Archive of Our Own ^beta

I’m not sure how it started. Well—okay, I know how it started. What I don’t know is how it turned into a thing.

I hate being alone. Not always, though. I like my alone time, the kind where I can stay home, sprawled on the couch watching trashy reality shows without someone in my ear telling me how bad they are. That kind of alone is fine—nice, even. But walking home alone? That’s different.

It’s not the dark—I outgrew that fear years ago. It’s not that I’m scared something will happen; my neighborhood’s pretty quiet, and the worst thing I’ve seen is a raccoon knock over someone’s trash bin. No, it’s the feeling. That weird, empty, gnawing feeling.

Late walks home are when every thought I’ve been dodging all day finally catches up to me. The cold breeze makes me hyper-aware of every stitch in my clothes—too tight, too loose. My stomach feels both hollow and uncomfortably full at the same time. Every insecurity, every nagging little voice, piles on at once. Fear. Anxiety. Disappointment. It clings to me like a second skin, and no amount of adjusting my jacket can shake it off.

I’ve tried music. I’ve tried snacks. Nothing works. So, on those nights when I can’t avoid walking home alone, I do the only thing that helps: I call someone.

Usually, I call Tsukki. He knows about this weird fear of mine, and while he’ll probably make some snarky comment about it, he’ll stay on the line. If he’s busy, I call Hinata, who answers no matter what he’s doing—even if it’s something I really didn’t need to know about. If neither of them picks up, I’ll call Yachi, but she’s usually swamped with schoolwork or her part-time job. And when all my go-to options fail… there’s always Kageyama. My last resort.

It’s not that Kageyama’s my last resort because I don’t like him. Actually, I like him more than I’d care to admit. There’s something about his company that’s oddly comforting, even when it shouldn’t be. His laugh, for one—it’s strange, almost like he doesn’t quite know how to let it out, like it’s unpracticed. It’s stiff at first, then it breaks into something softer, something real. I think that’s why it’s so endearing.

And he’s good to talk to, in his own way. After our first year, we started talking more, and I’ve realized he’s not as bad as I used to think. Sure, there’s still that awkward wall between us, but I can feel it cracking bit by bit. The more we talk, the easier it gets, and I’ve started catching glimpses of who he really is—someone kind, someone thoughtful, even if he doesn’t always know how to show it.

He’s my last resort, though, because he doesn’t know about my odd discomfort of being alone. He has no idea why I’d need someone to talk to on a walk home, and I’d like to keep it that way. Kageyama isn’t the kind of person who’d mock me for it—at least, I don’t think he would—but explaining it to him feels like a can of worms I’m not ready to open.

Also, there’s the other reason. The one I never admit to myself, not fully. I may or may not think he’s attractive. Okay, fine, I definitely think he’s attractive. There’s something about him that pulls me in, something sharp but soft all at once. And, well, sometimes I wonder what it’d feel like to run my fingers through his hair. Just once.

But that’s beside the point. Completely irrelevant. Probably.

It was only supposed to be a one-time thing.

I’d been practicing blocks with Hinata and Kageyama’s quick attacks when Tsukki left practice early—something about plans with his brother. He’d mentioned it beforehand, but it hadn’t struck me in the moment that I’d have to walk home alone. Not until the gym was nearly empty, and the thought started gnawing at the back of my mind.

Practice ended with the usual shuffle of third and first years filing out first, leaving only the three of us—Hinata, Kageyama, and me. But even that didn’t last long. Hinata had to leave, something about watching a movie with his sister. He was practically bouncing as he packed up his things, talking about how she wanted to rewatch some cartoon about a frog prince.

That left just Kageyama and me, alone in the cold, silent gym.

“Guess it’s just us now, huh?” I tried to break the silence with a laugh.

Kageyama nodded. “Practice serving with me?” he asked, already reaching for a ball.

“Why even ask? You know that’s what we’re going to do anyway,” I teased, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“The usual?” he said, a slight grin forming on his own face.

“The usual. And make sure you’ve got your money ready,” I shot back.

It was a routine we’d fallen into without even realizing it. One of us would serve while the other received, switching back and forth until someone missed. The first miss meant losing the serve, but the ultimate loser was whoever got outperformed by the end. Winner’s prize? Meat buns—paid for by the loser, of course.

