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“C-can you show me again?” Tobio alternates between staring at the gym floor and peeking up through his dark bangs, his cheeks and ears steadily getting hotter.
“Just one more time,” Tobio swears, “I’ll get it then.” He should feel guilty for lying, right? He already got it so why was he wasting his senpai’s time like this? But the heavy, uncomfortable feeling of guilt is overshadowed by the fluttering butterflies that are also inhabiting his stomach.
“Alright, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi-senpai agrees, “But pay attention this time, okay?” He adds teasingly and Tobio immediately ducks his head, face red and hot. He nods vigorously and stretches out his hands so that Iwaizumi can rewrap his fingers.
Truthfully, he already knew how to wrap his fingers. His grandfather had taught him long ago. But after seeing Iwaizumi-senpai help a second year with their bandages the other day, his brain had concocted this idea of pretending to have sore fingers so that Iwaizumi-senpai would show him how to wrap them properly. Tobio wasn’t sure why his brain came up with the idea. On a shallow level, he understood that he liked being near Iwaizumi-senpai and the handholding was nice too. But why exactly Tobio craved that interaction, his 12-year-old mind was unable to understand.
Iwaizumi wraps Tobio’s fingers with gentle precision, his larger fingers holding Tobio’s smaller, paler ones with so much care. Tobio watches with rapt attention, mesmerized by the way Iwaizumi’s hands work so smoothly and accurately.
“Iwaizumi-senpai has nice hands,” he blurts out. Tobio instantly berates himself in his head for sounding like such a freakish weirdo. See, this is why no one hangs out with you.
“I mean you're really good with your hands,” Tobio tries to amend, “Like at volleyball and this—” Tobio lifts his wrapped fingers. Iwaizumi grins a little, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to smother his laughter. Tobio stares stubbornly at the floor, hoping his face isn’t actually as red as it feels.
“Never change, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi shakes his head with a smile and begins to clean up the remaining bandages.
“I will change. I’ll get better, I promise!” Tobio says earnestly. Was there really a point in playing volleyball if he wasn’t aiming to learn more, to grow more?
“I know you will,” Iwaizumi nods with a gentle smile. He ruffles Tobio’s hair and heads out, leaving Tobio to shyly examine his wrapped fingers once more.
“How’s that? Feeling better, Tobio?” Tobio can only manage to nod his head and hum in affirmation. He’s too busy trying to keep it together, make sure his face isn’t an embarrassing shade of red or anything.
“Relax a bit more,” Iwaizumi says, hands wandering higher as they massage Tobio’s calf.
“Okay,” Tobio chokes out. He slowly lies flat on his back, the cool wood of the bench causing him to shiver slightly. At least this way he doesn’t have to look at or Iwaizumi’s nice arms or Iwaizumi’s nice hands or Iwaizumi’s nice everything in general. Although not seeing doesn’t mean he suddenly stops feeling the sturdy hands that are currently massaging the bare skin of his leg. Tobio decides the best course of action is to screw his eyes shut and let Iwaizumi finish while praying he doesn’t embarrass himself any further.
About two seconds later he feels warm air blow in his face and he’s snapping his eyes open. Above him, hovers Hinata. He smiles down at Tobio impishly.
“Aw, Kageyama-kun. Are you feeling better now?” Tobio tries his best to convey his murderous intentions towards Hinata through the most intense glare he can muster up.
Hinata, like the dumbass he is, does not understand his intentions and continues to hover around him like some tangerine pixie.
“I’m sure Tobio-kun will be just fine,” Atsumu drawls. “Iwaizumi-san you can probably just leave him to rest now, right? In fact, I think I might need some help too,” Atsumu clutches at his thigh and dramatically drapes himself across the adjacent bench. Iwaizumi shakes his head with a soft chuckle.
“Subtle,” Hinata coughs. “Atsumu-kun you should probably just drink some water to help with that raging thirst of yours— Hey!” Thankfully, Hinata leaves Tobio alone, choosing to pester Atsumu instead, which means Atsumu is too busy chasing Hinata out of the room to interfere with Tobio and Iwaizumi anymore. Tobio vindictively thinks it serves that bottle blonde right.
“That should be enough for now. Make sure you get some proper rest though, Tobio,” Iwaizumi grabs Tobio’s hands and gently pulls him back up into a sitting position. They’re really close, Tobio realizes. Like really fucking close. If he leaned in any closer…
“You all good now?” Iwaizumi asks him and Tobio belatedly realizes Iwaizumi’s still holding his hands.
“No,” Tobio chokes out in a hoarse voice.
“No?” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow.
“Head feels funny,” Tobio says. And it does; like he’s all floaty and light, like he’s swimming through syrupy clouds. Iwaizumi releases one of his hands to touch Tobio’s forehead like he’s checking his temperature. Tobio’s heart pounds even harder and he can practically feel the blood rushes to his face, painting his cheeks a harsh red.
