c0olblue - Tumblr blog

c0olblue · 6 months

Note

If you're taking prompts, might I request a meet-cute kagehina? In a coffee shop or convenience store? If not regardless I just want to let you know I'm big fan! Your fics pull me through whenever I'm in a dark place 🥺 Thank you and much love 💕💕💕💕💕

Gosh, hello anon!!!! I know it's been two years already and I'm not sure if you'll ever see this, but here you go!

You can also read it on ao3.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Almost Summer

...

The store's door chimes ring at 12:15 in the morning. At the corner of his eye, Tobio spots a tuft of wild orange hair peeking out from the double-sided racks at the Hygiene section. He sets aside his textbook and gets up from his stool, waiting for the familiar stranger to show up at the counter.

In ten minutes, the man waltz towards the register and slides three packs of Salonpas with a five dollar bill. He has a nasty bruise blossoming under his left jaw, which moves like a taunt when he speaks in English, "No paper bag, please."

Tobio nods. He spares a glance at the man's shirt—a purple graphic tee with a screaming iguana in the middle—before scanning the purchases and giving him his change.

The man meets Tobio's eye before smiling widely. Under the bright fluorescent lights, his bruise appears almost as purple as his shirt. "Thanks. Have a good night!" he says and waves.

From the store windows, Tobio stares after the man's retreating figure and watches it get swallowed by the darkness of the midnight streets, before plopping back on his stool and opening his textbook again.

~O~

Tobio saw him again three more times before he realizes they live in the same neighborhood.

The first time, Tobio caught a glimpse of him locking his bike at the broken metal fences of a baptist church. Tobio had half a mind to warn the stranger that the next time he'll be seeing his bike, it's being sold for $145 in some shady ad website. But Tobio was running late for his 8 am statistics class, and the sky was ready to open up any minute—suddenly, it was too much of an effort to offer advice to someone who seemed too careless to heed them.

The second time, it was half past nine in the evening and Tobio was out for a quick jog. Somewhere in Madison street, Tobio ran past the careless, tangerine-haired oddball; the guy was crouching at the edge of the sidewalk in a yellow hoodie and denim shorts, stuffing himself with chicken tenders from Popeyes.

The third time happens today on a balmy afternoon, at the tail end of spring, at a dingy skating rink near Tobio's apartment. Tobio is waiting for his ten-year-old niece at the entrance when the man comes out of the door with a curly-haired toddler in tow. His distinctive hair bounces as he laughs at an unheard statement. Probably something the kid said.

Then, the man spots Tobio standing by the lamp post. Though his expression doesn't change, his eyes seem to cheerfully say, Oh, it's you again! The bruise under the man's jaw is almost healed, but this time around, he has a band-aid on the bridge of his nose.

Tobio fights back a flush and looks away, glaring insistently at the pavement.

~~O~

"Do you speak Japanese?" the man says the next time they meet. It's four in the morning, and they're at the convenience store again where Tobio works to make ends meet.

Tobio eyes him warily before replying "Yes" in his native tongue. He pats the mat over the counter with his palm.

The man grins. "Awesome." He places the bag of bean sprouts, bok choy and ramen on the counter. "I can speak English just fine, but I think I'm out of practice with my Japanese. I met a couple of Japanese folks the other day, but they don't speak the language very well."

Tobio doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps silent.

The man is still smiling. His fringe is long enough to fall at the sides of his face, softening the sharpness of his cheekbones. "I'm Shouyou," he says. "Or, uhh, you can call me Hinata. Whichever you feel comfortable calling me."

Tobio nods and packs the goods in a black plastic bag. "That'll be fifteen eighty five."

The man forks out a twenty from his wallet. "Keep the change," he says, scooping the bag in his right arm. "It was nice meeting you—"

Tobio presses a handwritten note against the man's palm. "Go get a haircut, idiot."

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Summer

...

Tobio agrees to eat chilate de pollo with Hinata at the store's patio at around 3:40 am, a time he deems safest to leave the counter unattended. Outside, the humidity clings like a second skin, and the streets carry a faint scent of ammonia and rust—typical vestiges of summer rains in New York City.

Apparently, the chilate is too spicy for them to handle, but neither are willing to admit defeat and stop. Tobio fights off the heat with a small carton of milk, while Hinata arms himself with a bottle of cheap lemon juice.

"I can't believe I had to learn your name from your sister," Hinata says. He dumps a few tablespoons of rice in the remaining spicy chicken broth and mixes them together. "I like her. She was really nice."

"I guess she can be." Miwa did a good enough job with Hinata's haircut; it's less messy now and much shorter at the sides, allowing Tobio to see how much Hinata's ears have gone pink from the heat. Tobio supposes he has to thank her sometime later.

"What were you, uh—" Hinata sneezes. Tobio tosses a wad of napkins to him. "Er, sorry. What were you reading? Earlier, when I came in."

"Just a textbook. For school."

"You go to college?"

"Sometimes."

"What are you studying?"

"Math. Statistics."

Hinata mouths a 'wow'. After blowing his nose thrice, he comments, "That's pretty hardcore stuff."

Tobio shrugs. He takes classes at a community college from eight to five every Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Whenever he can, he sits in on the set theory classes after his shift during the weekends, but that's about it. Nothing fancy.

Hinata tilts his head towards the empty skies. His shirt collar shifts, revealing patches of Salonpas on the curve of his neck. "I really should start looking into college. Maybe the pay would be nicer if I get a degree or something." He scratches his ear. "You have any suggestions?"

