Archive of Our Own

Shouyou isn’t sure what wakes him up. It could be the first year who talks in his sleep or a kick from Yamaguchi or just the fact that it’s always too warm in the lodge with all of Karasuno volleyball team sleeping inside, but he knows the moment he opens his eyes that he won’t be able to fall back asleep.

He sits up in his futon, rubs his eyes, glances around. There’s enough light from the windows to see that the futon next to his—the one that doesn’t contain a drooling Yamaguchi—is empty.

Perhaps it was the sound of Kageyama leaving that woke him.

He rises from his futon and tiptoes out of the room. He doesn’t put on shoes on his way out of the lodge; their cabin is right on the beach, and it seems like a waste to get sand in all his footwear. He closes the door very gently behind him, not wanting Tsukishima to scold him for waking everyone—and then freezes.

Morning, Kageyama-kun. He hears himself say it in his head—but it doesn’t rise up to his lips as he takes in the sight of Kageyama on the wide wooden porch, his feet hanging over the edge. He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt just like Shouyou, and every inch of exposed skin is washed in sunrise colors, making it look like he glows.

Something about the way his head is tipped back makes Shouyou swallow.

Morning, Kageyama-kun, he tries again. He imagines it in a playful voice. He can do that now; he no longer has to dodge hair grabs the moment he says something in a tone Kageyama doesn’t like. It’s been the journey of his high school career; year one: learning to dodge Kageyama’s hair grabs. Year two: realizing hair grabs are subtly changing; Kageyama is doing them in response to different things. Year three: Kageyama has apparently decided he’s too old for hair grabs.

Shouyou misses them a little. They kept him on his toes, and the ones last year were almost gentle. He’s not always sure how to be around Kageyama when they’re not being violent.

As evidenced by his current inability to speak.

He gives up and lets himself stare, finding his eyes drawn to Kageyama’s neck, the way it’s stretched, his head tipped back to let his face bathe in light. It’s strange to think of Kageyama enjoying anything outside of volleyball so earnestly—strange to see how relaxed he looks leaning back on his hands and listening to the waves—and somehow Shouyou feels unsettled.

His stomach growls suddenly, also unsettled, cutting through the sound of wind and waves. He clutches guilty hands over it, but it’s too late; Kageyama has turned his head, caught him staring. Shouyou braces for a scolding—but Kageyama seems at a loss for words.

“Morning, Kageyama-kun!” Shouyou says brightly, much too late. His voice sounds false, though he’s not sure how a morning greeting can be a lie. He wracks his brain for something else to say but finds his head empty of useful tidbits. His thoughts turn to escape. “Going running, bye!”

He runs down the wooden steps, landing heavily in sand and ploughing on in the direction of the water. He’s very aware of his bare feet and how stupid he must have looked staring and then escaping, though looking stupid in front of Kageyama shouldn’t matter at all.

He feels like yelling, and so he does, a long and satisfying AHHHHH that erupts from his throat like it’s been waiting to come out for a while.

“You’re too noisy!” comes a voice from behind. Shouyou doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Kageyama running after him; he continues yelling.

“Stop shouting!”

Something inside of Shouyou releases. It’s been so long since Kageyama has shouted at him like that, chasing him like he’ll literally tackle him if he has to. It’s immature. Not something third years should be doing—but no one else is up yet. Shouyou runs faster, doesn’t shut up.

Somehow, he’s still surprised when Kageyama actually tackles him. They go flying, Shouyou only just managing to cushion his facedown fall with his arms. Sand gets into his mouth and he spits; Kageyama is lying halfway on top of him.

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asks. He looks confused, his eyes narrowed as he looks at Shouyou. Shouyou spits more sand.

“Now? Nothing.” He sighs, lets the side of his face rest in the sand. He feels melancholy all of a sudden, and it has a lot to do with some sort of… nostalgia. He’s not sure how to put his finger on it. Kageyama is nicer to him now. They’re almost friends, maybe. But…

Why does he feel sad as Kageyama gets off him? Why does he feel just as confused as Kageyama looks?

“Weren’t you going running?” Kageyama asks. He stands, brushing off his knees.

“Yeah,” Shouyou says. He lets Kageyama help him up.

