When Hinata arrived home he knew something was up because his mom was standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips and a storm on her face.

‘Er, hi mom -’

‘Where were you?’

‘Oh I was just meeting a friend -’

‘Which friend?’

Hinata noticed, one of her hands was holding a piece of paper.

‘Oikawa?’ she pressed, ‘Kageyama? Someone from school?’

‘Er, yeah someone from school -’

She held up the piece of paper. It was –

Hinata’s report card. He gulped.

‘Daydreaming in class? Low concentration? Your grades have gone down?! That’s it. No more meeting friends during the week -’

Oikawa –

‘But mom -!’

‘And don’t make me ban you from volleyball!’

Hinata opened and closed his mouth silently like a fish. Monday evenings. Any evening. Practising serves. Or even not practising serves. He wouldn’t be able to see Oikawa during the week…

‘You’re not doing well at school,’ she went on, ‘your grades have gotten worse, you spend every evening with the volleyball club and on top of  that you’re still seeing friends? School is for learning. It’s for education. So that you can have a better future, Shoyo.’

Hinata tried to defend himself even though deep down he knew she was right. She agreed that if his grades got better she’d reconsider but he had to work really hard.

In his bedroom, Hinata slumped at his desk. He checked his phone. Nothing from Oikawa. A knot twisted in his stomach. Why? Suddenly? Was he reading into things? Or was Oikawa – Hinata swallowed – losing  interest in him…? Hinata felt sick. He checked again – he’d sent Oikawa five texts and had called him four times. Nothing back. Was he busy? Had he – Hinata’s stomach lurched – met someone else? They weren’t  official, right? They’d never really defined what they were so Oikawa could easily get with anyone, have anyone, and it wasn’t really breaking any sort of arrangement they had –

Hinata banged his head against the desk.

‘Ow.’

It hurt. But he needed to feel the pain. Images suddenly came to him –  Oikawa kissing a girl, those hands groping her full body, a hand peeling off her bra strap –

The pain was like a murderous jealous dagger in his heart. 

Hinata threw his phone onto his bed. But then he picked it up and tried calling Oikawa again. It went to voicemail.

‘Hey T-Toru,’ Hinata said, ‘it’s me. I’ve been, er, wondering how you’re doing and if you feel any better. And I’m – thinking about you a lot. So I – hope to hear from you soon. I miss you and I want to see you. Take care.’

Hinata hung up. Was he being a fool? Did he just leave a voicemail while Oikawa was making out with someone else? 

Hinata half-hissed half-growled from the back of his throat, scowling at himself. And now, of all times, his mom had banned him from seeing anyone during the week.

When Hinata lay in bed that night his mind went on autopilot and played the same movie it did every night –

Oikawa whimpering, coming from Hinata’s hand – the velvety soft hardness of Oikawa’s dick – the setter’s hypnotic eyes – the dip of  Oikawa’s nose – the feeling of soft, tantalising kisses along Hinata’s neck – Oikawa’s kisses on his mouth – so strong, so passionate and yet so soft and tender at the same time – his teeth biting down on Hinata’s  flesh – the back of a bandaged wrist pressing down hard on Hinata’s  thigh – beautiful silky hair – that intoxicating smell and the feel of that body, the warmth, and that voice uttering delicious things in  Hinata’s ear – Oikawa kissing a beautiful woman –

Hinata’s eyes snapped open.

His hand, which had been teasing his dick, stopped.

Hinata reached for his phone. 12.04 am.

And still nothing from Oikawa.

Wednesday.

Kageyama had a plan. He would win back Hinata. He had every day to do  it. He was going to show Hinata that he cared with or without Oikawa involved. Good. Now… To care for someone… What did it look like to care  for someone? Was it not what he was doing already? He shouted at the  redhead whenever he made a mistake so Kageyama helped the spiker improve on his volleyball… that was caring, right? But what would Oikawa do…?  Kageyama violently shook his head from the thought.

For fuck’s sake.

Again Hinata played… even worse than the day before. His timing was all off during practice and he missed almost every combo with his setter.

‘I think ginger maybe you should take it easy tonight,’ coach said, ‘just go home and get some rest. You’re going too hard. Recharge your batteries.’

Hinata fought back but when Daichi and Suga agreed with coach, Hinata  resigned to his fate. Kageyama watched as Hinata took off his volleyball shoes –

He debated with himself –

Damn it.

‘Coach!’

Kageyama practically begged to be let go early. But it wasn’t like Keishin was born yesterday.

