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Kageyama is 13, bright-eyed, at the top of his game when the world stops. It happens gradually, so gradually that nobody notices until it's coming too fast, people dying in the streets and attacking each other and his mother locks the door, doesn't let him outside. It doesn't really matter to him, because school has been cancelled until further notice, and without school there's no volleyball, nothing for him to do there anyway. He takes to practicing in his room, bouncing the ball against the walls and the floor by candlelight when the electricity cuts. It sucks.
It sucks more when they move, a month later, packed into a car with as much as he can take with him. It's a quarantine zone, his father says, a place where they can get back to normal, where they don't have to be scared to go outside, where he can make new friends (as if), go to school again, play volleyball. He perks up at the last part, the only thing that makes it bearable, and also maybe the promise of his parents not looking tired and drawn, of more food to eat, of being allowed outside.
The quarantine zone also sucks. Kageyama's getting used to this sort of thing by now, and at least they have warm showers, but they're limited, along with food. There is still no electricity; he reads borrowed magazines by flashlight, still, when he's lucky enough to find batteries. They're old issues, but he doesn't care; it makes him feel better, makes his chest lighter to see the way things were before, when people could play sports and he could catch it on TV, late at night when his dad would let him stay up. His dad is gone a lot now, working, trying to earn enough for them to eat dinner, and he knows in a few years that's where he's going, too. If he's lucky enough to make it that long.
A lot of people don't make it. It's a quarantine zone, sure, but things happen, are always happening. He's still not supposed to be outside by himself, especially not in the rough neighborhood they live in, but it's all rough, he says to his mom one night when she's grabbing his volleyball away from him and snapping at him to get back inside. It's one of the few things Kageyama still has from his old house in his old town, and he hates anyone touching it, and that includes his mom. He's sick of this, sick of everything, he wants to go home, and he yells it at her at the top of his lungs before he dashes off.
That is Kageyama's first night outside. He doesn't want to go home, not yet, so he runs, runs, runs until he finds an abandoned building and slinks inside. He wishes he'd been able to grab his volleyball, to at least have something to do while he sits here and sulks until he's ready to go back home.
It's also Kageyama's first night running into one of them.
There's something that happens to people, sometimes, less frequently in the quarantine zone but still. He's seen it, on the news and from his window and from down the street, while he's driving here with his parents. This is his first time up close.
Kageyama has always told himself that he won't be scared, that he can outrun them, that they're not as smart as people, anyway, even if they were, once. He knows what they look like, sort of. What Kageyama doesn't know is the way they look, standing and warbling in this horrible, cracked whisper, old and decaying clothes. He feels himself freeze up, knows that if he moves too much he'll be noticed. He wishes he were at home.
And then there's a noise, and the thing turns, and he thinks he's going to die right there in this shitty building and nobody will know. But it's not turning towards him, thank god, instead charging at a silhouette in front of the window he's snuck through.
To Kageyama, at that moment, the silhouette looks like an angel.
Xxx
His name is Oikawa, and he's part of a group. Oikawa doesn't have parents. He's from a local home, he says, a place with other boys who don't have parents, and this is his house, this is his area, and get out because we need to practice. When Kageyama asks what he's practicing, side-stepping the prone figure on the floor, Oikawa frowns and tells him.
Volleyball.
Somehow, Kageyama gets himself into the group, goes home feeling so much better than he had been. He's alive, and he has a team to play with, now. And, most importantly, Oikawa is amazing. He brings back the feeling Kageyama used to get when he watched matches on TV, looking at Oikawa fly across the abandoned gym outside of the quarantine zone. They sneak out there each day for practice, and Kageyama watches, enraptured, while Oikawa plays.
Oikawa doesn't much like him. It doesn't really bother him, exactly, just shows him that he needs to work harder, needs to get on that level. Kageyama stops caring about food shortages or his father yelling at him to stop sneaking out, what if he gets himself killed, because he won't, of course he won't. Not when he has a team to play with, to watch his back with him. He'll watch their backs, too. When things get back to normal, maybe he'll be good enough to join a professional team.