By three that day, Tsukishima isn’t the only one complaining about the endless beach volleyball sessions Kageyama has instated. Even Shouyou can see that the first and second years are flagging in energy, and Yamaguchi calls a stop to all practice. There are a few first years—Shouyou recognizes himself in them—who’d probably keep playing until they dropped from either exhaustion or dehydration, but they don’t give them the chance.

Shouyou misses being a first year—being allowed to be that irresponsible. If it was just the third years here he’d play until he threw up too, but he has an image to keep up. Well—not a very serious image, but some sort of image. He knows his excitement tends to pull the rest of the team along, and he can’t let it pull them along to an emergency room visit.

He, can, however, use it for good.                                                            

“Time to swim!” he announces, shedding his shirt and running into the ocean. Excited shouts tell him at least half the team has followed, but he doesn’t look back; he jumps into the water, swims until he’s clear of the shallows. When he surfaces, the team has started to play and shout and splash water. He grins, looking around for Kageyama.

Kageyama is still standing on the beach.

“What are you waiting for?” Shouyou yells at him, and apparently it’s the right encouragement. Kageyama pulls off his shirt and runs in, returning a few half-hearted splashes from second years. He never seems to fully relax around the underclassmen and—unlike with Shouyou—he’s always very careful when he criticizes them.

He’s weirdly-considerate-yama around them, and Shouyou doesn’t know what to think of it.

At least he’s still forcing them all to play volleyball for too long, so there has to be some of the old Kageyama in there. Shouyou swims forward until his feet find purchase then sends a big splash Kageyama’s way. Kageyama’s splash back is underwhelming—but Shouyou is persistent.

“Up your nose, up your nose, up your nose!” he chants softly, sending huge splashes, and eventually Kageyama snaps in a way that’s familiar and just a little dear to Shouyou’s heart. Kageyama approaches menacingly, splashes, and when he’s close enough he grabs both Shouyou’s arms and holds them above his head.

They both freeze. For a moment Kageyama’s hands are clamped around Shouyou’s wrists, and the laughter from a moment ago is transforming in Shouyou’s stomach, and the menacing look in Kageyama’s eyes is turning to something like surprise—and then Kageyama drops his arms like they’re fiery hot.

“That’s cheating,” Shouyou says, and his voice comes out breathless instead of resentful. “I’m still splash master.”

The words ring in his ears. I’m still splash master? He ducks down in the water and swims away—back to the beach. I’m still splash master? he repeats to himself. He distracts himself building sand castles with Yachi and his favorite first year—a Tanaka lookalike—and promises himself he’ll stop thinking about any of these things really soon. The heat is probably getting to him, even though there was a breeze this morning when he was caught staring.

It’s humid at the beach, he reassures himself. A turret collapses under his restless hands and he busies himself fixing it. Really humid.

He’s almost done with the moat when Tsukishima calls out to the group, saying it’s time to go help Ukai and Takeda with dinner. Yachi disappeared in the direction of the lodge some time ago, but half the team is still in the water; Kageyama is swimming some way out, still on his ridiculous exercise kick. The distant figure of Kageyama waves to show he’s heard and will make his way to shore. The team makes its way out of the water, goes to prepare for dinner, but Shouyou stays where he is, watching that distant figure get closer.

After a long swim Kageyama reaches the shallows and begins struggling for purchase in the shifting sand, pushed by waves. He manages it at last, but his steps are slow; they have to be or he’ll be dragged back in. Shouyou’s eyes track from his face to his chest, then to the swimming trunks plastered to his legs. There’s something very strange about seeing Kageyama like this, his body strong and sure but not playing volleyball—and then Kageyama’s hands shock up as if to cover himself, only to drop back down again.

Shouyou glances at his face, finds Kageyama’s eyes on his. Apparently he’s been caught staring twice in one day.

“What?” Kageyama asks. He barely manages to make it sound like a question, and his shoulders are held high.

Shouyou swallows, trying not to see those clingy swim trunks. “How far out did you go?”

Kageyama flaps a hand. “Out. I don’t know. Ten minutes out? Twenty?”

Shouyou looks out over the water. “I could go farther.”

“Yeah, and so could I, but that’s not the point.”

