Chapter Text
People often talked about nervousness and nausea, but Hinata didn’t know the difference between them. When he felt anxious, he also felt like throwing up. When he felt like throwing up, he also felt anxious.
However, as often as Hinata felt sick, it wasn’t often that he actually vomited. Usually he just felt queasy. Sometimes he would go to the bathroom just in case, but it was hardly ever necessary. He was just scared, he wasn’t actually sick.
So needless to say, throwing up all over Tanaka’s crotch came as a shock.
Hinata stared at Tanaka’s pants in horror. “Sorry-“ he tried to say before gagging again, He covered his mouth, willing himself to keep down whatever was left of his breakfast.
Tanaka was too busy shouting to respond, but Ennoshita had turned around in his seat. He rubbed Hinata’s back. “Woah, there, you’re okay,” he promised as the rest of the team screamed at the bus driver to pull over. “Just take it easy. You’re all right... You’re all right...”
Hinata’s shoulders heaved as the bus went over a bump. Sitting up was too much. He laid down on the backseat, his body hanging limply over the edge of the bench. He didn’t feel good, and while he appreciated Ennoshita trying to help, the hand on his back was only jostling him further. “D-Don’t touch me,” he said quickly, before the talking could make him throw up.
“No problem,” Ennoshita promised. He moved his hand away. “You doing okay?”
Hinata covered his mouth with two hands, eyes wide. “Nnnn,” he managed.
Ennoshita frowned. “Okay... Well, just take it easy,” he repeated. “We’re almost there.”
Daichi seat hopped up to squeeze three to a seat with Ennoshita and Kazuhito. “Hinata? You okay?” he asked.
Hinata squeezed his eye closed. He was so anxious; his words kept getting stuck in his throat. Fortunately, Ennoshita spoke for him. “I think he still feels like throwing up. He’s super freaked,” Ennoshita said.
“Who cares about Hinata?” Tanaka screeched. “I have puke on my dick.”
“Language,” Daichi chastised. Hinata was glad that for once, he wasn’t the one getting yelled at. Daichi could be stern. No one wanted to be the one he was angry at, or worse: disappointed with. “Take off your trackies and give them to me. I’ll put them in a trash bag to get washed later.”
Tanaka whined but started to kick out of his pants. Hinata paled as his undressing shook the seat. Daichi looked at him, concerned. “Hinata, the bus driver said we’re nearly there. Do you think we should find you a place to lie down when we get in? Maybe it’s best if you sit this one out.”
Hinata sat up stick straight before he could remember how sick he felt. “No!” he yelped.
Daichi looked alarmed. Meanwhile, another wave of nausea hit him with the force of a tsunami. Hinata fell back against the seat. “No, I want to play,” he continued. “I do, I just... I’m nervous. That’s all,” he promised.
Daichi seemed uncertain. He looked to Ennoshita who seemed just as concerned, but apparently not enough for Daichi to tell him to sit out. “Okay... Well, if we get there and you don’t feel any better, I’m sending you straight to the nurse, okay?”
“M’kay,” Hinata agreed, closing his eyes again. Fair enough. He could play; he just had to build up his confidence first.
Hinata was wobbly as he landed on his feet. He and Kageyama were not gelling today, at least not like usual. He kept having to twist mid-air to catch Kageyama’s tosses as they flew past his axis of rotation. It made for shaky landings on Hinata’s part as he flailed to keep from touching the net.
Meanwhile, Kageyama’s temper was flaring.
“Dumbass, you could have got that one!” Kageyama shouted.
Hinata’s nose scrunched up. He was already having a bad day; he didn’t need Kageyama yelling at him for no reason. “My arms are short, stupid! I can’t reach as far as everyone else can!”
“Well then maybe you should get taller!”
“How am I even supposed to do that?!” Hinata was sick of everyone putting him down because he was short. He couldn’t change that. He didn’t have any control over his height, but he was making the most of the body he had. Why couldn’t everyone see that and at least respect him for the amount of effort he was putting in? Why was everyone always asking him to change things he couldn’t control?
“Figure it out!” Kageyama said stupidly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a second, Hinata was sure that Kageyama was going to hit him, but Suga stepped between them before he could.
“Now, now, now, let’s just calm down,” he suggested. “I think we’re all just a little frustrated that we’re not connecting as fluidly as we usually do.” Suga looked pointedly at Kageyama.