‘Yeah go check up on your little friend,’ coach agreed, ‘maybe you can help him. The two of you are always running yourself into the ground practising anyway – it’s important to take time off.’

‘Thank you sir!’

Kageyama practically ran and managed to reach Hinata before he got to his bike. Hinata turned, surprised, to find a panting setter who had followed him.

‘Kageyama?’

‘I came – to – see – if – you – were – OK,’ he puffed.

Hinata stared at Kageyama and would be lying if he said he wasn’t moved.

‘Did you leave practice?’

Kageyama nodded. ‘I’ll walk you to the crossroads,’ he said, breathless.

With Kageyama’s level of fitness it didn’t take long for him to  stabilise. By the time they left the school gates, he peered at the  spiker surreptitiously trying to figure out the best way to start things.

‘So your, er, appointment with, er, whoever last night… did it go  OK?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Not that you have to tell me or anything, I was just checking if you were OK from it.’

Hinata regarded the setter. ‘Yes. It went really well actually.’

Kageyama was dying of curiosity but bit his tongue. ‘And, er, how are you generally? You seem to have something on your mind.’

Hinata’s lips pressed into a hard thin line. ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now… to be honest, I’d rather be distracted.’

Distracted. OK. How to distract Hinata?

‘Hey look! What’s that!?’ Kageyama pointed in the distance.

‘What? Where?’ Hinata searched.

‘Over there! See?’

‘I don’t see anything?’

‘Can’t you see it?’

‘See what?’

‘That, er, see that car passing over a hill!’

A car passed over a hill.

…

‘You are kidding, right?’

‘What?’

‘Did you just point out something we see every day?’

‘I was trying to distract you dumbass! What else was I supposed to do!’

Hinata sheepishly looked away. So. The setter was trying to be nice… They reached the spot they always parted at.

‘Hey.’ Kageyama said.

Hinata stared up at him. Kageyama didn’t meet the spiker’s eyes.

‘I know you said you don’t want to talk about it right now but if you ever do want to talk, about anything, you know I’m here for you, right?’ Kageyama finally brought his gaze up.

Hinata felt it, in the pit of his stomach.

‘Whether it’s about school or volleyball or family or even – a certain someone who I won’t mention – even if it’s about him, I’ll try my hardest to listen to you and help you. OK?’

Hinata’s ears were in disbelief. But the setter looked sincere.

‘I know I get… emotional. But I’ll try to… get less emotional I guess.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate it. I really do,’ Hinata blessed the setter with a small smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow Kageyama.’

‘S-see you.’

Kageyama wasn’t sure why but he felt –

Hopeful.

Thursday.

Kageyama watched Hinata play the worst volleyball of his life. Not since the first time he met the tiny middle blocker had Hinata played so badly. In his veins, Kageyama knew, somehow, this was about Oikawa. Did Oikawa finish with him? Maybe he got bored? Kageyama felt a sudden thrill –

He’s stopped teaching Hinata how to serve. That’s what this is about.

Kageyama couldn’t help it. Even though Hinata looked downtrodden Kageyama took it as a good sign. Well. It was going to happen sooner or  later…

‘Hinata. Is something going on? You seem really distracted,’ Daichi said.

‘My mom saw my report card,’ Hinata mumbled, ‘my grades have gone down. She wants me to study more and she almost banned me from volleyball -’

Kageyama eavesdropped as Daichi and Suga encouraged and lectured Hinata about studying. Was he making it up? No. He wouldn’t. So it was either genuinely that or it was a cover up for something else. As the pair of them walked their usual route after practice, Kageyama broached  the subject.

‘Hinata. I, er, overheard what you were saying to Daichi. If you ever need help studying, I don’t mind helping you.’

‘How can you offer to help me study when your grades are as bad as mine?’

‘Oh whatever dumbass! I was only trying to be helpful! Fine! Fail and see if I care.’

For some reason Hinata chuckled and it complete threw Kageyama off.

‘What the -? What are you laughing at?’ Kageyama stopped walking.

‘I’m laughing at you, you big dummy,’ Hinata fully laughed this time, the sound ringing out like joyous song and he too stopped to a halt.

‘Me? What did I -?’

‘You’re trying so hard to be nice but it literally takes a second and you go back to being your mean usual self.’

