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Tobio Kageyama is not known for being a very emotional person. He never cries watching movies, doesn’t laugh at other people’s jokes, and he certainly doesn’t go fawning over crushes like your average teenage boy might. Just about the only time his emotional expression matches those of his peers is when he’s focused in on volleyball. In fact, he often wonders if he saves all of his emotions for the sport. In his daily life, he’s little more than a puddle, but with volleyball, he’s an ocean, deep and dark with crashing waves, whirlpools, and whatever else oceans normally have. Fish, maybe? But he’s not sure what sort of emotion a fish would represent.
Maybe fish aren’t really relevant to this topic at all.
The point is, Kageyama’s emotions tend to run shallow or deep, with the latter being almost exclusively reserved for volleyball. He learned to shut things out years ago - not by choice, but out of a single-minded need to better himself, no matter the cost. Circumstances forced his hand, told him to wrestle complete control of his life before it all came crashing down.
Maybe that’s why, when it comes to Yuutarou Kindaichi, Kageyama is not a puddle, or an ocean, but a river - raging rapids that would only come up to his knees. Kindaichi is a reminder of a worse time, a better time, a time before he was crowned and all the time leading up to it.
Kindaichi is just a little too much for Tobio Kageyama.
So when Takeda gathers the team and tells them their first training camp of the year will include Aoba Johsai, Kageyama is not particularly enthused. In fact, one might say he’s rather unenthused.
“I just don’t understand why we have to involve other teams,” he tries to justify to Hinata as the two of them make their way home in the dark. “We’ve had plenty of success training on our own. Our first training camp last year was just our team, and that went fine.” As much as he’d loathe to admit it, he and Hinata have become close over time, and by the start of their second year, he’s become the closest thing Kageyama has to a best friend.
Hinata hums, leaning his head back and staring straight up at the night sky. He’s got a popsicle sticking out of his mouth (paid for by Nishinoya, who Kageyama still can’t believe is a third year now), and he has to take one hand off of his bike’s handlebars to pull it out. “Yeah, but it wasn’t as much fun as the Tokyo training camp, was it?”
“Training camps aren’t about having fun, dumbass,” he mutters, but he doesn’t tell Hinata he’s wrong. “Besides, none of the teams from Tokyo are gonna be there.” Just Karasuno, Aoba Johsai, and Dateko, all forced to spend several nights together, in the same building.
“But that kind of makes it more exciting, don’t you think?” Hinata asks, waving his popsicle in Kageyama’s direction (which is gross - Kageyama’s half-afraid that he’s going to end up with Hinata’s drool on him). “I feel like I’m friends with people from Nekoma and Fukurodani, but I’ve hardly gotten to know anyone from Aoba Johsai or Dateko. This could be a really great chance!”
A chance for what, Kageyama wonders. “None of them are worth getting to know,” he grumbles, and he realizes quickly that saying that is hardly in his best interests.
Because, of course, this is enough for Hinata to see through him in an instant. “You’re just saying that because of those guys on Aoba Johsai, right? The ones you used to be on a team with.”
Kageyama makes a grumbly sound, but says nothing. Hinata leans over to get a better look at his face. “They’re not that bad, you know. I talked to them a little at that training camp at Shiratorizawa. That one guy… uh, the Turnip Head, what’s his name…?”
“Kindaichi,” Kageyama mumbles quickly.
“Yeah, him! He even asked how you were doing! Like he wanted to know if you were okay.”
Kageyama balks. “That’s impossible.” He has it on good faith that Yuutarou Kindaichi hates his guts. Kunimi has maybe forgiven him for his behavior by this point, or just stopped caring, but for Kindaichi? It was personal. And he holds grudges.
“It’s true!” Hinata insists. “Geez, what are you acting so shocked for. You guys used to be friends, right? It’s not that weird to care about someone you were close with.”
And Kageyama goes quiet, because it wasn’t just that they were friends - kisses off court and hands held tight proved that they were a lot more than that. There was a time where he might have said he loved Kindaichi, but that was also a time when he was young and stupid, so he’s not sure that means anything.
