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Their relationship has become something strange. Something strange and wonderful, and neither of them can find the room to complain.
Whether in the comfortable organized mess that makes up Shouyou's bedroom, or Tobio's immaculate bedroom, it's the same. Once the lights go off, everything comes to the surface; the filters are gone and there's nothing between them. They're naked and unable to hide from themselves, or each other. They've slowly become accustomed to their new-found closeness—as team mates, and as friends. But they're still getting used to their closeness as something that surpasses both in ways that neither of them had been able to foresee.
They're both showered, changed, and ready for bed. There's something obvious and shy about the look they share before the light goes off, the sound of Tobio's footfalls against the carpet giving way to the gentle creak of his bed when he climbs into it deftly. Shouyou doesn't lay down until he does.
The silence between them is comfortable. Tobio's breathing fills the gaps between the air where Shouyou's fall quiet and the red-head can tell that the other is making no effort to fall asleep. But it's a little lonely. It's an unrehearsed routine between them, and no matter how long it takes, they both wait.
Shouyou is always the first to make a move; a touch to Tobio's leg with his toes, a sigh through his nose, a deliberate shift on the borrowed futon. Something to disturb the quiet. He's not obnoxious about it like he knows he probably would be if the lights were on; Tobio doesn't get annoyed like he would if the lights were on, either.
This time, it's a sigh; a long-winded hum that rumbles in Shouyou's chest as he stares up at the ceiling.
It doesn't take long for him to move, tossing the covers off of his legs and making the three-foot move from the futon to the bed. Tobio's already laying close to the wall, anticipating the moment when the red-head would climb into bed with him. He can't see Shouyou too well in the dark, but he feels the bed shift comfortably, a foot brushing against his calf as the smaller gets settled in. He breathes out, head turning to look at the smaller boy.
There's always reluctance—like sipping tea with the fear of burning their tongues. They're nervous and excited and it makes Shouyou think of what he feels when they're about to hit the court. But it's different, almost entirely. There's no hesitation when it comes to volleyball; their movements are seamless. They're a well-oiled machine that runs on pure adrenaline and it makes Shouyou feel invincible. But when it's just them with the lights off, nothing more than a compromised silence between them, he feels the weight of his mortality sitting on his chest. He's not sure what Tobio feels—if it's even remotely the same, but he figures it must be even a little similar.
Shouyou scoots a bit closer to the taller male and Tobio turns to him unexpectedly. His eyes are closed and his body language isn't exactly inviting. But the moment his obsidian irises slide upwards to meet Shouyou's earthy ones, the smaller feels that weight on his chest intensify.
It hurts.
He reaches out for the setter and his hands grip the front of Tobio's shirt. It's a small gesture—nothing like the full-blown snuggling that he usually goes for, but it's not the same every time. There are nights where they cling to each other—desperately. They both know that they aren't going anywhere, but they cling anyway; crushing embraces that leave them both breathless. When one squeezes, the other squeezes back harder. A silent battle of "I love you", "I love you more".
Tonight is one of those nights.
Tobio's arms circle Shouyou's shoulders and he pulls the smaller against him, his chin resting atop the mop of orange hair that smells a lot plainer than it looks. Shouyou's arms slide around Tobio's waist, his cheek pressing to his chest.
They lay like that for a bit, relishing in the comfort they find in one another's arms; the warmth of their bodies, and the rhythm of their breathing.
Shouyou's the first to squeeze. He always is. If they were to be verbal about it, he'd probably be first to say it, too. He doesn't mind, though. The fact that Tobio even responds to him is a feat in and of itself.
The red-head waits in silence, a small smile spreading on his lips when Tobio finally squeezes back. It's slow and gentle and not nearly as strong as his. It's kind of cute that the taller is shy about this side of their relationship; a complete 180 from his dominant persona everywhere else that isn't a small room with the lights off and nothing but silence between them. He's never said that out loud though—he figures that it's hard enough for the other without Shouyou teasing him about it.
When Shouyou squeezes again, there's a smaller gap in the time it takes Tobio to squeeze back. His arms tighten with certainty this time, the tip of his nose burying itself in Shouyou's hair.
The weight is back on Shouyou's chest and he squeezes again, eyes closing as he listens to Tobio's heartbeat. Tobio squeezes back again, and it's a bit different this time. The tips of his fingers slip into Shouyou's hair, grazing his scalp and setting his entire upper-body into a frenzy of goosebumps. It startles him and makes him unbelievably happy, but it also makes his chest tighter.
Small hands curl into the back of Tobio's shirt, gripping so tight that Shouyou's hands begin to cramp up. It's the most he can do to keep himself from bursting into tears.
And they stay like that for a while. Clinging to each other like it's the end of the world.
...And maybe it is.
Maybe once the sun rises, their little world will cease to exist entirely. They're both aware that that could easily be the case. One of them could get injured. Tobio could get scouted. They could decide that they didn't want to do this anymore. Anything is possible.
"...Hinata."
Tobio's voice is soft—a lot softer than Shouyou figured the taller male was capable of—and it makes him look upwards, the edges of his eyes damp with unshed tears. His eyes have adjusted to the dark by now, and the setter is looking right at him, gaze unwavering.
The taller presses his forehead to the other boy's. It's something new and it makes Shouyou's heart leap in his chest. Their noses brush as Tobio tilts his head, eyelids lowering as he continues to watch Shouyou. Their lips don't touch right away, but the hover of closeness is there. Shouyou parts his lips.
It's short and fleeting and Tobio pulls out of it a little too soon for Shouyou's liking, but he won't complain. He can't complain.
This side of their relationship might not exist when the lights are on, but it exists inside of both of them. In their shared glances, in their petty arguments, and in the negative spaces between their invincibility on the court.