Kageyama was about to defend himself by saying he’s not mean, and he had a few more insults to hurl at the observant nugget while he was at it but –

His words died in his throat at the look and sound of Hinata laughing, smiley and happy, something Kageyama felt like he hadn’t seen in a while. His eyes were closed, his hair shone, his smile burned  brighter than the sun. He was more beautiful than any sunrise or sunset Kageyama had ever seen. If he could capture this moment, then he would –

Before Kageyama even realised what he was doing, both of his hands found the spiker’s cheeks. Alarmed, Hinata opened his eyes and his entire expression changed. But. Even without the smile, he was still beautiful. His cheeks were so warm and so soft…

Kageyama could see it in Hinata’s eyes – confusion, bafflement and then – finally – acceptance. He accepted Kageyama’s hands holding his face. Under the setter’s palms, he felt the spiker’s cheeks get warmer. Kageyama stared down at those charming features and felt a pull behind his navel as if an invisible hook had latched on and was reeling him closer to Hinata. Was Kageyama imagining it? That angelic face in his hands showed fear and delight. Kageyama leaned forward, closer. What would it be like –

‘Kageyama?’

His hands fell to Hinata’s shoulders, as his body fell into the hold, Kageyama’s head low, facing the ground, his feet and his grip on Hinata were the only things supporting his weight.

What on earth – was I thinking – just now?

Kageyama gasped for air. Suddenly, a light weight landed on his head.

‘It’s OK,’ Hinata whispered.

That tiny hand stroked Kageyama’s hair. Feelings as forceful as a tsunami swept through Kageyama. He snapped back up, releasing Hinata.

‘What are you – what are you doing?’

Hinata frowned. ‘What do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to comfort you.’

Touched, perplexed, Kageyama struggled to articulate a sentence.

‘You look so sad, Kageyama. And I don’t want both of us to be sad,’ Hinata muttered.

Kageyama was torn between lowering his head to let Hinata stroke him again or catapulting some ready insults over.

‘Lets both try to be happy, OK?’

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ Kageyama suddenly asked.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘After school?’

‘Er, well, my mum doesn’t want me seeing friends on a weeknight -’

‘But it’s a Friday. It’s basically the weekend. Do you want to come round again and we can watch something or play some games? I need to run it by my mom first. And you should ask yours. If not maybe something on the weekend?’

Hinata wasn’t sure why, Kageyama looked so alive all of a sudden, so much chirpier than he had in a while.

‘OK. Sure. I’ll ask her.’

‘OK! Great!’

They continued walking together and Kageyama floundered on what to say next. They reached the parting of the ways.

‘S-so, er, text me later, or just tell me at practice. But if you text me it’s better so then we can prepare. I’ll ask my mom too and text you what she says. OK. So. Bye -’

Kageyama marched off without waiting for a response. What a dork.

Hinata smiled.

Out of habit, he took out his phone and checked. His smile died.

Slowly, day by day this week, that creeping gnarling sensation was coming back, like when he first rode in his mom’s car after the earthquake –

A part of him was missing. A huge part inside of him was gone and it had left a wide gaping void. No. No, it was worse than that. Back then he’d only sampled a taste of Oikawa, he hadn’t feasted on a full meal and even now, Hinata still felt like that feast was yet to come. Still. The more he had of Oikawa, the more he wanted, the more addicted he’d become to the size and flavour of his portions – to have his sustenance so suddenly disappear created cravings and hunger pangs that drove him to despair.

In its place, his mind filled the void with wild imaginings: Oikawa with girls, with guys, with Iwaizumi, laughing at his confrontation with the ace; Oikawa throwing up, sick from food poisoning, another shard found in his hands and he couldn’t go to school or use his phone –

That night Hinata couldn’t help himself. He left Oikawa his 5th voicemail that week, his 42nd message and 16th missed call. He went on Twitter and DMed Iwaizumi:

Hey. Me again. Sorry to keep messaging you. Is Oikawa-san OK? I haven’t heard from him

Hinata wanted to tear his hair out in desperation. His mind was on repeat going over and over and over all the times they spent together, trying to figure out if it was all an act, if Oikawa’s feelings were actually genuine, or if he was just leading the crow on the whole time.

Saturday.

Saturday morning. First thing.

He’d know.

Iwaizumi watched his best friend down his second glass of Ozeki sake and the setter hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime.

It was Friday evening.

They were at Iwaizumi’s. His parents were out for dinner to meet his sister’s boyfriend for the first time so they’d be out all night.

Iwaizumi’s father was always pretty lenient when it came to alcohol despite the legal age of drinking in Japan being 20 years old. Something about being able to ‘hold your liquor’ and ‘being a man’. That, and Oikawa being a favourite with Iwaizumi’s family, meant whenever the  setter or some friends were around Iwaizumi had full access to his father’s drinks cabinet. And today, it seemed like Oikawa would be  making the most of that benefit.