"Why would you let other people decide for you? Why don't you think of something you're good at and choose that?"

Hinata tilts his head. "So you're good at Math?"

Tobio's parents were both professors in particle physics; he has to be. "It's my greatest strength," he declares, shoulders squared.

"Wow." Hinata grins. "Hmm. Wonder how I could start making money out of something I'm great at... I'm really short on cash lately."

Tobio gestures at the fading bruises on Hinata's face. "Getting into trouble seems to be a talent of yours."

Hinata's smile remains. "Yeah. This place takes some time to get used to. I guess I should have expected it. I'm in New York after all!" He then realizes something, "Woah. It's already four in the morning. Don't you have class later?"

"I do."

"But you're always working. Do you even sleep?"

Tobio blinks in surprise again. "I get enough."

"That's not—" Hinata frowns and shakes his head. He takes the chopsticks and empty plastic bowls and dumps them in the trash. "Sorry, don't mind me. I'll be heading out then."

Tobio licks his lips. "Okay."

"Say hi to Miwa-san for me!"

Tobio grunts.

For a brief moment, Hinata looks uncertain, but then he huffs out a chuckle and waves tinily at Tobio. Tobio nods once at Hinata retreating to the other side of the road.

After his replacement arrives at six in the morning, Tobio walks out the door when he spots a torn scrap of paper on the pavement. On instinct, Tobio picks it up.

Hinata had scribbled his phone number at the back of his receipt, perhaps at some point earlier this morning. Tobio discards it after memorizing it in one glance.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Autumn

...

The winds bring a swathe of rotting sour gum and sassafras leaves on Tobio's doorstep, but he doesn't mind staying out an extra thirty minutes to clean them. This season, the air outside sometimes smells like burning candlewicks, and seeing the dark orange foliage in the mornings and afternoons brings him an odd sense of calm.

Autumn, overall, is an odd season for Tobio; it comprises of those unreasonably short, sublime weeks between the sheer heat of the summer and the exhausting cold of wintertime, and his defenses are down. He doesn't realize that he's been coursing through the streets distractedly all this time, searching for a face, until his shoulder collides with a man's chest.

"Son of a bitch," the stranger lashes out. "Watch where the fuck you're going."

Tobio nods, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry." He adjusts the straps of his bag and opts to take a shortcut in an alleyway at St. Felix, where he will harm less people with his absent-mindedness.

...

For this afternoon, only three out of the fifteen who signed up for the discrete structures class turned up; Tobio prefers sitting at the desk in the front row nearest the windows, but there's too many empty seats that he felt like he needed to sit at the center to make up for the sheer amount of space. He's about to leave the classroom when Mrs. Cunningham calls his name.

"You still haven't turned in your application, honey," Mrs. Cunningham says after he approached her desk. "I thought you said you were interested."

Tobio's eyes widen. "Oh, I didn't... I thought you were just letting me know they accepted transfers from out of state."

Mrs. Cunningham looks at him sternly. "It ain't just an announcement, Mr. Kageyama. It was an offer." She hands him a manila envelope. "Fill them up as soon as you can and I'll have Jimmy mail them ASAP."

Tobio slots the envelope under his armpit. He's about to take out his wallet when Mrs. Cunningham's sudden laugh stops him.

"Christ on a cherry, you don't have to spend a single cent on the processing fee. It's on the school's tab," Mrs. Cunningham says.

Tobio is too stunned to reply a proper thank you. He bows minutely and mutters, "See you on Thursday, Mrs. Cunningham."

"Yes, yes." Mrs. Cunningham adjusts her wire-rimmed glasses and ties her curly black hair. "And I sure hope I won't see you here again next fall."

~O~

Hinata, once again, turns up when Tobio least expects it. He's at the door of Tobio's department, holding out Tobio's take-out of poorly done Japanese food. He's wearing a loose, plain white shirt, jeans and a beanie, very un-Japanese like and very unfit for autumn weather.

"I guess I know where you live now," Hinata says. "Scared?"

"Like hell I am." Tobio takes the paper bag and narrows his eyes at it. "This better taste good."

"Wish I can hi-jack their kitchen when they aren't looking. Why add a bar of butter in curry?" He shudders as he pockets Tobio's payment. "It's really gross, I'm telling you."

Hinata's tendency to make off the cuff remarks will get him fired one of these days. "Thanks for that," Tobio says.

Hinata's eyes crinkle at the ends. "See you around, Kageyama."

Before he can walk away, Tobio calls out, "Hey, wait."

"Hmm?"

"When does your shift end?"

"My shift? Uhh, until nine, I think. Why?"

"Meet me at the park in Kingston. I'll wait there."

"Demanding, huh." Hinata shrugs. "Sure, I guess. But how—"

"I'll text you when I'm there."

Hinata's friendly expression turns slightly annoyed. "Text me when you're leaving so I can expect you, and I'll text you when I'm done."

"Alright."

Hinata shrugs again and, without another word, heads for the stairs. Tobio closes the door and immediately puts his long-delayed plan in action.

...

Tobio has done his research. There are around eighteen stores that sold Mexican food in Central Brooklyn, and three of them are close to Fulton and Nordstram. The past month, Tobio ordered chilate de pollo from stores that are within walking distance from Tobio's workplace, and judged the one at Brooklyn and Atlantic Avenue to be the most similar-tasting from the braised chicken Hinata bought for him last summer.

