Chapter Text
Kageyama had already been living alone even before starting college. Not just because his parents were always absent, but also because—perhaps in a superficial attempt to seem more present—they gave him the freedom to choose an apartment as a “graduation” gift, not even realizing he wouldn’t graduate for another six months. Kageyama didn’t bother correcting them. He just accepted the gift and kept the story going, securing a greater sense of independence for himself.
His apartment was small but comfortable—the perfect space for someone who never needed much more than a bed and a closet for his clothes. He didn’t want anything extravagant, nor anything that could later be thrown in his face as a favor to repay. All he needed was a starting point—a place where he could begin his adult life for real.
His plans were simple: get a job, save money, and eventually find a better place—one he could truly call his own. Not something given, but something earned through his own effort.
Deep down, from the start, Kageyama had already considered the idea of sharing the apartment with Hinata. The location was convenient, close to both of their universities and the city center, which would make Hinata’s routine much easier. But he had never really stopped to think about the weight of that decision.
Living together was a big step, especially considering they had only been dating for a few months at the time. It had taken them a while to make official what had been obvious for ages.
It all started with a stolen kiss—something impulsive and forbidden—that they both swore would never happen again. But then came the second time. And the third. And before they realized it, they were caught in a dangerous dance of lingering glances and touches that lasted longer than they should.
At first, it was just casual hookups at parties—no labels, no pressure, just two people giving in to the moment.
But then came the jealousy.
The desire for something more.
They started seeking each other out even without the excuse of parties—meeting in hallways, during practice, on lonely nights where they pretended it was only about physical need. From friends with benefits, they became something more. And with time, they became premium situationships—if that was even a real thing.
They made up names for what they were, made up excuses—anything to delay the truth they both feared: this wasn’t just desire anymore.
It was love.
But love meant risk.
It meant exposure.
And above all, it meant the possibility of losing each other.
Kageyama felt a tightness in his chest every time he saw Hinata getting too close to someone at a party, laughing, leaning into whispered conversations. The knot in his stomach became unbearable when he saw someone else occupying the space he wanted to claim as his.
Hinata, on the other hand, hated how he burned inside every time Kageyama acted indifferent—every time his messages went unanswered after a night together.
They were side by side all the time, but never close enough.
They pretended everything was fine. That Kageyama’s teasing wasn’t fueled by jealousy. That Hinata’s complaints weren’t rooted in insecurity.
They laughed, fought, pulled each other by the collar just to end up kissing again, and again, and again—but every time things threatened to become real, one of them would pull away.
The tension kept building. The weight of everything they didn’t say became unbearable.
It happened at some random party, full of alcohol, noise, and wounded pride. Kageyama saw Hinata laughing with someone—too close again. Smiling too much, again. And before he could stop himself, before he could think about the consequences, he grabbed him by the wrist.
The tension between them had already been high since earlier that day. At school, a girl had approached Kageyama, throwing her arms around his neck, convinced she had a chance.
She spoke loudly, confidently, laughing like she’d already won a game that hadn’t even started.
“I thought you weren’t seeing anyone,” she teased. “No one had the guts to try before me.”
Kageyama, caught off guard, took a few seconds to react—but before he could push her away, Hinata had already seen everything.
The redhead didn’t wait for explanations. His eyes burned, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides.
He left without saying a word.
Later, when Kageyama finally found him in the hallways, all they managed to exchange were sharp words.
Words that said nothing of what truly needed to be said.
“If she tried to kiss you, would you have let her?” Hinata challenged, his voice laced with something far deeper than anger.
“I wasn’t even—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Hinata cut him off, arms crossed. “You don’t owe me anything, right? After all, we’re not... anything.”
The words hung in the air between them, both of them staring, waiting for the other to make the first move. But, as always, silence won.
And then, the bell rang—ending any chance they had to finish that conversation.
Now, at that party, Kageyama felt it all come crashing back with twice the weight. He’d had the entire day to go after Hinata, to pull him aside and say what had been left unsaid. But he hadn’t.