They were in the living room, on the floor, their backs against opposite sofas, facing each other, with an array of alcohol and snacks between them. Iwaizumi held a can of Sapporo beer, his arms folded and his legs stretched out. About thirty centimetres across, Oikawa stretched his right leg out, and kept his left knee bent, which he rested his left wrist on, holding the glass. Iwaizumi had noted that Oikawa hadn’t gone for a traditional sake cup – no, he’d practically gone for half a tumbler. Iwaizumi observed Oikawa pour his third helping with a fixated expression.

‘Don’t you think you should eat something? I told you there’s soba in the fridge -’

‘I’m not hungry,’ Oikawa replied, staring at the glass full of liquid intensely.

‘So is that why you wanted to come to mine instead of yours? Cuz you wanted to drink?’

‘Partly.’

And partly because Oikawa had to get out of his home: every evening had been an endurance test, not to mention every seat, surface and crevice reminded Oikawa of only one person…

‘How’s it going with Kaoru?’ Oikawa asked, without looking at his friend, still with his eyes on the drink.

‘Good. I’m seeing her tomorrow. I’m taking her to the fair.’

Oikawa could not hide that pained expression on his face.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What, you have a thing against going to a fair for a date?’

‘Quite the contrary.’

Iwaizumi glugged the remnants of his beer down, crushed the can in his palm and decided to take the plunge.

‘So you decided to take my advice,’ Iwaizumi said.

Finally. Those mocha eyes made contact with Iwa’s. Oikawa had a passive expression on his face but he knew it didn’t matter; years and years of friendship meant that Iwa-chan could read him like a book, read  his mind even, no matter what mask Oikawa put on.

‘It’s not because of what you said,’ the setter replied.

‘Really?’

‘Really. It’s something else. I… realised’.

Iwaizumi waited but Oikawa merely took a reasonable sip of sake.

‘And this Something Else,’ Iwaizumi said, ‘is not something you can beat?’

Oikawa peered at his best friend. What was he insinuating? Iwa would not have phrased the sentence like that if he didn’t want to provoke Oikawa into tackling the obstacle.

‘You’ve been miserable and quiet all week. You’ve been picking at your food like a bird. And everyone knows how off and distracted you’ve been in practice. It hasn’t been this bad for a while. So I got it. You’re actually quite serious about him.’

Oikawa’s face was just as passive as Iwa’s.

Oikawa suddenly smirked, bitterly. ‘But it doesn’t matter, right?’ he raised his eyebrows knowingly at Iwa-chan.

Iwa gave a slight nod of the head. ‘It’s only worth about fifty percent.’

‘Please don’t remind me,’ Oikawa whispered to his drink.

‘But then.’

Oikawa’s gaze shifted back onto his spiker.

‘You know he messaged me on Twitter about four times in total asking about you.’

There it was. The rattling of Oikawa’s heart, the flutter in his stomach.

‘Well what did you say?’ Oikawa asked.

‘Nothing. I wanted to run it by your first.’

‘When was this?’

‘I think he messaged me late on Wednesday? Like one in the morning. And then twice on Thursday and once today.’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?!’

‘I wanted to see if you’d reply to him but clearly you didn’t.’

Oikawa put his glass down and crossed his legs.

‘If he had to message me four times asking how you are then I want to know how many times he messaged you?’

Oikawa closed his eyes. The numbers were there, imprinted in his mind.

‘Is this really necessary?’ Oikawa opened his eyes. ‘You’re just making this harder for me -’

‘He came to see me, you know.’

Oikawa felt the rush of a ball fly past his head, missing his ear by a millimetre. And then –

‘HE WHAT?’ Oikawa jumped to his feet, almost knocking his glass over. ‘Wait – what? When? How? What did he -?’

‘He DMed me on Twitter, asking to meet. What can I say? My curiosity got the better of me after Sunday.’

‘AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME THIS WHY?’ Oikawa wrung his hands out towards Iwaziumi. ‘What are you secretly best friends with him now or something? Why didn’t you say anything?!’

‘He asked me not to tell you,’ Iwaizumi casually grabbed a bag of potato chips and pulled it open. ‘But of course I’d tell you in the end.’ He popped a chip in his mouth.

Oikawa bared his teeth. ‘I could kill you right now,’ he hissed.

