Chapter Text
October 2025
When his body had finally given out, betrayed him, cost him his season and maybe much more, it wasn’t himself he thought of first. It was Shouyou.
I’m sorry.
He lies motionless on the floor and wishes he could sink into it, leaving the group of far too many people screaming in Italian behind. Unfortunately, he remains tethered to his body, to the too bright lights and the too loud voices and the too many hands. He knows without even having to check — he’s done, quite possibly forever.
Tears begin to form, but he is too wrung through to even sob. They fall in thick, silent streams running down his temples.
I’m sorry.
Everything after that is a blur of faces and hands and voices and pain. Tobio doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know. He retreats into himself and lets the world go on as it does without his perceiving. It’s better that way, safer that way, more calm inside his own head where there can be nothing.
Except that this time there is something — an overwhelming and crushing sadness, a shame, a guilt. Tobio continues to teeter on the edges of the wider world and the caverns of his own mind, not able to step off into either without spiraling.
It takes a while for him to feel safe tip-toeing back out into reality, and when he finally does he is alone in a hospital room. His phone buzzes, and while it’s not the first text message he has received (and not even bothered to look at) he can feel it this time — he knows who this is. It buzzes again and he picks it up.
Are you okay?!!
Please call me when you can!
When he can. Well, that may very well be never again.
*******
Fall of 2011
He’d done it again. He stepped out too far.
When the world snaps back into focus for Kageyama, it is because of the thwack of a volleyball softly falling to the court. His eyes blow wide, and he swivels. No one is landing from a jump. No one is even in position.
“Kageyama.”
His coach sounds irritated. Kindaichi and Kunimi refuse to look at him.
His body moves to the bench, but his mind disappears back under again, drowning in the deep sea inside his own head.
The next thing he remembers very clearly is being on the bus and reading his text messages.
I’m canceling our plans.
After today I think we all just need to rest.
You should probably call your parents to pick you up.
He closes his phone and doesn’t reply to Kunimi’s text. He doesn’t call his parents. They wouldn’t answer anyway.
When they get back to the school parking lot, he still sees Kindaichi walking toward Kunimi’s mother’s car and quickly looks away. One of his braver kouhai looks like he wants to say something, to ask him if he’s okay maybe, but he doesn’t. So Kageyama just readjusts his bag on his shoulder and heads toward the nearest station without another word.
*******
October 2025
He hasn’t been answering anyone. He doesn’t want to. How can he even begin to put himself through that long, endless parade of sympathy and regret? How could he stand to hear any of it, from anyone he knows?
His surgery had been as good as could be expected. He tries to stay diligent in his recovery efforts, but it is hard to want to do much right now.
“It might be helpful if you have someone to look after you for a while,” his surgeon had told him. He knows the person he would pick, if all else was equal, but he is dealing with his own volleyball season off in Poland. Kageyama hadn’t even had the heart to return any of Wakatoshi’s (several) calls.
His teammates come by as much as they can. He thinks they probably have some sort of schedule worked out so that someone lays eyes on him at least every couple of days. He hates to be a burden to them, but he also understands it is definitely needed in his case.
The first call he actually answers from anyone he knows from home is somewhat unexpected. He is not even sure why he does. The last person he should want to talk to is Miya Atsumu, of all people.
“Miya,” he says calmly, much more calmly than he actually feels.
“Oh! Hello!” Atsumu says back, as if he hadn’t expected him to pick up. Normally he would be right. No doubt Hinata had already said something about his radio silence, and Tobio still cannot fathom what had possessed him to pick up for Atsumu anyway.
“How are you Tobio-kun?” Atsumu asks, trying to recover.
And what can he even say to that?
I’m awful, thanks for asking.
I hate everything and also myself.
My own mind is ripping me apart.
“Fine,” he says instead. His jaw feels too tight when he does.
Atsumu hums, and it feels like he must be trying to gauge how dire Tobio’s mental state is to decide whether he’s allowed to be a dick or not.
“Tobio-kun~” he sing-songs back to him. He’s decided he can get away with it, it seems.
“Don’t even…” Tobio sighs.
“I’m not doing anything!” he insists, immediately on the defensive.
“Right,” Tobio scoffs. Then they both go quiet.
Tobio can hear Atsumu clear his throat and shift on his end of the line. He knows the silence has stretched for too long, but he doesn’t know what to say.