He's satisfied with things the way they are, because he's starting to forget what it was like when they weren't. He's starting to forget what it was like to sit outside and not have to worry about things creeping around, or what it was like to have hot water whenever he wanted it. Kageyama has volleyball, and that's all that really matters.
Xxx
Somewhere along the line, he grows up. Oikawa's moved to another home, a school for older boys. He hates Kageyama, and Kageyama hates him. Kageyama doesn't need a team, he decides. The team needs him. He's the one who gets them back to practicing, who tells them when their serves are shit, who snaps at them to be quiet when they're creeping outside the walls. He's so focused on volleyball, the one thing he has to focus on, that he doesn't notice when his team starts to resent him.
He doesn't notice until it's almost too late, one night when they're creeping back inside, and he hears a noise from behind them. It's familiar by now, guttural, but it's nothing to worry about because they've taken out enough of these things by this time to handle it. Kageyama's turning, hefting a crowbar he's lucky enough to have found a while back, expecting his team to be there to back him up.
They aren't.
Kageyama almost doesn't make it. He feels fear pool in his stomach for the first time in a while, fear of dying, of being alone when it happens. When he crushes its face, shakes off the hand gripping the fabric of his pants, he realizes that he really is alone, he's been alone this whole time. And he's better off this way. He doesn't need anyone because nobody is going to be there for him.
He doesn't see his team again after that, even when he goes back to the gym. Kageyama doesn't care, ignores the whispers at school, the school with one textbook per four kids, but it's still a school, after all, and his parents have been pushing him to go. Things are still tight, but he thinks he's improving, even if it's by himself, and that's all he cares about, really.
And then he meets Hinata.
It's one day, when he's clambering over the wall, in an area he hasn't been to before. He's had a fight with his mom and left his volleyball at home, so there's really no use in going to the gym. There's a flash of orange off to his side, a color he doesn't see much anymore, and his interest is a bit piqued.
Kageyama knows it's probably one of those things, and he swears because he's forgotten to grab something. He can outrun it, probably, but still, that orange is awfully vibrant for something that should be old and rotting by now. He sneaks closer, determined to see what it is.
He thinks it's a little kid at first, and asks what the hell they're doing out here by themselves, what are they, twelve? Kageyama is met with an indignant face when the person turns around, and it's definitely not a little kid. It's someone his age, someone with bright orange hair and a mouth running on about how rude it is to call someone a little kid, and he's out here looking for stuff to do, not that it's any of your business, jackass.
It's jarring, really. He thinks this face is familiar, and lets his eyes linger. It's the hair that gets him, he's seen it once before; back when he was still with his old team, they would get together with other kids from other schools in a makeshift sort of game. He's seen this kid.
He sucks.
Kageyama doesn't really let people linger in his mind because, more often than not, they end up dead before he sees them again.
“Hey,” the kid speaks up, suddenly, still sounding irritated. “Aren't you the King?”
It's a name he absolutely hates, a name his old team has given him, mockingly, before leaving him to die.
Kageyama turns on his heel and stalks off. This kid can die for all he cares.
Xxx
Kageyama learns his name when they meet again, rounded up by a few other neighborhood boys to get a game together. Usually, Kageyama would say no, absolutely not, but he's getting tired of playing by himself, and if he doesn't have anyone to practice with, his skills will get rusty. So he goes, and he sees that familiar orange, and finds out this boy named Hinata's not dead after all.
There are other boys on their team, a mishmash of ridiculous personalities, people whose survival baffles Kageyama. He asks about it, one day, to an older boy named Sugawara, who is always smiling despite their surroundings.
“We look out for each other,” he says, and then he puts a hand on Kageyama's shoulder. “That goes for you, too.” It sends a wave of something down Kageyama's spine and he looks down, feeling ashamed for the first time. The hand doesn't go away, though, squeezes instead, and when he looks up Suga is beaming at him like he's just been given a present.