‘Except you can’t. And you won’t. Because you’re gonna wanna hear what happened.’

Iwaizumi munched on more chips and watched, amused, as Oikawa tried to calmly sit himself back down on the floor cross-legged but he was clearly on edge, leaning forward, his eyes full of anticipation.

‘Well then?!’ he snapped.

Iwaizumi deliberately put the bag down slowly and cracked open another Sapporo instead. Oikawa looked like he wanted to strangle the  ace.

‘He threatened me.’

‘HE WHAT?!’

‘Something about treating you with respect and how I should stop hurting you,’ Iwa took a sip of his beer. ‘It was pretty intense. I haven’t seen someone that riled up in a while. Not over you, at least. I told him straight I could beat him to a pulp, he had no chance -’

‘Please don’t tell me you touched him.’

The look Oikawa gave his ace was more chilling than the beer in Iwaizumi’s hand. Iwa didn’t fear his best friend. Not most of the time anyway. But there would be these moments, when something seemed to overcome the setter. It was these moments that Iwa sometimes feared, where he felt like Oikawa was capable of doing anything with no concern for any consequences. Like now.

‘No. But I came close to it.’

‘What exactly do you mean?’ Oikawa’s hand gripped his glass.

One wrong word, Iwa knew that glass was headed straight for his head.

‘He said he’d let me beat him up if it meant I’d stop calling you names and hitting you. Clearly you grassed to that kid that I punched you on Sunday. I grabbed the front of his shirt and made out like I was going to hit him. Of course I wasn’t. He’s just a first year. But I wanted to see if he was true to his word. The boy didn’t even flinch,’ Iwa drank some more beer.

More than the fiery warmth of the sake, Iwaizumi’s words travelled deep into Oikawa’s blood. That stupid, marvellous boy. He inhaled deeply.

‘Fifty two,’ Oikawa uttered to the clear liquid in his cup.

‘What?’

‘Fifty two messages, eighteen missed calls and six voicemails.’ Oikawa dragged his gaze up to Iwa’s. ‘And no, I haven’t read or listened to any of them because I’m not strong enough to.’

‘So back to my question earlier. The Something Else. You can’t beat it? Or rather, number 10 isn’t worth fighting for?’

Oikawa scrutinised his friend. ‘What exactly are you trying to say?’

‘I’m trying to say that that scrawny pretty boy was prepared to be  bloodied and battered by me for you and even I have to respect that. If he’s willing to fight for you, aren’t you willing to fight for him?’

Oikawa stared into those faithful, trusted eyes. Of everyone, over all the years, out of everyone he had met, Iwaizumi’s opinion, and his alone, was the only vote that could sway Oikawa when no one else’s could. He was always frank and candid, no bullshit, no games, just as Oikawa valued, despite himself being the total opposite. To Oikawa, these personality traits were like a rare gem: it meant you could trust  and rely on what a person said or did because there was no back-handedness to it. Truth hurt but it was better than sweet lies. Perhaps that was why, he gravitated to people like that…

‘I could kiss you right now.’ Oikawa said.

‘Please don’t.’

Iwa watched that calculative brain of his friend’s get to work as Oikawa stared but didn’t see the drinks and snacks in front of him.

Iwaizumi grabbed the bag for a second round of potato chips. ‘You  know. While I was talking to him, I realised something. Me and him, we  have a lot in common. We both see the Oikawa behind the bullshit. We’re  both willing to fight for what we care for and believe in. We both know actions are more powerful than words. And also, we’re both pretty straight up. I mean – what was it – eighteen missed calls you said? He’s not playing around. Not like you, anyway. But the sounds of things, I  take it you ghosted him?’

‘I don’t like that word.’

‘Whether you like it or not doesn’t change what it means. The poor kid’s obviously tearing his hair out to try and talk to you and you’ve given him the silent treatment. If you’re as serious about him as he seems to be about you, isn’t it worth dropping your stupid games and talking about the issue man to man so you can resolve it?’

Oikawa chewed on the back of his finger, contemplating.

‘Someone willing to take a hit for you? Literally? You don’t meet a lot of people like that.’

‘I know,’ Oikawa murmured.

‘So what are you going to do? Are you going to fight?’

‘It’s a bit tricky… it’s kinda out of my hands. It’s up to Shoyo.’

Iwaizumi grabbed a pack of wasabi beef chips and chucked it to the setter who caught it, without even looking.

‘Well,’ Iwaizumi drank down some beer, ‘if it’s up to him, you have nothing to worry about.’