Tobio's plan is to take him there and make sure Hinata finishes a bowl of it. Tobio owes him for last time, and mathematically, this evens it out.

They're walking down Atlantic avenue when Tobio tells him this, and Hinata responds, "Huh. I guess that makes sense. Equivalent exchange, right? Like in that manga."

"What manga?"

"Oh. I guess you're not that type of guy." Hinata crosses his arms and wonders aloud, "Maybe I should have bought you a whopper or something. I'm kinda craving a burger right now."

Tobio purses his lips. "We'll go to Burger King if you're still hungry. You can buy me a whopper next time."

Hinata must think it's a good plan too for he agrees instantly.

The area has a good view of the autumn trees, and they take advantage of it by eating the bowl of chilate on the hood of an abandoned car at a gasoline station a block away.

Hinata's still hungry, so they head for the nearest Burger King. Tobio gets the questionable salad without the dressing, while Hinata orders a Whopper Cheese set with a large Fanta orange. Tobio pays for it all.

They eat without speaking for ten minutes until Hinata slides eight pamphlets across the table. "Uhh, hey. So you're a local, obviously. Do you have any suggestions?"

Tobio glances down. They're all enrolment brochures from community colleges in New York City. "This one's good, but the commute... you'll need to take the B train to Manhattan Beach." He points to another one. "This one's good, much closer. But it's expensive."

Hinata chews thoughtfully on his onion ring. "I'll go look for another side-gig then."

"It's not that easy to get a job around here, dumbass."

"Duh. I know that of course."

Tobio crosses his arms. "So?"

"What?"

"What are you planning to take?"

Hinata smirks. "Physical therapy, or maybe sports science." He flexes both of his arms proudly. "I actually have great upper body strength!"

Tobio can tell. "And what are you planning to do after?"

"Uhh, help a lot of people exercise, I guess...?"

"You should figure that out too."

Hinata grins and does a salute. "Gotcha."

Not knowing what else to say, Tobio opts to look at the large store windows instead, where he sees a cluster of teenagers in training gear dawdling outside, a pair of boxing gloves strewn over their shoulders. Hinata just laughs and continues munching on his burger.

They walk back to St. Andrew's park where Hinata left his bike. Most of the court lights are turned off, making it hard to see anything in the entryway shadowed by linden trees. But Hinata finds his bike easily enough and unravels the lock around the tire.

They pause at the stoplight in Fulton, and Hinata mounts his bike.

"You know, you should always ask first if people have plans before asking them out on dates. It's rude not to," Hinata says. "And I hate it when people tell me what to do. Boss me around again and you're in for a fight of a lifetime."

Tobio frowns. Logic dictates that Hinata is better off spending time with him than getting into scuffles with some random, but he'll consider that next time. "You owe me," he says gruffly.

Hinata scoffs, and once again, he gets swallowed by the shadows of the buildings as he pedals away. There's a twinge in Tobio's chest, and he takes the quiet sting with him for the rest of the night.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Winter

...

Tobio gets fired from his job at the convenience store, but a retail outlet selling dodgy body jewelry and luxury brand ripoffs hires him a week later. His new workplace is a lot closer to his apartment so Tobio takes it as a blessing in disguise.

His co-workers are kind of nice, too. They're very friendly, especially Mrs. Rasmussen, who's a retired claims adjuster from Philadelphia, but they leave him alone when they see him arming himself with his laptop and his math textbook during lunch breaks. Dwayne and Chase, the younger guys in the group, can get a bit excessive with the dick jokes, but they clamp their mouths shut whenever Mrs. Rasmussen is in the room.

"Yo, Tobes." Dwayne lets out a stream of cackles from the adjacent register. "D'you see that?"

Tobio looks up from his phone. "Huh? What?"

Dwayne points at the convex security mirror. At the far end of the store, there's an old man in sweatpants trying to sneak a packet of hair gel in his hoodie before his eyes meet Tobio's. He then tries to awkwardly maneuver himself out of the store, his face flushing.

Dwayne laughs even harder. "Is that guy for real? Even I can cough up fifty cents for that shit."

Tobio stands up from his stool to stop the guy from leaving the store, but Dwayne waves a hand. "Nah, nah, lemme handle that loser," he says. "Gotta make this boring shift interesting at least."

As Dwayne heads out to confront the shoplifter, another customer carrying a paper bag from Burger King comes in. The man grins cheekily at Tobio while he approaches the counter, his red-orange hair almost bouncing in his delight.

"Hi there," Hinata greets. He jiggles the paper bag in front of Tobio's face, almost like a taunt.

Tobio narrows his eyes as he grabs the paper bag with a furious swipe. "Are you stalking me?" he demands.

Hinata rubs his nose. "I owe you, don't I?"

That is true, Tobio supposes, but he can't help but feel a little discomfited. His tongue feels gigantic and heavy in his mouth, and his throat is dry.

They face each other without saying anything for an awkward amount of time until Dwayne comes back. He takes stock of them for roughly five seconds before asking, "Jesus. You two gonna stand here all day or what?"

"Sorry, I'll head out now," Hinata says in English. "Nice seeing you again, Kageyama."

"What? No." Dwayne glares at Tobio and jerks his thumb up. "You too, good sir. Scram. Shimmy the fuck outta here."

"Our shift's not over yet."

"Yours is. I'm making it so." At Tobio's dumbfounded expression, Dwayne rolls his eyes. "Who the fuck's gonna come here for sequined underwear and cat piss candles at three in the afternoon? Charlie Sheen?" He grabs Tobio's backpack and pushes Tobio out of the counter. "Come on. Get your dick soaking wet for once."