Kageyama shrunk a little bit, looking down at his toes, and Hinata smirked. Kageyama should look sheepish. This was all his fault, anyway. If he were tossing properly, then they wouldn’t have a problem.
“You guys must be exhausted,” Suga continued. “It’s great that you guys love practicing so much, but you can’t stay late every day without wearing out your bodies. If you want to do your best, you have to rest,” he rhymed. “Why don’t you guys take a time out on the bench?”
Kageyama stood up straight that. “What?!”
Hinata was just as affronted “No!” he yelped.
Suga face went from smiling to stern in a millisecond. “Yes,” he replied. “You can’t keep running on empty. Go take a water break.”
“But-“
Before Kageyama could finish whatever argument he had on the tip of his tongue, Daichi shouted at them from across the net. “Who’s disagreeing with Suga?” he asked, his eyebrows pinched together and head tilted menacingly.
Hinata’s spine went ramrod straight.
“Anyone who disagrees with Suga is disagreeing with me,” Daichi said, and it was enough to make Hinata and Kageyama run off to the sidelines, tails between their legs.
Hinata looked at the court longingly. All he wanted to do was play, and lately, he had even been messing that up. At least in middle school, he could practice volleyball whenever he wanted. Now there were eleven other voices telling when he was and wasn’t allowed to play.
Hinata’s hands itched at his sides. He pulled on the bottom hem of his shorts, frustrated. There was nothing more important than volleyball. Nothing.
“This is your fault,” Kageyama muttered, taking a swig from his water bottle.
Hinata pinched his side and dodged when Kageyama tried to grab his head. “Too slow,” he teased. Even if he couldn’t play volleyball, at least he could still bother Kageyama.
“Hey, Hinata, would you hang back for a minute? I need to talk to you,” Takeda said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. The words were intimidating, but Takeda wasn’t. Hinata easily slowed from a sprint to a jog as he turned around to meet with his advisor.
“Yeah, sure,” Hinata said, sweat dripping from the hair at the nape of his neck. Practice had been hard. Kageyama wanted to make up for the time they had missed yesterday, and he had pushed to fit in as many drills as possible before Ukai sent them home for the day. Hinata’s knees shook beneath him.
“Well, it’s just...” Takeda struggled to pull a piece of paper out of the mess of forms on his clipboard. “It’s about your grades,” he said, passing Hinata his unofficial transcript.
Hinata’s stomach flip-flopped.
Takeda must have read the nervous look on his face, and he held his hands up nonthreateningly. “Now don’t worry yet. You still have time to get your grades up. But as you know, academics are the most important thing here at Karasuno. Sports come second, so-“
“So I can’t play if I don’t start doing better?” Hinata asked, his voice wavering. He had been putting his grades on the backburner to try to get better at volleyball. He knew his spot on first string was dependent solely on his quick with Kageyama, and he wanted to become valuable independently. If Kageyama had another bad day tossing to him-
“Well, sort of. I mean, you wouldn’t be kicked off of the team, but you might have to start attending review classes, which overlap with club activities,” Takeda explained.
Hinata’s hands tightened around his transcripts. He gulped. “Oh.”
Takeda seemed distressed, and he flapped his arms, as if that would somehow settle Hinata’s racing heart. “Don’t worry, though. You have time,” he promised. “And I know you can do it. After all, Karasuno’s entrance exams aren’t exactly easy, and you passed those!”
“Well, yeah,” Hinata said slowly. “But with a lot of studying! I don’t know how I’m going to get my grades up,” he said, putting a hand to his head. This was too much. It felt like his life was spiraling out of control. High school was harder than middle school. The teachers were stricter, the tests were longer, the kids were bigger, and volleyball wasn’t anything like he thought it would be.
He squeezed his eyes up tight, feeling tears come on.
“Well, would you want to discuss study strategies? I am a teacher, that’s my job,” Takeda offered, looking at Hinata pityingly.
“No thanks, I’m just going to go home,” Hinata answered, voice tight.
Takeda frowned. “Okay... Well, stay safe. Don’t ride your bike when you’re upset,” he said, and Hinata looked up at him incredulously before walking away.
Hinata’s eyes scrunched closed as his body jerked forward. Bile slipped up his throat and spilled into the toilet. He looked down at it helplessly, sitting back on his heels. This was the second time he had thrown up over volleyball.