Once upon a time Shouyou’s statement would have ended with both of them running out into the water and swimming way too far. He sighs.

“What?” Kageyama asks again. Shouyou notices a pinkish glow at his shoulders. “What?” Kageyama asks again as the silence lengthens.

“I think you got burnt a little,” Shouyou says, looking away. The last person he wants to explain his sighing to is Kageyama. What would he say? “I liked it more when we were always fighting”? “I don’t know how to be friends with you”? He loves being able to tease Kageyama when the mood hits—he just hasn’t felt like teasing much lately.

“Oh,” Kageyama says.

“I’ve got aftersun in my bag at the lodge.” Shouyou stands up, brushes himself off. He starts walking in the direction of home, surprised when Kageyama stands waiting. “What?”

“Did you want to race?” Kageyama asks.

“Huh?”

“Just now, when you said you could go farther.” Kageyama takes a few cautious steps, stopping next to Shouyou. He looks… unsure. And considerate.

He’s weirdly-considerate-yama even with Shouyou sometimes.

Shouyou punches his arm, grins. “Maybe! But you’re right. It’s not the point.”

But what is the point, for Shouyou? Just volleyball? One thing and one thing alone? Tsukishima would say so—would say Shouyou only has enough space in his head for one thing—but there seems to be empty space somewhere inside of Shouyou, and it’s filled with something that makes him stare at Kageyama and ask why and who and what if. He doesn’t know how those questions end because he cuts them off half-done, unwilling to answer them. All he knows is how they start.

“We’re third years now,” Shouyou says, and it’s a relief to say it out loud. He keeps thinking it.

“We’ll be first years again soon.”

Shouyou looks up sharply. Kageyama’s voice sounds almost wistful, and Shouyou wants to decipher the look on Kageyama’s face, but it changes before he can read it properly. We’ll be first years again soon sounds like Kageyama expects them to be first years together. Again. At university this time.

“If we get into any schools,” Shouyou says, voice dark, and Kageyama nods—but with how their team has risen from the ashes there’s a good chance they’ll get invitations to good schools. And if they can get to nationals this year again—and win them this time—

“Let’s go,” Kageyama says. He sets off, and Shouyou walks beside him, head ducked down.

He wonders where they’ll be next year, and whether they’ll still be together.

That night the room is stuffy again, like the air descends the moment everyone lays down to sleep, the warmth and the humidity pressing down on them like an invisible blanket. Shouyou curls up on his side, presses his eyes tight shut.

Sleep, he tells himself. He’s tired from the sun, the exercise, the food. It should come easily. 

His forehead tickles.

He ignores it for a moment longer. The tickle will go away. He won’t pay attention to it. He won’t—

He opens his eyes, ready to swat at his forehead—but startles when he sees Kageyama looking back at him.

“Creepy-yama!” he hisses, jerking back on his futon. “What is it?”

Kageyama blinks fast. “Nothing,” he says.

“You were watching me sleep!”

“Obviously not, if you were awake.” Kageyama’s voice is a whisper.

“So you were?”

“Were what?”

“Watching me.”

“I was thinking with my eyes open.”

“I do that too,” a second year chimes in. Someone else snorts. Shouyou remembers where they are, who they’re with. Kageyama glances away, and now it’s Shouyou watching him instead of the other way around. Moonlight falls across his throat, rendering his tan skin pale and smooth.

Shouyou wonders briefly what it would be like to kiss him there, under his jaw where his pulse drums a rhythm. When he realizes what he’s thinking he flips onto his other side quickly, blocking out all of Kageyama in favor of a sprawled, already-sleeping Yamaguchi. No threat there—but as Shouyou shifts to get comfortable his back is warm, as if the very presence of Kageyama radiates heat into it.

Which is ridiculous, but then, so is imagining kissing Kageyama’s throat.

This time Shouyou knows what to expect when he wakes up before the others, the futon next to his empty. He tiptoes out of the cabin and sees the same sight as yesterday, though Kageyama’s posture is different. His shoulders are bent, hands in his lap. His feet still swing over the edge of the porch, but the look of pure enjoyment is gone, and maybe that’s why Shouyou doesn’t feel awkward about stomping over and sitting down next to him, making sure to nudge him a few times by accident.