He waited.
And now Hinata was there, laughing with someone else like nothing had happened.
Hinata’s eyes sparkled with provocation when Kageyama grabbed him, but there was something else in them too—a tired gleam, a quiet kind of waiting.
“What’s your problem?” Hinata challenged, not pulling away.
Kageyama clenched his jaw, his fingers still wrapped around Hinata’s warm wrist. There were so many things he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat—choked by pride and fear.
“You already know what it is.”
That was all he could manage—hoarse, somewhere between frustration and longing.
For a second, the world stopped.
Hinata looked at him like he’d been waiting far too long to hear that. Like he needed to be sure before he let himself fall.
“No, I don’t,” he said, voice almost lost in the noise around them. “So you tell me.”
But pride is cruel.
Fear is worse.
And once again, Kageyama said nothing.
This time, it was Hinata who walked away.
Hinata didn’t sleep that night either.
Pride kept him from going back, from punching Kageyama and spilling everything trapped in his chest—all the frustration, all the anger, all the stifled longing he pretended not to feel.
Fear kept him from texting.
He stared at his phone for far too long, fingers hesitating over the screen, scrolling through their messages back and forth.
Revisiting old texts, photos, little moments. Searching for any sign that Kageyama felt the same—that it wasn’t just in his head.
Because Hinata knew exactly what he wanted.
He wanted Kageyama.
Not just the stolen kisses at parties.
Not just when they were alone and things felt easier.
Not just in the secrecy of a dark playground after a match.
He wanted the everyday Kageyama. The Kageyama who fought over silly things, who took volleyball way too seriously, who hated sharing his water bottle but always let Hinata drink first.
He wanted the Kageyama who, without realizing it, always saved a spot for him in the cafeteria. The Kageyama who acted all tough but turned red whenever Hinata smiled at him from across the classroom.
But... what if Kageyama didn’t want the same?
What if, in the end, he was in this alone?
The days that followed were a test of patience.
They moved like they were walking on shards of glass—avoiding any direct confrontation but unable to completely ignore each other’s presence.
The silence was worse than any fight.
Their friends noticed. They tried to include them in conversations, to force some sort of interaction, but everything fizzled out before it even began.
It was like there was a canyon between them.
Quick, hesitant glances.
Sighs caught in their throats.
Kageyama looked at Hinata when he wasn’t watching.
Hinata looked at Kageyama when he thought no one would notice.
They waited.
But waiting solved nothing.
And so, something had to break.
It happened that night, when Kageyama showed up at Hinata’s window with a crooked bouquet of flowers stolen from the neighbor’s garden and eyes burning with quiet determination.
Hinata opened the window before he even thought it through.
“You stole flowers from Mrs. Sato?” he whispered—but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“She goes to bed early, she won’t notice,” Kageyama muttered, looking away.
Hinata couldn’t help it. He laughed.
Softly, quietly—at how ridiculous and awkward Kageyama could be.
He laughed because, suddenly, all the weight of the past few days felt a little lighter.
Because Kageyama was there.
And that meant everything.
That night, between slow kisses and whispered confessions in the dark, they finally stopped running.
When the sun began to rise, Kageyama climbed back out the window.
But this time, he wasn’t sneaking out of his situationship’s house.
He was leaving his boyfriend’s.
The idea of living together lingered—circling in Kageyama’s mind, always returning no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
And that night, sitting at the dinner table in the Hinata household, he realized it might finally be time to bring it up.
The table was still set, plates half-finished, while the comforting aroma of home-cooked food hung in the air. The conversation flowed naturally, peppered with occasional laughter and little stories from their daily lives.
Hinata’s parents seemed content, happy to have the whole family together for a peaceful dinner.
“You’re always so tired, Shouyou,” his mom said, helping herself to another spoonful of rice before glancing at her son. “It’s hard to even schedule a dinner like this—you’re always too busy.”