Kageyama served first, his precision sharp as ever. I readied myself, feet planted and arms steady—but still, the ball skimmed past me, landing with an echoing thwack against the gym floor.

“Thought you said to get my money ready?” Kageyama teased, his tone smug.

“I’m just warming up,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

We went back and forth, matching each other serve for serve, neither of us able to break the tie. By the time we reached the last ball, we were drenched in sweat, panting and grinning through the challenge.

“We’re tied,” I said, resting my hands on my knees. “What do we do now?”

Kageyama furrowed his brow, clearly thrown off. “Uh… we could… paper rock it?” he suggested, scratching the back of his head.

I couldn’t help it—I burst into laughter. “Paper rock? Sure, let’s rock-paper-scissors it,” I said, sticking my fist out.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” we both yelled.

I won.

“Looks like you lost, ” I smirked, feeling a little too pleased with myself. “Better get your money ready, Tobio.”

Kageyama groaned, pulling out his wallet as we packed up, muttering something about a rematch. I couldn’t stop smiling. Somehow, in that quiet, chilly gym, with the lights dimmed and our voices echoing, the usual routine felt like something more.

The walk to Ukai’s convenience store was calm. Kageyama and I didn’t feel the need to fill the air with constant chatter—just small conversations here and there. That’s always been one of my favorite things about walking with him: the quiet doesn’t feel awkward. He doesn’t try to force conversation out of thin air, and I don’t feel like I have to, either. Sometimes, silence is good.

When we reached the store, Ukai was leaning behind the counter, already half-asleep. He perked up when he saw us, giving a tired wave before letting us know that the meat buns had just sold out. “Go home, get some rest, and eat something decent,” he warned us, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ll need it for tomorrow’s practice.”

Kageyama nodded seriously—like Ukai had just imparted the wisdom of the universe—and promised to make it up to me another time. We said our goodbyes, and then we parted ways.

As I walked away, I felt it creeping in. That familiar sensation—the cold breeze pressing my shirt against my stomach, the hair on the back of my neck prickling. Every step felt heavier than the last. The emptiness I’d been avoiding all day hit me square in the chest, the discomfort clawing its way through my skin. My thoughts spiraled, as they always did when I walked alone at night.

I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through my short list of contacts.

Tsukki—busy. Hinata—busy. Yachi—busy.

My thumb hovered over Kageyama’s name, and my heart sank. How would I even explain this to him? Would he care enough to stay on the line, or would he think I was being weird? My thoughts raced as my finger moved on its own, pressing the call button before I could stop myself.

He picked up after a short ring. “Yamaguchi? Everything okay?” His voice was steady, but I could hear a hint of concern behind it.

“This is gonna sound so weird,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth in one nervous breath, “but can I call you while I walk home? I really hate walking home alone, especially when it’s late.”

There was a pause, and I braced myself for an awkward reply or some half-hearted excuse. But instead:

“Uh, yeah,” he said quickly, “actually, I’ll jog back to you. I haven’t walked far. You still near Ukai’s shop?”

“Yeah,” I replied, relief flooding me. “I’ll head back now.”

The call ended, and I stuffed my phone back in my pocket, groaning softly. Shit, why did I call him? My mind was racing again as I waited near the shop. By the time I heard the sound of Kageyama’s footsteps approaching, I was ready to melt into the pavement.

“Hi,” I said, shifting awkwardly on my feet. “My house is this way. Sorry for making you come all the way back.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, brushing off my apology. “I like getting extra steps in before bed—it helps me sleep.”

We started walking, and for the first few minutes, the silence was heavier than it had been earlier. Not the easy, comfortable kind, but something weighted, like there was a question lingering on his tongue. Whatever it was, it made the air thick, and it settled in my chest too. Still, it was better than the panic I’d felt walking alone.

“Yamaguchi,” Kageyama started, then stopped. He scratched the back of his head, his steps slowing slightly.

“Yes, Kageyama?” I glanced over, curious and nervous about what he was about to say.

“Why do you hate walking home alone?” he asked, his expression genuinely puzzled. “Can I ask that?”