Practice camp started tomorrow. Hinata wasn’t ready. Nekoma was supposed to be their biggest rivals, and Hinata was supposed to face them with nothing but a quick he had no control over and a shoddy receive.
He couldn’t even serve without hitting the net. He couldn’t block, he couldn’t do anything, and it was going to be his fault when they inevitably lost their practice game.
Natsu knocked on the door to the bathroom as Hinata gagged again.
“Nii-chan? You ‘kay?” she asked from outside the door.
Hinata shuddered. “Ugh, yeah, Natsu. I’m just-“ he cut himself off with another violent wretch.
Natsu made a distressed noise on the other side of the door. “I’m getting mom!” she yelped. Her feet pounded against the floor as she ran away to find their mother. Hinata’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t want his mom. He wanted to be good at volleyball, and she couldn’t help with that.
Hinata hugged the toilet seat a little tighter, his head spinning. He couldn’t handle this responsibility. Everything felt like too much, and honestly, the only thing keeping him from crying was expelling all of his feelings and stomach acid at the same time.
He took a shaky breath and flushed the toilet. His mom knocked on the bathroom door a second later. “Shou-chan? Are you okay in there?”
Hinata ran a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah, mom. Just nervous.”
“You look a little green today, Hinata. Are you going to throw up on me again?” Tanaka teased, poking Hinata’s hip across the aisle. Hinata laughed and squirmed away.
“No! I’m actually really excited!” he promised. He had gotten rid of all of his nerves last night in the bathroom. He had thrown up, and cried, and now that he had purged all of his anxiety, he could focus on how exciting it was to play with a real team and how cool it was that he’d get to spike and score points. He had been waiting for this forever, after all, and he wasn’t going to screw up the first set this time like he had during the Seijou game. He was going to do his best.
“Idiot, you should be focused,” Kageyama muttered next to him, rolling his eyes.
Hinata decided to ignore him. Instead he turned to face Tanaka, his knees hanging in the aisle. “I was really scared last night, and I did throw up a little, but now it’s like: Where are we staying? What will the food be like? What’s Nekoma like? Do you think they’re nice? Do you think there’s anyone my age? I hope I make friends! And maybe I’ll get to score points, and Kageyama has being doing really great tosses all this week, and maybe we’ll win, and-“
Tanaka’s booming laugh cut him off. “That’s what I like about you, kid,” he said, ruffling Hinata’s hair. "You’ve got such a good attitude."
Hinata beamed, glad for the positive attention. Any time Tanaka said he was doing a good job he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. Tanaka was the most blunt out of all his team members, so Hinata knew he wouldn’t compliment him without meaning it.
“You threw up?” Kageyama asked. His glare cut through the happy atmosphere.
Hinata squirmed. “Only, like, twice, Bakageyama,” he whined. “Leave me alone.”
Kageyama’s eyes narrowed further, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he crossed his arms and went back to staring out the window. Hinata let him sulk. Kageyama was always in a bad mood, even when there was nothing for him to be grumpy about.
Hinata’s arm swung, but his hand didn’t make contact with anything. The ball flew up over his reach and fell to the floor a moment later.
Fuck.
He couldn’t even serve right.
Hinata stared at the ball as it rolled away from him, unable to move as a crippling burst of anxiety turned his blood to ice. He was such a failure. He didn’t deserve a team; he didn’t deserve to play. If he was this terrible during practice, how could he justify playing in an actual tournament?
“Hey, Hinata, you okay?” Suga asked, and Hinata startled when Suga’s long fingers wrapped around his elbow out of nowhere.
“Um...” Tears pooled in his eyes.
“You weren’t moving,” Suga pointed out gently, guiding him off of the court. Hinata pulled his arm out of Suga’s grasp like it burned him. His breath hitched.
“I just... I need to go to the bathroom,” he said, unable to look Suga in the eye. He felt guilty. It wasn’t fair that he got to play as a crappy first year, and Suga couldn’t as a practiced third year. Suga could at least serve properly. Honestly, Hinata should probably just stick to underhanded serves for the rest of his career; he was so awful at overhanded ones.
His cheeks heated up with the embarrassment of it all.
“Sure, no problem,” Suga said, giving him permission. “Do you need me to come with you?”
Hinata shook his head quickly. The last thing he needed was for Suga to see him crying. “I’m fine,” he answered. His throat was clogged with tears. “I’ll be right back.”