Even Asahi, tall and scary but more scared of the outside than anyone, has saved his ass more than once, waving off bowed thanks with a hand that's only shaking a little. He and Kageyama have barely known each other a month, and Asahi had almost gotten killed helping him out of a tight spot. Kageyama doesn't understand it, but then, there are a lot of things he doesn't understand.
Like Hinata.
Kageyama doesn't understand how he can be so happy all the time. He learns his father is dead, his mother is sick, and he takes care of his little sister. “Not that kind of sick!” Hinata says, quickly, when Kageyama gives him a look. “She'll get better, she just worked too hard. So now I'm working hard for her.”
He's always smiling, at everyone, even Kageyama. They fight often and hard, and more than once they get into scuffles on the cracked pavement, rolling on the ground until one pins the other and the victor gets bragging rights until it happens again, which is usually the next day. It becomes a weirdly comforting routine for them.
And there's one more thing; Hinata is amazing at volleyball.
Well, the truth is, he sucks. He's very, very limited in what he can do, but he has raw talent, and what's more is that he's the only one who can play in sync with Kageyama. The first time they do it, Kageyama feels something in his chest, like his heart is pounding too fast. They begin to practice together after that, one-on-one.
Kageyama finds that he doesn't hate it.
Xxx
There are a lot of things Kageyama doesn't believe will happen; he doesn't believe he'll live past 18, he doesn't believe he'll settle down with a nice girl like his mom sometimes says, he doesn't believe things will return to normal anymore. Most of all, he doesn't believe he and Hinata will become friends.
He thinks about this one day, when they're sitting outside the wall, eating a lunch they've snuck from Hinata's kitchen. It's warm and sunny, and out here, surrounded by tall grass, it's almost like things are back the way they were before. It's almost like he and Hinata are just enjoying a regular lunch together, sore from practicing tosses.
This has, surprisingly, become a regular thing. Hinata's mother is getting better, but not well enough to work, so Hinata works for her after school to make enough to buy food for them. He's thin, thinner than he should be, even with his small stature. And he still finds time to play volleyball with Kageyama, never failing to miss a practice.
Sometimes, when they're sitting together, he falls asleep against Kageyama's shoulder. Kageyama watches the soft orange hair out of the corner of his eye, sitting as still as he can so he doesn't wake Hinata up. He's become very good at being still. He's thinking he can live like this, with these weird new friends he's made, this new team who has helped him out of quite a few rough spots by now, and Hinata.
Kageyama is thinking that maybe this life isn't so horrible after all.
Xxx
One day, Hinata gets called for outside work.
He tells Kageyama at night, after practice, when they're walking home together. Kageyama's hoisting him up the wall, grumbling about how Hinata needs to grow at least 10 more centimeters by next year, when Hinata blurts it out.
“They assigned me outside, you know?”
Kageyama feels his blood freeze in his veins, because nobody he knows who has gone outside for work has lasted very long. And Hinata is so small, at least a head shorter than he is. Kageyama knows from experience that Hinata is capable enough, but the thought of him out there, alone, with people he doesn't know leaving him behind because they think he's too small and doesn't matter makes him want to hit something. So he does.
Hinata rolls his eyes while he rubs the dirt off Kageyama's hand later, on the inside of the wall, out of the scrapes from where he's punched the wall. Kageyama is gritting his teeth and trying not to wince.
“I'll be fine, stupid. I just wanted to let you know. I mean, I can't get out of it, so...” He stops rubbing at Kageyama's scrapes, and his hands are warm on Kageyama's cold one. The contact feels good, and Kageyama suddenly wishes he could stay like this.
Hinata is quieter than usual, a sign that he's worried about something, the look on his face similar to the one he gets when he's about to puke from nerves. Kageyama drags him home, up to his room, tosses some old, coveted magazines towards him and tells him to read.