“What’s with that look on your face?” Hinata asks, and Kageyama realizes very quickly that he’s exposed himself once again.
“I see,” says Hinata, ten minutes later - they’re sitting side by side on a bench now, dimly illuminated by a streetlight overhead. Kageyama hadn’t particularly wanted to tell him about his failure of a romance with Kindaichi, but when that boy wants something, he goes and gets it. And Hinata really wanted to know why Kageyama ‘looked so constipated’. “I never knew you were gay, Kageyama.”
“ That’s your first reaction?!” He’d somehow managed to stay silent throughout Kageyama’s whole story, paying rapt attention the entire time.
“I mean, it makes sense! Boys are pretty great, and you never seemed to care about girls -”
“That’s not the point, you dumbass!”
“Then what is the point?” He’s got that look in his eyes, that intensity he gets when he’s really serious. It makes Kageyama sweat under the streetlight.
The point is that the training camp is going to suck for him. The point is he’s going to have to spend the whole weekend avoiding his ex like the plague. The point is he was going through a lot back then, and circumstances didn’t let them be happy the way they wanted to. The point is he still feels like it’s his fault anyways. The point is… “I don’t know how to apologize to him,” is what he finally says. “I tried once, after our first practice match with Aoba Johsai.”
Hinata raises his eyebrows, interested. “Aaaaaand?”
“He yelled at me. Told me not to apologize, because he won’t, either.”
“But you still want to?” Hinata asks, eyes wide.
“Kind of. I just wish things had gone better.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize.”
“Shut up!” he cries, slugging Hinata in the arm. “I totally have!” At least once, in front of him, he thinks. Not that Hinata is the type of person to require an apology to forgive someone. Kageyama thinks it might be his worst trait. And his best one.
Hinata hisses in pain, but he bounces back easily. “Do you really want to apologize to him?” He’s pulling his legs up onto the bench, getting on his knees, and facing Kageyama fully.
He’s not quite sure how to respond. Hinata’s enthusiasm seems uncalled for. “Y...yes?”
He leans in close. “ Really really?”
“Yes!” he shouts, leaning back just as far. “Yes, I do, now get out of my face!”
Hinata obliges, but the smile on his face fills Kageyama with dread. “Just making sure!” He hops off of the bench - literally hops off of it, like a weird orange rabbit. “Then we’re gonna make it happen!” When he turns back to face him, his smile is more of a grin, less sweet and more scheming. “Operation: Apology is a go!”
Kageyama’s sure the look on his face must be very entertaining right now, but he’s a little too busy processing to try and change it. “...Huh?”
Hinata’s plan, as it turns out, isn’t much of a plan at all. It mostly involves getting Kindaichi alone and patching things up without making a complete and utter fool of himself. It seems too simple, but Hinata treats it like they’re orchestrating a heist.
But as soon as Hinata tries to coach him on what to say, Kageyama realizes that the plan is, in fact, much more complicated than he could ever understand. Every apology he tries is too harsh, too rude, too awkward, or in one case, ‘not even an apology at all.’ Whatever that means.
It’s not long before the training camp is just around the corner, and Kageyama still feels like he’s hardly prepared at all. He still has no idea what he’s going to say to Kindaichi, but he does know that Hinata’s not going to let him back down now.
So no one can blame him if, on the bus ride over to their training camp, he feels sicker than Hinata. He doesn’t throw up, but he feels his stomach roiling as they grow closer to their destination.
Dateko is hosting the training camp, which means their bus arrives right around the same time as Aoba Johsai’s. Kageyama feels his stomach lurch as he sees Kindaichi step off his team’s bus, and he quickly tries to look anywhere else, busying himself with adjusting the strap of his sports bag.
Still, as he looks away, he feels eyes on him, and it’s not hard to guess whose. After all, Hinata had made it pretty clear - Kindaichi still thinks of him, even after all this time. The idea of being held in the thoughts of someone who he thought hated him - the idea of still being cared for by someone who’s seen him at his worst - it makes him feel sick.