Hinata ran off before Suga could stop him. The second he reached the bathroom, he lock himself in a stall. He fell to his knees.
Hinata paused and looked at the toilet, sizing it up.
Despite the tears threatening to spill over his lashes, he didn’t feel anxious at all. His heart wasn’t racing now that he didn’t have the team around to see him cry. However, his airway felt like it had shrunk down to the size of a straw, and his lungs pumped uselessly as he struggled to suck air in.
He felt like such a failure. And even if he wasn’t nauseous, Hinata really, really wanted to throw up.
In the time it took for him to blink, Hinata was hunched over the toilet, finger digging at the back of his throat.
It was hard to keep his hand jammed in his mouth –it was uncomfortable to force himself to keep his gag reflex stimulated - but after a couple seconds of choking and searching the back of his throat with his index finger, his esophagus finally started to start pushing up the contents of his stomach.
Hinata sputtered as spit and yellow acid dribbled down the back of his hand. He quickly took his fingers out of his mouth. His stomach pumped hard and he threw up all the water he had swallowed during practice.
When it was over, Hinata grit his teeth together, finally crying in earnest. His chest heaved.
He didn’t want to mess up anymore. He wanted to go back to practice, but he didn’t feel confident at all: kneeling on the bathroom tiles with vomit dripping off his chin.
He fumbled for a piece of toilet paper to wipe himself off. He dropped it into the toilet and flushed. His throat hurt: maybe from scraping at it or maybe from throwing up. Either way, Hinata felt so stupid for being so impulsive. It would be hard to do diving drills with his stomach twisting like this.
When he finally stumbled back to the gym, Kageyama was the first one to take a good look at him. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, eyeing Hinata critically. He reached into Hinata’s personal space, thumbing at a tear track that Hinata had missed when he washed his face.
Hinata batted his hand away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice hoarse. When Kageyama glared at him, Hinata took a shuddering breath. “Look, I just wanna play, okay? I’ll be better if we just... play,” he said lamely.
Kageyama arched his eyebrow but –for once- didn’t argue. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll stay after, and I’ll toss to you.”
A wavering smile lit up Hinata’s face. “Thanks,” he said, relief washing over him. He was okay. He just needed to fit a little more practice in, and then he would be fine.
Hinata squirmed in his desk chair as he tried to focus on his reading. He had a literature test tomorrow, and he figured that going over a few chapters of Kokoro wouldn’t hurt.
Unfortunately, Hinata wasn’t the best reader. He wasn’t great at focusing for any amount of time, and his ability to pay attention grew worse when he was tired. As it was, he was exhausted. Going straight from volleyball to studying sometimes felt like too much, no matter how much energy and happiness volleyball brought him.
Hinata was tired. Did he already mention how tired he was? He was so tired.
He pulled his eyes from his textbook. Staring at it wasn’t doing him any good anyway. Instead, he rested his cheek on his desk and looked down willfully at his book bag. He had so many books, and worksheets, and notebooks stuffed inside.
Takeda-sensei had said he wouldn’t get kicked off the team for bad grades, but he did stress how important doing well in school was if he wanted to practice, and Hinata wanted to practice so badly.
He screwed his eyes up, feeling overwhelmed.
Maybe he would just study for literature tonight. Doing anything else made him feel nauseous. Honestly, he was so behind in most of his classes, he didn’t know where to begin.
In the end, Hinata fell asleep with his nose in the crack of his novel, hunched over his desk. When his alarm went off at 6 a.m., he woke up confused and stiff with absolutely no memory of anything he had reviewed the night before. It took everything Hinata had not to give up and go back to sleep.
Sometimes it felt like he was failing before the day even began.
“Hey, Hinata, thanks for practice today. I really feel like my blocking got better because of you,” Tanaka complimented, miming jumping diagonally to block Hinata.
Hinata flushed. “No problem. Thanks for being so tough to get past,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
Daichi snuck up behind him and ruffled his hair. “I agree with Tanaka. You did great today, Hinata,” he promised. “I’m glad to have you on the team.”
Hinata turned bright pink. “T-Thank you, senpai!” he squeaked, overwhelmed. Having Daichi’s approval was everything. He felt his ears turn pink as he struggled to keep cool in front of his upperclassmen. He dipped into a low bow.