“Morning,” Kageyama says, not even bothering to scold him. The hoarse quality of his greeting registers in Shouyou’s mind as something to remember—Kageyama’s voice when he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone else that day.

“Morning,” Shouyou says, glaring at the oncoming sunrise. The restlessness from last night is still inside him, and he hasn’t forgotten the thoughts he had—how he’d imagined kissing Kageyama’s neck. He’d hoped he would forget, or at least find a way to explain it away. He hasn’t done either, and his body still feels weird and unreliable and hungry.

It’s torturous.

For a long time they sit in silence, Shouyou’s glare receding as colorful spots begin to dance in his vision, and after a while he realizes Kageyama has gone very still, and he’s no longer looking at the sunrise. Shouyou glances over, remembering last night when he caught Kageyama’s eyes on him. He was right: Kageyama is staring, again.

Shouyou looks away, not asking what this time.

Another day of endless beach volleyball passes. Practice dissolves into play, and play dissolves into dinner. Shouyou’s body is heavy with tiredness, but when is it not? The tiredness is not unusual; the unusual thing is the restlessness that’s settled in beneath it, a restlessness no amount of improvement in his volleyball matches today could clear away. He wants to run and jump and catch stars and reach—reach—

He lets his head fall down against the picnic table, now cleared of dishes. Dinner is over; a lot of people are headed to the cabin to sleep, exhausted from the day’s exercise. Shouyou feels like he might never sleep again.

“You okay?”

He sits up. Yamaguchi is standing next to him, head inclined. His freckled face is more freckled than ever, and browner too.

“Yamaguchi,” Shouyou says intelligently. Yamaguchi is his friend now just like Kageyama. Even Tsukishima is his friend, though Tsukishima will never admit to it. He still tries to avoid Shouyou’s high-fives, and Shouyou still manages to wrest them from his limp unwilling hands.

“Yes,” Yamaguchi says, his breath gusting out in a laugh. “Why are you alone out here? A few of the team are getting ready to tell ghost stories.”

Shouyou looks over to the cabin. In his first year it would have killed him to miss a thing like that, but he doesn’t think he could sit still long enough to hear a whole story right now.

“And you’re out here because…?” Shouyou asks, smiling up at Yamaguchi. “Scared?” he adds in a low voice.

“Checking up on you,” Yamaguchi says unexpectedly. “And Kageyama’s missing too. I thought you’d be together. You didn’t fight, did you?”

“No,” Shouyou says. Where did Kageyama go? He doesn’t remember him leaving, just that he was suddenly gone. He’d been talking about yogurt before leaving; maybe he went to fetch some from the nearest konbini?

“I’ll go look for him,” Shouyou says, jumping up from the table. Yamaguchi starts.

“Uh—okay? Don’t get lost! It’s getting dark.”

It already is dark, kind of; the sun dipped behind the mountains west of them a while ago. The stars are visible, and there’s an ocean breeze blowing Shouyou’s loose shirt more firmly around him.

“I’ll be back,” Shouyou says, and he runs up the path to the road where cars zoom by during the day. The twenty-four hour konbini is a five minute walk along the tree-lined road, and the darkness lends the familiar route a magical air. Or is that magical feeling because he thinks Kageyama is this way, and the restlessness inside him is pulling towards him? No, there’s something about the night air…

He’s three minutes into the five minute walk before he realizes Kageyama might simply be walking along the beach—that this road might not lead anywhere but a twenty-four hour konbini. The thought saps all his strength until he’s no longer walking but simply standing, that intoxicating ocean breeze suddenly chilly.

What was he going to do? Walk up to Kageyama and tell him how strange it’s been for him lately? Was he going to say he has a crush? Does he have a crush?

Kageyama’s throat pale and smooth with moonlight, head tipped back…

No, he does have a crush. That’s definite. But why? Why should reliance and trust and familiarity lead to—well, to this?

Why should it make him feel like he’ll explode if he doesn’t get to touch Kageyama soon?

He continues walking out of rote; he might as well check to see if Kageyama is at the store since he told Yamaguchi he’d look for him. As he walks the stars twinkle at him from spaces in the branches overhead, and the road beneath him is worn and pockmarked. Insects cry desperately, drowning out the rustling of leaves.