They pore over them together, and Hinata's eyes brighten as he points out who his favorite players were. He always looks like this when it comes to volleyball, gets a little breathless, and Kageyama spends more time watching Hinata than looking at the pages. He feels like if he doesn't, he'll be gone, and Kageyama hates to admit it, but he doesn't know what he'd do without him. He is a little shocked when he realizes that, when he thinks about how close they are, close enough for Hinata to spend the night and curl up in his bed with him.
This isn't the first time they've shared a bed, slept in the same space. One time, when they'd all gotten stuck outside the wall for the night, hunkering down in an old house, Hinata chooses to sleep next to Kageyama, back-to-back, to “conserve heat”, as he'd said. This time, they sleep face-to-face, Hinata demanding that Kageyama tell his most embarrassing secrets (Kageyama tells him about the time his mother cut his hair when he was 9 and Hinata laughs so hard he snorts).
Hinata falls asleep before Kageyama does, and Kageyama watches him for a little, the way his hair curls around his face and across the off-white pillow.
Xxx
Three days.
That's how long it takes for Hinata to stagger up to Kageyama's door, looking like he's been hit by a car. Kageyama spots him from the window, is downstairs before Hinata can knock and alert his parents. Kageyama drags him in, up the stairs, tosses him onto the bed and demands to know what happened.
“I'm okay!” Hinata says quickly, rolling his sleeves up and sticking out his arms. Kageyama demands that he see his legs, too, and so Hinata rolls his eyes and his pant legs, showing Kageyama that he is, indeed, fine. Kageyama lets out a breath he hasn't realized he's been holding, and then sinks down onto the bed next to Hinata.
“It was kind of close today,” he says, sheepishly, looking at Kageyama out of the corner of his eye. “It won't happen again, but it would have been a huge help if anyone else had actually been around.”
“You don't work with a group?” Kageyama's never had outside work before, obviously, and is stunned when Hinata shakes his head.
“We can, but nobody really wants to work with me.” From the sour look on his face, Kageyama can tell it's because of Hinata's height, and snorts despite himself. Honestly, he would have done the same thing, had he not known Hinata.
The most surprising thing Kageyama's come to learn about Hinata is how good he is at fighting. He's nearly as skilled with it as volleyball, the way he can duck and dodge and run. Kageyama sometimes gets caught watching him, orange against the drab surroundings, slamming a salvaged scrap of wood against something that's chasing them. Kageyama hates to admit it, but Hinata's saved his ass more than once, and every time, Hinata adds up the score. It's 38 to 40, in Kageyama's favor.
Today must have been bad for Hinata to make out like this.
Hinata's okay, but he spends the night with Kageyama again, curled up back to back. Kageyama tells himself, before he falls asleep, that he can't let Hinata go back out there.
Xxx
Hinata lasts five more months before Kageyama gets called. This is honestly the longest anyone Kageyama knows has lasted, and he's grudgingly impressed. Hinata gets a few bumps and bruises, but he's fine, more or less, and the work is giving him more food, so he's eating a bit better as well.
When he goes out for the first time, brought to the zone he'll be stationed to work, Kageyama immediately sets about looking for Hinata. He hasn't told him yet, doesn't know how, except maybe he'll surprise him. He asks around, about a boy about this high with bright orange hair and too friendly to everyone. He gets pointed in the right direction almost immediately.
Kageyama is expecting Hinata to be excited. What he gets is a punch in the gut and an enraged shout.
“I can't believe you didn't tell me, asshole!” Hinata yells, and Kageyama has to clamp a hand over his mouth until Hinata licks it with his tongue. “Jeez, now I have to look out for you, too...”
“You don't have to look out for me!” Kageyama snaps, shoving Hinata back, and then they're staring at each other glaring until Hinata breaks into a grin and Kageyama knows it'll be okay.
They work together from then on, slacking off sometimes until they know someone's about to check up on them. They have a few close encounters, but Kageyama feels nearly invincible, working close with Hinata like this, listening to him tell stories about when he was a kid and climbed a tree just to see how high he could get and his little sister ended up crying her eyes out. He was so startled he'd fallen and broken two bones.
