to avenge the sun (haikyuu)

what now?

In.

Out.

Breathe.

Slowly.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Hinata was leaning against his bedroom door, having flopped on the floor as soon as he arrived. His head hung as he took deep breaths, hands clutched around his favorite souvenir from Brazil; a small volleyball soft toy wearing sunglasses and a cute smile.

It reminded him of the sunny days at the beach; of the odd mixture of being out of his comfort zone yet feeling liberated at the same time. It was a safe bubble of stumbling through his broken Portuguese, savoring new flavors, bonding with his new roommate, of late-night calls to Kageyama. They both realized very quickly that they couldn't wrap around the idea of the time differences and even needed Yachi to constantly remind them when was the best time to call.

Yes, they grudgingly admit that they perhaps weren't very bright. But that's what made them click; their inherent instinct to become better in volleyball never died down through the years. That is the common language they shared. They were hungry for the same goal. And in Brazil was where he took risky leaps to reach this goal— oddly safe and warm in the arms of the unknown.

But Hinata definitely did not feel safe now.

Instead, he felt like his life was one big deadly joke. Kato, or who now revealed himself as Fujiwara, suddenly ripped through his veil of recovery and made an unwanted appearance. And every nerve in his body screamed at him to run away.

But where can I go?

His fists were clenched even tighter until the point it hurt. His sense of hopelessness becoming more prominent by the minute. He closed his eyes and slowly lowered himself onto the ground, resting his head on the cool marble ground. Hinata gathered his thoughts in strategic and logical points, reminiscent of his hours spent in therapy:

1. Fujiwara is back.
2. Hinata is in shock and might puke any second.
3. He feels helpless.

A mirthless laugh was let out as he went over the three points.

That was useless.

He changed track and wondered what he could do about these crescendo of emotions that pushed him to the edge of his brittle sanity.

1. