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“hey, kageyama,” says hinata, lowering his half-drunk milk and tilting his head toward the sky. “have you ever heard that saying about cherry blossoms?”
kageyama glances at him with furrowed brows, his own milk still raised to his mouth. they’re heading home—or, rather, kageyama is walking hinata to the base of the mountain, where they’ll part ways until tomorrow morning—and chatting idly about volleyball, as usual, and classes. they’ve only just begun their third and final year of high school, which is both exciting and terrifying; it means a new year of volleyball and a new chance at finally winning nationals, but it also means new teammates, and as hopeful as kageyama is, he also knows the new applicants could be unfit for the team. a new year also means more homework, though, and more exams, and the promise of a future he’s looked forward to for years.
it’s nice, then, to always have this one constant, no matter how many months pass or how many first years join the team or how many uncertainties come his way: hinata shoyo and this well-worn path to the base of the mountain and the seemingly haphazard topics of conversation they work their way through on these after-school walks.
even then, kageyama has to admit cherry blossoms is a topic they’ve never discussed. and yet, it makes sense; when he glances away from hinata to the streets they walk, he’s greeted by the sight of trees bursting with pale pink. it’s the first week of april, when the cherry blossoms are always the most beautiful in miyagi, and while he’s never given them much thought, he supposes it wouldn’t be surprising if hinata liked them.
hinata always likes the pretty things, the small wonders in life that kageyama has so often let pass him by. hinata always points things out on these walks of theirs—a sunset in a colour he’s never seen before, or a pair of crows nestled together atop a bare tree, or clouds that apparently look like tsukishima (“so… ugly,” he’d replied, to which hinata had laughed so hard he’d almost thrown up his curry bun), but kageyama is fairly sure he was just making that one up.
“um,” says kageyama when he realizes he has yet to reply. he slips his free hand into his pocket, shrugging as he chews on the end of his straw. “no?”
hinata hums, still looking up at the cherry blossoms they’re walking under. the setting sun filters through the flowers, casting strange patterns on his grinning face, and kageyama only realizes he’s staring when their eyes meet and he feels an inexplicable blush on his cheeks. “i don’t even remember where i heard it,” says hinata. “but apparently if you catch a falling cherry blossom, you’ll fall in love with the person you’re walking with.”
for absolutely no reason that kageyama can possibly think of, his blush deepens. but… well. when he looks up again, he sees that some of the cherry blossoms are floating down from the trees. the petals are surely too small to actually catch unless someone was trying, but—he can feel hinata’s eyes on him, and when he glances over, there’s a shit-eating grin on his face.
kageyama goes red, quickly averting his eyes. “oh,” he says. why would hinata feel the need to bring that up? what does he think he’s doing? “okay.”
“okay?” asks hinata with a laugh. “that’s all you have to say?”
“well, it’s… just a superstition, right?” he asks. “it’s not like catching a flower petal could actually make you fall in love. that’s not how the world works.”
“and how would you know, kageyama-kun? you’re an expert on love now?”
“i—no,” kageyama sputters. “i’m just saying. that’s like magic and magic doesn’t exist.”
hinata huffs, although kageyama can tell it’s one of his teasing ones. he knows what all of hinata’s different huffs and sighs and laughs mean. they’ve known each other for two years now, have been partners in and out of volleyball for that long. he’s so attuned to hinata’s every word and breath and movement that he can adjust himself in a split second in order to match him. and yet… he has no goddamn idea why hinata told him about the cherry blossoms.
“still,” says hinata, a teasing lilt to his voice. he bumps his shoulder into kageyama’s, and when did he get so close? “you should probably be careful. you might catch a cherry blossom by accident and then you’ll be mooning over me for the rest of your life.”
“gross,” scoffs kageyama, shoving hinata away with a scowl. the thought is so… so abhorrent that he accidentally squeezes his milk box and squirts some of it on his uniform, which only makes him scowl more as he wipes the drops away. “like i’d ever fall in love with you. that’s the worst thing i can think of.”
“worse than losing nationals?”
“well, we’ve done that twice already, so at least i know life goes on after that.”
hinata has the audacity to look offended, kicking kageyama in the back of the knee in retaliation. “so you’re saying falling in love with me would be the end of your life?”
“having you as a best friend is bad enough already. you’re so loud and annoying and clingy all the time. if i fell in love with you, then i’d want to hold your hand or whatever and then i’d have to deal with your sweaty ass even more.”
