And stories shall become legends.

"I can't do this." Kageyama digs his nails into the palms of his hands until the skin goes pale. Hajime has to pry his grip apart before he really hurts himself. It's been years, but he can't stop feeling responsible. And proud, too, always that. "Look." Hajime puts both of Kageyama's hands into one of his, runs a hand through his hair, patient until Kageyama manages to glance at him. Right, Hajime thinks when he has to tilt his chin up, taller than me. "You'll do fine," he says out loud. "Don't be afraid. He won't reject you." "But what if he does? What if he doesn't like me after all this time?" Hajime sighs and wonders why he can feel a familiar hint of fondness in his chest. "If an ordinary guy like me can confess to a brilliant madman and stay his boyfriend for five years and counting, then a genius like you can ask Hinata out already." Kageyama swallows hard. He nods. A week later, a text arrives on Hajime’s phone. It says: One day and counting.

The last minutes before a game are usually a time of meditation for Kageyama, but it’s just not working today. If they lose against Seijouh, there’s no chance to go to nationals. And yet... Kageyama tilts his head and frowns. That’s strange.

“Hinata.”

“Huh? Coming!” There’s a squeak of shoes on the gym floor, and Hinata appears by his side. “What is it? Are you getting scared again?” He grins.

“Idiot,” Kageyama growls, “of course not. But - look. Over there.”

Hinata is still snickering, but he looks across the gym to where Kageyama points. The team of Seijouh is standing in a circle, apparently discussing something. Their coach is a bit aside, arms cross, face stern and hard. But what Kageyama is showing him happens a few steps to the left, where the team has entered the court and one of the double doors is still open. 

It’s the ace of Seijouh, Hinata recognises him, and - oh. Oikawa. Something seems to be happening, because the ace (Iwaizumi, now Hinata remembers) reaches for Oikawa’s shoulders and grabs him. “Do you think they’re fighting?” Hinata bites his lip. “Dunno,” Kageyama mumbles. His frown deepens. “Maybe they’re talking about a secret technique-”

That’s when Iwaizumi’s hand slides into Oikawa’s neck, and they kiss. 

The noise that Hinata makes is close to choking. Kageyama can practically feel his cheeks go red. “N-no secret technique,” he whispers. “They didn’t do this back when I was there.”

“It looks weird,” Hinata says, still staring. “Kissing. Like. It’s weird, putting your lips together like that.” 

“Yeah.” Kageyama shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Anyways. Are you ready?”

“Wha- oh, yeah.” 

The rest of Karasuno doesn’t even blink when Kageyama closes his arms around Hinata, and Hinata’s head falls against his chest. They stand, breathing together, waiting until their hearts beat in the same rhythm. Then Kageyama’s nose touches Hinata’s forehead. 

“We’re gonna win.” 

Hinata looks up at him, lips curled into a grin. “Yeah. We will.”

At first, Hinata doesn’t understand why Kageyama insist on this thing. Whenever they say goodbye, after their kiss at the crossroads that leads up the mountain, Kageyama reaches for Hinata’s sleeve. He tugs, just a tiny bit. Hinata then usually sighs and tiptoes to nuzzle his cheek and says something like “I’m glad you’re my boyfriend” or “I like you a lot.”

Today, he’s in a hurry. Kageyama barely catches him after training, because Hinata’s racing to his bike, panicking about the dentist appointment he can’t be late to. “Hinata!” Kageyama calls, but there’s no time. “I’ll call you later tonight,” is all Hinata manages to say before he climbs onto his bike. “Sorry! Bye!”

When he comes back from the dentist, his mother spares him from watching Natsu and lets Hinata go to his room until dinner. He hugs her tightly before running off, pain still throbbing in his cheek. Reaching for his phone, Hinata checks his messages - and freezes.

Do you want to break up? From Kageyama.

What the hell! No! Why, do you? He wants to call, wants to know, but Kageyama doesn’t pick up and instead there’s a new message. 

You didn’t say you liked me today. 

Hinata wants to hit him at first. Of course he hasn’t stopped liking Kageyama within a day! But then again... it’s Kageyama. They have their rituals, their rules, and Kageyama struggles with - things. Hinata catches himself smiling. He’ll say it every day, twice, four or five times, until it’s carved into Kageyama’s heart.

I like you. A lot. Still do. Kiss me tomorrow morning, okay?

The reply is immediate, and Hinata squeezes his phone tightly.

Okay. I like you the best.

Idiot, Hinata thinks, and my boyfriend. Maybe they’ll kiss a bit longer tomorrow.