I laughed softly, the sound easing the tension in the air. “Of course you can ask. I did make you come back to walk with me, didn’t I?” I smiled at him, though my chest tightened as I thought about how to explain. “This is going to sound so stupid, though. You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

I held out my pinky, grinning despite myself.

“A pinky promise? Really?” Kageyama smirked, raising an eyebrow, but he linked his pinky with mine anyway. His grip was warm, grounding, and maybe just a little too firm for a simple promise.

“Pinky promise,” he said, his voice softer now. And somehow, that made it easier to tell him.

“It’s not the dark or the fact that it’s night,” I began, glancing down at my feet as they scuffed along the pavement. “It’s just… being alone. I’m not quite sure why I’m like this either, but every time I have to walk home by myself at night, it’s like everything I’ve been avoiding all day hits me at once. There’s no distractions, no noise. Just me, a long, empty road, and every worry I’ve been trying to push down. You know?” I laughed nervously, trying to ease the weight of my own words. “It’s stupid, trust me, I know that. But I still hate having to face it.”

Kageyama walked quietly beside me, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He didn’t look at me right away, but when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “It’s not stupid, Yamaguchi. Everyone has their… fears.” He nodded as if reassuring himself as much as me.

I raised an eyebrow, a playful grin creeping onto my face. “Oh yeah? Do you have fears?”

“Of course not,” he said immediately, smirking with that ridiculous confidence of his.

I burst out laughing. “Oh, you so do! What is it? Snakes? Spiders? The dark? Clowns?” I listed off each one, watching as he shook his head at every suggestion.

“None of those,” he said firmly, his smirk widening.

“C’moooon,” I whined, nudging his shoulder. “You have to tell me! I told you mine, didn’t I? Fair’s fair!”

Kageyama sighed, his steps slowing a bit as he tilted his head toward the sky. He looked like he was debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he stopped walking, turning to face me with a serious expression. “Okay,” he said, sticking out his pinky. “But you have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

I grinned, eagerly interlocking our pinkies. “I promise. Now spill!”

He hesitated for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will, he muttered, “I hate… scary movies.”

I blinked at him, completely caught off guard, before a small laugh slipped out. “Scary movies? Really? That’s what gets you?”

“Don’t look so amused by it!” he snapped, his ears turning pink as he glared at me. “I don’t know why, okay? They just… give me the creeps.”

“The creeps?” I repeated, dragging the word out with an exaggerated grin. “Right. Sure.”

His glare deepened, but I could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

We walked a few more steps before I turned to him again. “Well, we’re close to my house now, but thanks for walking with me.” I paused, a mischievous glint in my eye. “Maybe next time, I’ll invite you over, and we can watch a scary movie together. You know, for fun.”

Kageyama scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. And the next time you need someone to walk you home, I’ll just say no.”

I laughed, the warmth of the moment chasing away the chill of the night air. “Seriously, though. Thank you, Kageyama. I mean it.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but when I reached my doorstep and turned to wave, his expression had softened.

“Bye, Yamaguchi,” he said quietly, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he started to walk away.

I watched him for a moment, my heart inexplicably light, before heading inside.

But it was only supposed to be a one-time thing.

And it was…

For that week.

The following days, Kageyama was the only thing on my mind. It was infuriating, really. The normality of it, the simplicity—it irked me. Why did something so seemingly insignificant affect me this much? It wasn’t like we had shared some grand, life-changing moment. It was just a walk home. A friend thing. And yet, it felt… different. Different from when Tsukki begrudgingly picked up my calls. Different from Hinata excitedly offering me to crash at his place, rattling off his plans for us before I could even decline.

With Kageyama, it felt warmer. Stranger. Unsettling in the way butterflies in your stomach could make you feel both excited and sick. My fingertips ached with the phantom want of brushing against his, my heart pounding to the rhythm of his laugh replaying in my head. It wasn’t anything special—just two teammates joking around—but it stuck to me, glued itself to my thoughts like a song I couldn’t stop humming.

