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“Bring it to me!”
Hinata must’ve uttered this sentence hundreds, if not thousands of times already, and Kageyama was always there to hear it. It was all very dependable; the rhythm they had settled into, of finding a new angle of attack before scratching the whole thing to learn another one. The reliable jumping and setting. Kageyama, the reliable and dependable - who would've ever thought those three words could exist together?
But long gone are the days of a lonely king of the court, so when Hinata yells and launches himself in the air, Kageyama passes the ball to him in a perfect set. He lands on his feet just as the smack of the ball on the other side of the court reverberates throughout the gym, and a feeling of a job well done washes over him.
Yes, they've still got it. Miles away from home, in an unknown gym, with a new team, but they've still got it. It's been a couple weeks since they started their first semester at Chuo University and had to adjust to playing in an unfamiliar environment. This was their first practice match since joining the college's volleyball club. As the game echoed away, the worry of fitting into a new club began to dissipate.
That is, until he looks over the other side of the net, and Oikawa's familiar scowl comes into view.
What is that guy's problem?
The last time they saw each other was when Karasuno beat Seijoh at the preliminaries, preventing Oikawa from taking his team to nationals in his final year of high school. Perhaps he still harbors some grudge over the loss? But come on already, it's been three years and since then both boys – or rather, men – have bloomed into extensively accomplished players. Tobio played at nationals each year of his high school career, taking on the role of vice captain of Karasuno's team, and repeatedly participated in Japan's under 19s training camp - he was all but guaranteed to be hand-picked from the court and onto the national team. Tooru played for an adult’s prefectural team before moving on to Tsukuba University's renowned collegiate team, regaining his title of captain in his second year of university. And rumor has it, he is being scouted by an international team to take over the position of a retiring setter.
The days of middle school and high school feuds have come and gone. Surely, the passage of time and acquired maturity spoke for themselves. Or at least, that is what Tobio hoped for.
Oikawa’s scowl softened, and was immediately replaced by a familiar, cocky smirk. Oh dear God, don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth, don’t o-
“Aaa Tobio-chan, quick as ever with the little one. Always see it coming and yet it passes in such a blur.” He flicks his hand in front of his eyes, mimicking the duo’s approach and stares at them from the other side of the net before settling his eyes on Kageyama. In their current rotation, they are both at the front – an ideal position for them to show off their best tosses, save for the proximity to each other.
“Huh?! Little one?” Hinata takes offense in the background, but it does little to break the staring contest between the two opposing setters.
Kageyama scrunches his face at the comment. “Um, thanks? I guess. We do practice our quick a lot and Hinata is a great spiker, so.”
“Well of course, you wouldn’t pass to anyone who isn’t essential to winning. I remember.” His voice is awfully chipper for the judgement that seeps through his words. He looks over the rest of the duo’s new collegiate team, as if to drive the point home, and turns away. Tobio is left staring at his rival's back, trying to crack the code of what he could mean by that, until the whistle blows and he drags himself back into formation.
///
The practice match concludes with three sets won by Chuo University and two sets won by Tsukuba University. When they line up on the court to thank each other for the game, Oikawa is smiling without it reaching his eyes. He shakes Tobio’s hand as if he was any other player and then leaves to gather his stuff from the side of the court. Kageyama watches him as he changes his shoes, lazily tying the laces while talking to one of his teammates.
Hirugami, Chuo’s captain, comes behind Tobio and pats him on the back. “Great game today, how’d it feel playing with the new team for the first time in a match?”
“It was pretty nice, actually. I’m still getting used to the left wing spiker’s approach, but it was easier later as the game went on.” He chats with his captain, discussing the strategies for training they will apply at next practice to learn from today’s mistakes. His team’s wing spikers and Hinata, who remarkably retained his middle block position, join in on the conversation and enthusiastically chatter away about their best plays. Tobio slowly disengages from the conversation; he was never the best at the whole participating and socializing thing, so as the talk steers from volleyball to dinner plans, his attention fades away from the words of his teammates and locks itself on the Tsukuba captain.
He watches as the man, now much more animated, stands up from the floor to explain something to the Tsukuba middle blocker. He can't eavesdrop on their conversation, but the captain’s gesticulation provides some hint as to the topic of their discussion. Oikawa steps into a serve preparation and stretches his left arm with the ball forward, then demonstrates slowly the twisting in his shoulder through to his elbow as he imitates hitting the ball with the other arm.