“hey, you’re not a walk in the park to be friends with either!” says hinata. “you’re… smelly. and who cares that much about their nails? maybe you should spend more time studying instead and then you’d be more of a catch.”
kageyama chucks his mostly-empty milk at him, only slightly disappointed when hinata dodges it. they’ve stopped walking now, though, too busy shoving at each other and throwing half-baked insults to care. “well, your hair is always a mess.”
“you look like a serial killer when you smile!”
“you’re only okay at receiving even though that’s the most important skill in volleyball!”
“you made the first years cry the other day!”
“you’re too soft on them!”
“you’re ugly!”
“you’re ug—” kageyama stops when he realized hinata isn’t paying attention to him anyway. they’ve been physically tousling since the serial killer insult, hands squabbling and gripping in the middle of the sidewalk. but hinata has stopped, eyes focusing somewhere above kageyama’s eyes, and he’s pried a hand out of kageyama’s grip—but not to pinch or shove. instead, he’s now gently reaching up and plucking something from kageyama’s hair.
when his hand comes back into kageyama’s view, there’s a cherry blossom petal held between his fingers.
kageyama stares at it. so does hinata. neither them says anything, not for a very prolonged moment.
and then, despite everything he’s been saying, kageyama’s entire body burns with embarrassment. “what the fuck, hinata?” he snaps, slapping hinata’s hand away from him. the cherry blossom falls from his fingers. “why did you—where—”
“it was in your hair,” says hinata, and it might be because the sun is setting, but his cheeks look a little red, too. “it was bothering me.”
he should probably say thank you. kageyama is usually meticulous about his appearance—as hinata so kindly pointed out earlier—and having things stuck in his hair unawares is something straight out of a nightmare, at least when he’s at school and his classmates can laugh at him. but it’s just he and hinata here, and it’s—a cherry blossom. hinata plucked a cherry blossom out of his hair.
instead of thank you, then, he says, “that doesn’t count, right?”
hinata’s brows furrow. then—“what?”
kageyama’s cheeks burn. “nothing,” he mutters, and then shoves hinata for good measure before he starts walking down the street again, whether or not hinata is following him. it’s not like either of them really caught it—but is there a rule that stipulates the person has to catch the flower with their hand? does it count if it lands on his head? does it count if it’s an accident? would that be his catch or, because hinata was the one who really touched it, would it be hinata’s? does it only count before the cherry blossom touches the ground or is it a first come, first serve sort of deal?
what if he falls in love with hinata?
what if hinata falls in love with him?
oh god. what if they fall in love with each other?
he hears bike spokes behind him, and then hinata’s voice calling to him. kageyama does not stop walking—not until hinata gives him a gentle shove from behind, saying, “why are you being so weird?”
kageyama resorts to a classic, “why are you being so weird?” because he’s certainly not going to answer that question honestly. and it works, anyway, because hinata sticks his tongue out like a child, and kageyama tells him he has an ugly tongue, and then they’re off playfully bickering again as they walk, and the cherry blossom fiasco seems to have been forgotten.
hinata probably didn’t mean anything by it, anyway; unlike kageyama, who means absolutely everything he says and usually thinks carefully about his words before saying them, hinata sometimes talks just to talk. he’s good at making casual conversation with anyone, and kageyama has learned in the past two years that taking everything seriously when it comes to hinata’s questions or comments will only send him into a strange downward spiral of anxiety and overthinking while hinata really didn’t mean anything by it.
so—this is probably like that. it’s just april, which means cherry blossoms, and he wanted to share an interesting thing he heard with kageyama, because they’re best friends and they share everything. it’s just a superstition, right?
but if kageyama watches the falling petals and subtly tries to avoid them the rest of the way, it’s just because he just doesn’t want to get any tangled in his hair again.
(and when kageyama gets home after walking back from the base of the mountain—alone this time—he freezes when he takes off his volleyball jacket and a single cherry blossom petal falls out from his sleeve. that was—just an accident. just another accident. but when he blinks, he can only see hinata’s hand in front of his face, that pretty pink flower held gently between his fingers, and beyond that, a look of wonder in his eyes. if he calls that flower hinata’s catch, then this is undoubtedly his.
he swallows tightly.
it’s just a superstition. but even he can’t deny the flutter in the pit of his stomach when his phone dings with a notification, and he picks it up to see that hinata has sent him a picture of a cherry blossom petal in the palm of his hand. it fell out of my sleeve, hinata’s written, along with about ten different emojis, most laughing or surprised or with rolling eyes. better watch out, kageyama-kun!! if i fall in love with you you’re gonna have to hold my sweaty hand all the time.
kageyama very gently puts his face into his pillow and tries not to scream.)
❀
at practice the next morning, kageyama keeps making rookie mistakes—setting the ball too long or short, blowing his serves out of the back of the court, letting the ball slip right through his arms while blocking. he hasn’t played so terribly in a long time and he’s certainly not the only one noticing.
“what’s up with you this morning?” asks yamaguchi, having called for a ten minute break after kageyama accidentally hit one of the second years in the face with the ball while digging a serve.
kageyama just takes a long drink from his water bottle as he sits on the bench, staring hard at the court. hinata, because he doesn’t know how to take breaks unless physically forced to, is engaging in some push-up competition with the first years.
when he doesn’t get an answer, yamaguchi turns to follow kageyama’s line of sight, and then clicks his tongue lightly when his eyes undoubtedly land on hinata too. then he takes a seat beside kageyama and punches his thigh, not exactly lightly. kageyama yelps in pain, nearly squirting water all over his face.
“why are you staring at hinata?” asks yamaguchi. “do you feel the need to assert your dominance as the strongest player by going over there and showing him how many push-ups you can do?”
normally, the answer to that question would be yes. it’s rare for either of them to engage in any sort of competition without the other being included, but it’s not until yamaguchi mentions it that kageyama realizes that’s what he should be thinking. “i’m not staring at hinata,” says kageyama instead, even though it’s a blatant lie.
he can feel yamaguchi’s incredulous stare. “did you get into a fight again?”
“we’re always fighting.”
“okay, a real fight, not your weird peacock-mating-dance-flirting kind of fighting.”
kageyama finally tears his eyes away from hinata so he can scowl at yamaguchi. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
yamaguchi literally rolls his eyes. “alright. well, what is it, then? just having an off day or is this something we need to address?” everyone has had off days, and the cause could be anything, especially at the beginning of a new school year when there’s the stress of classes and they’re trying to work new members into the team without having some fundamental old members to ground them.
this doesn’t feel like that. the truth is, kageyama knows exactly what’s wrong with him today. it’s the fucking cherry blossoms.
his gaze slides to hinata again, who is now comparing biceps with the first years, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. god, kageyama feels his mouth go dry. it’s not like hinata is big, and his muscle mass can’t be overly impressive when he’s still this young and mostly focuses on cardio. but he’s also not fifteen anymore.
against his will, kageyama’s stomach tugs itself into knots, and his cheeks go a little red, and when hinata’s raucous laughter echoes toward him, his heart does that thing again—the thing it did last night, when he saw the picture hinata sent him.
oh no, he thinks. it’s already working.
he’s distracted, mind too caught up in thoughts and ideas and implications. he didn’t sleep well last night because he was too busy thinking and worrying, as well, and he’d been determined not to let some silly superstition affect his volleyball, but apparently that’s backfired. and it’s—stupid, isn’t it? he’s been hinata’s best friend for two years. he’s seen hinata naked, for god’s sake. they even kissed once, although it had been for a dare and neither of them had actually wanted to do it outside of the competition. so why is he suddenly feeling like this just from seeing hinata over there, laughing with some first years?
why hasn’t he been able to take his eyes off of hinata all morning? why has he been noticing things he normally doesn’t, like the length of hinata’s eyelashes or the way his voice cracks a little when he calls for the ball at the end of a particularly hard rally? why can he still feel hinata’s fingers where they’d touched him after a good spike, or when they were huddled together to discuss a new strategy, or when he’d flicked kageyama’s forehead for winning their daily race to the gym in the first place?
why does all of this feel different?
but explaining any of that to yamaguchi, even as understanding as yamaguchi might be as a good friend and captain, would be difficult at best and downright humiliating at best. yamaguchi would laugh before he tried to make kageyama feel better, because he is a good friend and captain, but he’s also a little shit and they’ve known each other for two years. either that, or he’d tell kageyama to stop being stupid because it’s a goddamn superstition—
which is what kageyama has been telling himself all morning, to no avail.
yamaguchi puts a hand on his shoulder, then, squeezing. “i don’t pretend to understand your relationship with hinata,” he says rather than waiting for kageyama to answer. “but whatever’s going on, i’m gonna need you to sort it out or at least keep it off of the court. we can’t afford to have our freak duo out of commission.”
kageyama nods, knowing that much at least. he wouldn’t fault yamaguchi for being upset with him for letting something like feelings affect a game. then yamaguchi stands, patting kageyama’s shoulder, and before he leaves, he adds, “and if you need help figuring it out, i’m all ears. but just know i’ll make fun of you with tsukki after.”
