular smile is not a good one. His nervous smile is even worse.
Akaashi turns very slowly, glancing hesitantly towards the door to the gym. “Um. Right. Same place, then?”
Kageyama nods. He watches Akaashi walk away. He takes off up the hill, running until he can’t breathe and no one can see the smile that’s taken up residency on his face.
It’s just a thank you for saving my life. Kageyama thinks as he stands in front of the doors to the classroom that Fukurodani is staying in. Akaashi gave him water when he was choking at the barbecue. Obviously he cares. This is something serious now; Kageyama takes action. In his hand, he clutches a tiny scrap of paper. His phone number. This is the moment of truth.
It’s just a thank you for practicing with me. He thinks as he knocks on the door and waits. It’s opened by two members he barely registers. They’re both smaller than him, peeking out of the door like they’re gatekeepers.
“Hey, Akaashi!” The one with a moptop of dyed hair shouts back into the room, cupping his hand over his mouth as if he needed to be louder than he already was. The wing spiker with blond hair simply tilts his head, studying Kageyama, who stands completely straight with his hands by his sides. This is a test of courage and Kageyama is failing. “Your admirer is here!”
Akaashi appears at the doorway, exhausted. “Konoha-san, stop. You’re freaking him out. Komi-san, please stop yelling when I’m right next to you. Please.”
They both back away slowly, keeping their eyes on the foreign member until Akaashi pointedly shuts the door in their faces. He turns around and the apologetic look on his face only gets stronger. “I’m sorry about them. They’re. Um. Well.” That seems to be enough of an explanation. Kageyama doesn't understand, but he nods like he does.
“So, can I help you? Aren’t you leaving soon?” Akaashi asks. Kageyama’s heart is beating so wildly in his ears that he can barely hear the question. Instead of answering, he holds out his fist, the static nervousness in his fingertips making his entire arm shake. Akaashi slowly raises his hands to take whatever is being offered.
The piece of paper is ripped and drenched with sweat. The numbers have almost entirely come off onto the palm of Kageyama’s hand. Akaashi looks down at it and then back at Kageyama, who looks on in absolute horror. His plan has fallen apart right on front of him. No encouragement from Yamaguchi, or even himself can save this. The realization crushes him for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Akaashi begins. “I don’t—Is this your number?”
“I DID NOT MEAN TO GIVE THIS TO YOU.” Kageyama snatches the paper back. Their hands touch and it’s like an electric shock to every one of his nerves. He jumps so high he rivals Hinata. It’s a disaster.
“Wait I—”
It’s too late. It’s too late for Kageyama. He blew it, it’s over. Love is fake, actually. There’s only one thing left to do, and that’s destroy the evidence. He shoves the entire paper into his mouth, much to Akaashi’s horror. The taste mixed with ink and sweat is disgusting, but he is determined. Akaashi reaches forward but Kageyama shoves the entire ball in and tries to chew on it. It takes like sadness, if sadness tasted like soggy paper.
“IT’S FINE DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.” Kageyama shouts around the paper in his mouth. Behind the door, he can hear the explosive laughter of the rest of Akaashi’s team. It’s fine. This is so fine. He tries to shove the paper in deeper, ignoring the heat of the blush on his face. Honestly, all the animes made this seem a lot easier to do. Eating paper was not easy? Who knew? Kageyama tried biting down again, but the wet ball squished in his mouth and instead of enduring another moment of hell, he stuck out his tongue and let it drop to the floor with a wet splat.
They stared at each other for what felt like a solid minute. The soundtrack to their romantic awakening: the sound of Fukurodani laughing so hard they’re crying. Kageyama looks down at the half-eaten paper that was his confession, then back at Akaashi. Well. That happened. His face goes from red to white in an instant, all the confidence he didn’t have draining out of him in a second. He looks at Akaashi one last time, the messy hair that crowns his head and frames the shocked look on his face, and says the only thing he can think of to save this situation.“I have to go home right now, immediately.”
He power-walks down the hallway, leaving Akaashi, the rest of Fukurodani, and Tokyo behind.
There is the pain of losing a game, there is the pain of all your teammates abandoning you, and there is the pain of embarrassing yourself so bad in front of your crush that you get up and physically run away. Kageyama, banging his head against the drink machine so many times he’s sure there’s a dent, is experiencing the third one for the first time. Each time he closes his eyes he can see the look on Akaashi’s face, can hear the laughter from behind the door. It is fresh in his mind, even though they returned to Miyagi two days ago.
In his pocket, his phone buzzes. It’s most likely Hinata, so he ignores it. He gets his milk and debates climbing inside the machine and hiding forever. Milk understands him. Milk doesn’t try to give it’s number to other boys and then embarrasses itself so bad it turns it’s world around. Yesterday, Kageyama missed to many tosses at practice that Sugawara had to take over. That would never happen if milk was a volleyball player.
Kageyama takes a sip and sits down against the wall. Part of him hopes that Akaashi will walk around the corner again, but he never comes. Kageyama checks his texts.
{ UN-READ}
{ Received: 11/19 • 12:35pm }
{ Subject: Hello. }
Hello. This is Akaashi Keiji. I hope you do not mind, I asked your captain for your email address. I never got to answer you after the last day of camp.
I should note, I assumed that was a confession. If it was not, please stop reading here. It would be very embarrassing for both of us.
If you are reading this line, it means it was a confession. In which case, my answer is yes. I quite enjoy your presence, and would like to talk with you as much as possible. I understand that me being in Tokyo might be an issue, but I am willing to work around that however possible that if you are as well.
So, if you would like to be my boyfriend, I would be delighted. Thank you.
Akaashi Keiji
-
Kageyama squeezed the milk box so hard that the entirety of it’s contents soaks him and his hair. It’s miserably cold, but Kageyama can’t feel it. He is absolutely frozen. His fingers won’t work. He can’t breathe. Milk drips onto the screen while he tries to type.
His chest is so light it feels like he’s going to fly away. It feels like every game he’s ever won, every perfect set he’s ever made, every thought of Akaashi he’s ever had, rolled into one overwhelming sense of pure elation. The smile on his face is unstoppable and genuine. He can barely see the words anymore.
{ Sent: 11/19 • 12:39pm }
{ Subject: Re: Hello. }
a
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{ Sent: 11/19 • 12:39pm }
{ Subject: Re: Hello. }
yueas
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{ Received: 11/19 • 12:41pm }
{ Subject: Re: Re: Hello. }
I’m... going to take that as a yes?
Akaashi Keiji
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{ Received: 11/19 • 12:41pm }
{ Subject: Re: Re: Hello. }
<3
Akaashi Keiji
-
Kageyama smiles more than he ever thought possible. It feels like the world has opened up around him and he is falling down into it, into the clouds, into the sunset, into the warmth of the core. Kageyama Tobio, volleyball player, setter, milk enthusiast, boyfriend, is in love. And he has never been happier.