Hinata gave a nasal laugh, reaching for his glass of water before replying:
“College entrance exams are coming up, Mom… and the internship’s been rough.”
Kageyama stayed quiet, just watching. They had already graduated, but things were still far from easy for Hinata.
With no way to afford a private university and not-high-enough grades to guarantee a direct admission, Hinata was juggling an exhausting internship and endless hours of studying. It was his only shot at earning a scholarship—and taking the next step.
He tried to seem carefree, keeping up his usual smile and dodging any real talk about his routine.
But his body told a different story.
When Hinata got up to grab dessert, Kageyama noticed the weight of exhaustion in every small movement. The slumped shoulders, the dragging steps, the slightly heavier breathing. The dark circles under his eyes stood out starkly against his warm skin, and for a moment, Kageyama had the terrifying thought that if Hinata closed his eyes for too long, he might just collapse right there.
That was when Kageyama knew.
It was time.
He had thought about it countless times.
Considered every possible scenario.
Tried to poke holes in his own plan—but found none.
It wasn’t some impulsive whim. It wasn’t just a passing idea.
It made sense.
Hinata’s parents trusted him.
They knew Kageyama was responsible, that he’d been living on his own for a while. Soon, they’d be attending the same university. Kageyama already had his own apartment—there’d be no rent to worry about, no extra expenses straining their budget.
The only thing that would change was the name on the mailbox.
And more than anything else, Hinata would finally have a place to rest—without the weight of the world pressing down on him.
Everything was in their favor.
Kageyama straightened up, crossing his arms on the table, trying to sound casual.
“He’s been really tired lately,” he commented, eyes following Hinata as he disappeared into the kitchen.
His mother sighed, adjusting her sweater sleeve absentmindedly.
“I tell him that all the time. He’s doing that internship, killing himself studying for entrance exams, spending hours on those packed buses… I don’t know how he manages.”
His father grunted something in agreement, chewing slowly as he brought a piece of meat to his mouth.
Kageyama took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.
“I was thinking…” he began, feeling all eyes turn to him. “Maybe… would you be okay with him moving in with me? As you know, I recently got an apartment near the city center, and...”
The abrupt clatter of utensils hitting a plate cut him off.
Hinata’s father stopped chewing instantly, eyes narrowing in pure suspicion.
For a moment, Kageyama thought he’d made his point clearly and reasonably.
But then, in a swift movement, the man pointed his fork directly at him—dangerously close to his face.
“So that’s what this is?!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing across the table. “You wanna steal my son from this house and rob him of his innocence?!”
The sarcastic laugh that followed caught Kageyama completely off guard.
He blinked, momentarily stunned.
Across the table, Natsu covered her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle her laughter, while Hinata’s mother sighed:
“Dear God, not this again…”
Kageyama opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips, uninvited.
He has no idea I’m the innocent one here.
And honestly… it was probably better if he never found out.
Because if he knew they’d been sleeping together since the start of their relationship, he’d probably be waving a knife instead of a fork.
Hinata’s mother clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval at her husband’s over-the-top reaction.
Kageyama’s request had been unexpected—after all, in their eyes, he was still practically a kid—but there was no need to threaten him like some intruder trying to kidnap their son.
“Can you stop with the dramatics?” she sighed, snatching the fork from her husband’s hand before he did something stupid. “For heaven’s sake, you’re going to scare the boy.”
Kageyama, who rarely got intimidated, kept his expression neutral.
“Look, Tobio,” Hinata’s mom continued, her tone softer now but still firm, “it’s sweet of you to think that way, but you two are still just kids. This isn’t playing house—this is real life. I know you meant well, but for now, it’s best to leave things as they are. Hinata will settle into his routine soon enough.”
Even though he didn’t agree, Kageyama dipped his head slightly—a gesture meant to mimic acceptance.
But inside, frustration simmered.
He wanted to argue.
To say that he knew it wasn’t some childish game.
That he wasn’t suggesting it on a whim or out of irresponsibility.