“yeah, i know,” snorts kageyama, but it’s half-hearted as his eyes shift to hinata once more. it takes a few seconds, but then hinata is turning his head and meeting his eyes, and the brightest smile blooms over his mouth. the knots in kageyama’s stomach tighten, and he does wish he could tell yamaguchi about it, even if he’d never hear the end of it from him or tsukishima. but how can he possibly explain that he thinks he’s losing his mind because he accidentally caught a cherry blossom and now he might be falling in love with his best friend?
❀
after the disastrous morning practice, kageyama was hoping the rest of the day would go smoothly—but he’s not so lucky. he finds himself distracted throughout the rest of the day, barely paying attention in class and, even when he tries his hardest, still getting answers wrong or not understanding what they’re doing because his mind inevitably wanders. it doesn’t help that there are cherry blossom trees planted on the grounds of the school so every time he looks out of the window, all he sees is pink and he’s reminded, yet again, of hinata.
it’s hardest when they’re together during lunch or other break times. every met gaze or brushed hand leaves kageyama feeling like the rug has been pulled out from under his feet. he finds his cheeks growing hot when hinata focuses on him too much, or when they sit pressed together at lunch, or when he tries to engage in their usual banter and instead freezes when he has a hand in hinata’s hair and realizes that action now makes him feel strangely embarrassed. if hinata notices, he chooses not to say anything, but kageyama has no idea what he would do if hinata did.
after school practice isn’t much better, although yamaguchi doesn’t have to call time outs because of his abysmal behaviour, so kageyama counts it as a victory. and then they’re walking home again—under the same cherry blossoms, petals still gently falling in the wind, and kageyama physically wants to run away. but hinata doesn’t mention the superstition again, and when they part at the mountain, there’s nothing unusual about it.
hinata hasn’t been acting strangely today. he didn’t try to hold kageyama’s hand like he claimed he would if he fell in love. so… maybe it’s not really happening. maybe kageyama is just worrying himself over nothing. he gets like this sometimes, when he focuses too much on something and can’t get out of his own head. but within a week, the cherry blossoms will be gone, anyway, short-lived as they are. surely he’ll be back to normal by then, and he can forget this ever happened.
❀
except he doesn’t go back to normal.
in fact, with each day that passes, kageyama thinks he might be getting worse. he can’t so much as look at hinata anymore without feeling some sort of weird flutter in his chest or tightness in his stomach. he finds himself yearning for hinata to touch him, finds himself thinking about hinata during class—more often that he used to, at least. his performance during practice improves, nearly back to the way it was before the cherry blossoms, but even then, his eyes never stray from hinata.
sometimes he catches hinata looking back, or reaching out where he surely didn’t before. now he realizes how often hinata touches him, fingers lingering on his skin, finding any excuse to ruffle his hair or shove his shoulder or lean against him when they’re near. now he notices the true fondness in hinata’s voice when they’re bickering, and how often there’s a telling curve to his lips when he’s insulting kageyama.
is it the cherry blossoms? because if catching that falling petal has done something to kageyama, then why hasn’t it done anything to hinata? if it was magic—wouldn’t they both be affected?
maybe it was always like that. maybe kageyama just never noticed, because he wasn’t looking for any of it.
he brings it up tentatively, three or four days after, as they’re walking under the cherry blossoms again. within the next few days, the trees will be more bare than not, and it’s impossible to dodge every petal. kageyama isn’t sure it would make a difference anymore. so he says, “remember what you told me about these?”
hinata’s gaze is curious. “about what?”
“the… the cherry blossoms.”
“oh. what was it?”
kageyama frowns. “nothing. your memory is shit.” hinata bumps their shoulders together in admonishment, but he doesn’t really move away after that. he might be lying. kageyama isn’t brave enough to confront him about it, and anyway—within a block or two, hinata’s hand has begun to brush against kageyama’s between them with too much purpose to be an accident, and kageyama has to look away to keep hinata from seeing the way it makes his cheeks flush pink.
he hooks their pinkies together, anyway. he swears he can hear hinata’s grin.
❀
when yamaguchi picks up the phone, the first thing kageyama says is, “do you believe in superstitions?”
“hello to you, too,” grunts yamaguchi. it almost sounds like he just woke up, but it’s ten at night.
“do you believe in superstitions?” kageyama repeats.
“i heard you the first time.”