Ah, Oikawa's infamous curve ball serve. Kageyama had been on the receiving end of those many, many times. Tsukuba's middle blocker observes his captain intently, but seems confused, so Oikawa gestures for him to try the set up, and as he gets into position, he approaches his teammate. He presses his chest against the server's back as he trails his palm down his right arm, firmly directing the desired curve.
Tobio squints at his opponents, intently dissecting the movement. He needs no words – the language of volleyball is the body, and he speaks it fluently. Observing Oikawa's back flex is all he needs to understand the directions. He subconsciously twists his right shoulder forward followed by his elbow, mimicking the two men. Oikawa steps away and his teammate bows in gratitude for the demonstration, finally understanding his captain's instructions. Tooru grins at the student’s newfound knowledge, but when he looks back in the direction of the gym, the smile drops as he realizes who is watching them.
“Yoohoo, earth to Kageyama? Are you coming with us to the convenience store?” Hinata interrupts his unintentional serving lesson.
“Huh?” He realizes the gym had cleared out for the most part by now, and sees Oikawa wave goodbye to his impromptu student, grab his bag, and walk away in the direction of the hallways. “Uhh sure, I'll just go to the bathroom real quick. See you guys outside.”
“Okay, see you!”
Kageyama makes his way to the main hallway. It’s pretty much empty – men’s volleyball was the last gym booking of the day. He hears the sink run as he passes by the men's bathroom door and enters, greeted by the sight of Oikawa splashing cold water on his face.
“Hey.” He says as he stands in the doorframe.
The unexpected company prompts him to turn off the tap. He straightens up, grabs the edge of his jersey to bring it up to dry his face, so he can get a good look at the company.
“Oh. It's just you.” He grabs a proper towel to dry off his hands and turns to the door to leave. “Excuse me, Tobio-chan” He says without bothering to look at the other man and tries to pass.
He bumps into his strong frame which does not budge even one bit. And he realizes just now that the last time they saw each other, Kageyama wasn't at eye level, let alone slightly above it.
“What's your problem with me?”
Oikawa calmly steps back.
“I wasn't aware I had a problem with you, darling Tobio.”
“Are you always this arrogant on purpose? Or is it god-given talent?”
He visibly tenses after the word talent leaves Kageyama's lips.
“Years of training, thanks.” He grits through his teeth. “Enlighten me then, what is this problem I supposedly have with you, hm? What do I do that makes the king so upset?”
It’s downright annoying, but not unexpected. He came in good faith, forgetting that it may not be reciprocated. Still, he tries. He really isn’t quick to anger outbursts anymore, and he will not revert back to his old ways just because Tooru won’t play ball.
“This.” He points between them. “The, the nicknames, the teasing. I get it, we weren’t exactly friendly back in high school, but come on now, how long are you going to hold this grudge?”
“Grudge?”
“Yes, grudge, not going to nationals in your senior year because we beat you. It must have sucked, but it's not like you didn't bounce right back to being captain at Tsukuba. I thought we were over this weird immature rivalry by now.”
“Immature, nice.” He laughs. He refuses to address Tobio’s grudge-bearing theories, not when they’re so ill-informed. “I didn’t realize you grew up – no, sorry, matured – so much since the last time I saw you, Tobio-chan. I wouldn’t want you to stoop down to my level now, would I, your highness.” His breathing is heavy. He throws his hands in the air and the quick manner in which he does it manages to conceal their trembling from the other conversationalist.
“Oh my God, stop it with the fucking ‘king of the court’ thing already! I’m not that guy anymore.”
“Trust me, I know.” He snarls, loud enough for his words to echo. He doesn’t know why he is being difficult, he just knows he can’t bear seeing Kageyama so even-tempered while oh-so-casually digging into his insecurities. It would piss him off less if he came in here shouting insults, but the novel air of collectedness around him does little to keep him calm and mostly makes him feel even more guilty for feeling this way.
Kageyama sighs; he pinches the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. “I don’t know what your problem is with me. I wanted to put it behind us, but I– I don’t care anymore. I cared for years and it drove me mad. I can’t care anymore, Tooru.” Despite the building frustration seething through his words, the way in which his name leaves his tongue sounds soft.