Movement beneath a streetlight ahead catches Shouyou’s eye, and his stomach flips over when he recognizes Kageyama. The gritty step, step of Kageyama’s feet on the worn road cover is louder than all the screaming insects clamoring for attention; Kageyama has his head down and he’s carrying a plastic convenience store bag in one hand as he walks. The sight of him on this road with that bag is gratifying, somehow, like having guessed where Kageyama was correctly entitles Shouyou to some sort of prize. The way Kageyama stops dead when he spots Shouyou is gratifying too.

I knew you’d be here, something inside of Shouyou is saying, and Kageyama’s dead stop seems to say something too. Did a part of him expect Shouyou to be here too?

Kageyama recovers first, slowly. He doesn’t say anything, but he starts walking again, and Shouyou’s heart kicks up a storm.

Stars, wind, insects, worn road, yellowish streetlight—Shouyou’s senses are overloaded, but he doesn’t try to shut them out. He welcomes the shivery feeling of right now, and isn’t surprised when Kageyama stops in front of him, looking down at him. With great purpose Shouyou takes the plastic bag from Kageyama’s unresisting hand, sets it down gently. When he straightens, he meets Kageyama’s gaze.

Something about it sets Shouyou’s insides squirming, and he swallows. There’s no one here but the two of them, this night, away from Miyagi. Maybe that’s the problem: away from Karasuno, their balance teeters into unfamiliar territory. He takes Kageyama’s hands in his, examines his palms.

Kageyama lets out a very careful breath.

Their eyes lock again. All the fresh ocean air in the world couldn’t make Shouyou’s lungs feel full right now. It sounds like Kageyama is having just as much trouble breathing normally, though, so he doesn’t mind the way his breath only seems to go in rattling gasps and shuddering sighs.

He stops gripping Kageyama’s hands, and they drop. He pulls at Kageyama’s T-shirt: soft cotton. In the same movement he lets his hands slip under it, poking blunt fingertips against the hard muscle of Kageyama’s abs. He watches the way Kageyama’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment at the contact, his breathing ragged as Shouyou moves so it’s the pads of his fingers against soft skin. Why is Kageyama letting him do this? Why isn’t he yelling? He’s never had trouble telling Shouyou to stop whatever he’s doing before; why would he start now?

Shouyou pulls his hands back, too unsure to continue. Quiet-yama is too new to him.

“What did you buy?” he asks, his voice strange in his ears. His fingertips feel like they’re burning.

“Ice cream.”

“Not yogurt?”

“Yogurt ice cream.”

Shouyou looks at Kageyama’s hands; they’re clenching and unclenching. “It’ll melt,” Shouyou says, and scoops up the plastic bag from where he set it down. Kageyama doesn’t look at all concerned about the ice cream, but he follows Shouyou when he sets out back toward the beach.

They walk in mutual silence. The rustle of the plastic bag adds to the night’s cacophony, and every one of Shouyou’s nerves feels like it’s on edge. He imagines placing a flat hand against the skin he touched a moment ago, imagines the shudder of breath Kageyama would surely let out. Kageyama would let him touch, wouldn’t he? That’s how it’s feeling right now, and Shouyou doesn’t understand it at all. He’s always dragged Kageyama into his pace, but this is different. This isn’t a pace he should be able to drag anyone into.

They get back to the beach, and Shouyou hands Kageyama his bag. Kageyama takes it, roots around in it, draws out one of those push ice-creams. He hands it to Shouyou.

“Huh?” Shouyou says. “For me?”

“I bought two.”

“Were you gonna eat two?”

Kageyama’s brows draw together. “No, one was for you.”

“You were going to bring it to me?”

“Yes.” They drift towards the nearest bench and sit down. “I thought it would cheer you up.”

Kageyama takes another yogurt ice cream from the bag and begins to eat. Shouyou copies him, nerves still jangling.

“I haven’t been sad,” Shouyou mumbles around his ice cream. Tangy strawberry fills his mouth.

Kageyama shrugs.