The man’s breath reeks of cheap beer and old cigarette smoke clinging to rotten teeth. Tooru has seen the silhouette of a knife in his pocket before the man has even sat down on the bar stool by his side and smile at him with a lick of his fleshy tongue over thin lips. “Well, ain’t ya a pretty one,” the man slurs, grinning. Tooru tilts his head and smiles like honey. “Do you want to buy me a drink?”

Of course the man wants to. He wants even more, his filthy lips say, and Tooru is almost bored by the obvious slide of greedy eyes up and down his body. Hajime keeps throwing him quick glances from the other side of the club; there’s no worry in them, just impatience. He holds Hinata and Kageyama by their collars, they sit by his side, hands curled into fists where they don’t cling to each other’s. Hajime’s lips form silent words. ‘Hurry. They’re hungry.’

Tooru touches the man’s arm. His lips curve a bit more, he stands. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” How naive can someone be, Tooru thinks when the man’s black-dirty eyes light up with unconcealed lust, to think that he gets anything without paying a price? 

“Wait. Where are we going?” The man begins to understand when Tooru’s already led him into a room that’s covered in pure white tiles. The door slams shut behind them; voices echo through the corridor they just walked, and Tooru keeps smiling, smiling, milky-sweet teeth and a soft tongue flicking his lips. “Who are you,” is all the man can say before Tooru gently puts a finger on his mouth - and shoves him onto the floor. 

“It’s so easy to find food these days.” 

The door slams open. Three silhouettes push inside, two growling in triumph and jolting forward. Tooru steps aside. Hajime comes to stand beside him, leaning in to kiss Tooru’s cheek. “Just in time,” he says, his smile tiny around needle-sharp teeth and the red glow of his two eyes, three, four, as the hidden ones on his forehead open and the horns slide back out from his hair. 

“Don’t worry,” Tooru tells the man over his own gurgling screams. “You may survive this. If the young ones can control themselves.” He laughs, watching Hinata’s fangs dig into the man’s throat to share the best blood with Kageyama, their horns now visible again, claws scratching over the floor, and the hundreds of eyes on their skin opening to witness their meal. 

Kageyama is kind of really, really pretty. 

Hinata isn’t exactly jealous. Black hair wouldn’t look good on him - he’s pale already, no thank you - and he’s never wanted those clichée sky-blue eyes either. It only works on Kageyama. 

“It’s unfair, you know,” Hinata whispers to Kageyama’s neck, where he’s buried his lips against soft skin and a slow-beating pulse. Kageyama is asleep. Training and homework exhausted both of them into a nap, but Hinata awoke first for once. He doesn’t bother with moving or untangling his fingers from the gentle grip of Kageyama’s bigger hand. 

They fit together so well, it’s ridiculous. Hinata closes his eyes, breathes softly. He’s counted all the freckles on Kageyama’s nose twice, has memorized the curve of his lips, the warmth of his skin pressing against his own. Like a cartographer, he knows Kageyama by the valleys and hidden glades of his body, from the crease between his brows to the kindness of his fingertips against Hinata’s chest, his stomach, sitting reverently on his hips. 

He smiles. “It’s unfair that you’re so beautiful, y’know.” 

Kageyama’s life could have been easy. 

Then, Hinata kisses him. 

Just like that, his tiny soft mouth against Kageyama’s chapped, raw-bitten lips. It’s after their last spike against Shiratorizawa slams into the floor, victory pouring over them like a hurricane, waves from the crowd’s ear-shattering cries crashing down on the court. It’s Hinata’s last spike, and winning has never been sweeter than with Hinata’s ragged breath flooding into his body and curling around his heart. 

One hour later, they fight. Kageyama says things he doesn’t mean, Hinata yells back, and then there’s horrible white silence because - 

“You don’t love me,” comes out of Kageyama’s mouth. “You love the tosses I give you and the volleyball I play. Not me. You don’t, because you hate it when I touch you and you flinch, and you hate that I call you names - “ 

Hinata cries. It’s not pretty. His cheeks are red, eyes swollen. “You don’t get it,” says his soft voice when he grabs Kageyama and pulls him into a strong hug. Kageyama fights, struggles, tries to escape. He only goes silent when Hinata sobs something into his chest, face wet and salty. 

“Yes, I like your hands when they toss, but I like them more when they hug me. I like when you yell commands and scream about winning, but I like it more when you kiss me and are really quiet or tell me that - that I’m your f-favourite person.” Hinata trembles, curls into Kageyama’s arms. “I wanna... be that, you know.”