Hinata chuckles softly at that, but his ears are distinctly red at the tips, which offers Tobio some relief. At least he's not the only one spectacularly mortified by this situation.

They stand at the storefront awkwardly for a few seconds until Hinata nudges his shoulder.

"What?" Tobio says rather sharply.

Hinata stares at him. "Anything you want to do?" he asks after a momentary pause.

Tobio tries to compose himself; he clenches and unclenches his fists. "Errands," he mutters. "I have shit to do."

"I don't," Hinata replies. "Can I tag along?"

Tobio shrugs.

...

Tobio runs through his list for the second time: cabbages, tofu, mushrooms, boneless chicken breasts, ground beef, olive oil, paprika, mirin, and toilet rolls. He also managed to pick up a gallon of fabric conditioner, which he only remembered he needed when he saw Hinata lurking at the household goods aisle. He ambles towards the cash register near the garments section when he spots a clearance rack full of neckties for $3 a piece.

"Are you looking for a suit?" Hinata suddenly says from behind him.

"N-no," Tobio mumbles, his cheeks warming. He coughs twice and stands straighter. "I don't need it right now."

"Yeah, maybe, but you will." Hinata crosses his arms and gestures at himself quite proudly. "I happen to know a thrift shop that sells a few nice sets, at a good price too!"

"Is that the place where you bought all your ridiculous shirts?"

"What did you say?"

Tobio eyes him. "I'll think about getting myself one, but only if you buy yourself a proper coat for once," he says, scoffing at Hinata's thin windbreaker and scruffy red scarf. "I get cold just looking at you."

"Whatever you say, gramps."

After they've finished putting the groceries back in Tobio's place, they walk to DeKalb and Bedford. The thrift store isn't as huge and varied as the ones in Downtown, but it's relatively inexpensive than the usual clothing shops Tobio frequents. It's a little disorganized with all the garish, rich people attire clogging up the entrance, but the second floor has a quality selection of well-pressed suits and evening dresses.

"Told you," Hinata says smugly when Tobio gets paralyzed by the immense number of choices in front of him. "Want me to help you choose?"

Not completely out of reluctance, Tobio begins perusing the clothes in the rotating hanger stand. "You dress like a ten-year-old on a field trip. I don't need your opinion."

"You're so rude, jeez. How have you survived being such a jerk for so long?" Hinata purses his lips. "I guess this city really is made for people like you."

"It is." Tobio flips through a series of ties. "And you're an asshole too," he adds, remembering how Hinata can disappear without a word for months on end.

Hinata pretends not to hear him. "Anyway, this place is awesome, right? My landlady told me about this. Her husband plays jazz music on weekends—he plays the sax, I think. Pretty cool, right? We can watch his band together if you aren't busy. They also have comedy night on Fridays if you're more into that. Also, my landlady says—wait a sec." Hinata picks out a dark blue tie with tiny, morning glory flowers. "Try this one, Kageyama."

Tobio nods and drapes it over his shoulder. He heads for the dressing room as Hinata prattles on about his landlady's sourdough donuts and how they're the best he's tasted.

There's an empty stall at the far end of the room. Tobio hangs the jacket and the pants before closing the door. It's rather cheap for a secondhand, tailor-fitted suit—Tobio always looks at the prices first before checking out the product—with just small, discreet stains at the hem of the pants. Nothing a bit of soda water can't fix.

Tobio doesn't bother looking at the mirror; he'll take this one since it isn't tight around his backside. He's about to undress when Hinata knocks on his stall.

"You should change," Hinata comments after one look at Tobio. "You look ugly and shabby in that."

"What? Why?"

"The blazer's too loose."

Tobio makes a face. "How would you know?"

"I have a sister." Hinata hands Tobio another suit made out of charcoal wool.

"I have a sister too, dumbass," Tobio grumbles. He starts taking off the coat and trousers, shivering almost instantly. It's cold in here.

Hinata helps him with the coat and tie, grinning widely when he steps back to inspect his handiwork. "Well, what do you know? It pains me to say, but you look amazing." He hums. "Wow. You have awesome thighs. Strong. I'm jealous. I wish I look like that."

"Shut up." Tobio allows himself a glance at the mirror. He has to admit, he doesn't look as bad as he expected. He feels a bit warm as he wiggles out of the suit and into his usual street clothes. "Alright. Your turn."

Hinata brandishes a long coat from a basket behind him, an audacious peacock blue with many pockets inside. "Tada! Already got myself one!" He laughs. "You take so long to change, old man."

Tobio's cheeks burn hotter as he marches down the stairs. Hinata trails behind him; this time, he's talking about his younger sister and her latest e-mails about wakeboarding in Florida. Tobio decides to give him the slightest indulgence by listening semi-attentively.

...

"You're not from here, aren't you?"

Hinata licks his lips before sipping on his smoothie. After burping loudly, he remarks, "Wow. How'd you figure that out?"

"Stop mocking me and answer the fucking question." Tobio takes a gigantic swig from his Peach Perfection. He hates peaches, and he hates Jamba Juice, and he hates how he can't tell what kind of situation he is in. Hinata is the most transparent-opaque person Tobio's ever met.

And the guy must find it fun irritating Tobio, for he takes his time chewing on his fake protein bar before replying. "I'm from Burlington, Vermont."

"Where's that?"