Tanaka laughed as Hinata’s torso paralleled with the floor. He clapped Hinata’s shoulder. “Oi, kid, calm down. Don’t bow when someone compliments you,” he advised, forcing Hinata to straighten up. He looked at Hinata calculatingly. “You know, when I first met you, I didn’t like you-“
Suga snorted from the other side of the clubroom. “You don’t like anyone you first meet, Tanaka,” he said, but Tanaka ignored him.
“But I’ve changed my mind.” He dropped the vice-like grip he had on Hinata’s shoulders and turned in search of Ennoshita. “Hey, Chikara. Let’s invite everyone over to your place next Friday.”
Ennoshita winced. “Ryū, you can’t just invite other people over to my house.”
“It’s decided,” Tanaka said, apparently in no mood to pay attention to any negativity. Fortunately, Ennoshita didn’t look annoyed enough to stop him. “Hinata, you’ll come, right?”
“Ah, yes!” Hinata squeaked, trying not to feel stressed by the thought. Hanging out with second years was a big deal, even if they were his teammates. He wrung his hands together anxiously.
“Good,” Tanaka said happily before moving to pester Tsukishima and Yamaguchi into coming. Hinata felt flushed but happy. Daichi offered him a comforting smile.
“You know, I think Tanaka has the right idea. It’ll be good to talk to each other outside of volleyball and meat buns,” he said, smacking Hinata on the back fondly. Hinata’s breathing picked up but his smile stayed on his face. While it was stressful to talk to people who were older than him, he was still grateful for all of their attention.
Hinata knew his English test hadn’t gone well. His teacher had tested them on the names of vegetables (which had gone fine) and fruits, of which Hinata could only remember three. He had studied all night, but the only fruits he could recall were strawberries, peaches, and watermelon.
Now, Hinata was kneeling in his bathroom, wondering if he could make himself throw up like he had during practice last week.
When he had thrown up last time, he had been strangely calm. This time, however, he was terrified. It had hurt to force himself to throw up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it again.
However, he also felt nauseous.
He would do anything to get rid of the anxious feeling swelling in his stomach and chest, even throw up the hot pot his mom had made for dinner. He had been nervous all day, and he knew that if he could just vomit, he would feel so much better.
It took awhile for Hinata to hype himself up, but eventually, he forced his fingers to the back of his throat.
While last time had been easy, this time it was hard. Hinata gagged around his hand, but nothing made it more than a quarter of the ways up his chest. His hand felt too big in his mouth, and his fingers kept recoiling before he could throw up properly.
Desperate, Hinata reached for his toothbrush. It was long and thin, and the bristles roughed up his already raw throat.
He choked when something got caught in his pharynx.
His eyes watered. He took his toothbrush out of his mouth and gripped the edges of the toilet bowl as he hacked up a thin, gooey trail of spit. He couldn’t breathe. Every time he tried to inhale his chest shuddered and he gagged again.
Inch by inch, the bile in his chest worked his way up through his neck and out of his mouth. He coughed up a river of meat and vegetables. Once it started coming up, he couldn’t stop until it had all rushed out of him.
His knuckles were as white as the porcelain as he held onto the toilet seat for stability, eyes blown wide as he took in painful breaths. That had been awful. The pain Hinata felt last time was a mild discomfort compared to the soreness in his throat now, like swallowing a bag full of potato chips the wrong way.
With shaking hands, Hinata turned off the bathwater before he could overflow the bathroom. The house was startlingly quiet without the water running.
Even with the water off, it took Hinata a minute to get in the bathtub. He felt so disgusting, and he was so tired. Hinata rested his cheek against the cold floor tiles as he tried to muster up some energy. That had wrecked him.
Eventually, Hinata managed to pick himself off the floor and slip into the tub. He closed his eyes and dunked under water, wishing he could wash it all away.
“Hinata, you be the final vote: Versus or Marebito?” Nishinoya asked, shoving the two DVDs in Hinata’s face. Hinata frowned.
“Ahhh... But they’re both scary,” he said. Nishinoya nodded enthusiastically. Hinata squirmed, his skinny legs taking up less than half a couch cushion. “Asahi doesn’t like scary.”
“It’s good for Asahi to deal with scary sometimes,” Nishinoya said flippantly. “Now pick one!”