“and?”
yamaguchi sighs, the noise becoming static through the phone. kageyama imagines him in bed, glaring at the ceiling because he knows he’s getting dragged into a stupid conversation, and almost feels bad. but yamaguchi did say he was all ears, and kageyama did text beforehand, so yamaguchi could have declined the request to chat.
kageyama, for his own part, is sitting on the floor against his bed, rolling a volleyball between the wall and himself just to give his hands something to do. it’s not often that he calls anyone, let alone someone other than hinata—but he can’t exactly call hinata about this, so.
“does it actually matter what i answer?” says yamaguchi finally, sounding more awake. “i feel like you’re just saying that as a preface.”
“have you heard the one about cherry blossoms?”
“the superstition?”
“if you catch a falling cherry blossom, you’ll fall in love with the person you’re walking with.”
there’s a brief pause, and then yamaguchi snorts. “that sounds incredibly stupid.”
six days ago, kageyama would have agreed. now he feels vaguely irritated by the claim. “what if it’s true?”
“kageyama, it’s called a superstition for a reason. they’re not real.”
“but people still believe in them. like not sticking chopsticks straight up in your food.”
“yeah, but that’s more of a respect thing. you know catching a flower can’t make you fall in love with someone, right?”
kageyama pushes the ball a little too hard, frowning when it hits the wall at an angle and rolls out of his reach. he said the exact same thing to hinata, but then—why—
“is this about the thing with hinata? from earlier this week?”
he doesn’t answer, but that’s an answer in itself. yamaguchi sighs again. “what happened?”
“he told me about the cherry blossom thing,” says kageyama, picking at his pants seam now. “and i said all that stuff you said, and then i accidentally caught one anyway, and…” he pauses, takes a deep breath. braces himself for how incredibly embarrassing it’s going to be to admit it—“i think it’s actually working,” he mumbles.
surprisingly, yamaguchi doesn’t laugh. he also doesn’t scoff. he just says, “you… think you’re falling in love with hinata?”
“i don’t know. i don’t know what falling in love feels like! but i can’t stop looking at him during practice and thinking about him during class and i keep trying to find any excuse to touch him even if that mostly means grabbing his hair and the other day we kind of held hands and it felt like i was going into cardiac arrest and isn’t that close enough?” he pushes his face in his knees, ignoring how hot his face feels for having admitted it. two years ago kageyama had trouble talking about non-embarrassing feelings, but here he is openly admitting he might be in love with his best friend. he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself on the character growth.
“okay,” says yamaguchi, still not laughing or scoffing, which is the only small mercy in this whole situation. “how is that different from before?”
kageyama lifts his head, frowning at the wall. “what do you mean?”
“you watched him during practice before.”
“because he’s a spiker, so i have to.”
“and you never thought about him during class?”
“well, yeah, but just because i was thinking about volleyball and i can’t not think about hinata while thinking about volleyball.”
“and you never touched him before?”
“it was different.”
“are you sure?”
“we’ve definitely never held hands before.” as soon as he says it, he knows it’s a lie. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so defensive, but he feels like yamaguchi is dragging him to some realization and he doesn’t like it.
“kageyama.”
“no. shut up.”
“kageyama.”
“yamaguchi.”
there’s a terse moment of silence, and then yamaguchi’s voice goes soft when he says, “have you ever considered that maybe this has nothing to do with the cherry blossoms making you fall in love with him?”
kageyama goes very, very still. “what do you mean?” he whispers.
“maybe you were already in love with him and now you’re just noticing it because of the cherry blossom thing. you’re thinking about it so you’re seeing all of these things in a new light.”
“shut up,” he says again.
yamaguchi finally laughs. “you wanted my advice.”
“can i unwant it?”
“just think about it, okay? i’m just telling you what i see, and if you want to ignore that, go ahead. but my position is still the same—don’t let this affect your performance on the court or i’ll kick both of your asses.” and then he hangs up. kageyama stares at the wall for a full minute, and then finally sets his phone down on his bedside table only to spot the cherry blossom petal that had fallen from his sleeve almost a week ago. he’d never gotten rid of it.
it’s going to be a long night.