It lasts quite a while, and they go to practice every day. Things are okay, Kageyama thinks, and he finds himself looking forward, thinking maybe he won't die before he's 18, maybe he and Hinata will find somewhere else where things aren't as shitty. Maybe Asahi will finally learn how to speak less timidly. Maybe he can carry on like this, and things can be almost as good as they were before. After all, now he has friends.
Xxx
There is something between the two of them. Kageyama thinks he's felt it for a while, maybe since the first time he watched Hinata hit one of his tosses, a feeling of his chest being too full and too warm. He doesn't think much of it, though, inexperienced as he is with even friendships.
Things are getting a little different, though. They don't sleep back to back anymore; Hinata ends up with his limbs tossed over and around Kageyama, pressed together, drooling against his shirt. And Kageyama's immediate reaction is not to push him off.
He finds himself passing the days wondering what Hinata's doing, thinking about his soft hair and his bright smile and the way his eyebrows angle down when he's determined. He thinks about when Hinata's hand is warm on his, when they're walking in the dark and Hinata says they shouldn't separate, so it's better to stay together like this.
It might have stayed the same, both of them dancing around the way their faces got hot when they'd catch the other changing, the way Kageyama feels his heart hammer in his chest whenever Hinata leans against him. Actually, it probably would have, if not for one of their many close encounters.
Kageyama supposes this is one thing life has given him out of this mess; Hinata pressed up against his chest and kissing him over and over inside an abandoned garage. There's dust and dirt all over the both of them from where they've crashed in, Kageyama slumped against the wall to rest, when Hinata leaps onto him and nearly squeezes the breath out of him.
“I thought we were gonna die!” he's groaning against Kageyama's neck, and the way it's warm wet makes Kageyama shiver. He thinks he's had dreams like this before, but he doesn't want to dwell on that.
Hinata pulls back and they look at each other, pulses still racing. And then Hinata's lips are on his and, for some reason, Kageyama is not pulling away.
It's dark by the time they sneak back out, home and up to Kageyama's room, Hinata clutching his hand and practically dragging him. They flop down on the worn bed, Hinata crawling over top of him and pressing their lips together again, soft and hot and tasting like the berries they'd almost died for just to eat.
There's so much heat all around him, on him, where Hinata's resting against his body and their mouths slide together. When they go to bed, finally, Hinata's smug grin makes Kageyama's face even redder than it already is. He thinks about kicking Hinata onto the floor to spite him, but when Hinata's hand creeps over to grab his, he thinks better of it.
xxx
Kageyama should have known as soon as he wished the impossible, for Asahi to get bolder, that things would turn to shit.
He's had close encounters before, that time when his team left him, times with his new team, once when Hinata gets stuck in a room with one of those things and Kageyama has to bust his way through. He always makes it out, though; they always make it out.
Until today.
They're working an abandoned building, supposedly cleared for work, although they both know that's bullshit. Hinata is cracking a joke about how Kageyama's face could wake the dead (ha, ha) when there's a noise behind them. Hinata's whirling and then it's on top of him, trying to get at him with jaws dripping tainted saliva, bloodshot eyes not really seeing. Kageyama is shocked, can barely will himself to move until he hears Hinata cry out, and then he's on top of it, swinging a metal pipe he's had propped up against the wall.
He helps Hinata up, checks him. Kageyama's heart is racing; he's expecting to see the worst, blood-smeared teeth marks somewhere on Hinata's warm skin, but he's okay. He looks shaken, face pale, but the way he's grinning at Kageyama, however shaky, makes Kageyama's veins flood with relief.
And then he feels something clutch his ankle, hears a gurgling noise and fuck, he should have checked, and he's trying to pull away, fingers sweaty around the pipe in his hand and it hurts, his leg hurts as he slams the pipe down with all he's worth.