The unexpected softness brings about tears in his eyes, but he will not let them fall. This is not the moment to show weakness, to show that despite Tobio’s apathy, he still cares, he still can’t get over those years. But the sound of his name – not Oikawa, not captain, not senpai, not namecalling, just Tooru – disarms a meticulously upkept defense system. And just like that, something in him snaps.
He straightens up and locks his eyes on the man in front of him, then steps forward and pushes Kageyama, shoving him into the doorframe. The force causes him to raise his guard, uncertain of the intentions of his rival, who is now mere centimeters away from him. The blatant disrespect for his personal space puts him in fight mode, and he readies himself to bark back at the provocation, but he is beaten to it. Any words of complaint bubbling up inside him dissipate when Oikawa pulls him in by the collar of his training sweatshirt and kisses him.
His rival, he learns, is aggressive in more ways than one. He desperately devours his mouth, hungry like a fasting man is for bread, breathing heavy like a marathoner trying to catch up with his opponent, chewing on his bottom lip like he can eat away at the years of distance between them up until this point.
Then just as Tobio relaxes into the kiss, his lips are left cold and the other man pushes himself off of him. Despite the brevity, both men are left panting. They stare at each other, not saying anything, for what feels like an eternity.
“I can’t let go.” Finally, Tooru says. It sounds like a poet’s most vulnerable confession, though he says it more to himself than to anyone else. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and looks away.
And then he leaves.
Kageyama stands in the Chuo University volleyball gym's men's bathroom in silence, alone and dumbfounded.
///
A couple weeks down the line college students rejoice – after the first midterm exams, the autumn break has finally come. While for most it’s a welcome slowing down from the fast pace of university life, those who committed to a sports club have their respective training camps. This year, in collaboration with a few other colleges, the Chuo University volleyball team heads to the Waseda campus for a week of practice matches and drills with some of the most competitive collegiate teams. Tobio, while excited to play against Tokai’s team which houses a few of his high school teammates, is much less thrilled at the prospect of seeing certain familiar faces on the Tsukuba team.
He steps onto the train accompanied by Hinata on a horribly early Saturday morning with takeout coffee in hand. There was definitely an internal debate on whether or not to order regular coffee or decaf, God knows he doesn’t need the extra caffeine jitters to fuel his nerves, but ultimately the desire to hit the ball in lieu of slumping onto the court mid-game won.
“I’m so excited to show off my new jump serve to Daichi, it’s crazy that he plays at Waseda of all places now, no? Last week he told me about this new short guy that joined their team this year, and he said he’s pretty good but wouldn’t share his highest jump measurement, I’m going to seethe if it’s over 350cm, hey would you want to-” Hinata yammers away, seemingly oblivious to the implication of the hour on the clock for any regular person who does not share his apparently infinite energy source. On second thought, he should’ve gotten decaf. Keeping up with Hinata is plenty energizing enough.
When they finally arrive at Waseda, navigating the campus is surprisingly easy. They manage to find the gym where they will be playing and take a quick look before heading to the classrooms that were set aside for their accommodation. Despite living in the city now, they both opted to stay on campus during the camp – from their shared apartment, it was not an insignificant commute to Waseda, and Tobio would rather shrivel up and die than have to wake up at 4 a.m. to make it on time and fit in his morning run. (Shoyo had suggested he skip the running this week, but quickly realized the error of his ways when Tobio stared at him with laser beams shooting out of his eyes without saying a word. No, he would not even dignify that with a response.)
The first practice of the day is planned to start in two hours, so the boys set up their sleeping mats and head out to find some familiar faces. They meet up with Daichi at the gym, who introduces them to some of his hosting teammates, including the guy Hinata was talking about on the train. Despite a day full of training ahead, they want to spar just the three of them for old time’s sake before the intensity of collegiate practice kicks in.
“Ugh, shit.” Tobio rummages through his bag. “I forgot that I put my indoor court shoes in my overnight bag.”
“No worries man, there’s plenty of time to go grab them and still play a bit.” Daichi says. “I’ll just have to show off my new setting skills to Hinata while we wait for you.”
“Yoo, you’re setting now? Daichi-san you’re so cool!”
