Chapter Text
The gym always sounded different after practice.
Quieter, obviously. The shouting stopped, sneakers no longer screeched against the polished floor, volleyballs no longer slammed into waiting palms. But the silence after everyone else left was never really silent at all.
Kageyama liked it better this way. The quiet helped him focus more.
The volleyball spun slowly in his hands as he stood near the cart by the sideline, pretending to organize the practice balls into neat rows. In reality, he'd finished ten minutes ago.
Practice was over.
Most of the first and second years had already gone home.
But the third years were still scrimmaging.
And Kageyama was still watching.
On the opposite side of the net, Oikawa bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, grinning as one of the wing spikers apologized for missing a toss.
"Sorry, sorry," Oikawa laughed easily, waving him off. "That one was kinda hard."
Kageyama frowned.
It hadn't been hard.
The toss had drifted too far behind the hitter's shoulder. Oikawa adjusted late after the receive came in too close to the net.
He was fixing mistakes before they happened again. Constantly.
Kageyama had noticed that about him weeks ago.
For one hitter, Oikawa tossed higher.
For another, slower.
Some players got encouragement after every mistake. Others got sharper instructions. Oikawa changed the rhythm of his sets depending on who approached the net, molding himself around the entire court so seamlessly it almost didn't look intentional.
Everyone called him adaptable.
Kageyama thought it looked exhausting.
The rally started again.
A pass floated toward the setter position. Oikawa moved underneath it immediately, feet precise against the floorboards, hands lifting effortlessly.
The left-side blocker was late.
The wing spiker approached too shallow.
Oikawa adjusted instantly.
A soft toss this time.
Easy to hit.
The spike landed cleanly.
"Nice one!" Oikawa called.
He smiled after every point like volleyball was the easiest thing in the world.
Kageyama stared harder.
Because it wasn't easy.
Not really.
Oikawa just made everyone else comfortable enough to think it was.
The next receive came harder. Fast and uneven, forcing Oikawa nearly to the edge of the court. He pivoted sharply, body twisting as he tracked the ball overhead.
Kageyama expected another safe set.
Instead, the toss shot across the court like lightning.
Fast.
Low.
Violently sharp.
Kageyama's breath caught.
There was no time to think after a toss like that. No room for hesitation. Most hitters wouldn't even react fast enough to swing.
But Iwaizumi was already in the air.
The spike slammed straight through the blockers.
Point.
A few players shouted in surprise.
Someone whistled.
"Damn, nice freak toss."
But Oikawa didn't look surprised at all.
He just smirked.
Like the point had already existed before the ball even left his hands.
Again, Oikawa adjusted for everyone else.
A slightly higher toss for Kunimi.
A softer set for Watari after a rough receive.
Quick encouragement after a missed hit.
Careful. Controlled. Constantly changing.
Then Iwaizumi approached the net again and Oikawa stopped hesitating.
The toss snapped into place before anyone else on the court seemed to realize what he was doing. Fast enough to be reckless. Sharp enough to be dangerous.
Iwaizumi hit it anyway.
Perfectly.
Kageyama's fingers tightened around the volleyball in his hands. Oikawa trusted the rest of the team to hit his sets, but he trusted Iwaizumi to understand them.
That was different, that was something else entirely.
Then, the practice for the third years was over.
The third years drifted toward the benches, sweaty and laughing while one of the managers tossed towels at them.
Kageyama stayed near the ball cart silently.
Oikawa collapsed dramatically onto the floor. "I'm dying."
"You're annoying, not dying," Iwaizumi muttered.
"You wound me, Iwa-chan."
"You'll survive."
Despite the insult, Iwaizumi crouched a second later and fixed one of Oikawa's twisted kneepads without even looking at him properly.
The movement looked practiced.
Automatic.
Oikawa barely acknowledged it.
Kageyama stared.
"Tomorrow better not suck," Oikawa complained, leaning back on his hands. "If our receives are that messy again, I'm gonna lose my mind."
"You say that every practice."
"Because every practice sucks."
"You love volleyball."
"That's different."
Iwaizumi snorted quietly.
Then Oikawa laughed.
Not the loud, dramatic laugh he used around everyone else.
Something softer.
Real.
Kageyama had spent months studying Oikawa's serves, his footwork, his setting technique.
But suddenly it felt like he was seeing something entirely different.
Something he didn't understand yet.
The gym lights reflected gold against the polished floor as the third years started packing up.
Kageyama should have left already.
Instead, he watched Oikawa sling an arm around Iwaizumi's shoulders while the other shoved him away halfheartedly.
"You're heavy."
"You're so mean to me."
"You deserve it."
Then Oikawa said casually, like it was obvious.
"You're the only one who can keep up with me anyway, Iwa-chan."
Kageyama froze.
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
Like he'd heard it a thousand times before.
Like it was true.
Something tightened painfully in Kageyama's chest.
Not jealousy.
Not really.
Something sharper.
Wanting.
Because Kageyama understood volleyball.
And what he'd been watching all evening wasn't just skill.
It was trust.
The kind that made impossible tosses look natural, the kind that let Oikawa stop adjusting himself for once, the kind that let him play honestly.
Kageyama looked down at the volleyball in his hands.
Someday, he thought quietly, he wanted that too.
Someone who could keep up with him, who understood him without forcing him to become smaller first.
Someone he could play freely beside.
The gym emptied slowly around him.
Long after everyone else left, Kageyama stayed behind serving balls across the silent court, replaying that impossible toss to Iwaizumi over and over again in his head. He wanted a partner like that.