“You are,” Kageyama says, and it comes out natural, gentle. And then - “okay.”

His life could have been easy, but he’s in love with Hinata. Nothing ever goes perfect for them, and that’s fine. Kageyama swears he’ll never stop trying. 

For a long time, Kageyama is quite sad about every single animal being scared of him. He’s tried to feed and pet the neighbour’s cat, one of his teacher’s dogs, and he even built a nest for a hedgehog in his garden once. All of the animals made scared noises, immediately hiding from him. None would let Kageyama touch its fur or small paws, not caring how badly he wanted to pet and hold them.

But now it’s not so bad anymore. Ever since the day Hinata’s first roughly pushed his head into Kageyama’s hand after a great spike, Kageyama’s understood the way it works. 

Hinata came to him on his own. He’s chosen Kageyama, and he’s decided that he wants to have those awkward shaky fingers on his head and gently tracing along his neck. Somehow, Kageyama has earned this honour. 

And when he pets Hinata, this little bundle of sunshine makes a soft noise that’s better than any purr he could ever get from any animal in the whole wide world.

One day, Kageyama snaps. 

Hinata stares at him when he tears his hand out of those warm fingers. When Kageyama stumbles back and slides down the wall of the locker room, shaking, blood rushing in his veins, and watches the harsh imprint of his own grip on Hinata’s hand go an angry crimson. “Why,” his voice is a mess, it always is after his outburst of aggression, this hopeless coping mechanism he still uses when things become overwhelming or he fucking fails in training, when he makes mistakes and people are too much, when he has to run and hide, when Hinata is still there even though he yells and is terrible, no friends, nobody wants him. 

“Why are you doing this? You - you’re always there when I’m like this, when I h-hold you too tightly and hurt you - I don’t want to hurt you, but you keep coming after me and you even h-hug me when I cry. This isn’t... I don’t understand. God, explain it to me, Hinata. Why’re you here when I’m like this? I’m so - so angry, and I can’t - they’re all too much and I k-know they hate me, like my old team, but you. You... are here.” The sob tearing out of his throat is a wild animal, hurt and howling into the silence. He chokes. “Tell me why.”

And Hinata smiles at him with sorrow so deep and warm that Kageyama’s lungs and fucking throat and all of his scarred, dark-splattered insides rip apart.

“You really know nothing about love, Tobio.”

Hinata already knows that he’s going to cry when Kageyama slaps the food out of his hand. 

It hurts when knuckles collide against his palm, and the sweet-filled bun tumbles to the ground, dropping right into a dirty puddle by his feet. Kageyama stares. Hinata opens his mouth, tries not to tear up, wants to understand why Kageyama is being so mean - yes, he’s always rough with him, but never like this. He’s never actually hurt Hinata. His palm is a little red. He swallows. 

And then, there are tears on his cheeks, dripping silently. 

“I’m sorry.” Kageyama’s voice trembles. He reaches out for Hinata’s mouth, but Hinata flinches and stumbles back. “Did you eat any?” Kageyama wants to know, steps forward, grabs his collar. “Tell me. Did you eat it? How much?” 

Hinata doesn’t understand. He shakes his head, makes a soft whimper in the back of his throat. “N-nothin’. Wanted to share w-with you.” There’s a hiccup rising in his chest, he wraps both arms around himself. “Why would you - “ 

Then, Kageyama picks up the bun and shows Hinata the wrapping. “It’s strawberry, you idiot. The filling. It’s pink and it’s strawberry. You’re allergic.” 

Oh. Hinata sniffles. He tries to stop crying, but it doesn’t work. “Th... thanks.” 

Kageyama throws the bun away and reaches out, but hesitates. “I’m sorry. Fuck.” He bites his lip. “I’ll buy you another one. I didn’t wanna hit you. I’m so sorry.” Hinata waits for the touch, but Kageyama goes rigid. “Hinata, I’m sorry - “

But Hinata nods, finally, and drops his head against Kageyama’s chest, nuzzling so long until shaking fingers gently touch his hair. “It’s okay. I literally forgot. If I didn’t have you - why did you even remember that, and when did I tell you - “ 

“Let’s go already. I’ll buy you a new one, I said.” The blush on Kageyama’s cheeks suits him, Hinata decides. He grins and laces their fingers up. “Okay.”