And when he’d talk to me again, in the moments after practice or during casual banter, those same feelings would rise—hot and unrelenting—through my veins and burn in my cheeks. Embarrassing. So embarrassing. And yet, sometimes, when we got too close—when our faces were inches apart, when our conversations shifted to something more personal—I swear I saw it too. A faint flush creeping up his neck, brushing his ears, like his emotions were trying to betray him the same way mine always did.

It was becoming unbearable. I’d catch myself staring at him during practice, my eyes lingering on the way he moved, his sharp focus, the unintentional way his hair fell into his eyes. The problem wasn’t just that I stared; it was that I did it so much that others began to notice too.

“Yamaguchi, if you keep looking at Kageyama like that, I’m going to think you’ve got a crush on him,” Tsukki teased, his voice dripping with that infuriating blend of smugness and disinterest only he could pull off.

I snapped my head toward him so fast it was a miracle I didn’t get whiplash. “What? No! That’s—that’s ridiculous,” I stammered, my face immediately heating up.

He snorted, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say.”

I tried to play it off, laughing awkwardly and punching his arm in some weak attempt to deflect.

Then the weekend hit, and all my emotions seemed to heighten.

I spent most of it in my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the same moments in my head like a movie stuck on an endless loop. I kept asking myself why . Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Why did the idea of him—his stupid smile, his funky laugh, even his god-awful bluntness—consume me so completely?

Having a crush on Kageyama was exhausting . Every time I managed to convince myself to let it go, to play the long game— just wait it out, Yamaguchi, I’d think. You’ll graduate in two years. Life will move on. He’ll become a memory, and this stupid crush will finally fade —he’d do something so mundane yet so devastatingly him that it would pull me right back in.

The way his voice softened when he said something he didn’t quite know how to word. The way his eyes crinkled—just a little—when he smiled, like he wasn’t used to the expression but was slowly learning. His rough attempts at reassurance, his terrible attitude, his quiet yet unyielding presence. All of it was magnetic in a way I couldn’t escape, no matter how much I told myself to.

I thought about telling Tsukki, so many times. He’d probably smirk and say something snarky, maybe tease me until I regretted saying anything at all. But it wouldn’t be cruel; it never was with Tsukki. Still, I faltered every time.

Besides, I wasn’t even sure myself. Was it a crush? Or was it just this overwhelming mix of admiration and respect for someone I’d worked so hard to keep up with, someone who made me want to be better? Maybe that’s all it was.

But if that were true, then why did I catch myself wondering how his hair would feel between my fingers? Why did I imagine resting my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat under mine? Why did I want so badly to be the reason behind one of his rare smiles, the person who could make him blush or stumble over his words?

If it weren’t a crush, I wouldn’t be thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him. To close the small distance between us that only existed in my head.

And if it weren’t such a huge, overwhelming, all-consuming crush, I wouldn’t be lying here, wondering if I should let it go—not because I didn’t want him, but because I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that I’d never be good enough.

Monday came faster than I expected, and with it came the familiar weight in my chest that I hadn’t managed to shake all weekend. I thought I’d distracted myself enough with homework and errands, but the quiet moments in between were filled with thoughts of Kageyama, no matter how hard I tried to push them away.

By the time Tsukki arrived at my porch like he always did, his usual slouch and bored expression in place, I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone—least of all him.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he remarked casually, barely sparing me a glance as he adjusted his bag over his shoulder.

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I slept fine.”

“Sure you did,” he muttered, stepping off the porch and waiting for me to follow.

The walk to school started in silence, as it often did, but something about it felt different this time. I could feel his eyes on me every so often, sharp and calculating, like he was piecing together a puzzle I didn’t want him to solve.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tsukki finally asked, his tone blunt but not unkind.

“Nothing,” I replied too quickly, my voice tight.

He gave me a long look, his eyebrows raising just slightly. “Right. And I’m an optimist.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, gripping the strap of my bag a little tighter.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Tsukki shot back, his tone growing more pointed. “You’ve been weird all morning. Actually, you’ve been weird all week.”

“I’m not weird,” I mumbled, looking straight ahead and walking a little faster.

Tsukki didn’t let up, his longer stride easily keeping pace with mine. “Yamaguchi, if you keep pretending nothing’s wrong, your head’s going to explode. Just spit it out already.”

