Chapter Text
It was extremely rude to read off another person's feelings without their permission. Of course, no one could help the low-level hum of emotional chatter that they gave off or picked up, but deeper stuff was off limits without explicit consent. Everyone knew that.
Shouyou knew how rude it was, but he couldn't help exactly it, now could he? What the hell else was he supposed to do when Kageyama was giving off super confusing signals that spiked when he looked at Shouyou?
Usually, people only gave off vague hints of emotion and thought, a soothing background to their words and actions. If they were relaxed enough, sometimes they opened up more deeply, letting out full thoughts and feelings. And sometimes, if they were feeling something particularly strongly, it bled through everything else.
For some reason, lately Kageyama had been keeping some kind of secret that swirled around him constantly, a whisper that he was doing his damndest to muffle.
It was driving Shouyou nuts. He could hear it faintly whenever he was around Kageyama, but Kageyama was just too goddamn good at keeping it under wraps.
Shouyou was a little offended at that. They were sort of best friends, weren't they? At the very least they were partners, and partners were supposed to tell each other when stuff was bothering them. That was why partnerships worked so well. They had the other person there to pick up their slack.
Ever since he'd been a little kid, Shouyou had always associated certain smells and flavors with certain emotions in his head, and for the past week he'd caught flickers of sticky sour candy guilt mixed with that stupid burning asphalt anger. He wished that stupid Kageyama would just spit it out, but he also knew that Bakayama was awful at admitting to other people that something was wrong. He just let it sit inside, festering, until he was almost too stressed to speak at all. Shouyou had gotten good at recognizing the symptoms of a hardcore Kageyama meltdown, and he planned on nipping this one in the bud.
He waited until Saturday to make his move, because they only had morning practice. Ukai had ordered them to relax a little before their next practice game, and Daichi had supplemented the order with a particularly scary warning thought, complete with a detailed mental image of what he'd do to them if he caught them doing anything but resting.
Practice had gone well for the most part, except that Kageyama had been complete shit. He'd spiked the ball into the net more than he'd made it over, and had apologized to Daichi at least a dozen times, hands clenched tightly in the front of his practice shorts. The last time Shouyou had seen him so miserable was when they'd faced the Grand King and lost.
On the walk home, Shouyou laced his fingers behind his head and looked at the taller boy, who still seemed stiff and irritated.
Shouyou studied his face. “You were fucking terrible today at practice,” he said almost casually.
He'd thought that Kageyama had already been as tense as physically possible, but boy had he been wrong. Kageyama's shoulders tightened until Shouyou swore he heard the creak of muscle. Kageyama glared down at him, ears burning. "I don't want to hear that from you, asshole. I'm not the one who hit the net face first."
Kageyama's thoughts were loud just then, more hot asphalt anger and sour candy guilt and something that Shouyou couldn't figure out that was almost... citrus? Shouyou blinked. He couldn't remember ever having that particular flavor directed towards him. Huh. He was sure he'd felt it before, somewhere in the jumble of thoughts that he walked through every day during school, somewhere in groups of giggling girls and awkward boys and even sometimes in the locker room-
Shouyou scowled; he was more confused now than he'd been when the day started. "Okay, that's it. What the fuck is your problem? Did I do something to tick you off?" He knew he was probably broadcasting a bunch of his own anger, but he didn't give a shit. He wanted Bakayama to know how pissed he was.
Kageyama looked away. "No more than usual, dumbass," he said gruffly, not meeting Shouyou's eyes, and that was the final straw. He shouldn't sound so defeated when Shouyou didn't even know what the fucking problem was.
Shouyou grabbed him by the arm. "Then what?" he asked. "Because I'm tired of this bullshit. Why won't you even fucking look at me?" he snapped, suddenly so fucking done with whatever the fuck Kageyama was doing. He didn't give a shit anymore. He was sort of Kageyama's best friend slash rival slash whatever the fuck they were, and he had a responsibility to tell this tall jerkwad when he was being an out and out douche. Shouyou yanked on the sleeve of Kageyama's team jacket until the taller boy was forced to face him.
Sometimes Shouyou forgot how big Kageyama was, but he was reminded just then, leaning his head back to stare furiously up into those unreadable dark eyes. "What's your fucking problem?" he demanded.
There was sour candy and hard citrus and sickly bubblegum frustration pouring off Kageyama in waves, and then there were long, calloused fingers in the front of Shouyou's jacket, and Kageyama was leaning down and pressing his mouth to Shouyou's.
Shouyou froze in shock, the hum of Kageyama's mind so close to his own, and now he could feel that citrus more clearly in Kageyama's thoughts, and he realized it was the feeling of a crush.
Kageyama had a crush on him.
He was so surprised that he opened his mouth to ask Kageyama exactly how long that had been going on, and Kageyama's tongue swiped across his lower lip.
Oh. Oh.
He stopped thinking so much.