He just couldn’t stand seeing his boyfriend dragging himself around like a zombie anymore—exhausted, eyes sunken, constantly falling asleep on the bus and missing his stop.
But he swallowed the words.
In the end, this was Hinata’s parents’ decision. And Kageyama didn’t want to turn it into a fight—not when Hinata already had enough on his plate.
Across the table, Natsu was still snickering quietly, holding her spoon like she was watching a live comedy show. To her, the whole scene was hilarious—especially because she’d known for ages that the two of them were already very close.
And she hadn’t found out through a heart-to-heart sibling confession, but rather through a moment of shameless espionage worthy of a soap opera.
It all happened months ago, when Hinata, way too excited to manage his volume, was telling his friends about his relationship with Kageyama.
Natsu, driven by the natural curiosity of a younger sister, hid behind the door, listening with the focus of a secret agent on a mission. But when she caught that part of the conversation—the one about their more adult activities—she had to bite her own fist to keep from screaming.
Since then, she’d been using that knowledge as a powerful bargaining chip.
Hinata nearly had a meltdown when he realized she knew.
His panic was instant.
He tried everything to make her forget—threatened to hide her favorite magazines, change the Wi-Fi password, delete the newest episodes of her favorite anime. But nothing could shake Natsu’s unshakable confidence.
In the end, it was Kageyama who solved the situation with his straightforward logic: he took Natsu and two of her friends to a rec club, paid for snacks, juice, and pool time all day.
The bribe worked.
For a while.
But Natsu wasn’t stupid. And Kageyama was starting to realize that, sooner or later, he’d have to negotiate again.
━━━━━━━━━
Since the disastrous dinner, Kageyama had shelved the idea of living with Hinata.
Hinata’s dad couldn’t have been more clear about his opinion—and even found time to tack on an extra lecture while they were clearing the table.
At the time, pushing the subject felt pointless. So Kageyama forced himself to accept the decision, even though swallowing frustration had never come naturally to him.
But now, seven months later, the situation had changed.
The apartment he’d moved into barely worked for just him anymore.
At first, it had felt like enough—a small but functional space. With his internship money, he made the place cozier, bought better furniture, organized it just the way he liked.
But the more he shaped it into a proper home, the more a new problem emerged: the increasing number of things Hinata brought over and conveniently forgot to take back.
At first, it was just little things—a hoodie slung over a chair, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, a pair of socks left in some random corner. Small stuff. Easy to ignore.
But over time, the silent invasion became impossible to overlook.
Shirts that didn’t belong to Kageyama started filling his dresser.
A backup of Hinata’s favorite headband mysteriously appeared in the bathroom.
A pile of books—ones Kageyama had never touched—started claiming his desk.
And the smell...
It had become a constant presence.
A mix of floral fabric softener and sunscreen, clinging to the sheets, the jackets, the very air of the apartment.
Kageyama didn’t mind.
In fact, he liked the sense that Hinata was part of the space.
But the clutter had started messing with his routine. Finding his own clothes became a daily challenge. The bedroom felt smaller by the week. Hanging laundry without overlapping Hinata’s was practically a full-body puzzle.
The final straw came on an ordinary morning.
Still half-asleep, Kageyama left the bedroom to head out for training. As he stepped into the laundry area, the cold tile floor suddenly gave way beneath him—his foot slipping out from under him.
Before he could react, he was flat on his back.
There was a puddle of water.
Left behind because someone—Hinata—hadn’t figured out how to use the spin cycle properly.
The fall hurt, but the worst part came after.
As he tried to sit up, he knocked into the drying rack, sending every wet piece of clothing crashing down on him.
And to top it all off?
A soaking-wet sock landed directly on his face.
At seven in the morning.
Soaked, miserable, and freezing, Kageyama came to a clear and undeniable conclusion:
This wasn’t sustainable.
He needed a bigger apartment. One that could hold him, his things, and—if he was being honest with himself—everything Hinata had already unofficially moved in.
Later that night, his sister called to check in.