Hinata tried not to feel overwhelmed. It was his first time getting invited to Ennoshita’s house. He knew that the second years had movie nights together sometimes, but this was the first time the invitation had been extended to the rest of the team. He wasn’t sure how welcome he was, and he didn’t want to choose the wrong movie and let anyone down.
“Seriously, Hinata, just pick one,” Nishinoya whined impatiently, stomping his foot and holding the movies a little closer to Hinata’s face. Hinata’s vision blurred as he tried to read their titles; they were so close.
“Um, this one,” Hinata said, pointing at the one to his left.
Nishinoya flipped it around and read the title. “Marebita,” he announced. “Awesome! I’ll put it in! Ryū, if you steal my spot on the recliner, I’ll kill you.” Nishinoya glared at Tanaka as he made his way to the DVD player, and Hinata shrunk inwards on himself a little. He buried his hands between his thighs.
“Hey, mind if I squeeze in?”
Hinata looked up to see Daichi. The older boy had a couple bags of iwashi senbei in his arms, and he was looking down at Hinata hopefully.
“Sure,” Hinata said a little belatedly. He scooted over until his hip and shoulders lined up with the person sitting next to him: Kageyama.
“Dumbass, give me some personal space,” Kageyama said, shouldering him good-naturedly.
Normally, Hinata would play into Kageyama. He liked bantering with him, even when it turned into wrestling and Kageyama pulled his hair. It was their thing. But today, Hinata was too nervous to not take anything Kageyama said as a serious criticism. He inhaled sharply as Daichi sat down, jostling everyone on the couch. Neither Kageyama nor Daichi missed his sudden nerves.
“What did I do?” Kageyama asked immediately, looking pale.
Hinata shook his head. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he promised, but Kageyama didn’t look sure. Hinata didn’t know what his expression looked like, but apparently it was concerning if the worried looks Kageyama and Daichi were giving him were anything to go by.
Daichi gave Hinata an evaluating look and turned to Nishinoya. “Oi, Noya. Don’t put on a horror movie tonight,” he suggested.
Hinata sat up, his matchstick arms rubbing together as he shifted anxiously. “No, no, horror is fine!” he promised because it was. Hinata actually liked scary movies, especially when he was watching them with other people. It was fun to be scared when the feeling ended with the credits. Scary movies were fun. He was anxious for reasons beyond a stupid horror movie tonight.
He just didn’t want to mess up. Not with his friends, not with his team, not with anyone.
Daichi waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to watch one, Asahi definitely doesn’t want to watch one, and we have first years here. Pick something appropriate,” Daichi demanded.
Nishinoya and Tanaka whined. Meanwhile Suga pouted at Daichi. “Are you sure?” he asked, silver hair falling into his eyes cutely. Daichi seemed to hesitate, but he one look at Hinata strengthened his resolve.
“I’m sure,” he said firmly.
Hinata buried his face in his hands, humiliated. This was all his fault; he was ruining everyone’s night. He knew he shouldn’t have come tonight. He should be home studying, not goofing around.
“But why?” Nishinoya whined, dropping to the ground dramatically. Daichi got up from the couch and gave all his snacks to Hinata to hold. He stepped over Nishinoya’s limp body.
“I’m putting on Ponyo,” he said.
“No!” Nishinoya wailed, grabbing onto Daichi’s ankle.
Meanwhile, Hinata’s cheeks had colored a brilliant red. Kageyama knocked their shoulders together, albeit much gentler this time. “You better?” he asked.
“No,” Hinata said miserably. “I really wouldn’t have minded watching a crappy scary movie, honest,” he promised.
Kageyama shrugged. “Okay,” he said dumbly. They were both quiet, mirroring each other and wringing their hands, while Nishinoya tried ineffectively to wrestle Daichi away from the DVD player. Kageyama cleared his throat after a minute. “... Are you better now?”
Hinata bristled. “No, stupid. Quit asking!” he snapped, and immediately felt guilty.
Kageyama’s eyes widened, and he fell silent until the movie started playing. Daichi passed around snacks, asking everyone to share, and Hinata pressed his lips together when he realized he had to split his bag of iwashi senbei with Kageyama.
Their hands brushed whenever they reached in the bag at the same time. As much as Hinata tried, he couldn’t ignore the electric feel of Kageyama’s skin touching his. Their bodies were lined up from head to toe. Hinata squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t focus on the movie at all.
Hinata gave up on eating. He was too nervous for it, anyway.