Chapter Text
Love is a game everyone plays. When you start “talking” to someone you’re interested in, you start a domino effect of flirtation and texts to knock the other party into falling for you. A simple 3 AM text is not all it seems—it is an open chess board, ready for you to play your moves and checkmate their heart. If you're not careful, the other person can string you along one emoji at a time.
Some rules are easy.
Text first when you want to show interest. Wait for a text when you’re gauging their interest. Saying you’ve got nothing to do is bait. Offer to pay when you want to surprise the other. Know your objective, know the other’s objective, and only fall for traps on purpose.
Some rules were less obvious.
Watch the types of questions they ask. Answer questions indirectly to wind the topic into your territory. Conversation is a minefield. Know what you want to show, know what you want to hide, and only open up strategically.
Kageyama’s brain always swirled with calculations and rules, whether it be volleyball or love. The people who just swallowed their pride and confessed were morons. There was always a better, more elegant way of getting together with someone.
Turn 1: Left on Read
Kageyama wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned his back to the gym wall.
“Ah!”
Kageyama jumped at the shout. Noya was clenching his phone and staring at it with wide eyes. Kageyama whipped back around to face the volleyball court. If he asked, he knew Noya would never shut up. And unfortunately, he didn’t really enjoy hearing Noya ramble as much as—
“Oh shit.” Noya was talking to his phone again.
Don’t ask. Don’t make eye contact, that only implies that you’re willing to listen. Look forward, intently, as if you’re mentally practicing by watching the 2-on-2. Kageyama stared out onto the court, eyes following the volleyball as it hit the tips of Suga’s fingers and flew once again into the air.
“Okay this has gotta work, right? This is good. This is good. And…send.”
Admittedly, Kageyama was a little curious about what on earth had Noya so worked up. The overthinking, shouting at text responses, and the tight grip he had on his phone all pointed to an obvious answer—he was clearly texting a love interest. Kageyama could easily deduce that much. Who and how did they meet and how far along are they were the more interesting questions by far.
The 2-on-2 went on, Tsukishima and Tanaka working together surprisingly well. Kageyama focused on the volleyball again, forcing Nishinoya’s texting problem out of his mind. He watched Tanaka receive the serve easily, passing it to Tsukishima. Tsukishima set the ball high.
Too high, Kageyama thought. Sloppy. His hands were all stiff, and he was using way more effort than he needed to. Still, it was probably okay for Tanaka, and it’s not like this was an official match against anyone talented.
Out of his periphery vision, he saw Noya check his phone once. Twice. Three times. That itch to know started crawling to the surface again. What text was so risky that you have to keep checking? He wanted to grab Noya and forcibly explain that his phone has a feature called “notifications” where it would tell him when he got a response, so quit checking.
But then Noya would probably want to talk about it, since Kageyama would have made it clear that he had noticed the problem. So Kageyama focused on the game again, his nose itching slightly.
Now the ball was on Suga and Hinata’s side. Somehow that redhead idiot had somehow received the ball properly, and Suga was under it, preparing to set.
The ball hit Suga’s fingertips and floated back into the air.
“It’s too high! Sorry, Hinata!” Suga called as Hinata wound up to jump.
Kageyama had seen it a hundred times before, but he watched Hinata wind up for a jump. He ran for the net, his arms thrown behind him before he launched himself into the air. His eyes were focused on the ball and the rest of the gym fell away. All Kageyama saw was Hinata, his drive and focus, and the ball. He soared above Tanaka’s block. Even from across the gym Kageyama could hear Hinata’s hand smack against the ball and slam it into the ground. Hinata landed lightly on his feet, Tanaka gaping at the ball.
Okay. That was kind of impressive.
Hinata let out a victory shout. “Yes, yes, yes! Did you see that?” he turned to Suga, who just smiled. “Take that, Tsukishima!”
Hinata’s eyes were alight with the fire of victory. Kageyama watched, entranced by the glow. He had to stop himself from smiling—that’d only make him look stupid—but he could at least enjoy watching Hinata grin from ear to ear and rub his victory into Tsukishima’s face.
“It’s just one point, moron,” Tsukishima grumbled.
Hinata, still wearing a dazzling grin, caught Kageyama’s eyes from across the gym. Kageyama’s mouth went dry.
Nice kill, he wanted to say. Also, I wasn’t staring at you, so don’t think I am.
The electricity from making eye contact zapped Kageyama and he jerked his eyes away.
Unfortunately, just as he looked away, Noya was staring at him and holding his phone up. And now they were making eye contact. And now Noya knows that Kageyama knows that Noya is having texting romance problems.
Well. Shit.
Kageyama felt Hinata’s gaze still burning the back of his neck, and his heart stopped at the thought of turning to face him again. On the other hand, Noya clearly wants to talk about this person he’s texting. Kageyama’s face started itching again.
“She left me on read!” Noya cried. “What am I supposed to do?”
Option 1: Ignore Noya. Go back to watching Hinata play.