Kageyama's tongue was in his mouth, and it was wet and warm and weird, and somehow really good. After a second, he tentatively returned the motion with his own tongue, enjoying the noise Kageyama made into his mouth. He hadn't known that Bakayama could sound like that. One of Kageyama's hands pressed against Shouyou's cheek, and it was surprisingly gentle, palm warm against his skin.
Huh. So this was why people liked kissing so much. He liked the way Kageyama's jaw popped as he turned to fit his face more closely to Shouyou's. He liked the way Kageyama's nose scrunched up a little, like he was concentrating, trying not to mess up.
Shouyou had kept his hands at his sides at first, but he was suddenly aware that he should probably do something with them. Kageyama seemed to know what to do instinctively, and Shouyou felt a flicker of irritation that it all seemed to come so easily to him. Kageyama snorted against his mouth, and Shouyou flushed, realizing he'd let the thought slip out. He settled for letting his fingers curl into Kageyama's shirt, and if the way Kageyama reacted was any indication - leaning into the touch, fingers stroking Shouyou's jaw - Shouyou was doing just fine.
He'd never really thought about kissing Kageyama before, but this was a lot better than anything he would have imagined.
Kageyama made a sound in the back of his throat and pulled away, and Shouyou realized that he'd let that last thought slip out kind of loudly.
Also, they'd been standing on an empty sidewalk, sort of making out. In broad daylight.
Shouyou jerked away from Kageyama's hands, startled. He knew his face was beet red, but he was frozen. He couldn't look away from how pale Kageyama had gotten, and how pink and kiss-bruised his mouth was. Shouyou knew he couldn't look much better, and opened his mouth to crack a joke about looking like he'd made out with a strawberry ice cream, but before he could say anything, Kageyama gave a strangled gulp.
"Sorry," he rushed out, "I thought you- I thought you wanted-" he swallowed visibly. "I thought you- you liked-"
I thought you liked me too, was what Kageyama's mind was shrieking with hot hot wasabi-flavored fear that even Kageyama's iron control couldn't keep inside.
Kageyama took a big step backwards, looking sicker than Shouyou had ever seen him, and Shouyou opened his mouth to respond - seriously, how did you even respond to something like that? - but Kageyama was already darting away down the sidewalk, his mind ringing loudly with that sticky sour guilt and a screaming sharp panic that tasted like Kageyama's favorite milk had spoiled.
Shouyou stared after him, confused and worried and kind of flattered. Kageyama liked him. Kageyama wanted to kiss him. Kageyama thought about kissing him.
Fuck.
Shouyou slapped his palm to his forehead. God, that idiot. Kageyama had been so worried about his crush that he'd basically worked himself into a panic attack. And now he thought Shouyou hated him or something, and he was probably going to close himself off and pretend it never happened and yell at everyone around him, because that was how Kageyama Tobio dealt with things that stressed him out.
Kageyama might have been a genius setter, but sometimes he was a real fucking moron.
Shouyou had been hoping that today's conversation would break through Kageyama's funk, but apparently it had just made it ten times worse. Not to mention the fact that fucking Kageyama Tobio had a huge dumb crush on him, and Shouyou couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make this less awkward.
'Hey dude. Please keep tossing to me. I still want to play volleyball with you. Sorry I don't have a crush on you back.'
He swallowed hard.
He didn't have a crush on Kageyama, right? That would be weird. They fought too much for that. So what if he thought about Kageyama's abs and hands sometimes when he was jerking off? All guys did that sometimes, right? And who could blame him? He was on a sports team with really ripped guys who got all sweaty and then had to shower it off and stuff, and Shouyou had a somewhat overactive imagination, and it didn't really matter, right?
But that didn't mean he wanted to kiss the dudes on his team. He would never think about any of his sempais like that. They were untouchable coolness, like idols only better – the complete opposite of Kageyama.
Shouyou wasn't blind; Kageyama was hot, really hot. He was ridiculously ripped for someone so lame. And there was no doubt about it, Kageyama was the biggest friggin' loser that Shouyou had ever met. Who else got all worked up about whether or not animals liked him? Who else secretly bowed to the empty gym after cleaning it up, just because he respected the court so much? Who else had spent a whole twenty minutes during lunch one day researching milk brands on his phone because he wanted to make sure the brand he liked was also the most nutritious?
He was a huge loser in Shouyou's book, despite what anyone else said.
But he was also Kageyama, which meant he was a dick approximately ninety-five percent of the time. Every single day it was a new argument, a new glaring match, a new reason to spike harder and faster and more precisely, because if he could beat Kageyama, then he had beaten the best.
Because Kageyama was the best. It didn't matter if they'd lost to those jerks at Aoba Jousai, because Shouyou knew that next time, he and Kageyama were going to fucking pound them into the ground. Together.
Shouyou groaned, dropping into a crouch and shoving his hair back from his forehead.
Goddammit. Why did everything with Kageyama have to be so friggin' complicated?