He wasn’t wrong—I’d been bottling this up for too long, and the pressure was starting to get to me. But how could I tell him? How could I put into words the mess of feelings swirling in my chest without sounding ridiculous?

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I tried to gather my thoughts. “It’s… nothing. It’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you act like this, it’s not nothing,” he said, his voice softer now, almost patient.

I glanced at him, unsure if I should say anything, but the knowing look in his eyes told me he wasn’t going to drop it.

But, if I told Tsukki, it meant admitting—out loud, to someone else—that this wasn’t just some fleeting thought or a figment of my imagination. It would mean that this crush, this ridiculous, inconvenient, all-consuming crush on Kageyama, was something I’d have to confront. And confronting it meant opening myself up to possibilities I wasn’t sure I could handle—rejection, embarrassment, or even the faint hope that maybe, somehow, something could come of it.

But maybe it would make me feel lighter.

The words clung to the back of my throat as we walked, Tsukki waiting with an uncharacteristic patience that somehow made it harder to speak.

“This is so underwhelming, and you’re probably going to be disappointed in my answer, but…” My voice cracked slightly as I rushed through the rest. “I think I have a small crush on someone.”

Tsukki stopped mid-step, turning to face me with his usual bored expression, though his brows raised just slightly. “Why would I be disappointed in something that’s clearly bothering you?” he scoffed. “But let’s be real here—it doesn’t sound so small if it’s got you spiraling like this. What are you so stressed out about, anyway?”

I sighed, my words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Because I’m losing my mind over the most basic interaction ever! And I’m sure it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me, but I can’t stop overthinking it. I spend half my time avoiding all thoughts of him, and the other half thinking about his stupid face and his stupid words and how he makes me feel like…” I trailed off, my face burning as I realized how much I’d just said. “God, it’s embarrassing.”

Tsukki’s lips twitched, almost like he was trying not to smirk. “You’re so dramatic, Yamaguchi,” he muttered, adjusting his glasses. “And how are you so sure it didn’t mean the same to him? For someone who overthinks everything, you don’t seem to think about that possibility.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. “I just… I don’t know. It’s Kageyama. He’s impossible to read. For all I know, he thinks I’m just some annoying teammate.”

Tsukki gave me a long, unimpressed look. “You’re giving him way too much credit for being oblivious. Look, I’m not exactly the go-to guy for love advice, but you’ve got two options: suck it up and keep it to yourself, even though it’s clearly eating you alive, or—” he paused, smirking slightly, “—grow some balls and just tell the guy.”

“Ughhhh,” I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “Maybe I’ll tell him and then immediately move to a remote village and change my name so I never have to see him again.”

Tsukki snorted, an actual laugh slipping past his lips. “Yeah, that sounds like the worst plan I’ve ever heard. You’d last two minutes in the wilderness.”

“You’re supposed to be supporting me here,” I muttered, though his laughter made me feel a little less tense.

“Trust me, I am supporting you,” he said dryly as we reached the school gates. “You just don’t like my kind of support.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small, grateful smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, Tsukki.”

He shrugged, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Yeah, yeah. Just try not to make it worse, idiot.”

Practice was nothing special. I played as usual, made small talk with the others, and—unsurprisingly—found myself glancing at Kageyama way more than I should have. To my relief, Tsukki stuck around until the end, which meant I didn’t have to worry about walking home alone again.

After practice, I stayed back to help Ennoshita clean up, gathering stray water bottles and folding stray towels. It gave me something to do, a way to avoid overthinking. Once we were done, I grabbed my bag and headed toward the club room to change.

“Yamaguchi.”

The voice made me stop in my tracks. I turned to see Kageyama walking toward me, his steps brisk but slightly unsure, as if he’d almost backed out at the last second.

“Yeah?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

“I, uh… I still owe you meat buns from last week,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, his usual stern expression softening into something more awkward. “So, do you want to go get some? Like, right now? Or are you busy?”

I couldn’t help but smile at how unsure he looked, fumbling over the simplest words. “Yeah, that’s fine. Let me change real quick, and I’ll meet you by the gym,” I said.