Tempting, but not on the table. Kageyama had worked hard to make sure that the team didn’t see him as the angry King, and he couldn’t risk upsetting Noya. He could always trust Noya to be dramatic and blow an ignored question out of proportion.
Option 2: Ask what the problem was.
Clearly, Noya wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him. Given the opportunity to talk, he would probably talk Kageyama’s ear off. That sounded painful.
Option 3: Fix his problem.
Noya reacted to things in a predictable manner. Whatever romance problem he had was likely an easy fix. If he wanted Noya to leave him alone, he would probably have to deal with it. No problem, nothing to talk about!
Kageyama sighed and held his hand out. “Let me see.”
Noya handed his phone over and Kageyama scrolled through the most recent messages.
There was plenty of back and forth conversation, with some emojis sprinkled in. Some light flirting. Nothing too alarming. Nothing except—
To: Cute Girl
I’m excited to finally get to know you! I’ve always thought you were really smart and pretty :D
Kageyama narrowed his eyes at that last text. It was far too intense, and way too open. Noya had played most of his cards already, which didn’t leave much room to salvage his flirtationship. He had sent the message 10 minutes ago, when this girl’s usual response time was under 2 minutes. Not a good sign.
“Where did you meet this girl?” he asked, his fingers dancing over the keyboard, already narrowing down the options for the best text to fix this.
Noya crossed his arms. “History class. She sits in front of me and is really cute.”
Kageyama suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Noya would be attracted to anything that sat in front of him. Instead, he pointed to the screen. “Do you seriously not know her name?”
Noya groaned. “Well, here’s the thing. She totally told me. But—”
Okay, so Noya had forgotten her name.
A name is a powerful weapon in the romance arsenal, when used right it can make the other person feel special and seen. When used wrong, it makes your love interest feel neglected and unimportant.
So, in summary: Noya led with his heart first (shortsighted), forgotten her name (stupid), and been left on read (avoidable).
They met in class, though. And she sits in front. Maybe this conversation is salvageable. Maybe. What Noya needed was a text that sounds innocuous but is actually an efficient weapon capable of reenergizing the conversation and giving Noya the upper hand.
Kageyama smirked and typed out the response.
“There you go.”
Noya looked at his phone, and then back up at Kageyama. “How is this going to help? All you wrote was…” he squinted at his phone, “by the way, did we have any homework?”
“She sits in front of you, so she’s clearly the better student. Probably studies more than you and cares about class. Asking her for help boosts her ego and she’ll start to associate that feeling with you.”
Noya looked down at his phone and ran his hands through his hair. “Okay but won’t she get weirded out by the double text?”
Kageyama shook his head. “No. This text sounds like you just thought of it, but the real point is that you’re reminding her to text you back without being weird about it. If she texts you back about homework but doesn’t mention that compliment, she’s not into you. And you’ll know without ever needing to confess.”
Noya was still squinting at his phone.
Kageyama rolled his eyes. “A message like this will make her phone go off a second time, reminding her to text you back. But it’s risk free and doesn’t bring attention to your problem message.”
Plus, she’ll be the one responding to two topics at the same time. That’s a lot harder to do, and when she’s thrown off, her true feelings are a lot more likely to come out. Kageyama didn’t add that part aloud. He suspected that might be too many layers for Noya.
Noya’s jaw dropped. “You can get all of that from how she responds to homework?”
He sounded skeptical. But then, a text notification, an audible gasp, and:
“Ah! It worked! She wants to study together. Are you a romance sleeper agent?”
Kageyama shrugged and turned back to the court, his itch scratched.
Turn 2: To the Movies?
The movies.
The movies were seemingly neutral territory but could easily be colored with romance if given the right push. Two people with a purely platonic relationship can enter the darkened theater and exit lifelong soulmates. How does this happen? Well, the possibilities are endless. Reach for the popcorn while the lights are low and “accidentally” brush hands. Relax into their shoulder. Share an armrest. Grip onto the other person during a tense moment.
Of course, this is all completely up to the movie-goers. Nothing has to happen, but any overconfident moves can be easily hidden by the occasion. The allure of the big screen can hide the most vulnerable of emotions.
If Kageyama went to the movies with Hinata, they would probably wrestle to see who got to use the armrest. The thought made Kageyama’s stomach flip.
It wasn’t like Kageyama had a crush on Hinata. That would be ridiculous. He just liked watching him play volleyball, that’s all. He was a reliable practice partner. He had a contagious drive. When his eyes glowed with sheer grit, Kageyama was pulled right into that whirlpool. He wanted to see more of that. It wasn’t like Kageyama had a crush.
If Hinata demanded they see a movie together, he would be willing to see where it went, that’s all.
The only problem? Hinata would never invite him to the movies without being prompted. So, of course the logical course of action was to set up the perfect scenario—Hinata would have to ask him, then!
Kageyama stood in front of the gym, less early than usual. (He was late.) (Hinata was surely already warmed up.) (This was a necessary sacrifice so Kageyama could enter casually and put the conversation into motion.)
Breathe in. Breathe out. Force your stomach to settle.