Silence falls between them again, familiar and thick. They’ve spent two years together now; Shouyou knows exactly what’ll make Kageyama angry, what’ll make him smile, what’ll make his face get that constipated look he gets when he really wants something.

And yet, there’s so much Shouyou doesn’t know too; his limbs feel useless with it.

“Kageyama.”

Kageyama glances over. “Hm?”

“Everything’s changing.” Shouyou draws his legs up onto the bench and wraps his arms around them, his ice cream finished. His mouth is icy cold.

“Yeah.”

Shouyou glances at him sidelong, wondering. “Does it scare you?”

Kageyama glances back at him, then down at his hands in his lap. “A little.”

“It scares me too, a little.”

Kageyama is still looking at his hands. “You mean the future, don’t you?”

“Not just the future,” Shouyou says, and when Kageyama looks up Shouyou doesn’t glance away. He remembers the strange quiet between them a little while ago, but that’s not the only memory plaguing him as he meets Kageyama’s gaze: he remembers matches, endless practice, the furious joy of victory and the echoing pain of loss. Kageyama’s been there for all of it; he’s a part of Shouyou as much as Shouyou’s own right leg or the clicky noise in Shouyou’s elbow when he does push-ups. The thought that they could stop belonging together come April feels wrong.

“You shouldn’t be scared,” Kageyama says, and finally Kageyama looks away. His cheeks are flushed. “We don’t have to—there’s nothing…” He breathes another careful sigh. “You can just ignore it. We can ignore it.”

“Ignore what?” Shouyou asks, because the way Kageyama refers to it makes it sound like something that’s been present for a long, long time, and Shouyou doesn’t appreciate being told to ignore anything but schoolwork and curfews.

Kageyama continues looking stalwartly away. “My feelings.”

My feelings. Like it’s just Kageyama suffering from unasked-for feelings—and maybe it has been, for a while, but not anymore. The weird tension between them these past few days—weeks, even, possibly months—resolves into something definite. My feelings, Kageyama had said. Kageyama’s feelings—for him—which have apparently existed long enough for Kageyama to become resigned to them.

It’s such a strange thought, and yet, could Shouyou bear it if Kageyama had those feelings for anyone else?

“How long?” Shouyou asks, because he needs to know how much faster Kageyama figured this out.

“Long,” Kageyama says. He shrugs. “I’m not sure when it started.”

It’s unthinkable that Kageyama might have felt this restlessness for months—or years, even—and never acted on it. Shouyou can’t stand feeling it even a minute longer than he has to, and so he moves Kageyama’s hands out of his lap and takes their place. Like this their eyes are much the same height, and Kageyama has stopped looking away.

“I don’t want to ignore it,” Shouyou mutters, fisting his hands in the front of Kageyama’s shirt. “Your feelings or mine.”

He scans the beach. It’s deserted, thankfully, so no one will see him straddling Kageyama. That’s good. He’d be embarrassed if someone did—but not all that embarrassed. His body is too full of fizzing energy to care much about anything outside of Kageyama’s warmth, his eyes, his hands clutching uncertainly at the fabric of Shouyou’s shorts.

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asks. He has that constipated expression he gets when he really wants something, and Shouyou places a hand on either side of it.

“Stupid-yama-kun,” he says in a low voice. “I like you too much. I don’t want to ignore it.”

Kageyama swallows visibly. “Oh.”

Shouyou’s heart beats so hard he worries Kageyama will feel it through his palms. “And you?”

“Me what?”

Shouyou draws his hands back, folds his arms and ducks his chin. “Do you want to ignore it?”

“O-oh.” Kageyama’s hands clench and unclench again. “I… don’t. I don’t want to ignore it.”

I don’t want to ignore it. The words echo in Shouyou’s ears, so it takes a moment for them to register—but when they do, he can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him. He grips Kageyama’s shoulders.

“It was stupid of you to try!” he scolds, because now that they’re in the clear he can say stuff like that. He shakes Kageyama a little. “You should have told me.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to,” Kageyama says, chin tucked. He should look annoyed—Shouyou is scolding him—but his cheeks are red, and Shouyou spots the edges of a smile. The smile is still there in spirit when Kageyama’s head jerks up, face suddenly very earnest. “You mean it?”