The last time Hajime had talked to Kageyama had been at his own high school graduation ceremony, and Kageyama had asked him a question, as simple and natural as breathing. “You love Oikawa-san, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” Hajime had replied. Lying was useless, unneeded. Kageyama’s blue eyes had traced along his face. He hadn’t smiled. “I see. I don’t understand, but I guess I don’t have to.” To that, Hajime had said no, and they’d said goodbye. 

It’s five years later and Hajime wants nothing more than to go home from university in this horrible blizzard, but a hand catches his shoulder. When he turns around, there’s Kageyama - but then again, it’s not. The loneliness is gone from his dark eyes, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. And maybe that’s because of the young man clinging to his arm, sunshine-bright hair, eyes wide and warm like sweet honey milk. 

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kageyama says, and Hajime hugs him simply because it feels right. They chat for a moment, the boyfriend - Hinata, right - making sure to distract Kageyama with touches all the while. And then, Kageyama says: 

“You still love him, don’t you?” 

Hajime says yes. “We live together, but it’s not like - “ 

Kageyama shakes his head, and even Hinata looks sad. “I thought you’d find out on your own one day. Iwaizumi-san, he - he’s always loved you.” The snow tastes bittersweet on Hajime’s cold lips. He swallows, shakes his head. 

“He does,” Hinata says softly. “Sometimes, he phones Tobio. Believe me when I say that he loves you. Y’know, Tobio’s almost as big of an idiot as him, they both thought they’re never good enough - ow!” Kageyama growls at him, smiles then.

But Hajime doesn’t hear them anymore. He runs, snowflakes catching in his hair, blue-white cold bleeding over his mouth as he pants heavily. Tooru’s at home when he arrives, his bag being thrown in the corner. He’s on the couch and looks up, smiling, then opening his mouth. “Haji - “ is all that he can say. 

“Eight years.” Hajime’s face is buried into Tooru’s shoulder, arm around his waist, his cold body strong against Tooru’s chest. “That’s for how long I’ve - God, why didn’t you say something, I thought - I wanted to, but Kageyama told me... ‘s it true? Talk to me. Tooru, talk to me, and don’t lie, don’t lie anymore.” 

Tooru doesn’t speak for a long time. Then, his fingers softly cup Hajime’s jaw, trembling, thumb brushing his lips. His eyes are a beautiful darkness, star-lit by a glint of swallowed sadness and something long, long hidden. 

“Twelve years.” The warmth of his mouth presses to Hajime’s lips. And Hajime chokes on the sob that roars in his lungs when Tooru whispers: “I was scared. You’re everything, and I was noth- “ 

Hajime shuts him up with a kiss, a desperate, wild thing lingering between their mouths, and Tooru curls against him like he’s that moon that’s only ever waited for its stars to finally frame the pale grace of its body, and light it up in white. 

“I’m not a good person,” Kageyama says, one day. “Don’t get closer.” 

“I think I like you,” Hinata says, easy as breathing. 

“Don’t trust me. I only disappoint everyone,” Kageyama tries again, many days later. “I mess up.”

“You are amazing,” Hinata says and touches his hand. “You make me fly.” 

“No,” and months later, Kageyama begs, cries, yells. “No, you don’t understand, Hinata, no. Stay away from me. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you. You mean too much, I can’t - please. I hurt all of them, and I can’t, not with you - “ 

“I’m not your old team. I’m your decoy,” Hinata whispers into the soft skin of his mouth. “Please, Kageyama, please. Let’s try. Let me. I’m here. You can’t hurt me. You’re not a bad person.” Then, soft, very quiet. “I’ve loved you for months.”

And then, after Hinata paints gentleness into Kageyama’s chest with his smiles, the touch of his tiny fingers, the adoration radiating from his eyes. Kageyama surrenders. 

“Yes,” Kageyama says, one day. “Me too, Shouyou. Me too.”

There are a million and one things that Kageyama wants to tell Hinata. 

I’ll protect you. Please stay. I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I want to be what you need. Let’s conquer them all, together, let me give you wings and roots and let me be the wind that lifts your hand. 

There are names that he has for Hinata inside his head. Sugar. Treasure. Darling. They’re sweet and don’t come off his lips, swallowed by the insecurity in his tightening throat. 

And in the end, Hinata makes it all easy again. After their thirteenth kiss, in the rain before Hinata’s house, sweat in their hair and salt on their lips from training, that’s when Hinata cups Kageyama’s jaw with trembling hands and whispers: 

“You can call me Shouyou. If you want to.” 

Kageyama wants. He calls Hinata’s real name into the rain-dark silence, and somehow, he’s enough for the boy who’s finally given him a language he can speak.