“Okay, I’ll try to be quick, sorry!”
The walk back to their bedroom for the week is not very long, but the 15 minutes each way can add up quickly. He hadn’t realized how expansive the Waseda campus actually was until this inconvenience. The classroom, which is still mostly empty, has only one more sleeping mat set up next to his and Hinata’s, with a Tsukuba team jacket thrown haphazardly onto it. He assumes it makes sense, most students live close enough and would rather skip the unnecessary sleepover. He locates his overnight bag and kneels on the floor to dig out his trainers, when he hears the door behind him open; presumably, an arriving student just entered, so he turns around to greet them–
–and locks eyes with Oikawa.
Just the person he was hoping to see now. Let alone apparently sleep next to for the whole week.
“Hey.” He says unbothered and enters the room. Tooru takes off his trench coat, takes out his practice jersey from his bag, and begins to change. Tobio doesn’t know what to say, so he chooses to remain silent. And awkward. Ignoring Oikawa should be second nature at this point, but the recent circumstances and now the view of his bare back throw a wrench in those skills. He realizes that he already has his shoes in hand and thus the perfect excuse to leave the room, so he stands up to head out.
“Y’know, it’s funny seeing you at Waseda.” He hears from behind him. “You’re not really the bookworm type, I would’ve never expected to see you at Japan’s most prestigious university. Alas, being a genius in more trivial things like volleyball can get you places, too.”
Tobio sucks in a sharp breath. He readies himself to retort, but Oikawa continues before he gets the chance.
“In case you can’t read between the lines, yes I’m calling you stupid.” He pauses. “But don’t worry, I wasn’t smart enough to go here, either. Looks like we’re both intellectual rejects, Tobio-chan.” He’s focused on tying his laces and pretends not to care all too much about Waseda’s rejection.
Tobio locks the door and turns around to face him. Okay, so we’re doing this now, I suppose.
And then he says nothing. He stands there, looking at Oikawa. The bright blue jersey of Tsukuba’s uniform looks just as good on him as did the aqua Seijoh uniform; it must be something about complimentary colors, he thinks. Afterall, he does have that chocolate cream colored hair and warm toned skin, that always looks good next to blues. It reminds him of the milk chocolate bar from Tony’s Chocoloney he had back in the Netherlands during his first ever international match. Fittingly enough, the blue wrapper was the same shade as Tsukuba’s current uniform. It reminds him of Oikawa too, he realized – the chocolate bar is segmented into irregular shapes, so you never know what kind of piece you will break off. Always sweet, always milky, clad in blue, but unpredictable in all other ways. He wonders what piece he breaks off from Tooru today.
He still doesn’t say anything, just watches.
“Creep much? Are you just going to stare at me as I get dressed?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On whether or not you will talk. There’s not much else to do but stare if you don’t talk.”
“Dear, I am talking. It’s you who’s awfully frugal with his words today.”
“No, no.” He shakes his head slowly and wonders if it’s the right thing to do, to bring up the concerns plaguing his mind ever since their last encounter. He decides to take the jump. “You’re deflecting, I want you to talk. Um, to me. About the last time we saw each other.”
Oikawa visibly cringes. He gets up hastily, as if being on the floor below Tobio’s eye level meant he was cornered.
“I don’t know if I have anything to say.”
“C’mon, Tooru…”
There it is again. His name in his mouth. The furrowed eyebrows, the undeserved softness, the pity. Tooru Oikawa will not be pitied.
“What do you want me to say?” He snaps.
“I want you to tell me about what happened between us. About why you’re still hung up on nationals from years ago, about why you’re so hell bent on being a jerk to me every time we meet now. It’s all very confusing, you can’t get over the loss and then you… it’s confusing.”
He can’t bring himself to mention the kiss, and Oikawa refuses to fill the blank. So he decides to do what he does best.
“Is that why you think I despise you so much? Because I didn't get to go to nationals?”
For just a second, Tobio looked like a kicked puppy. And that made him even angrier. His audacity, to look hurt, after everything. After all he is and has that Tooru can never have.
“Yes? What else even is there? Do you have an itemized list of reasons why you hate me?” He sneers, more hurt than angry.
“Well maybe I should!” By this point, he is yelling. Finally, the dam breaks. “You took everything from me! To you it's just missing my shot at nationals, but it's not to me.”