“Yeah I mean it!” Shouyou says, almost offended that Kageyama would feel the need to confirm. He gets off his lap, stuffs his hands in his armpits so he won’t touch anywhere he’s not meant to. He wants to touch all of Kageyama, wants to lay his palms flat against Kageyama’s taut skin, but if he did that it would lead to… other things… and he has no experience with that. He’s never even kissed anyone.

Kageyama looks at him curiously. “What are you doing now?”

“What does it look like?” Shouyou asks.

“Your hands are cold?” Kageyama guesses, and he tugs them out of Shouyou’s armpits and puts his own large hands around them, which doesn’t heat Shouyou’s not-cold hands but does make sweat break out all over his body. Kageyama’s hands are the best hands in the whole world, and being held by them gently is something new.

Shouyou lets his side fall against the back of the bench, watching Kageyama, who still looks flushed. His careful expression makes Shouyou’s stomach twist pleasantly.

“You like me,” Shouyou says in a teasing voice, and Kageyama’s eyes jerk up. His brows draw together and his shoulders rise, his flush deepening.

“Stupid,” he mumbles.

Shouyou grins. “Is that why you stopped grabbing my hair? Because you liked me?”

“What?” Kageyama asks, then reconsiders. “I… maybe. I was always grabbing you.”

He looks embarrassed, which wasn’t the point at all.

“You can grab me if you like,” Shouyou says. “I don’t mind.”

Now Kageyama looks even more embarrassed; his palms are hot against Shouyou’s hands. Shouyou thinks he’s struck him dumb, but after a solid minute of waves breaking and silence, Kageyama finally speaks.

“You’re always evolving,” he says, which doesn’t seem like a romantic thing to say at all. “Don’t let me hold you back.”

“Hold me back?” Shouyou asks, tilting his head to get a better look at Kageyama’s face. “You mean like when we fought because you didn’t want us to try something new?”

Kageyama flinches.

“That was ages ago! You’ve changed since then.”

Shouyou moves their hands so he’s the one holding and Kageyama is the one being held. He doesn’t look away from Kageyama’s face, though Kageyama tries to duck away.

“You see that, don’t you?” Shouyou says.

Kageyama continues avoiding his gaze. “Not really. I still want you to rely on me. I still want all the things from you I wanted back then.”

Shouyou purses his lips. He does rely on Kageyama. He doesn’t mind dedicating himself to being Kageyama’s partner one-hundred percent; that’s what he’s done for the past two-and-some years, and he doesn’t plan to stop.

“I won’t let you hold me back,” Shouyou says, more because it’s what Kageyama wants to hear than because he thinks it’s a valid concern. He wants to add something like but you weren’t going to anyway, but he refrains. Kageyama will think he’s not taking it seriously if he says something like that.

He draws his hands back and stands up, moving to look at the breaking waves. He folds his arms, thinking of all the times he’s stared at Kageyama this trip and how often he’s caught Kageyama staring at him. If Kageyama likes him too, does that mean he’s allowed to look? Or is that still creepy? The sight of Kageyama coming out of the water is still imprinted on his retina, and it makes him jittery whenever he casts his mind’s eye back to look.

And what about earlier, when Kageyama had silently let him touch him? Is that a thing too or had that been madness brought on by ocean air and starry skies?

“Hinata.”

Shouyou turns. Kageyama is still sitting on the bench, though he’s put their trash away. His face is unsure.

“What?”

Kageyama stands up, puts his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to… race, or something?”

Before that moment, Shouyou hadn’t known full-body snorts existed. He finds out. “What?” he asks again, because why would Kageyama want to race now? His stomach bubbles with laughter.

“I don’t know!” Kageyama says, and his voice pitches just a little higher than usual. “You were sad when we didn’t yesterday, and I thought maybe that’s what you wanted.”

Shouyou looks around them at the deserted beach, then at the sand beneath his feet. If he takes off his shoes and runs he'll be able to feel the satisfying puff of every step as it lands. He works his feet out of his shoes, and when Kageyama sees what he’s doing he follows suit. They look at each other for a long moment, barefoot on the beach, wind riffling their hair.

And then Shouyou starts to run.

