Chapter Text
For reasons he cannot fathom, Kageyama has always been popular with girls.
Perhaps they misinterpret his general disinterest as being cool and mysterious. Perhaps it's because he's tall and, most of the time, his hair behaves itself (unlike certain other idiots he won't mention). Perhaps they have some kind of weird fantasy in which they, of all people, could be the one to make Kageyama loosen up a little, to—god forbid—make him smile. There could be a certain challenge aspect to it, he supposes. He still doesn't understand.
In the far-away future he figures he'll marry a nice girl, that they'll build a home together with love and their own two hands. He'll open himself up. Look for someone he'll be comfortable with—happy with. Someone with whom he'll share his life.
Now, though, volleyball is all he cares about. He wants to make it to Nationals one day with his team at his side. He wants to play against bigger and better teams—teams with no holes they can take advantage of, strong teams with super aces and iron walls and geniuses—and win. He wants to make good on his promise to make Hinata invincible.
What he doesn't get is why no one else seems to accept this.
For the third time in about as many weeks he's had to turn down a girl in person, telling her that he wants to focus on volleyball, thanking her, accepting any gifts because he doesn't know what else to do and trying to stop his face from doing anything too scary.
He has quite a sizeable collection of love letters, tucked into nice-smelling envelopes in an array of pastel shades. He doesn't have the heart to throw them away, even if they're annoying, so he starts stuffing them in a desk drawer. He feels a pang of guilt every time he opens it to add another.
He feels the worst about the letters that are written on the same stationary with the same careful kanji—not only do girls take the time to write him letters, but some write multiple.
Tanaka and Nishinoya don't understand why he turns them all down, leaning on each other and sighing that no one is good enough for Kageyama-kun and that they're just so hungry, wouldn't it be great if girls made them cookies with tiny icing hearts and, on the one occasion he offered them one, he swears they actually teared up.
"You can taste the love!" Tanaka had wailed amidst enthusiastic bites. "Now all other cookies will taste of merely vanilla and indifference!"
"My tongue will never know such happiness again!" Nishinoya had chimed in, and all Kageyama could do was cradle his suddenly pounding head and hope he didn't get a migraine.
He didn't give them cookies again after that.
He feels like a jerk, puts up with Tsukishima snidely calling him a 'heartbreaker', but it's not like any of these girls even know him. They're not in love, as some of the letters—and some of the braver girls that actually tell him face-to-face—profess. They're earnest, they're (mostly) well thought-out, but they're full of empty sentiment. They wouldn't approach him so readily if they knew what he’s really like, if they understood that he’s blunt and rude and largely unapologetic about it.
"If you unleash the Kageyama Glare on them, they’ll run for the hills and never bother you again!" Hinata suggests brightly whenever it comes up. "But I have no idea why you're so beat up about it. I mean, most guys would just be flattered. You've seen Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san! They'd do very bad things to get love letters."
Hinata doesn't get it either. Sure, girls like Hinata. (It's more uncommon to dislike Hinata. It'd be like disliking puppies or sunshine or something.) But, for some reason, some girls treat Kageyama like he’s hung the stars especially for them, like he impacts them in some way just by being. It's overwhelming, and not in a good way. He gets tired of feeling like the bad guy.
Which is when it all really goes to hell.
★
Kageyama and Hinata are walking back to his classroom one day, melon bread clutched greedily to their chests, when he notices them. There's a small huddle of girls at the end of the hallway, looking at Kageyama then swiftly turning around to laugh. He just about manages to stop his eyes from rolling: he knows what happens next.
Sure enough, one girl breaks away from the pack, blushing a shade Kageyama likes to call pre-rejection pink. She’s small, smaller than Hinata even, and has the large, wide eyes of a furry woodland creature. Kageyama wants to hit something.
She waits for Kageyama and Hinata to reach her before calling out, stuttering a "K-Kageyama-kun!" Her friends are chattering and giggling loudly, urging her on when she turns back to look at them. They go silent when he sends a glare in their direction; having an audience for something like this would make anyone nervous. Their chatter turns to whispers, their expressions offended—they're no doubt wondering what their friend sees in that guy. I don't know either, he wants to shout, I'm just as confused as you.