He steps closer to Kageyama, and this time when he smacks his hand against the frame of his shoulders, he means to do so. He looks up at him to keep eye contact, and having to look up frustrates him even more.
“You show up in Kita-Daiichi, with years less experience, and I go from being the star setter to being asked to guide the new prodigy. You join your stupid high school volleyball club, at a subpar school, and use your stupid genius to turn it around. You prevented me from triumphing over Ushijima when I was at my strongest and finally, finally could've proven myself. You join a collegiate team instead of going to the V-league right out of high school like you easily could've done, god knows they have a spot for you, like you're playing coy and taunting those of us who didn't get to go straight to pro!”
Oikawa is speeding through his words, never once breaking eye contact, and Kageyama does not dare to interrupt. He grabs him by the collar, tugging it towards himself to make the taller man lean down to his height so they are fighting on even ground.
“You remind me of everything I cannot be.” Kageyama is so close to his face, he can see him spit when he accentuates words. “I enter the room as a try-hard, I give my blood, sweat, and tears to this sport, just to have you show up and swiftly take my place with your stupid fucking genius and precision. You evolve at the speed of light and are always so pathetically perfect, and all I get to do is watch as I try to keep up with the brilliant fucking prodigy, and, and-”
And then he crashes his lips into Kageyama's and closes the distance between them. Kageyama's eyes shoot wide open, shell-shocked at the kiss, as he stumbles backwards with the force into the doorframe.
“And I hate you so, so much for it, Tobio.” He punctuates in between kissing him.
Oikawa presses his lips firmly against Kageyama's like he’s making sure he knows it’s real. He pulls on his jacket collar, bringing him as close as possible, as if he’s scared he will run away. But he doesn’t.
Tobio threads his fingers through Tooru’s chocolate curls and then he tugs on it and the man gasps. He tastes and sounds just as sweet as the chocolate he remembers so fondly, and breaks apart in the most unpredictable ways whenever they are alone together. Tooru deepens the kiss, licking into Tobio’s mouth, grasping at his clothes so tightly his knuckles go white. The sudden fervour prompts him to tug on his hair again, and this time, the small moan that escapes his lips inspires Tobio to free up his lover’s mouth to let him make any sounds he wants, and instead trials kisses down his neck. When he reaches the crook of his shoulder, he bites down, and it is apparently the right move because Oikawa is struggling to keep silent.
“Fuck, Tobio…”
“You are so confusing.” He whispers into his neck.
“I know.”
He decides this does not need to be an obstacle at this moment and drops his hands from the tight grip on Tobio’s jacket in favor of grabbing the waistband of his shorts, and does his best to not add any unnecessary distance between them. He drags Tobio down with him onto the floor, and the pulling at fabric is a sufficient enough provocation for him, as he uses the momentum to discard the piece of clothing. Tooru swings his legs over his now bare lap, straddling his thigh. He leans forward for better leverage and nibbles little rosey marks on his collarbone, and when he presses his palm over Tobio’s boxers, he automatically bucks his hips at the sudden pressure.
“I want to make you feel good.” He blurts out in a wave of vulnerability. For whatever reason, today, he cannot stop confessing.
The man under him tries to respond, but ultimately just nods and swallows down a whimper.
This is not what Tobio was expecting. Oikawa wouldn’t even address the kiss from last time and now he not only kissed him again, but is also roaming his hands all over his body and vowing pleasure. However, there is not much thinking happening in Tobio’s head right now, only doing. Tooru is still separated from him by the thin fabric and he can’t take it anymore, he wants to rip off anything that’s still in the way of skin on skin. He wants to beg, wants to yell out urgent pleas over and over until he complies, but far be it from him to succumb to that need. It is getting harder to focus on anything other than the desperate desire for the unrestricted touch of the man in his lap, until his patience is rewarded by Tooru tugging off the cursed boxers, and then in turn it becomes impossible to focus on anything other than him. The coarse skin of his hard-working hands, the hungry glaze over his eyes, the glistening of his well-kissed bottom lip. The wild expression he’s wearing reminds him of the view from the other side of the net, when Oikawa is at his most frenzied. Most needy for the prize within his grasp. This time, Tobio gets to admire it up close in all its glorious details that normally pass him in a blur. Except now, he is the prize Tooru is reaching for. Each and every one of these details drive him absolutely mad.