"I dunno. Somewhere above New York, maybe?"

Like Canada? That explains the relatively light clothing Hinata dons. "So why are you here?"

Hinata shrugs. "Seems like a good city to be in," he says. "No offense to my nana's place, but it's kinda dreary up there. There's hardly any sun. You really have to climb the mountains to get yourself some sunshine. All the way to the top, you know? It's super awesome—the view is just amazing! But sometimes you just gotta get out there and climb other places. See new things in a new place! You know? And I've always liked the idea of living in New York."

"And you chose Brooklyn?"

"I hopped along my friend who's driving to Montauk to see his online girlfriend, and his car broke down somewhere in Flushing. So I went out and asked around for any cheap single rooms but they didn't have any. They told me to move here, so I did."

This guy's a total lunatic. This shouldn't be a surprise, but the extent of Hinata Shouyou's insanity leaves Tobio feeling uneasy. "You—you didn't run away from home, did you?"

"I told them I wanted to live somewhere else, and they were cool with it. I guess Grandpops got a little mad though." Hinata cackles. "Ahh, he's so stingy, that old man! But I can tell he's happy to get postcards every month—he's a vet and I'm sure he misses writing to someone from time to time, even if he doesn't say it." Hinata starts stretching like a cat over the table. "I can't help but notice when we went back to your apartment... you don't live with your sister?"

Tobio takes the redirection in stride and answers promptly, "She wants to start her own business and a family. She can't do that while I'm there."

"Why not?"

Tobio shrugs. He knows his sister doesn't hate him, nor does he hold any animosity towards her. He can't explain it, but Tobio just finds it weird having her around in his place, even for just a brief moment. Miwa must feel the same.

"Any parents?"

"Both dead."

"Mine too." Hinata leans back against the plastic chair. "What are you planning to do after you finish school?"

Tobio tries to take a sip from his smoothie however there's nothing left but air. "Nothing yet."

"Really?"

The skin under Tobio's left eye twitches. "What?"

"No, uh. I just figured you already have something in mind."

"I'm keeping my options open," Tobio answers gruffly. There aren't a lot, if Tobio's being honest, but he's thinking about doing something about it. It's a bit hard to decide when Tobio feels he's still personally lacking.

"Right," Hinata says, slightly abashed. "I just thought—you seem like you know what you're doing most of the time. You know?"

"That's because I'm from here, you dimwit," Tobio points out. "If you were born here too you'd know your shit. All I have over you is experience. I'm not better than you. "

Hinata's eyes turn round and contemplative. "Huh," he mumbles.

"What?"

"Oh, uh. Nothing, nothing."

Hinata walks him home after the smoothie shop closes. Once again, Hinata fills in the silence as easily as rainwater in the street cracks—he talks about wanting to learn how to play an electric guitar, he talks about his friends at work, at the community college, at his home away from home. He mentions this guy named "Kenma" a lot. Childhood friend, it seems like.

When they arrive at Tobio's doorstep, a bitter, frosty wind blows, the chill seeping through Tobio's winter jacket. Snow is about to fall. Hinata has to get home soon.

Hinata inquires when Tobio brings out his house keys, "You have my number. Right?"

"Yeah." Tobio has all seven digits seared into his brain.

Hinata scratches his nape. "Thanks for your time. I feel bad for ambushing you earlier, so." He stuffs his hands in his pocket. "Text me if you... if you want to hang out or something."

"Okay."

Hinata smiles. "See you, Kageyema."

"Okay." Tobio waits for Hinata to slink back to the streets before closing the door.

~O~

They meet up almost every day after that. Tobio texts, and Hinata comes whenever he's free. They do whatever it is they think of at that moment: they eat out, pick up their clothes at a coin laundromat, skate at a local rink to see who's faster, serve noodle soup at a food bank where Hinata volunteers. A few times, they study together in Tobio's apartment. Hinata is absolutely horrendous at even basic math. Tobio wonders how he managed to graduate from high school.

Though Hinata is right about one thing: if there's anything he can be truly proud of, it's the complete control he has over his body. Tobio absolutely detests when they're at a playground and there aren't any kids around. It's December and there's a snowstorm coming according to the latest forecast, but Hinata will always do hurdles and cartwheels in nothing but a pair of cargo pants and a sweater. Tobio has no choice but to watch how Hinata's jaw and arm muscles will tighten before clamping himself at the high bars, at how he sneers at Tobio because Tobio can't do a handstand in this brutal weather, at how he easily climbs up a tall oak tree in record speed, his skin glistening in exertion.

The way he mumbles to himself whenever he thinks of something, his lips red and raw-looking. The way he laughs out loud because hanging upside down on a tree branch is fun.

Anyway.

Tobio doesn't know what's gotten into him. He must be bored out of his mind.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Spring

...

He gets another e-mail from Mrs. Cunningham about university applications. Master's degrees. RA openings. Listings for jobs Tobio has never heard of. Scrolling down the list of attachments leaves him feeling out of breath.

Remember your fall term project last year? Mrs. Cunningham wrote. I noticed you've been keeping it up to date, which is excellent. I sent it to one of the professors I know in UMass.

"What in the..." Did she mean his blog? One of his classes with Mrs. Cunningham required them to keep an online journal on a topic of their choosing, and Tobio chose sports. He ran numbers on the Mets, Yankees, Rangers, Knicks—basically any team he can get his hands on their data.