For a moment he can't place her—can't think how this girl would even know who he is, never mind have feelings for him—but after wracking his brain he recognises her: she sits a few desks across from him in class, always flushing red and looking utterly mortified when a teacher calls on her. He doesn't think he's ever seen her whole face before, it’s usually at least partially hidden by her hand or her hair. He suddenly remembers her name—Kimura—and he wishes he hadn't. It'll only make it harder, to hear it when attendance is taken and be smacked in the face with this memory.
She seems painfully shy, and Kageyama feels sick to his stomach. It's bad enough turning down the confident girls who take his fumbling rejections in their stride—she's probably been talked into this by her friends, if the way she looks like she's walking to her execution is any indicator, and he has no idea how to put her down gently.
Hinata grins slyly at him, taking a step away and acting like he's looking for something in his pocket. It’s infuriating that he chooses now of all moments to display a hint of tact. Can't the idiot see he needs moral support?
But it’s obvious when Kimura starts talking that nothing is going to make this less painful. Kageyama’s heart sinks impossibly lower.
She's one of the rare uncertain ones, the ones that are hesitant to meet his eyes but make an effort to get their feelings across to him in person regardless. Amidst fits of stuttering and awkward pauses, Kimura tells him she likes him and asks whether they could get a milkshake or something sometime. He could honestly punch himself to get out of this one.
She looks like she's about to cry, her eyes red and blinking frantically, and Hinata finally seems to have clued into the awkward atmosphere. He's staring at Kageyama, as if willing him to have some sort of perfect speech planned that won't end in—literal—tears. Kageyama's got nothing.
"I'm really sorry,” he begins, and she wilts slightly; Kageyama winces. “I'm flattered, but I can't go out with you because-" He freezes. Oh dear god no. He must have done some unspeakable things in a past life because he really does have nothing at all. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Sorry ma'am, we're closed.
She's deflating before his very eyes. He tries frantically to think of a good excuse, something that will smooth things over and make her feel better, but comes up completely blank. He’s desperate, then, because his awkward pause beats any of hers by a long shot. Why can't he think of anything? Any excuse! Kageyama's seriously contemplating telling her he's an alien and has to return to his home planet by next Tuesday, when his gaze slides over Hinata beside him.
He’s watching Kimura, the way she’s hunching in on herself, with his brow creased in thought. It’s the face he does when he gets one of his absolutely, monumentally terrible ideas—the ones that Kageyama ultimately goes along with. Kageyama just about has time to send out a plea to the universe before he speaks.
"Because Kageyama is already dating someone!" is what Hinata comes up with. The universe can’t help him now.
"Really? Who?" Kimura asks, surprised, then promptly looks like she's swallowed her own tongue. "Not to say- Um..." She trails off, flushing scarlet, but Kageyama barely notices her. They're right back at square one—if not square zero, since surely he’s in a worse position than he was before.
“Me!” Hinata shouts suddenly, grabbing Kageyama’s hand as an afterthought and grinning triumphantly, like he’s somehow missed the implications of what he’s just done.
Kageyama is going to kill him.
Hinata's attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity with his loud declaration, some of whom clock their joined hands and do a double-take. The whispering starts up almost immediately. Kageyama's going to kill everyone, actually, because he can’t think of another way to contain the fall-out. He should have just gone with the alien thing.
The worst part of this situation, however, is that he can’t think of anything better. Kimura at least has been distracted from her state of near-tears by this turn of events, and god damn it, he’s going to have to go along with it, isn’t he.
Kageyama pastes on a smile he hopes doesn’t look as menacing as it feels. “Yeah, that’s right. Sorry.” He forces the words out through gritted teeth, squeezing Hinata’s hand so hard that he makes a quickly stifled noise of pain.
Kimura and Kageyama are stuck in a stalemate of sorts, staring at each other with resigned embarrassment. Then Kageyama, at a loss, nods jerkily and tugs Hinata down the hallway.
Kimura's frozen for a long moment, blocking foot traffic, before she turns back to her friends. She shrugs weakly and moves to join them again.