Tooru finally takes him fully into his hands and picks up a steady pace, paying special attention to the spot that makes Tobio’s breath hitch when he smooths his fingers over it. Whenever he thinks Tobio cannot surprise him anymore with his perfection, he does. Even the parts of his body he couldn’t see until now are just as flawless as the rest of it. It’s annoying, watching his abs flex as he greedily takes in air, his arms strain as he holds himself up, his raven locks fall over his eyes as he struggles to not fall apart completely. Even when coming undone, Tobio looks akin to a Greek God. He’s so pathetically perfect and there’s no denying it now. He could ask for anything right now and Tooru would oblige. So, he can only hope he won’t ask.
“Tooru, I’m–” The unbearable build up reaches terminal velocity and he trembles with the force of his climax.
And this is precisely the last hit Oikawa can take before he has to pull back, has to create some physical distance between the two of them so he won’t let himself be obliterated by the view of Tobio in this new light. He’s flushed and panting because of him. He looks down at his hands. Observes the wet, sticky mess created by the magnetizing man in front of him. He stares at it instead of Tobio coming back down from his high and squeezes his hand into a fist like he can hold onto the moment.
When their breathing returns to normal, the room goes silent. The walls are utterly oblivious to the consequences of events that transpired. They do not comprehend the ramifications of getting so close to someone as perfect as Tobio, nor can offer advice on what to do with this irreversible unravelling.
Having oxygen return to his brain, Tobio reaches out to the man lost in thought. He brushes the stray hair out of his eyes and opens his mouth either to ask for permission to return the favor or check in with him, but Oikawa does not wait to find out and stands up abruptly.
He looks down at the confused man and wishes he magically had something smart to say. Or perhaps a time machine, to negate the necessity for something smart to say. For the first time he can remember, Tooru Oikawa is at a loss for words.
“I–” Dark blue eyes stare back at him expectantly. He is suddenly very aware of his surroundings and swears the walls are watching him, taunting him for the way in which he allowed himself to open up, how easily he caved to a simple softness. Seized an opportunity to take and to give. Despite being fully clothed, he feels naked and is all of a sudden wholly conscious of each of the spots that Tobio managed to touch and kiss. Like cornered prey, he needs to flee – and so in spite of best judgement, he runs away. “I’ll see you on the court, Tobio-chan.”
Tooru leaves. Again.
And once more, Tobio is alone, save for the company of the walls who bore witness to this moment, from confrontation to great escape. He wishes they could talk. Maybe then they could explain.
///
Still vying for an explanation, Tobio takes all of his pent up emotional and sexual frustration out on the practice matches. He laser focuses on increasing the precision of his tosses to the left wing spiker and hits a personal record of service aces in a match. Go figure. Two days have passed since his last proper encounter with Oikawa, yet he still sees his face around all the time. He's there, sharing jokes with Tsukuba's libero at the canteen, laying out hushed game strategy during time outs, and worst of all, sleeping in the same room, barely a couple meters away from him. He walks into their room every evening with an air of a fresh, minty body wash and Tobio swears he can smell it when he's trying to fall asleep. It still lingers in his mind when he's walking to the gym for the day’s first practice.
He’s listening to his favorite metal rock playlist during his morning run (It helps me push myself more, he says) and can’t help but drift away to thinking about Tooru. All the things he said, about hating him. And then leaving him, thoroughly kissed and undone. He tries to focus more on the words coming from the lips of the man rather than his lips themselves, with varying degrees of success. But the conclusion he comes to, over and over, is he has had enough.
And so when the opportunity presents itself, he decides to take it. After the final practice of the day, he volunteers to help tidy up the equipment. Having become a better captain over the years, he knows Oikawa will do the same to let his team go straight to recovery. The Tokai setter offers his help as well, but Tobio brushes him off, saying they finished earlier than planned, so two people is plenty to finish putting away the nets. He bows and goes to grab his stuff from the changing room, finally leaving the gym to be occupied only by the two men.