He hears yelling, doesn't know if it's him or Hinata, because he feels like he's going to faint. That's stupid, he's Kageyama, he doesn't faint; he just staggers back against the wall, sliding down and staring blankly at the think bleeding out on the floor.
There's blood on his pant leg, too, staining through it startlingly fast.
Hinata's grabbing at his leg with shaking fingers, yanking the fabric back and Kageyama winces at the twisted skin on his leg, the rips where the blood seeps through. He feels strangely numb; he had been preparing for this for a while, but it's taken him by surprise now.
“Shit, shit,” Hinata's saying over and over again, peppered with “Kageyama” and “fuck”. His hands are fluttering around Kageyama's calf, where the skin is broken. “We should bandage it up, I have...I probably have something around here, or I can find something, or-”
“Hinata.” Kageyama frowns at him. “Don't be stupid.”
“I'm not being stupid!” Hinata yells, too loud, but Kageyama doesn't care at this point. He thinks the commotion would have alerted anything nearby, anyway, so they're probably fine. “You can't just let it bleed, it'll get infected!”
He knows it's probably shock, but Hinata's denial is gritting on his nerves. When Hinata's fingers touch the wound, he snaps, shoving him back.
“You fucking dumbass! Get out of here, okay!? Go home!” Kageyama feels his hands shaking as he yells.
Suddenly, his face is smarting, a blow to his cheek courtesy of Hinata, who's crouched in front of him, breathing rapidly.
“You're the fucking dumbass,” he says, shaking his hand as if punching his friend had hurt him more than it had hurt Kageyama. “I'm not going to leave you here over something stupid like this.”
It's not stupid, Kageyama wants to say, I don't want you to get hurt, but he doesn't because his cheek still hurts and Hinata's busy wrapping something tightly around his leg.
They stay there, late into the evening and the night. Hinata barricades them in, telling Kageyama they can go back when he gets rest. Kageyama's feeling too weak to argue much more than a “dumbass” from where his head is pillowed on Hinata's lap, warm seeping through to his skin.
“You're a dumbass.” Hinata's voice is quiet. His fingers brush against Kageyama's cheeks and he sighs. “Sorry for punching you, I guess. You have a bruise. And a fever.”
Kageyama knows he has a fever. He knows how this stuff plays out; he knows he has a bruise too, because it still hurts. He feels warm all over, warm and sleepy, and his leg is throbbing. Hinata's still talking, but Kageyama's not really paying attention, instead focusing on the way Hinata's fingers smooth through his hair.
“I don't want you to kill me,” Kageyama says, interrupting him.
“Of course I won't kill you.” But Hinata's misunderstanding.
“No, I don't want you to have to kill me.” He can't put Hinata through that; he's had enough nightmares about having to kill his friends himself, like he's seen people do outside. It's bad enough that he is going to leave Hinata alone, he's not going to weigh him down with that, either. “I'll do it myself.”
“Nobody is killing anyone!” Hinata's voice is firm and cracks in the middle. “You'll be fine in the morning, or tomorrow.”
“It's already been three hours, stupid.” He's seen it happen, he knows.
Hinata is silent for a few minutes, and Kageyama wonders if he's agreeing, when he speaks up. “What would you do if this happened to me?”
“I'd kill you.” Kageyama meant to tease him, feeling like he doesn't have much time left to do that, but the way he feels Hinata's fingers tense where they're wrapped around his hand makes him stutter. “I'd...I'd kill you for trying to get yourself killed. That's what I meant.”
And Hinata laughs, and Kageyama feels like it would be okay to die like this.
Xxx
Kageyama wakes up in the morning to sun filtering through a boarded window. Hinata is curled next to him, clutching Kageyama's hands.
He should be dead. Or as close to it as he'd get.
Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe this is what happens when you go crazy, and if that's how it is, then he thinks maybe it's not so bad. But then there's the thought of what's happening if he's just imagining this, trapped somewhere in a fever dream, what his body is doing to Hinata. He could be killing Hinata, and he wouldn't know.