Somewhere between small talk and weekly updates, Kageyama casually mentioned that he was thinking about looking for a new place.
“Too small?” she asked, half-distracted.
“Too small for two people,” he replied—without even realizing it.
The silence on the other end was enough to make him realize exactly what he had just admitted.
The next morning, right at 7:30, firm knocks echoed through Kageyama’s apartment door.
He opened it still half-asleep, eyes squinting against the bright morning light. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and the look on his face made it very clear he was not ready to deal with anything that early.
“What are you doing here?” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
On the other side, his sister raised a cup of coffee like a prize and waved a folder stuffed with papers in her other hand.
“You said you wanted to look for a new apartment,” she replied matter-of-factly. “So I came to help.”
Kageyama ran a hand over his face and let out a heavy sigh.
“I just mentioned that last night…”
“Exactly. Which means you had the whole night to think it over and realize I’m right. Now go get dressed—I made a list of places, and we’ve got three viewings today.”
He blinked slowly, trying to process what she’d just said. Then looked at the folder she was holding, and back at her, suspicious.
“Wait—what do you mean you already scheduled viewings?”
She shrugged and, without waiting for an invitation, pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Because I knew that if I left it up to you, you’d spend months complaining and never actually move.”
Kageyama huffed but didn’t have the energy to argue.
And honestly? She wasn’t wrong.
Not just because his place was turning into a storage unit, but because he was tired of watching Hinata leave all the time.
Dragging himself to the bathroom, he could hear the familiar sound of the coffee machine whirring to life, followed by his sister muttering about the mess in the apartment.
When he came back, already dressed, there was a steaming cup of coffee waiting on the table and the folder open, several listings already circled.
He sat down and started flipping through the pages, analyzing each option until something specific caught his attention.
“Okay, but why is there a three-bedroom apartment on this list?” he asked, frowning.
His sister looked up, a sly smile spreading across her face.
“Are you really gonna pretend you don’t want to live with Hinata?”
Kageyama froze.
He swallowed hard, looked away, and muttered something unintelligible as he grabbed his coffee.
She just laughed and turned the page like someone who’d known the answer all along.
“I thought so. Now finish your coffee—we’ve got an apartment to find.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before taking a sip of the hot drink.
“Alright, alright. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
She grinned, clearly pleased, picked up the folder and waited as he put on his sneakers.
Soon after, the two of them were out the door and heading to the first address on the list.
The first place looked promising on paper: spacious, well located, and reasonably priced.
But the second Kageyama stepped inside, he turned right back around.
“It smells like mold.”
“You just need to air it out,” his sister argued, poking at the wall. A chunk of paint peeled off.
“Hmm. Okay, maybe we skip this one.”
The second apartment was smaller, but more modern—and thankfully, not a biohazard. Kageyama was starting to warm up to the idea when he noticed something strange in the bathroom.
“Why is the shower in the middle of the wall?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like... literally in the middle. There’s no curtain, no partition—just a showerhead popping straight out of the tile.”
The two of them stared at the plumbing monstrosity in silence.
“Okay, next,” his sister said, closing the folder.
The third place was the most expensive—but also the most promising. Two bedrooms, a spacious living room bathed in morning sunlight, and a small but cozy balcony.
Kageyama walked through the space in silence, absorbing every detail, trying to picture what his routine would look like there.
And then he realized he was unconsciously imagining Hinata too.
He could see him sprawled across the couch, kicking his shoes into some random corner of the room.
Hinata tossing his backpack near the door, grumbling about traffic before raiding the fridge.
The two of them bickering over the remote.
Sharing the space, the rhythm, the everyday life.
Living there.
He stepped out onto the balcony, resting his arms on the railing as he looked out over the view.
The fresh morning air ruffled his hair, and he let out a quiet sigh, almost smiling.
Hinata would definitely fill the space with plants.
He could already hear him talking excitedly about different pots, trying out different spots to make sure each one got the perfect amount of light.
The thought caught him off guard.
I want this, he realized.