There really is little left to be cleaned. Oikawa is already in the equipment room stowing away the poles, so Tobio collects the remaining ball cart and brings it over, too. The rolling of the wheels alerts Oikawa to a new presence, so he glances to check who's helping out, only to see no one other than Kageyama. He looks behind him to find everyone else had gone already.
“Trying to get me alone, are you?” He sees right through him. “What, hoping for a repeat?”
Tobio turns beet red at the implication, but doesn't take the bait. He came here to set the record straight and so that's what he will do, no matter how resistant Oikawa can be.
“Nothing of the sort. I just wanted to apologize.” The word apologize gets stuck in his throat, but he swallows it down along with his pride.
Oikawa blinks. “...Okay.”
Tobio now realizes he didn't think this through beyond the initial statement. Shit. And now there's an awkward silence between them. Well shit shit shit.
“Yeah. So there's that. Uhh okay.” He stammers out, rubbing the hem of his jersey between his fingers, and turns to exit.
“And what are you apologizing for exactly?” He asks, unfazed by Tobio’s nerves.
He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “You said all those things about resenting me. I didn't realize our, uh, rivalry was making you feel so much worse about yourself.”
He pauses for a second, biting his lip and contemplating if any more self disclosure is necessary, and decides that yes, today yes. It's the only way to move forward.
“I always saw it as an honor to be able to play against you and beat you. I've looked up to you since middle school so it was a huge deal to me to do everything to win so I could prove myself to you as a good setter. But now I realize that you saw it differently, so yeah. I'm sorry. I wanted to beat you, but I never wanted to hurt someone I looked up to like that.”
He puts his hands in his pockets, waiting for Oikawa to process his words, to take the olive branch he is extending.
“Respectfully, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say. And you've said many stupid things before.” He sighs.
Kageyama straightens right up, curious as to the direction he is steering the conversation in, merely hoping he will not take the olive branch just to snap it.
“It pisses me off how good you are, but I never wanted to beat a weak player just so I could feel better about myself. I wanted to beat a strong one, I want to beat you when you're at your very best. So don't dare apologize for being good, it's not sorry, it's pity. I don't need your pity.”
“Okay. Noted.” He knows he’d feel the same.
“Truth be told…” he begins, still debating if he wants to give up such delicate information willingly, but this time, instead of dwelling on it for too long, he rushes past all the stop signs in his mind to take the plunge. It’s too late to hit the breaks. “I admired you, too. It would have never made me so angry to watch you evolve like this if it wasn’t for the fact that I did. I still do.”
He isn’t sure what reaction he is expecting, but he braces himself for the impact anyway. Despite it, when Tobio bursts into a stupid, wide grin, he feels it hit him with full power.
Tobio takes his words for what they are – an olive branch, being offered right back to him. An opening for him to take or reject, covertly clad in a layer of plausible deniability. He concludes that there is little point in retracting, not when Tooru is holding the door ajar for him. So he takes the branch. He steps inside. He cups Tooru’s face and this time, he kisses him. This time, there is no room for antagonism, there is only space for the two of them and nothing else. Safely in their bubble, he kisses him slow and soft, punctuating the point buried underneath all of their ill-executed confessions.
They break apart without stepping away from each other.
“I don’t know how to hate you anymore.” Tooru whispers, looking at his lips.
“Well, based on everything you just said, I’m not sure you ever really hated me, exactly.” He allows himself to be cocky about it.
“Oh, fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips tweaking upwards betray him. If Tobio notices, he does not call him out on it.
///
The setting sun is giving way to dusk as they stroll leisurely back to their room. They navigate through the campus, mostly alone, save for a handful of ambitious students leaving Waseda’s libraries, and brush their hands against each other occasionally. It sends electric sparks through both of them when they feel the brief contact, but neither musters up the courage to follow up on it, not yet anyway. Somehow, this shared touch feels different, more revealing.
They walk mostly in silence, exchanging small clarifications here and there about their budding and now resolved conflict from the course of the last few weeks. There is more to be discussed, but not now. Without needing to state it explicitly, they know they have the time. There will be time to talk.
As they reach the building, they are just about wrapping up their conversation.
“Well, you lost to me many times, it's no wonder your self-esteem took a hit.” Tobio quips, bumping his shoulder into Oikawa.
“Don't push it.”
Tobio thinks that tonight, smelling his body wash as they fall asleep will be easier to bear.