“Okay,” he nodded, a little too quickly, before turning back toward the gym doors.

When I stepped into the club room, Tsukki was already changing, his usual bored expression plastered on his face. I wasted no time pulling off my practice jersey and changing into my school uniform, though I threw on a hoodie to fight off the evening chill.

“Tsukki,” I said casually, “I’m gonna go grab meat buns with Kageyama right now. You wanna come?”

He paused for a second, his lips curling into a smug smirk as he shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’d rather not. You two enjoy your date. Call me if you need to,” he teased, the sarcasm dripping from every word.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the heat rush to my face. “It’s not a date.” I muttered.

“Sure,” Tsukki drawled, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Yamaguchi.”

Before I could argue, he was already out the door, leaving me standing there alone, my heart hammering against my ribs at the mere idea of the word date.

Was it a date? No, definitely not. Kageyama didn’t think of me that way, and I wasn’t about to delude myself into believing otherwise. But still… the thought lingered, making my stomach flip as I grabbed my bag and headed out to meet him.

The walk to Ukai’s store was easy and light, though my heart felt anything but. The night was dark, the wind biting at my skin, yet my cheeks and ears burned like I was standing under the summer sun. Every now and then, I’d catch Kageyama’s eyes lingering on me, and when they did, I couldn’t help but glance back, awkwardly holding his gaze for a second too long before looking away.

We weren’t saying much, but the silence wasn’t heavy—it was comfortable, filled with the occasional sound of his footsteps crunching against the gravel or the hum of the streetlights above us. I fiddled with the sleeves of my hoodie, stealing glances at him as I tried not to trip over my own feet.

“Yamaguchi,” Kageyama finally said, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of something in it—curiosity, maybe?

“Hmm?”

“I noticed something recently,” he began, his eyes flicking toward me, serious in the way only Kageyama could manage over something so small.

“What is it?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Your freckles. They’re faded. How come?”

I blinked, startled by the observation. His expression wasn’t teasing or indifferent—it was genuinely concerned, like the answer really mattered to him.

“They fade in the winter,” I explained, laughing softly. “Something about the lack of UV or whatever. They’ll come back when the sun does, they always do.”

“Oh.” He nodded, but the crease between his brows didn’t ease. “Good. I can’t imagine you without them.”

The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, and I looked at him, searching his face. “Really? I’ve always kind of wished they’d stay faded. They’re a pain in the summer.”

Kageyama shook his head, frowning slightly. “No… No, that wouldn’t be right. Then you wouldn’t be you.”

The words hit me harder than I expected, and I felt my breath hitch. “Huh?”

“There are things that make you… you,” he continued, his gaze steady on mine. “Your freckles, that weird cowlick of yours, and… how forgiving you are.”

I blinked, taken aback. My stomach did this ridiculous little flip, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “Thanks? I think? I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” I said, laughing lightly.

“It is a compliment,” he replied bluntly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

We walked the rest of the way in a silence that felt even warmer than before. My heart thudded in my chest as I turned his words over and over in my head, trying to make sense of the warmth spreading through me.

As we approached the store, I glanced up at him. “Now that I think about it, you have things that make you you, too,” I said, testing the waters.

“Like what?” Kageyama asked, holding the door open for me as we stepped into the brightly lit convenience store.

Thankfully, this time, Ukai had the meat buns in stock.

Kageyama paid for them, just like he promised, and we found a spot inside to sit and eat, shielding our food from the cold outside. I watched him unwrap his meat bun with that same focused concentration he put into everything, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“So?” he prompted, taking a bite. “What makes me, me?”

I grinned, leaning back in my seat as I thought about it. “Okay. The color of blue your eyes are—your insane concentration, and… your awkwardness.”

He raised an eyebrow, swallowing his bite before shooting me a half-offended look. “Awkwardness? Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing!” I waved my hands defensively, laughing nervously. “It’s one of the things that make you who you are, without it you wouldn’t be the Kageyama I like.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I froze, my heart skipping a beat. The Kageyama I like . Oh god no.

Kageyama blinked at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before his lips curled into one of his rare laughs—low and genuine. “The Kageyama you like, huh? Thanks, Yamaguchi.”