Surprisingly, he has had some engagement even from his first posts—there were a lot of fans arguing in the comments section that Tobio had to disable it at some point as it was such a headache to skim through. Tobio doesn't deal with intangibles. He makes charts and runs simulations with hard data, and as far as Tobio is considered, numbers can only speak the truth.

Do you remember Prof. O'Neill? I've also attached their university's electronic application form. Forward it to me after you've finished, would you? I promise to look over it this weekend before we send it to their admissions office.

Tobio blanks for a moment, before scrambling to open his WordPress account.

1,722 profile visits? He frowns. His most popular post—J.R. Smith's 2013 playoff numbers in comparison with Carmelo Anthony's, which was riddled with passionate analyses and thinly-veiled racist verbiage in the comments section—has a new notification. With trepidation, Tobio opens it.

Hi, this is Sarina O'Neill. I believe we've met before in one of your classes; I was the guest lecturer invited by your professor, Genevieve. Please do e-mail me when you get the chance.

P.S. - You have a talent for wading through confusing data and stitching them together to prove your point, and your writing can be very unforgiving but nevertheless excellent. Have you considered a career in sports analytics?

Tobio closes his laptop slowly. "Shit," he mutters.

~O~

One day, Hinata basically coerces Tobio to buy a mirror in his apartment. Tobio knows he doesn't need one, and he personally dislikes inessential objects that break easily, but Hinata insists on having even a small one for "hygiene purposes". Which is a load of horseshit. He can tell if he has gunk stuck in his teeth just fine.

Right now they're at a shopping center, still arguing about the merits of getting one.

"I already know how my face looks like," Tobio gripes as he pays for the stupid thing.

"No, you absolutely don't," Hinata says irritably. He grabs the wall mirror wrapped in manila paper and gingerly presses it against his chest. "At least have something to guilt trip you into making yourself look nice. Jeez. I don't know if you're purposely making yourself appear less attractive or not."

"I don't give a fuck," Tobio says. One of the storekeepers is giving them the stink eye; he and Hinata are crowding the doorway. He takes Hinata's wrist and wrenches him out of the store.

They reach Fulton Park when Tobio is reminded of an encounter. He pulls them to a stop at one end of the bike path. "Is this about that girl in the diner?" he asks flatly.

Hinata chews on his inner cheek. "She was flirting with you."

Last Sunday, after Hinata got out of work, Tobio went out to meet him. They ate at Waffle House, and there was a girl who served them pecan waffles and hash browns. She had soft, curly black hair tied in complicated braids. She gave Tobio her number even though Tobio refused, and she smelled like peppermint. Tobio can recall clearly how Hinata had been distracted for the rest of the evening. "So?"

Hinata's eyes flash. "'So'?" he mocks.

"I am going to fucking murder you. Spit it out. I don't have the entire day."

Hinata inhales deeply. "I wasn't expecting that to happen," he admits. "The flirting thing."

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

"What I'm saying is it's strange. That I wasn't expecting it. I should have, obviously."

Tobio gapes at Hinata in bewilderment. "What?" he shouts. "Are you fucking serious?"

"I'm surprised it was just one time!" Hinata explains. "And it should've happened, like, way before. I mean, we've been going out a lot recently, and I thought... people propositioning you—it should have been more than once already. It's weird that it was just one girl we met so far. There should've already been tens. Hundreds!"

"You want more girls flirting with me?"

"Yeah."

The stab of hurt that comes afterward is intense, crippling, and completely unexpected. Tobio feels poleaxed. "What in the—what the fuck did you just say?"

"Girls find you attractive," Hinata says plainly. "And they should. Guys too, obviously—"

"No, shut up! Stop talking about—"

"—but I think they do already. There was that dude at the gas station... It's weird if they don't think you're good-looking—"

Tobio marches forward to close the distance between them. He grabs Hinata by the shoulders and pins him against the tall metal fences. "You think that's weird?" Tobio says. "What's fucking weird is you want total strangers to hit on me all the time, you sack of shit. Are you a pervert?"

"Can you stop putting words into my mouth for a second?" Hinata fires back. "Do you remember what I told you? About what I hate the most?"

"People telling you to do shit."

This must be the first time Tobio sees Hinata like this, his face devoid of cheer and good humor. Hinata places a palm over Tobio's wrist. It's angry and searing, like a brand. "I don't like holding myself back." He shakes of Tobio's grasp. "And I'd prefer it if people by my side would do the same."

"I don't know what the fuck you're getting at," Tobio says. "Say it plainly, Hinata."

"You're smart. You're tall. You're good-looking. You can be kind when you feel like it," Hinata says angrily. "All of that—I want more people to know that about you."

Tobio's fingers curl up. He badly wants to smash Hinata's teeth in. The inane shit that comes out of his stupid mouth...

"You're out of your goddamn mind," Tobio declares, before grabbing the front of Hinata's jacket and kissing him.

As far as first kisses go, Tobio thinks it's pretty non-standard—Hinata still carries that faint scent of athletic gear in his clothes and his lips are as dry as leather, and underneath his hoodie Tobio is also sweating buckets. But it's very telling that Tobio enjoyed it all the same; they have now traded blows, a declaration of war of some sorts.

If Hinata does the disappearing act again, Tobio now has an excuse to go after him, even if he has to turn over the entire city of New York.

"Stop talking about me with other people," Tobio says. "It's irritating."

"You don't get to tell me what to do." Hinata's mouth shivers into almost a grin, and Tobio has to kiss him again to stop it from coming back in full force.

...