“Ah,” Iwaizumi hums like he’s realized something. He retracts his hands, resting both of them on Tobio’s shoulders now. “Don’t worry, I know how to fix that too.”
“You do?” Tobio blinks.
Iwaizumi leans in and presses a soft kiss to Tobio’s forehead.
“Better now?” He asks teasingly.
Tobio shakes his head ‘no’ and makes a small whining sound. Iwaizumi laughs, still clutching Tobio’s shoulders, his forehead falling onto Tobio’s collarbone.
“Never change, Tobio,” Iwaizumi huffs, grinning fondly at him.
“Okay,” Tobio says because this time he’s starting to get it.
Tobio scrunches up his face, head turned upwards in hopes that the tears pooling in his eyes will disappear. He sits on top of the kitchen counter, patiently and silently, trying his best to ignore the blood slowly dripping down his palm. It feels warm and thick and gross and his finger stings a lot.
“Found it!” A voice calls out from somewhere behind him, the shuffling footsteps coming closer and closer. A first aid kit is set down next to him; Tobio briefly catches a glimpse of a cutesy Godzilla sticker slapped onto the top of the slightly banged-up tin.
“Does it hurt bad?” Iwaizumi asks.
“No,” Tobio replies, valiantly pretending there weren’t tears threatening to leak out of the corner of his eyes.
“Right,” Iwaizumi says in a voice that indicates he most definitely does not believe Tobio. Tobio most definitely does not pout at that.
“Damn. It doesn’t look that deep but you sure are bleeding a lot,” Iwaizumi runs a hand towel under the kitchen sink, pressing the damp cloth onto Tobio’s hand to clean up the excess blood.
“I’m not gonna need stitches, right?” Tobio asks. Stitches would suck ass. He scolds himself for being so careless with the knife earlier.
“Nah,” Iwaizumi gingerly takes Tobio’s hand into his, cleaning up the wound with a Q-tip and some hydrogen peroxide. “It’s not that big or deep. You’ll be fine once it clots.”
“Ew,” Tobio mutters at the word clots. What a gross word. Blood in general was pretty disgusting.
“And ... done,” Iwaizumi wraps a clear adhesive bandage around Tobio’s ring finger. It’s not too loose or too tight. “Be more careful next time, yeah? Don’t need you chopping one of your precious fingers off,” Iwaizumi brings Tobio’s injured hand to his cheek, pressing a quick kiss to Tobio’s palm.
“You’re the one who was distracting me,” Tobio scowls, cheeks flaming hot.
“Really? What was I doing again?” Iwaizumi hums, pretending to remember. Tobio presses the sole of his foot against Iwaizumi’s thigh, pushing him away.
“Go away,” Tobio mutters, examining the band-aid on his finger.
“Ahh, don’t be mad,” Iwaizumi comes closer, wrapping his arms around Tobio’s torso.
“M’not mad,” Tobio says petulantly, refusing to look at Iwaizumi.
“How ‘bout I finish making lunch and you go relax, huh?” Iwaizumi tries coaxing him, pressing feather-light kisses along Tobio’s jaw and neck.
“I don’t want to eat with you,” Tobio informs Iwaizumi, blunt as ever. Iwaizumi pulls back and Tobio is sure he’s being given some sort of look but Tobio still refuses to look at him, arms crossed over his chest, eyes focused on the kitchen cabinets. They’re a greyish blue colour with silvery handles. They’re nice, Tobio thinks. But maybe an earthy green would look better?
“Tobi-o,” Iwaizumi calls, pulling his attention away from the cabinets. Tobio almost forgets he’s supposed to be ignoring him. “So you’re gonna skip lunch then?”
“No, I’ll go eat out with Hinata.” Tobio reaches for his phone that sits on the counter to his right but Iwaizumi latches onto him tighter, stopping Tobio.
“You are one prickly patient,” Iwaizumi mumbles.
“You’re a mean doctor,” Tobio pouts.
“Let me make it up to you,” Iwaizumi laughs against Tobio’s neck, nipping at the skin on Tobio’s collarbone.
“Okay,” Tobio finally relents. “I want honey milk.”
“What?” Iwaizumi blinks at him.
“You said you’d finish making lunch. Make me some honey milk too,” Tobio repeats, wondering why Iwaizumi was so confused.
“Tobio,” Iwaizumi lets out a breathy laugh, “You’re really pure-hearted, huh?”
“What do you mean?” Tobio frowns a little.
“Nothing,” Iwaizumi mumbles as he hugs Tobio, holding him closer and pressing kisses to his forehead. “Promise me you’ll never change, Tobio.”
“Okay,” Tobio hugs Iwaizumi back, “But only after I get my honey milk.”