But it also makes him pretty happy.
The first attempt comes at lunch the next day, though it’s not really of Kageyama’s free will. The second he’s finished piling food onto his plate, Hinata ambushes him (and really, he’s lucky Kageyama didn’t spill curry and rice all over him). He starts pushing him across the room, and Kageyama’s a little too busy trying not to drop his plate to fight him off.
He’s quite vocal about his distaste, though. “Hinata, you dumbass! What do you think you’re doing?!” Of course, this draws about a dozen pairs of eyes in their direction, which means he’s almost a little grateful when Hinata shushes him.
“The plan, remember?” he whispers - a little too loudly. And that’s when Kageyama realizes just what Hinata is pushing him towards.
Seated at a table no less than ten feet in front of him is Yuutarou Kindaichi. He’s seated across from Kunimi, alternating between eating and talking quietly - too quietly for Kageyama to pick up any of their conversation amongst the lunchroom chatter. The two of them are seated away from the rest of their teammates, which kind of makes sense, seeing as Kunimi was never really the social type -
“Good luck!” Hinata chirps, and suddenly Kageyama is standing in front of the table and wondering where those other nine feet went.
Tobio Kageyama is not known for being a very emotional person. But in this moment, he feels nothing but pure, unfiltered panic. He hardly has time to even consider running away before Kunimi’s gaze shifts just slightly to the right, and he’s been spotted.
“...Oh,” he says, and even though it’s just one word - hardly even that - it freezes Kageyama in place. He’s never been good at deciphering other people’s expressions, but he’s spent enough time with Kunimi in the past to know that’s a look of judgement.
And as luck would have it, his one-word response is enough to alert Kindaichi, who looks at Kageyama with… well, anybody could tell that’s a look of shock. Kageyama’s not sure what his own face looks like right now - Kazuyo always told him he could be quite expressive, while Hinata just says he always looks ‘kind of pissed off’. Maybe Kindaichi can’t tell that he’s panicking, too.
He tries to take some small comfort in that as he presses forward. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says, looking Kindaichi dead in the eye. Hinata would probably call it a stiff start, but it’s certainly better than some of their mock-up attempts.
But of course, during all of those attempts, he was talking to Hinata, not Kindaichi. Combative, abrasive, stubborn Kindaichi. Kageyama remembers the way they used to butt heads, almost harmlessly, their words electric between them. Usually it’d end with Kindaichi dragging him aside to a storage closet once practice was over, where the real battle would begin. Kageyama never minded. He’s always lived for competition; loved how it sets his skin on fire and makes his pulse drum in his ears. Sometimes it feels like he needs the thrill to stifle something else, some sort of indescribable tugging in his chest.
So when Kindaichi snaps back with, “I don’t have to do anything for you,” Kageyama isn’t discouraged. If anything, he’s motivated.
“I never said you had to.” Though he can hear the slight lilt of panic in his own voice, it’s less of a torrent now and more of a pleasant buzz. “But it would make me very happy if you would -“
It happens suddenly. Kindaichi’s hands crash down onto the table as he shoots to his feet. The sound is what Kageyama notices last - what registers first is the unreadable look in Kindaichi’s eyes as they bore straight into his. “You don’t have to play nice!” he shouts, and Kageyama is vaguely aware of the sensation of countless pairs of eyes looking their way. “I already know what you’re like! So just…,” he seems to lose steam now, maybe taking note of how many people are watching him, “...drop the act, got it?”
Kageyama sets his jaw and bites back an instinctive response. Is it really so hard to imagine he could have genuinely changed since they last met? But… no, he’s been thinking of him the same way, too. Like he’s still that spiteful kid from middle school, instead of someone who can grow, adapt, and change, just like any other player.
No, like any other person.
“You aren’t the only one who’s changed,” he finally says, and then he turns, resolutely, and makes his way back across the lunch room.