His daydream was abruptly interrupted when his sister appeared at his side, calling his name.
Kageyama jumped, heart racing.
“Jesus, you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”
She laughed, clearly entertained.
“You were off in your own little world. So, are you closing the deal or what?”
He looked away, scratching the back of his neck.
“I am.”
Her smile widened.
“I knew it.”
And deep down, Kageyama knew it too.
Signing the contract was easier than Kageyama had expected.
Mostly because his sister had taken over practically everything—bargaining with the confidence of someone who’d done it before, reading every clause with near-paranoid attention, and making sure he wasn’t tricked into paying any extra fees.
By the time he realized it, the new apartment was officially his.
Now came the hardest part: telling Hinata.
Funny, really, to think of it as a challenge—considering Hinata already spent half the week sleeping at his place.
His clothes were scattered across the rooms, his sneakers showed up in the most unexpected corners. Kageyama had gotten used to his constant presence, to the laughter cutting through the silence, the complaints about traffic, the sound of the shower running for way too long.
Even so, asking him to move in for real felt like a much bigger step than just sharing space.
Because deep down, it wasn’t just about a new apartment.
It was about what that meant.
And then there were Hinata’s parents.
The last conversation about moving in together hadn’t exactly gone over well. The thought of facing that disapproval again made Kageyama uneasy.
In the days that followed, Kageyama started taking a few boxes over to the new place. Things he didn’t use often, small objects he wasn’t too attached to—any excuse to start easing into the space.
It was his way of breaking in the apartment, both physically and mentally, while he worked up the courage to tell Hinata and make the invitation. His plan was to do both at the same time.
If he just mentioned the apartment first, he knew he’d lose his nerve.
But every time he rehearsed the words, he hesitated.
To make things worse, Hinata was drowning in college, practice, and his internship. They barely had time to see each other.
When they did, it was always rushed—a hasty lunch with squished sandwiches between classes, a quick chat on the subway before they went their separate ways.
Kageyama wanted to tell him face-to-face.
He wanted to see Hinata’s reaction the moment the words left his mouth. Catch the answer before it was even spoken.
But as the days passed, the hesitation dug in deeper.
What if it was too soon?
What if Hinata freaked out?
He kept telling himself he was still thinking it through, that he needed more time.
But the truth was, his actions had already made the decision for him.
Without noticing, he made extra copies of the key—and chose a keychain with Hinata’s initial.
When he went shopping for home stuff, he grabbed everything in pairs: matching slippers, identical mugs, storage containers in twos.
As if, deep down, he already knew the space had never really been his alone.
━━━━━━━━━
In a rare moment of peace on campus, they finally found a break in the chaotic week to just be together.
The sun was no longer harsh, filtered through the canopy above them, casting dancing shadows on the grass.
Sitting side by side, leaning against the rough bark of a tree, they traded lazy kisses with no rush.
The warm breeze carried the scent of earth and dry leaves, while the distant chatter and laughter of other students blended with the rustling branches overhead.
Hinata shifted against him, sliding closer until he was comfortably settled against Kageyama’s chest, the movement as natural as breathing.
It was a quiet kind of intimacy, shaped by time and familiarity.
His fingers found Kageyama’s and began playing with them idly, tracing slow circles on the rough skin, twisting the promise ring on his finger without even thinking.
Kageyama closed his eyes, soaking in the familiar warmth and weight of Hinata against him.
In that moment, everything felt suspended.
No deadlines, no exams, no practices or exhaustion.
Just the two of them, breathing in sync, wrapped in the rare calm of a late afternoon.
And then, in a rough whisper, Kageyama let it slip:
“Dinner at my place tonight?”
Hinata made a sound of agreement, mumbling into his chest, still lost in the rhythm, the warmth, the touch.
He twisted the ring on Kageyama’s finger again, distracted, not really thinking about the question.
“Mm... sure. What’re we eating?”
Kageyama opened his eyes, looking down at the top of Hinata’s head, his hair soft and tousled by the wind.