“Are you… doin’ okay?” Atsumu finally asks. “Like, is your body okay, I mean.”
“Yeah. Fine,” Tobio answers. His throat is constricting, and they both go quiet again.
“Tobi-kun,” Atsumu says, and despite the further bastardization of his name, it somehow sounds more serious. “Not that I’m complainin’, but uh… why’d ya pick up for me?”
Tobio feels frozen and his eyes feel full. Why had he?
“I — ” His voice cracks. His throat strains. “I don’t know Atsumu-san.”
Then the dam breaks.
“I don’t know why,” Tobio admits, and it comes out wobbly and wet. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!”
Tobio smacks the butt of his hand against his forehead with each repetition. His chest feels hot and tight.
”Whoa there, Tobio!” Atsumu exclaims through the phone. His voice sounds definitely surprised and maybe a little panicked. “Wait a minute, okay! ‘S okay, I promise.”
”It’s not!’ Tobio gasps. “It’s not okay! Nothing is —!”
Tobio is interrupted by a firm knock on the door.
”Fuck! Seriously?” Tobio moans, and he dips his head down into his lap.
“What’s happening?!” Atsumu asks. He sounds distressed, and it almost makes Kageyama sort of grateful in a strange way.
”Someone’s at my door,” Kageyama explains, his voice still shaky and low. “Could you just… will you wait a sec? I mean… you can hang up too if you want, I guess.”
”I’ll wait,” Atsumu insists. Tobio almost laughs, because everything is beginning to feel a little too absurd.
He opens the door to one of his teammates, a younger one who’s new to the team this season. It makes Tobio feel especially bad. This kid is barely out of his teens, and Tobio doubts he wants to be spending his time checking in on a busted, grumpy Tobio. He’s grateful too though. Tobio knows how bad he probably looks, and if it had been Marcello or one of the other veteran players, they would have insisted on saying something about it.
As it is though, his teammate drops off some food, asks how he is, and takes Tobio’s vague answer as enough of a permission to leave. Tobio sighs as he closes the door and latches it, then he returns to his couch and picks up his call with Atsumu.
”I’m back.”
”Who was it?” Atsumu asks. “You sound… better?”
Tobio can’t help but laugh, bitter and humorless. “Well, at least I sound it.”
“It was one of my teammates,” he adds in explanation. “They check on me sometimes.”
”Ahh, well that’s nice of ‘em,” Atsumu says. The way his voice dips upward tells Tobio that he is still trying his damnedest to turn this conversation around. Tobio really wishes he could oblige him.
”I need to get out of here, Atsumu-san.”
Tobio says it quietly. His voice probably sounds tired. All of him is tired.
”Would they let ya go home?” Atsumu asks. “You’re, uhh… I mean you’re definitely out for the season right?”
Tobio will be supremely lucky if it’s just for the season, but he can’t bring himself to say that just now.
”That’s the problem though. I don’t want to go back home either. Not to Tokyo, and certainly not to Miyagi.”
Atsumu hums, and Tobio expects him to tell him “well, tough luck then.”
”I mean, then where would ya wanna go, Tobi-kun?” Atsumu asks instead.
”I don’t really know,” Tobio says, trying not to get frustrated again. Atsumu isn’t exactly known for being very altruistic. To be fair, Tobio knows he isn’t either. So the fact that he is actually attempting to be helpful makes Tobio want to stay on his best behavior.
”Well what sort of place?” Atsumu says with a little huff. “Give me somethin’ t’ work with!”
”I guess, I just want it to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I won’t be bothered,” Tobio says slowly. “Somewhere… where I won’t see anyone I know, and no one will be looking for me.”
”I know it’s not possible,” Tobio adds after a long silence between them. “I know I shouldn’t be on my own yet, but —“
”I might…” Atsumu starts and then sighs.
”You might… what?” Tobio asks.
”This is dumb, okay? I’ve gotta say that and get it outta the way first. I think whatever your deal is about not bein’ around other people right now is fuckin’ dumb,” Atsumu says quickly, letting it tumble out of his mouth.
That he’s managed to hold his opinion back this long is truly a feat, honestly. Tobio’s face flushes with anger, but he bites his lip and listens anyway.
”That said, I know you to be the same kind of stubborn asshole t’ do what ya wanna do anyway, so I’m gonna graciously offer a suggestion that lets you have your stupid pity party without you disappearing into the wilderness or whatever, ‘cause I have no doubt that you would die immediately.”