I felt my face explode into a shade of red so bright it could probably be seen from space. “I—wait—no, that’s not what I—” I stammered, my words tripping over each other in my desperation to backpedal.

But Kageyama just kept laughing, shaking his head as he took another bite of his meat bun. “Relax. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands as the warmth in my chest grew into something overwhelming, something I wasn’t sure I could contain.

Once we finished our meat buns, I thanked Kageyama for paying and for the talk, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. My cheeks still burned faintly from earlier, but I chalked it up to the cold.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow—” I started, turning to leave.

“Wait, Yamaguchi!” Kageyama’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

I turned back, a little startled by the urgency in his tone. “Yeah?”

“You… want me to walk you home?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine. His face was calm, but there was a flicker of nervousness in the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his jacket. “I know the others are probably already home.”

My immediate reaction was to say no. He’d already paid for our food, gone out of his way to invite me here in the first place, and I didn’t want to feel like I was taking advantage of him. “You’ve already done enough,” I said with a laugh. “You paid for the food. I don’t want you to go through the burden of walking me home too.”

“It’s not a burden,” he said quickly, his voice firmer this time. He stood straighter, meeting my eyes. “I… I really don’t mind. I’d like to.”

Something about the way he said it made my heart flip. I hesitated, weighing my options, but the hopeful look on his face made the decision for me. “Okay,” I said, smiling softly.

He nodded, looking relieved as he zipped up his jacket. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The night was quieter now, the streets mostly empty. The wind had picked up, and I pulled my hoodie tighter around me, stealing glances at Kageyama as we walked. I found myself staring at Kageyama’s hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. My fingers were freezing, and the thought struck me—what would it feel like to hold his hand? The idea was ridiculous, but I couldn’t shake it.

“Do your hands ever get cold in your pockets?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He looked at me, his expression confused. “No. Why?”

I shrugged, hoping he couldn’t hear the nervous edge in my voice. “I don’t know. Mine always do.”

Kageyama slowed his steps, glancing down at my hands. His brows furrowed slightly, like he was working through a puzzle. “Why don’t you wear gloves?”

I laughed, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up my neck. “I forgot them today. Didn’t think it’d be this cold.”

Kageyama didn’t say anything for a moment, but then, without a word, he pulled one of his hands from his pocket. He held it out slightly, almost like an offer, his fingers brushing mine as he did.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice higher than I intended.

“Your hands are cold, right?” he said, his tone as blunt as ever. “Mine are warm.”

For a second, I just stared at him, my mind blank and my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m fine,” I managed, laughing nervously. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I said I don’t get cold,” he replied, his frown deepening like I was being ridiculous. “Just take it. Don’t make it weird.”

My stomach flipped at his words. Slowly, tentatively, I let my fingers graze against his before sliding my hand into his. His palm was warm—so much warmer than I expected—and it sent a wave of heat straight to my face.

“Better?” he asked after a beat.

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

We didn’t say anything else after that, and I was sure my face was on fire the whole time. But as we walked, my frozen hand clasped in his, I couldn’t bring myself to let go. If he noticed how tightly I was holding on, he didn’t say anything.

“Well, this is me,” I said, gesturing awkwardly.

Kageyama nodded, his hands still in his pockets. “Right. Uh… goodnight, Yamaguchi.”

“Goodnight, Kageyama.”

I smiled, my chest tightening with a feeling I couldn’t quite name, and watched as he turned and walked back down the street.

It was only supposed to be a two-time thing.

So why am I walking home with Kageyama almost every day?

After the day we held hands, it somehow became a routine. At first, he offered to walk me home again later that week. Then by the next week, it was every other day. By the week after that, it was every single day.

Now, he’s sitting on the floor of my living room, watching something on my TV while I’m stretched out on the couch. He doesn’t come over every time he walks me home, but on nights like this—when there’s no school tomorrow—he stays a little longer.

“Kageyama?” I called out softly, trying to break the comfortable silence.

He turned his head to look at me. “Yamaguchi?”

I hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Why did you offer to walk me home? Like… when we first started this whole routine?”

Kageyama blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. “I like talking to you. And even when we don’t talk, your presence is nice.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsatisfied with the vague answer. “Really? But we talk during practice.”