He hesitated for a second, heart beating faster than it should.
“Whatever you want,” he answered, trying to sound casual.
Hinata chuckled softly and gave his hand a squeeze.
“Then yakisoba. And dessert.”
“Alright, I’ll make it.”
This time, Hinata looked up at him, brows raised in surprise, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
“You? You’re gonna cook for me?”
Kageyama frowned, grumbling.
“I can cook, idiot.”
“Sure you can…” Hinata laughed, settling back against him. “Sounds like you’re trying to impress me.”
Kageyama opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.
Because maybe, deep down, he was.
But it wasn’t just dinner.
It was an invitation.
A door slightly ajar to something bigger.
Another step toward what he really wanted to say.
Kageyama was a bundle of nerves.
There wasn’t much time left before Hinata got back from his internship, and dinner was practically ready. The warm aroma of yakisoba filled the apartment, blending with the faint scent of dish soap from the freshly washed plates.
The kitchen counter—usually cluttered—had been set with unusual care. Two plates perfectly aligned, chopsticks placed side by side, glasses filled just right.
He’d even turned on the warm yellow light, hoping it would make the place feel cozier. But none of that helped ease the tight knot in his stomach.
His fingers tapped against the cold marble in an erratic rhythm, betraying his restlessness.
With each passing minute, the hesitation grew heavier. He kept trying to organize his thoughts, mentally rehearsing the words that needed to come out just right. Instead, he found himself picking out a new pair of pajamas and brushing his hair more carefully than usual—as if that would make a difference.
He was never good with words. Either too blunt without meaning to be, or unable to fully express what he felt. He’d gotten much better over time—especially after starting to date Hinata, who was his complete opposite: talkative, expressive, full of exaggerated gestures, and with a never-ending vocabulary that always seemed to have the right word for everything.
With him, Kageyama had learned to communicate better, to name his feelings, to not run away from difficult conversations.
But this time, the words had to come out right.
This time, it wasn’t just about emotions or resolving an argument. It was about the future. About the space he wanted to share—not just for convenience, but because he couldn’t imagine the apartment without Hinata’s things scattered all over the place.
He took a deep breath, adjusting the chopsticks for the third time, as if that would buy him more time.
And then, the familiar sound of the door opening made his breath hitch.
Hinata walked in like he always did: kicking off his sneakers without using his hands, dropping his backpack in the entryway, and flopping onto the couch with a satisfied groan.
“Finally home.”
From the kitchen, Kageyama watched him, leaning against the counter. Through the gap between the kitchen and the living room, he had a perfect view of Hinata sprawling across the apartment, claiming the space with the ease of someone who already belonged there.
Something warm and heavy settled in his chest. He was still nervous, still felt the weight of what he needed to say, but seeing Hinata so at ease—like this was already his home—made some of that anxiety melt away, if only a little.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He started readjusting the plates again, nudging them a few centimeters to the left, then to the right, like that might help organize his thoughts.
“Dinner’s ready, Nana,” he called out, trying to sound casual.
From the couch, Hinata cracked one eye open and sniffed the air like a hungry puppy. Without hesitation, he got up and made a beeline for the kitchen, lifting the lid off the pot without ceremony. He inhaled the warm scent of yakisoba and grinned, pleased.
“Whoa, you actually cooked!” he said, grabbing a noodle with his fingers before Kageyama could stop him. “This smells amazing, Tobikou.”
Kageyama huffed, arms crossed.
“Use the chopsticks.”
Hinata just laughed, chewing without shame, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“It’s really good,” he mumbled with his mouth still full.
“Of course it is,” Kageyama muttered, trying to sound indifferent—and failing miserably at hiding how proud he was.
Hinata stepped closer and gave him a quick kiss before pulling out a chair to sit. But before he could settle in, Kageyama held onto the back of the chair, stopping him firmly.
Hinata frowned, raising an eyebrow.
“What is it?”
“Shower.” Kageyama tilted his head toward the bathroom.