❀
approximately eight hours later, only three of which were spent sleeping, kageyama finds himself running across town in the opposite direction from school. see, he thought about it. he thought about it a lot. and now he races to catch hinata before he can get to school, because he can’t possibly wait until after practice for this, and so many of the cherry blossom trees have shed their petals. their beauty is so fleeting, and with the strong breeze this morning, the entire street is littered with pink as the blossoms tumble down one after one.
it has to be now.
kageyama sees him not far from the spot in which this started in the first place, a figure biking down the street in the light of the rising sun. hinata might not even realize it’s him, so kageyama plants his feet firmly on the ground, balls his hands into fists, and then shouts, “hinata shoyo, you tangerine-headed bastard!”
hinata immediately comes to a screeching halt, still half a block away from him. but kageyama can just make out the widened eyes and slack jaw, cherry blossoms steadily falling between them. kageyama marches down the street toward him, letting the adrenaline from running here push him on and give him some semblance of courage. hinata doesn’t move—doesn’t even get off of his bike. not until kageyama is beside him and fisting a hand in his jacket to tug him off of the bike, making them stand face to face.
he realizes being so aggressive about this might not be the best idea when hinata looks caught between being terrified and wanting to fight back, so kageyama grabs the sides of hinata’s face and tugs him closer, until their toes knock together. “why did you tell me about the cherry blossoms?” he demands.
hinata blinks in surprise. “what?”
“the thing about the cherry blossoms! why did you tell me that?”
“uh,” says hinata.
“why did you text me that you’d accidentally caught one?”
“it was funny.”
“i caught one too, you know.”
hinata’s eyes widen.
“it was in my sleeve,” says kageyama, chest still heaving with exertion. “and i thought i was going crazy because i couldn’t stop staring at you the next day! and i kept wanting to touch you and talk about you and all this stupid shit and i know i said the superstition was fake but i really thought it was working. but you know what? it didn’t work.” hinata doesn’t say anything, just staring at him with widened eyes. “because superstitions aren’t real. and magic isn’t real. so you know what that means?”
hinata’s adam’s apple bobs. “you’re in love with me for real.”
“i’m in love with you for real, goddammit!” kageyama practically yells, squishing hinata’s cheeks together.
he expects that hinata will be surprised or scared or, worst of all, horrified. he worries that hinata will shove him away and call him disgusting, ask why he’d ever actually fall in love when it was meant to be just a joke. instead, hinata grins at him, a slow but sure spill of joy over his face. kageyama stares at him, his breath the only sound between them, and then hinata’s eyes shift upward.
he reaches up, and kageyama closes his eyes, thinking hinata might be about to smack him or at least flick him in the forehead. but he only feels a gentle touch on his hair, and when he peeks once more, there’s a cherry blossom petal filling his vision.
“it was in your hair,” says hinata, voice muffled slightly from kageyama holding his cheeks. “it was bothering me.”
kageyama swallows tightly.
“that’s two i’ve caught now,” he continues. “well—three. but two on purpose.”
brows furrowed, kageyama repeats, “on purpose?”
“you wanna know why i told you about the cherry blossoms, kageyama-kun?” hinata asks. “it’s because i’m in love with you for real, too.” he lowers the cherry blossom, grin widening. belatedly, he adds, albeit weakly, meant to tease, “goddammit.”
a particularly strong gust of wind swoops through the street, sending petals raining from the trees. the blossoms fall around them, over them, through them—one drifts down onto hinata’s unruly hair, and kageyama finds himself staring at the way the pink of it complements the orange hair it’s nestled in, and he thinks of yamaguchi’s voice through the phone, asking, how is that different from before?
hinata is looking up at the flowers drifting down around them, and his face is full of wonder, and kageyama never wants to stop looking at him. never wants to stop touching him, never wants to stop standing by his side, even if they don’t play volleyball together anymore.
“hinata,” he says, and hinata’s eyes move to his, head tilted just right for their height difference, and there’s a challenge in his gaze—a challenge that kageyama will gladly take, will always take. with the cherry blossoms swirling around them, no longer needing to be caught to guarantee a love that lasts lifetimes, kageyama kisses hinata shoyo, and hinata kisses him back, and that—that is magic.
(“that’s another win for me, by the way,” kageyama says later, when karasuno comes into view on their walk to practice.
“what?” hinata nearly squawks. “how?”
“i admitted it first.”
“only because i realized it first!”
“but you didn’t say anything, so it doesn’t count.”
hinata kicks him, but this time, kageyama can merely tug him in by their joined hands and kiss him again, just to appease him. it lasts for all of five seconds before hinata realizes what he’s doing and kicks him again, and again, he thinks—how is this different from before?
maybe that’s the best part, anyway. hinata’s hand is still kind of sweaty in his, but he doesn’t mind. it feels like he has fistfuls of cherry blossoms now, and every single one is on purpose.)