He doesn’t realize until later that, for the first time in over a year, he got through an entire conversation with Kindaichi without being called ‘King’.
Hinata is, predictably, pretty disappointed with the results of Kageyama’s first attempt. Kageyama doesn’t feel too bad about it - it’s the most he’s been able to say to Kindaichi in a long while. In his mind, it’s almost a success.
But almost isn’t good enough for some people, and over the course of the weekend, Hinata pushes for attempt after attempt. In the gym after a match, during every meal, and even one time when they ran into him near the bathrooms (because that’s just how things seem to go with Hinata). And of course, each and every time, Kindaichi rebuffs him, usually without saying a word. He just brushes past with a scowl and maybe a bit of a huff. Which is strange, because after the first attempt, he really expected more pushback. It’s almost like Kindaichi has given up.
But he hasn’t given in. Not yet. And as much as Kageyama hates to admit it, Hinata’s enthusiasm is contagious. The more this goes on, the more determined he feels to get through to him.
And yet, as the sun sets on Sunday evening, he still hasn’t been able to speak more than two sentences to him. He gets ready for bed like he’s preparing for a death march, pulling his pajamas on with slow, purposeful motions. Even Hinata seems sort of down in the dumps, and despite his poor mood, Kageyama is silently grateful to have a friend that’s so invested in his personal life.
He leaves to go brush his teeth without a word to anyone else, wanting a couple of minutes to himself. Not to think, but just to get some silence. The hallways are so quiet, they feel almost dream-like. He takes his time trudging to the nearest bathroom.
But he’s only halfway there when a door to his left slides open, and when he turns to look, Kindaichi is stepping out from Aoba Johsai’s shared room. Kageyama slows to a halt, and after a long moment, Kindaichi’s eyes finally catch on him.
He expects him to be angry; to brush him off just like he has every other time. But instead Kindaichi seems to freeze in place, his eyes taking on that same unreadable look they had in the lunchroom on Friday. And even though Kageyama really needs to brush his teeth, he can’t bring himself to move from his spot, either.
So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “...Hey.” Which probably isn’t a very good thing to say, but it’s something.
And to his surprise, Kindaichi actually returns it. “H-hey.”
From here… he’s not sure where to go. Every other time he’s tried to apologize, Hinata’s been somewhere nearby, ready to offer assistance if necessary. Now he feels like he’s walking around in the dark (which he was just literally doing, so). He’s almost thinking of apologizing for the trouble and making a quick escape, but he’s not able to before Kindaichi opens his mouth again.
“So… the other day… when you said that thing, about how I’m not the only one who’s grown, o-or whatever -“
Kageyama’s heart constricts. Why bring this up now, when he had dozens of opportunities to bring it up to him earlier? Like in the gym, or the lunchroom, or that time by the bathrooms, or any time when everyone was together?
And then, somewhere between that thought and Kindaichi’s next word, Kageyama realizes this is the first time they’ve been alone since arriving here.
“...What did you mean by that?”
Of course Kindaichi didn’t want to talk before, not when he was ambushing him in front of other people . And not even offering to go talk somewhere private. He feels like a fool, which he probably is. But at least Hinata’s just as foolish, he thinks, for ensuring he and Kindaichi were never left alone.
“I’m not pretending to be nice,” he finally says, cutting straight to the chase. “I know you don’t want to hear my apology, but -“
“Shut up!” Kindaichi hisses, but it’s not said with nearly as much venom as Kageyama would have expected - for one, he keeps his voice down. “If you…,” he’s not looking him in the eyes anymore, staring resolutely at the floorboards instead, “you know what’s going to happen, right? If you apologize?”
He squints, as if that’ll help him understand whatever Kindaichi is getting at. “No…?”
“I’m going to forgive you,” Kindaichi whispers, almost sounding angry with himself. “And then this is going to turn into… something, and we’ll just fuck it up all over again.”