(Tobio's parents had died in a manner a cop once described as "a scene from a bootlegged version of The Batman". It involved an unlit street in East Village, a couple held at gunpoint, and an obscene amount of blood.

Except Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama weren't as filthy rich as the Waynes and the Kanes were. Tobio had to sit down and calculate how much he could live off from the trust fund his parents had set up for him, and at sixteen, Tobio quite knew how the numbers weren't in his favor.

A day before the funeral, Miwa flew in from where she wasy staying in Wisconsin. She had her two-year-old daughter, Yuriko, by her side, who was staring at Tobio with wide interest ever since she met him.

"I'm sorry," Miwa said tearfully. The apology could've meant a lot of things, but at that time Tobio understood it as, I'm sorry, I can't take care of you all by myself right now.

Tobio shook his head. "You don't have to be," he replied. "I'll be fine."

But it was hard to keep promises when you're poor and an orphaned sixyeen-year-old. The police and social services were useless, as usual, and for Tobio, surviving alone in a city as cold as a jail cell had robbed him of any innocence he had left. As they all say in Flatbush—"petty crimes maketh man". And because life has a certain way of doing math, eventually Tobio got arrested a day before he turned eighteen.

Community service, rehab, and eight months of therapy. Sometimes, when Tobio was forced to ponder his situtation, he thought about how it didn't add up. How his parents were dead, and how their killers stayed alive somewhere. And why was Tobio alive with them, when all this time he had secretly hoped he'd run into them, in the dark alley with no witnesses, and let vengance rear its ugly head? It didn't make sense.

He told his therapist this on their last meeting, when he felt he owed it to her to be completely honest, and she replied, "It's funny, how we equate the life of one person to another. Is it because it's simpler to think that way?" She smiled. "Your parents' lives aren't equal to those who murdered them, the same way your life isn't equal to theirs. You're smart, Tobio. You know math doesn't work that way."

"I don't know anything anymore," Tobio replied honestly.

She handed him a pamphlet of a public high school in Bushwick. "Then why don't you try learning again?"

It was a first time in a while Tobio felt like he had a choice. Slowly, he took the lifeline, and imagined his parents chastising him for trying to hold out on his own for so long. His smile was wobbly as he held back his tears.)

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Spring

...

Hinata never seems to have any problems asking Tobio about personal things point-blank, except for those years he spent living in Manhattan. Hinata doesn't seem interested, anway. In turn, Tobio doesn't ask anything about Hinata's parents, or why he has a lot of bruises on his knees and elbows, or why he seems to know every single rock climbing gym in Brooklyn. It's a fair exchange.

And maybe that's enough for him.

"You should stay here," Tobio says after a long night of debating with Hinata about the pros and cons of moving to another state. Who knew Hinata had strong opinions about 'following one's dreams'?

Hinata, still royally pissed at him, replies with a curt, "I agreed to stay the night."

"No," Tobio says. "I meant permanently this time."

A long silence follows. Then, Hinata wrinkles his nose. "What? Like live with you?"

"You have a problem with that?"

"Obviously no," Hinata says. "Just thought you're the kind who needs space."

"I do," Tobio says. "But we can split the rent. 50-50. Or 60-40. Whatever we agree on."

"You, agreeing with me?" Hinata is looking at him completely now, clear brown eyes on cagey blue ones. "Kageyama, do you want to argue about rent with me?" he asks. "Even until late at night?"

Once again, someone is handing him a lifeline. Tobio sighs. "And about other stuff too," he admits, almost in a whisper.

"And about other stuff, huh," Hinata murmurs. He stares up at the ceiling contemplatively before slowly brightening. "Well, I do like your sofa. And your microwave. It has a lot of buttons."

"Miwa-san bought that for me."

"Ahh, of course it was Miwa-san...." Hinata smiles. "Can we have a cat in here?"

Tobio shrugs. "I don't like cats so you take care of it," he says. "If it pisses on our bed I'll throw it out."

"That's what they all say at the start!" Hinata sing-songs.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Winter

...

Dwayne has been hovering around Tobio since their shift began, so he isn't surprised when Dwayne finally manages to blurt it out once they are all alone in the store. "I don't think I'm misreading nothing, so... are you, y'know, like." He stops. "You and that other Japanese guy... Do you...?"

Tobio gets what Dwayne's hinting at. A little grateful, Tobio tries to talk using his language, "Yes. I like dicks."

Dwayne gawks at him before laughing incredulously. "Jesus Christ, okay. Okay, okay. The fuck, I was worked up for nothing..." His shoulders sag in obvious relief. "Just dicks? Exclusively?"

"I'm not sure." Tobio's never had anyone's attractiveness hit him like a sack of bricks, until he saw Hinata for the first time in the convenience store, a pack of seaweed flakes tucked under his arm.

Dwayne flops his legs on the counter. "Well, I hafta say I know where you're coming from."

"You do?"

"Hey, man, fuck you," Dwayne says. "Look, I can appreciate people. My girl's a ten, but your guy seems tight as fuck too. Objectively speaking. Way better than that bald ass bitch my brother is seeing."

Tobio nods minutely. He kind of understands, somewhat.

Dwayne then regales him about the time his older brother got epically dumped a day after Valentines Day, and Dwayne and his pals in the theater club took him to a dive bar at Tompkins so he could drink and puke his brains out in a gutter. But after thirty minutes of talking, Dwayne stops shortly and then curses.