It’s just Hinata, so damnit why was he so nervous? He had a plan. He’d mapped out exactly what he needed to say.
“Have you seen the poster for that documentary about the Olympic volleyball team yet?”
Hinata: “Ah! I want to see it so bad! I wanna see the shots on the big screen, right up close! I’ll figure out what makes him special and copy it!”
Then Kageyama would respond, “You better get there quickly, it’s only showing for one more weekend.”
Hinata: “Gwah! Really? But I got so caught up with practice this week! I don’t get allowance ‘till Monday!”
Then Kageyama would lay the next piece into place. “That’s too bad, because I actually know how to save my money. I was gonna go on Saturday.”
Hinata: “Please pay for me! I’ll pay you back! I won’t complain about any of your tosses!”
With that, Hinata will play right into his hands. Kageyama could pretend to be disinterested for a moment, before “giving in” and offering to take Hinata to the movie. Simple. Foolproof. Easy.
Kageyama exhaled and pushed the gym doors open.
As expected, Hinata was already there, jogging in place in his volleyball practice gear. “Hey! Kageyama! Toss to me!” he called out, waving his arms in greeting.
Kageyama waved him off. “No. I’m not warmed up yet.”
Hinata stopped mid-squat to cross his arms and raise his chin at Kageyama. “Not my fault you’re late.”
“I’m not late,” Kageyama said, gesturing to the empty gym.
Hinata grinned. “You’re just mad because I beat you today!”
Kageyama blew his bangs out of his face. “Whatever.”
Start the conversation.
Kageyama opened his mouth, but his pulse began to quicken, and his throat constricted. He felt his face flush more than warm-ups usually induced. His stomach swooped and Kageyama thought he might evaporate and die on the spot.
Maybe I should just wait to ask until later.
How would that look? He could wait until after practice (they stayed late anyway), then casually mention the movie poster as they were leaving the gym. That would work, right? There was no reason for him to bring it up now, so early in the day. It could wait until later.
Kageyama’s brain tapped him on the shoulder. If you wait until later, it won’t seem like a casual comment. He’ll know you were thinking about this. He’ll know you were thinking about it all practice long.
His blood froze. That’s right. It had to be now, when it was believable that he could have walked past a poster on his way to the gym. If he waited until later, the game was up.
Kageyama took a deep breath and positioned himself on his mental chessboard. He pushed aside his racing heart and started analyzing the situation. Hinata was finishing his stretches. Kageyama had only been in the gym for about a minute—his window of opportunity to bring up the movies casually was still open, but shrinking rapidly. Kageyama kept his eye on the prize: Hinata will ask me to take him to the movies.
It was Kageyama’s move.
“So,” Kageyama started, straightening up to face Hinata, “have you seen the poster for that documentary about the Olympic volleyball team yet?”
“Ah! I want to see it so bad! I wanna see the shots on the big screen, right up close! Do you—”
Kageyama relaxed.
“—wanna see it with me?”
Kageyama recoiled.
Invitation. If both parties pay for themselves, arrive separately, and see the movie, romance wilts and fails. An invitation was crucial to cultivate romance! One party delivers the invitation, picks up their love interest, pays for their ticket, then gets to hold hands during the movie. It all starts with that invitation. An invitation was crucial, but not when it came like this.
This was a trap.
Kageyama had his invitation, but the order of events was wrong. He was supposed to dangle the bait, then Hinata would beg Kageyama to take him to the movies! Hinata had already jumped on the idea without being prompted. The only explanation? Hinata saw Kageyama’s bait and was calling his bluff.
How did he know? He instantly predicted that I was going to try and play the hero, and he flips the tables on me! Shit. What do I say?
Kageyama swallowed. “Do you have any money?”
Kageyama knew he was fucked. The order was all wrong. Hinata was supposed to bring up money, not him. And if Hinata had brought up money, Kageyama could graciously offer to pay. Now he couldn’t even offer. Clearly, he expected Hinata to buy his own ticket, and he knew that Hinata knew that he knew that Hinata didn’t have the funds.
Kageyama bit his tongue. With one phrase, Kageyama had locked himself down a single path: he would not be going to the movies with Hinata.
Hinata’s face fell. “Oh. Guess not. I don’t get my allowance ‘till Monday.”
Kageyama’s heart sank. Yeah. I know you don’t. Kageyama pressed his mouth shut, wanting desperately to offer to pay, but he knew his mistake. If he offered now, he’d look like an asshole for bringing up money in the first place.
Hinata was staring at the ground, and something sour began to seep into Kageyama’s stomach. The silence was too loud. Shouldn’t Hinata have said something by now? No, wait, he just spoke. Was he waiting for Kageyama to say something? To offer to pay? To apologize?
Hinata clapped and the mood broke. “I’ll just pirate it later! The big screen is good, but not as good as free!”
Kageyama nodded at him. His throat was dry. “Right. Now let’s get warmed up.”
Practice was normal, but Kageyama was so confused he could barely set correctly. Every single time Hinata smacked the volleyball to the ground, Kageyama heard the gym reverberate and ask: why hadn’t that worked?