“It’s not the same,” he replied bluntly, looking back at me. “There are other people around during practice. I like your company best when it’s just us. It feels like I can… hear you better. Being around you is calming.”

His words hit me harder than I expected, and I felt my heart skip a beat. “Oh,” I said softly, unsure of what to say back.

Kageyama glanced at me, and for a brief moment, there was something unsure in his expression. “Is that weird?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost hesitant.

“No, it’s not weird,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to… just talk. Without everyone else around.”

His face softened, and then he smiled—a real, genuine smile. It wasn’t one of those fleeting ones he’d give to Hinata or the rare ones he let slip during practice. This one was grounding, like it belonged only to me.

As the evening went on, we shifted until we were sitting so we could see each other clearly. I wasn’t even sure how it happened, but it did. And I abused that.

I stared at Kageyama for a long time, letting my eyes trace the soft lines of his face. He looked so different like this—relaxed, his features calm. His usual intensity was gone, replaced by something warm and gentle.

At some point, I realized he was staring back at me.

And somehow, I didn’t look away.

The air between us felt heavy but not in a bad way. It was like a quiet kind of understanding, the kind that didn’t need words.

Kageyama was the one to break the silence. His hand reached up and ruffled the hair out of my face, his fingers brushing my forehead lightly before dropping back to his lap. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. My face flushed, but I still couldn’t look away. I was too busy taking in every detail of his face—the slope of his nose, the slight curve of his lips, the way his eyes held mine like I was something worth staring at.

“Fifty-five,” Kageyama said suddenly, his voice soft.

“Huh?” I blinked, pulled out of my trance.

“You have fifty-five freckles on your face,” he said, as matter-of-fact as if he were pointing out a stat on the court.

I gawked at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “You… counted?”

Kageyama nodded, his eyes still on me. “Yeah. I’ve been wondering, so I decided to count.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. My cheeks were burning, and I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. “You’re so weird, Kageyama,” I mumbled, looking down at my lap.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But I like your freckles.”

I looked up at him again, startled by the sincerity in his tone. He smiled at me—not the rare kind this time, but something new, something softer—and my heart did something I wasn’t ready to name.

And somehow, it just slipped out.

“I like you,” I said, the words barely louder than a whisper. But this time, I didn’t take them back. I didn’t stumble to cover them up or pretend I meant something else. I just let them hang in the air between us, raw and vulnerable.

Kageyama’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I thought I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. But then, the faintest blush spread across his cheeks, and he responded in the simplest, most Kageyama way possible.

“I like you too.”

My heart stuttered, then soared, and we just sat there, letting the moment settle around us. It was quiet, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of something warm, something unspoken that didn’t need words.

Kageyama shifted a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Does that mean I can kiss you?” he asked, his voice steady but his ears tinged red.

“Yes, that means you can kiss me,” I laughed, my voice breaking with nervousness and excitement all at once.

He leaned in, and before I could process it, he kissed me. Not on the lips right away, but on my cheeks—once on the left, once on the right—and then a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. His lips were warm and careful, like he’d been holding this in for as long as I had.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at me. His tone was a mix of awkward and affectionate. “I’ve been wanting to kiss your freckles.”

I blinked at him, stunned and laughing all at once. “Well, I have fifty-five, right? That means you still have fifty-two more to go.”

His expression shifted into something mischievous, and before I could even think to stop him, Kageyama was leaning in again, peppering my face with kisses. Each one was soft and quick, but they sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t stop laughing, the sound spilling out of me uncontrollably. “Kageyama! That tickles!” I managed to gasp out between fits of giggles.

“Good,” he said, his voice playful now, a rare sight for the normally serious setter.

When he finally stopped, he rested his forehead against mine, his hands framing my face gently. “You’re really important to me, Yamaguchi,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, but no less full of feeling.

I smiled, feeling lighter than I ever had. “You’re really important to me too, Kageyama.”

So maybe I don’t know exactly how we had gotten here, how a simple late walk home turned into something so much more.

So maybe I don’t know how it became a thing .

But I don’t care.

Because I’m happy. So, so happy.