Well, there’s a lot to unpack there, but first thing’s first. “How do you know you’ll forgive me? My apology might be really bad.” At least, that’s what he’s learned from all of his practice with Hinata.
Kindaichi huffs. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really.”
He makes a noise sort of like a quiet groan. “Because I miss you, okay? What we had before…,” he gestures vaguely, “all that happened… it was good. But we can’t get it back, so there’s no point in apologizing to me.”
“That’s not why I’m apologizing.” Though it would be nice to be with him again. But that would just be a big bonus.
Kindaichi clicks his tongue, turning his head to one side. “Right. You and that shorty from your team, huh? Hinata?”
“...Huh?”
“I mean, I kind of figured after how close you guys were getting,” he’s blinking rapidly, his voice a little hoarse, “but I guess I just… Fuck. ” He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his jacket sleeve. “And here I am making a total goddamn fool of myself, thinking you’d even want me back after what an asshole I was to you.”
Yuutarou Kindaichi is not the type of person to cry easily. This Kageyama knows. He can count the number of times he’s seen him cry on one hand - usually over a lost game, and never once over their relationship. It feels wrong to see him so upset like this.
He hates being the cause of it.
So he doesn’t think before taking a few steps forward, grabbing Kindaichi’s hands in his, and saying, “I’m not dating Hinata.”
Kindaichi startles, but he doesn’t pull away. “What?”
“I’m not dating him. I would never date him. That would be… really weird, I think.”
“...Oh.”
“I don’t really… get stuff like this,” he starts to explain. “You’re the only person I’ve ever liked. At least, I think so.”
Kindaichi’s gaze flickers between Kageyama’s eyes and their intertwined hands. “You’re making it really hard to stay away from you.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“...Maybe,” he says. “I guess it depends on how much we’ve both changed. Or something.”
“I want to apologize,” Kageyama decides. “For real this time.”
Kindaichi sighs, as if he’s admitting defeat. It’s exhilarating. “Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry,” he starts. “For never listening to you, and being too critical, and making everything about me, and not about… us.” He’s trying to recall all the things he and Hinata talked about apologizing for - he probably missed a few, but he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job so far. “I was going through a lot at the time, and I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. But I should have trusted you.”
“As if that’s your fault!” Kindaichi cries, and ah. This feels familiar. Warmth blooms in Kageyama’s chest as Kindaichi challenges him. “I should have been the sort of person you could trust. Instead I went and turned the whole team against you. I was a fucking failure of a boyfriend.”
Kageyama hums. “You really think that?”
“Do you not?”
He shrugs. “Not really.”
He looks surprised, but after a moment, he lets out a little laugh. “You’re weird, Tobio. You always have been.” It should sound like an insult, but it has the intonation of a compliment. Besides, he called him Tobio, something he hasn’t done since middle school.
“...Do you like weird people?” he asks, softly, unsurely.
“I like one weird person specifically,” Kindaichi says, gripping his hands tighter. “He’s really hard to understand, and he gets on my nerves sometimes, but I think he’s worth it.”
“Oh,” Kageyama says, and it’s all he’s able to say before Kindaichi is kissing him.
It’s something he’s experienced before, many times, in storage closets and empty hallways and hidden behind shoe lockers, but he’d forgotten completely what it felt like. And now that he’s gotten a taste of it, it feels like he’s been starving without it all this time. His hands find the collar of Kindaichi’s jacket, and he pulls him flush against himself. Familiar hands find their way to his hips, and Kageyama lets out a shaky sigh, feeling the tension leave his body.
It’s all a blur, but when he pulls back, he feels like a very large weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.
“We’re stupid,” Kindaichi mutters, leaning in to briefly press their lips together again. “We should’ve done this a long time ago.”
Kageyama hums in agreement, a little too preoccupied to truly respond as he tugs Kindaichi in for a harsher kiss.
He doesn’t notice that he’s abandoned his toothbrush on the hardwood floor, his initial reason for leaving his room long forgotten. Even if he did notice, he wouldn’t care.