“Okay,” Tobio huffs back. “Fine. What did you have in mind?”
*******
April 2012
Is this what friendship feels like? Tobio doesn’t want to jump the gun just yet, in case it might not be. He thought he’d known what it is, what it is supposed to feel like, at some point. He thought he’d had it with Kunimi and Kindaichi back before everything fell apart, but this seems different from that.
I’m here too.
Tobio probably shouldn’t be reading into those words like he is.
That stupid blond asshole had really gotten under his skin. There was a reason he hadn’t chosen to continue on to Seijoh like so many of the others from his middle school, like Kindaichi and Kunimi. He thought, probably stupidly, that he might be able to outrun his own rotten reputation somewhere else.
He hates being called King, because it has never felt like a title, more like a verdict, a life sentence. He knows he went too far. He knows that his own mind got to him too much. He’d gotten impatient, restless, a little hopeless too. But he always thought maybe, hopefully, if he had friends they would try to reach out and catch him.
He had watched Iwaizumi catch Oikawa, after all. He hadn’t really understood that at the time, but he came to realize it soon enough. That’s what the ideal of good friendship started to be to him, and almost as soon as he realized that, he also realized that he didn’t have it. He hadn’t ever been a good friend after all. He hadn’t ever been the kind of person anyone thought worthy of catching.
Tobio gets home to an empty apartment, which isn’t really a surprise, but it is still sad all the same. His house used to never be empty, even though his parents were away just as often. Kageyama Kazuyo had always been the kind of man to make sure his grandson never felt alone. Tobio feels alone almost all the time now.
He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, barely having to think about it — bath, a simple dinner, an attempt at studying, giving up and re-reading the latest copy of a volleyball magazine that he still gets sent to his house in his grandfather’s name. He has to calm his brain down so he can sleep and be ready for their early morning secret practice tomorrow.
He only sees the message when he plugs his phone in for the night. He’s not used to getting many messages lately. Seeing Hinata’s name makes him feel funny. He’s not sure he likes it.
Are you okay Bakageyama?
Yes, I’m fine.
He’d debated sending it at all, but he figures he should, just in case Hinata is still up because he’s waiting for a response. Hinata would do something dumb like that, probably. Or maybe probably not. That probably requires caring. But then again, he had checked on him. Tobio’s head falls to pieces, and it makes him groan. His face feels warm and his brow scrunches. He doesn’t like thinking this much.
Don’t be late tomorrow, Dumbass
Yeah, casual. Tobio congratulates himself on successfully being Not Weird and settles into bed. Just before he does though, he hesitates and takes his phone off of silent mode. Just in case, he tells himself, no big deal.
His phone buzzes twice in quick succession a minute later, and he jolts upright in bed. He clicks his tongue at himself and waits until he’s composed again before reaching for his phone.
I WON’T BE!!!
YOU MAKE SURE UR NOT LATE STUPIDYAMA!!!
Tobio snorts, and then one last text comes through.
Goodnight, you jerk. I’m going to bed.
(˶ ｰ̀ ⤙ｰ́ ˶) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
His brow crinkles at the stupid kaomoji, but he quickly closes his phone, plugs it in, then burrows under his covers and flips over to face the wall. Then he sits for far too long in the silent darkness of his room, admonishing himself for trying to recall the last time anyone wished him goodnight.
*******
Late October 2025
“I will be frank, Kageyama-kun,” Kita-san says once the two of them and Atsumu are all settled around the table at his farmhouse in Hyogo. “I will not be able to keep your presence here completely secret.”
Anxiety begins to boil in Tobio’s stomach, but before he can fall into chaos Kita’s soothing voice continues.
”I will keep it confidential, of course. I’m not one t’ share anyone else’s business. But I will be unable to keep this information from my spouse.”
”Oh,” Kageyama says, surprised. “Well, yes of course Kita-san. I mean, that goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
Kita smiles softly at Tobio in a way that suggests it might not be quite that simple.
”My spouse is Ojiro Aran.”
Ah, not so simple then.
Tobio gives a little nod of his head, and then his brow furrows. He gives it a moment of thought, and blessedly Kita does not rush him.
“Ojiro-san is a good person,” Tobio finally says, but his brow remains creased.
“He is,” Kita says with a soft smile. He drinks a sip of the hot tea from the mug in front of him. “If you want my opinion, he will not mention anythin’ t’ anyone, especially if I ask him not to.”