He pinches himself, and it hurts. Maybe he's not dreaming.
Kageyama sits up, extracting one hand from where Hinata's got it squeezed to his chest. He reaches down and pulls up his pant leg.
It's still there, but it looks less severe than the night before. He might be imagining it, but for the first time, he lets himself think that maybe he's not going to die. Maybe he doesn't have to leave Hinata alone.
Hinata is stirring next to him, noticing the lack of warmth. His eyes crack open and this is something Kageyama never gets tired of watching, Hinata's sleepy drooped eyelids and the way he blinks slowly when he's waking up.
“Hi,” says Kageyama, before Hinata's throwing himself against the taller boy.
“I told you!” he's yelling nearly directly into Hinata's ear. “I told you, you idiot! Listen to me more often!” There's something warm and wet on Kageyama's shoulder. He doesn't mention it.
Hinata goes out to get them food later, insisting Kageyama rest. Kageyama believes that he's dying, still, so as long as he can keep Hinata away from him, he's fine with it. But the evening comes, his fever is dropping, and the wound on his leg isn't throbbing quite so much anymore.
They fall asleep together again, curling up in the corner, this time. Kageyama's starting to feel scared, finally, scared that he's hoping too much that he'll be okay, because nobody is ever okay. Hinata notices his hands shaking, laces their fingers together and kisses him.
“Sorry,” he says, sheepishly, when he pulls back and Kageyama stares at him. “I just thought I wouldn't get to do that again.”
Kageyama kisses him back.
Xxx
It's Daichi, officially appointed team leader, who finds them, three days later. There's the sound of the door creaking open, and Kageyama's about ready to rip Daichi's throat out when he comes through the door and stops dead upon seeing him and Hinata sitting together on the floor.
And then the rest of the team is spilling through, out of the sunlight, Nishinoya and Tanaka falling on Hinata and tackling him to the ground. Kageyama goes to move away before being yanked back into a weird sort of group hug between the four of them.
Even Tsukishima is there, and he nods to Kageyama. “We thought you were dead. I guess you're less of an asshole than I thought. Slightly.”
Kageyama doesn't know why his chest is filling with warmth at those words, but it is, and Hinata's still gripping his hand like he doesn't want to let go while the rest of the team bubbles about how they'd been looking for days, they'd been so worried, what happened?
And then they see Kageyama's leg.
Hinata's hand is yanked away from him as Nishinoya grabs him away, stepping in front of him like he's going to shield him. Hinata is yelling, trying to push himself back at Kageyama.
“He's fine! It happened days ago!” He sounds frantic, reaching out towards Kageyama. “Stop it!”
It's Asahi who steps forward, puts a hand on Nishinoya's shoulder, lets Hinata tumble forward back onto Kageyama who winces at the sudden weight. It takes a lot of explaining, and five extra hours sitting together in the garage, playing word games, before the group agrees to take them home, that Kageyama is somehow, miraculously okay.
And the days pass, and Kageyama is still fine. He's still fine, he insists as Hinata refuses to leave his side for long, kisses him in his room at night like he's going to disappear.
The world is still shit, the neighborhood is still shit, the house is still shit. Hinata's room is okay, he thinks. He hasn't left in weeks, isn't planning on leaving for a lot more. Their makeshift volleyball court is okay, outside with the others, bandage firmly wrapped around Kageyama's scarred leg where some miraculous thing has decided to give him a third chance. He hadn't even expected to get two.
At night, curled up in the bed that smells like Hinata, fingers run over it under the sheets and Hinata talks about how if Kageyama were to seriously die, he would go to hell and kill him again, because that's definitely where Kageyama would be sent with his shitty personality, and they end up rolling onto the floor in mock-fighting, Kageyama tugging at Hinata's bright orange hair, Hinata laughing against his shoulder.
Things probably won't ever go back to normal, but like this, with Hinata half on top of him, warm and soft with sleep, Kageyama thinks maybe it's still okay.