"Motherfuck, hold on. I'm going about this all wrong." Dwayne wipes his face with his palm. "I ain't saying I'm wishing you heartbreak, Tobio, but yeah. Whatever or whenever, I got you."

Tobio scratches his nape. "Um, thank you very much."

Before their shift ends, Dwayne hands him a box of Trojan condoms, and that's when Tobio realizes Dwayne knows it's Tobio's birthday today.

~O~

"He's cute," Miwa says in lieu of a proper start of a converstation, and Tobio knows exactly who she's talking about.

Tobio reddens, and is horrified to find the kind of face he's making in his reflection. He fights off the urge to fidget on his stool. "Thought he was your type," Tobio mutters unwillingly.

"Well, we have the same type, my baby brother. I guess it's in the family," Miwa clarifies. She takes the end of Tobio's overgrown fringe and snips it off cleanly. "As soon as I realized Hinata-san was asking about you, I just knew. 'Ahh, my brother is getting whisked away. Game over'. I do appreciate that you tried to set us up—he and Yuriko-chan would've gotten along."

Tobio grimaces. "You're awful."

Miwa places a hand on her hips, scissors dangling precariously on her fingers. "And this is the thanks I get, hmm? For not scaring him off and telling him how much of an ass you can be?" She tuts. "He seems to have a lot on his mind, though, when he first came here. Is he okay?"

Tobio licks his lips. He doesn't know the answer to that, but what he can say is this: "I'll... I'll make him better."

Miwa laughs in surprise. "Hmm. Interesting," she says. "Sure haven't heard you talk like that for a long time, Tobio."

"Like what?"

"Like a smug bastard." Miwa tilts Tobio's jaw with a delicate finger. "Hold your chin up a little higher, okay?"

Tobio sniffs but does as he's told.

~O~

Koreatown, Manhattan Autumn

...

Smoke coming from the gas-flame grill of samgyupsal places around 32nd street almost covers the night sky. It's hard to choose where to eat in the stacks of restaurants on top of other restaurants, and Tobio and Hinata have to fight amongst the crowd so as not to lose sight of each other. They seem to have come at a wrong time; Koreans are celebrating their own Thanksgiving, and everyone is scrambling for either a fine-dining spot or a homey place that serves classic braised pork and pan-fried perilla leaves.

"Let's just go somewhere else," Hinata says after another half-hour. His defiant expression from earlier has already deflated from hunger.

Tobio sighs. "If only you just listened to me—"

"Yeah, yeah..." Hinata grabs Tobio's wrist and pulls him out of one of the restaurant lines.

They settle with eating dinner at a nearby rice cake stand, a far cry from what Hinata envisioned the evening would go. "I just wanted us to eat somewhere nice for once," Hinata grumbles, wiping red sauce from his lips with the back of his hand. "Was that so much to ask?"

"There are a lot of nice places in Brooklyn."

"Sure, but it's the view, Kageyama! The view!" He waves at the full moon and the city skyline. The Empire State Building seems close enough to touch, if Tobio squints the right way. "Can't get any more 'New York' than that!"

Tobio snorts but doesn't argue.

It's nine in the evening on a Friday; it's still a bit early. Tobio and Hinata explore the lively neighborhood watching the people around them and secretly each other. The road is slightly cold and damp from the afternoon rain, and the smell of chili pepper and garlic wafting from the opposite street reminds Tobio of his mother, and the beef stew she makes during his birthday.

Abruptly, Tobio remembers that it's been an entire month since Hinata's birthday has passed. They weren't able to celebrate it together, not with Tobio staying in Masachussets for university and Hinata working full-time as a professional fitness trainer.

"I'll cook dinner tomorrow," Tobio offers. He's twenty-five now. He can afford to make a promise or two.

Hinata bounces on his heels. "I'll hold you to that, Kageyama," he says, much enthused.

They're at a crossing between 5th and 30th street when Hinata sees his shoelaces are untied. He stoops down to tie them back while Tobio forges ahead.

When Tobio notices that he's far along the lane by himself, he jerkily looks back and finds that Hinata hasn't moved an inch. "What the hell are you doing?" Tobio shouts.

Hinata is grinning from ear to ear. Under the streetlights, it's an unnerving expression to see. Almost scary. "I'm going to conquer this city!" he says. "Someday! Just wait for it, okay?"

Tobio doesn't know the reason behind that sudden declaration, but something in Hinata's face makes Tobio feel compelled to believe him. "Hurry up, then!" Tobio says.

Hinata laughs before jogging along the pedestrian lane.

~O~

Amherst, Massachusetts Spring

...

Back in his apartment, Tobio is flipping through TV channels when a headline about New York City catches his eye. Next Level Crazy: Man Climbs Empire State Building Without Any Ropes.

What in the world? Tobio wonders, munching on a breadstick. Someone has to be a special brand of idiot to attempt that.

A blond man in a beanie is being interviewed, and he seems to agree with Tobio, "Yeah, I've spoken to him. Trained with him too on weekends. To anyone, he might seem like just a normal guy, but there's gotta be a few loose screws up there... for someone to attempt to scale a massive building like that—"

Without thinking, Tobio is on his feet, his plate of spaghetti spilling all over his feet, on the carpet. On his screen is a live video feed of a frighteningly familiar figure with fiery, red-orange hair, climbing the Empire State Building with his bare hands.

Tobio drops his breadstick. "That dumbass—"

~Fin~

#i did not expect that last one lmao #and lovely reading ur stuff hehe!#haikyuu #kghn

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