One side of Kita’s mouth tips further upward, and Tobio nods. “You would know best, I suppose,” Tobio says quietly.
“Besides that though, you can also bet that if this one knows somethin’, his twin will too,” Kita continues, his eyes sliding to Atsumu.
Atsumu squawks in protest, but Kita waves him off.
“No sense in denyin’ it, Atsumu,” Kita says. “Even if you tried to say nothin’, Osamu would get it out of you.”
Tobio tries not to let his stomach turn again.
“But don’t worry, Kageyama-kun, Osamu is also good,” Kita assures him. “He keeps to ‘imself better than Atsumu. Really the most worrisome of us is gonna be th’ one ya already told.”
Tobio looks back up at Atsumu and meets his honey brown eyes, nervous again. He and Atsumu had been pitted against each other in a lot of ways over the years. They were always each other’s direct competition, whether on separate league teams or on the same national team. And his friendship with Shouyou had never really helped either.
He had known for a long time how Atsumu seemed to feel about Shouyou. Tobio wasn’t stupid. Well, he wasn’t stupid about this anyway. He’d suspected since they were all in high school, and as the years had passed his suspicions only seemed to solidify. Atsumu always loved to goad Tobio when he could — “my wing spiker,” throwing his arm over Shouyou’s shoulders, catching Tobio’s gaze any time they hugged or high-fived. As much as Tobio saw Atsumu for what he was, for how badly he pined, Tobio was certain Atsumu saw him just as clearly.
It was something that had always complicated their relationship. They were rivals in many ways, but they also carried the same heavy secret, the same unsated yearning. They could keep it guarded well from others, but they had always been visible to each other in a way that only men with the same affliction were, a way only they could mutually understand.
Perhaps that had been why Tobio picked up the phone for him, why out of all the wretched people on this horrible, wretched earth Tobio had chosen Atsumu. Because if anyone would ever understand this, the pain of this, maybe Atsumu could.
“I won’t give you away on purpose,” Atsumu says seriously. “You trusted me with this, an’ even though I don’t really know why ya did, that’s somethin’ I do take seriously.”
Tobio nods at him stiffly. He’s just going to have to take his chances at this point.
“I understand that a certain select set of people will have to know,” Tobio says, “that will be fine.”
Everything is decided quickly after that, and Tobio still has difficulty feeling that any of this is real. Kita is certainly being generous, especially since he doesn’t know Tobio, not really. He expects that what Kita-san does know about him is volleyball related, maybe a little from their match in high school and perhaps just a bit more from being on a team with his kouhai and his, apparently, husband. But Tobio is well aware that knowing someone as an athlete is not the same as knowing them well enough to feel comfortable living in the same house. He just hopes he can stay out of Kita’s way and contribute where he can.
When the tea runs out and they seemingly have nothing more to discuss, Kita rises and whistles for his dog, who had been sitting quietly in her spot by the fire. That is something else that has Tobio nervous about being here. Animals have never typically taken much of a liking to him.
Kita lets the dog out and follows after her, standing on the porch.
Atsumu also rises from his seat at the table, but before he goes out of the house to make his return journey to Osaka, he stops next to Tobio and places a hesitant hand on his shoulder.
“For the record, I think it’s dumb that ya won’t talk to Sho,” Atsumu says quietly. Tobio sighs.
“Ya know he’d be there for you,” Atsumu presses. “Ya know he wants to be. An’ I don’t understand why he’s the person you most want to avoid right now.”
”I never said that, did I?” Tobio says. He can feel his shoulders tensing, pulling up toward his ears. Atsumu’s hand slides away.
”Ya didn’ have to, Tobi-kun,” he says. “I know it anyway.”
Tobio looks up at him and the stupid, knowing look on his stupid, perfect Miya Atsumu face.
“What would you do, Miya?” Tobio asks stiffly. “If everything you’d ever had together was suddenly gone, if you’d let him down like this, what would you do?”
“You’re so stupid,” Atsumu scoffs and thumps Tobio on the head. “An’ I’d talk to him, that’s what.”
Atsumu seems to have tired of Tobio, so he moves away, going out the door and saying his final goodbyes to Kita before leaving. Tobio follows close behind, standing from his chair and crossing to the door to stand near Kita on the front porch, where his host waves until Atsumu’s car is out of sight.
”Well,” he says turning to Tobio, “shall we getcha settled in?”
*******