Without hearing a thing he knows that Kageyama is following, feet thudding in the sand just behind his. Shouyou doesn’t yell, because it’s late, but he wants to. He wants to yell—but not in frustration, this time. He does laugh, out loud, and Kageyama pulls ahead.

He isn’t even letting me win, Shouyou thinks, watching Kageyama pass him. Jerk.

He reaches and grabs Kageyama’s shirt, cheating without remorse. Kageyama yells at him to let go, but he doesn’t. In the resulting tussle they fall, and Shouyou finds himself the victor—that is to say, the one not flattened by the other. He looks down at Kageyama smugly, his body thrilling at the way it’s pressed against Kageyama’s.

Kageyama glares up at him. Shouyou laughs, setting a slightly sandy hand on one side of Kageyama’s face, and the glaring turns to a look of total surrender. It makes all Shouyou’s comfortable smugness disappear.

He could lean down and kiss Kageyama. His mouth is right there, slightly open, letting out fast gusts of breath as he recovers from running. He wants to, and by the look on Kageyama’s face he wants it too—

A hand comes up and tangles in the back of Shouyou’s hair. Shouyou thinks Kageyama’s about to pull him down for a kiss, but when Kageyama pulls his head down it’s to lean against his shoulder, not to kiss him on the mouth. They lie like that for a while, breathing hard, and Shouyou wonders if Kageyama’s whole body is shaky like his. It seems like it might be; he thinks he can feel Kageyama’s heartbeat race.

He wants to store it up, somehow: the sensation of Kageyama’s hand in his hair, their bodies pressed together in the cool sand, the sound of Kageyama’s breathing so close.

“Wake me up tomorrow,” Shouyou says. “If you get up early again.”

“Okay.” Kageyama’s voice is constrained; his hand tightens in Shouyou’s hair.

“I mean it,” Shouyou says, turning his face so his cheek is the part being squished into Kageyama’s shoulder instead of his forehead. Kageyama’s Adam’s apple bobs a few centimeters from his nose.

“What part?” Kageyama asks.

“Huh?” Shouyou says. Then, getting an inkling of what Kageyama might be worried about: “All of it. I mean all of it. Of course.”

“Okay,” Kageyama says again, and this time his hand loosens; it feels like he’s getting ready to stand up, so Shouyou helps by getting off. He stands and gives Kageyama a hand up, which Kageyama takes with trademark suspicion. He’s always been bad with these simple gestures of trust, but he’s getting better; Shouyou pulls him up with a little grunt of effort.

They walk back to the cabin without another word spoken between them—but Shouyou’s body buzzes with the thought of tomorrow, and the day after: days when he’ll be able to close the new distance between them that Kageyama’s put there with his weird considerate attitude. It’s good to know Kageyama can be considerate—but the thought of Kageyama trying to be considerate with him is borderline insulting, as if he can’t take all of Kageyama just as he is, prickly personality and all.

He smiles, stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks at sand. His lungs are full of ocean air and starlight.

Back at the cabin, in his rumpled futon between Kageyama and Yamaguchi, it takes him a long time to get to sleep.

A cautious hand at his shoulder wakes Shouyou before sunrise. He’s instantly wakeful, awareness flooding his body. His stomach squirms pleasantly with memories, and he looks up at Kageyama expectantly. Kageyama blushes and leaves.

Shouyou stifles a laugh and rushes after, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible as he follows Kageyama out. Dawn pulls across the sky, blue and pinkish orange. Kageyama sits in his usual spot, and Shouyou sits down next to him. He slides his hand over the wooden porch until his pinky is touching Kageyama’s, and the small gesture makes Kageyama duck his head and blush harder.

It’s a beautiful morning, Shouyou thinks, swinging his legs over the porch and waiting for the sun to rise. If he gets caught staring today he won’t apologize, and he won’t make Kageyama apologize either. He’ll just soak up this feeling and let it fill him to the brim.

The sun peeks out over the horizon. Kageyama sighs; Shouyou grins.

He’s ready for today, this year, the future. He moves his hand to cover Kageyama’s, and Kageyama’s hand turns in his, laying palm up so they can thread their fingers together.

Colorful spots dance in Shouyou’s vision.