Hinata threw his head back with an exaggerated groan.
“I’m not that dirty.”
Kageyama just kept staring, unmoved.
With a sigh, Hinata crossed his arms and stomped off toward the bathroom.
“Fine, fine… But if the food gets cold, it’s your fault!” he grumbled, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.
Already halfway down the hallway, he mumbled something about demanding boyfriends—but the sound of hurried footsteps a second later gave away that he was running to the shower.
Kageyama let out a breath, turning back to his dilemma: how, exactly, was he supposed to say what needed to be said?
He mentally rehearsed a few phrases, tried to think of ways to bring it up that wouldn’t sound weird or put too much pressure on Hinata. But every script he came up with collapsed the moment Hinata stepped out of the bathroom.
His hair was still dripping in a few spots, messy and soft. His skin was flushed, a clear sign he’d spent too long under the hot water. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts a little too big, the loose waistband slipping slightly down his hips.
Kageyama swallowed hard.
Shit.
There was no way he could do this.
Hinata was in the kitchen, balancing the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other, scooping out another generous portion before heading back to the bedroom. The soft scrape of the spoon against the bottom of the container echoed through the quiet apartment, mixing with the distant hum of passing cars outside.
Meanwhile, Kageyama stayed seated on the bed, holding the key between his fingers. The cold metal pressed into his warm, sweaty palm like an anchor, grounding him in the moment, keeping him steady in the middle of the whirlwind inside him.
He rehearsed the words again in his head.
Hinata, do you want to live with me?
Simple. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.
But then Hinata appeared in the hallway, laughing at something that probably only made sense in his own head. His hair, still slightly damp from the shower, fell soft over his forehead, and he was wearing one of Kageyama’s oversized t-shirts—something Kageyama recognized instantly as his.
Before he could brace himself, Hinata flopped onto the bed without warning, sinking into the mattress with a satisfied sigh, the ice cream tub balanced against his chest. Kageyama’s throat went dry.
And then, instead of the carefully planned words, what came out was:
“Here. It’s for you.”
Hinata paused mid-spoonful, blinking a few times before glancing down at the key Kageyama was holding out to him.
For a second, Kageyama held his breath. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe this was it.
Then, as if Kageyama had just handed him some unexpected prize, Hinata broke into a wide grin.
“How’d you know I lost mine? You’re the best!”
Before Kageyama could say anything, Hinata took the key without hesitation, leaned in, and pressed a quick, cold kiss to his lips. The sweet taste of strawberry lingered, mixing with Hinata’s warm breath.
“You even got me a keychain!” he squealed, kicking his feet excitedly on the mattress. “I’m showing this to Yamaguchi! He was all smug about his matching bracelets with Tsukishima.”
And before Kageyama could find his voice again, Hinata was already on his feet, darting out of the room, laughing as he typed furiously on his phone.
Kageyama just sat there, blinking slowly.
What...?
His lips were still tingling from where Hinata had kissed him, but nothing burned more than the frustration rising hot in his chest.
He let his head fall back against the pillow, exhaling a long sigh.
Unbelievable. He had planned this moment, rehearsed every word, prepared himself for any possible reaction—except this one. Now, Hinata thought he was just returning a lost key.
And there was no way to fix it without sounding like a complete idiot.
In the other room, Hinata was laughing at something on his phone, probably already sending pictures of the keychain to Yamaguchi, buzzing with excitement like it was a birthday gift.
Kageyama covered his face with his hands, trying to decide if he should bring it up again or just accept defeat for the night.
Then Hinata’s phone rang, loud and clear from the living room.
“Tadashi!” Hinata answered instantly, no hesitation.
Yamaguchi’s cheerful voice rang out on the other end, and Kageyama knew, at that moment, that any chance of salvaging his plan was gone.
Now Hinata would spend hours chatting, laughing, maybe even cracking dumb jokes about something completely unrelated, while he stayed here, stuck in silence, stewing in his own frustration.
Kageyama let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.
He’d failed.
Again.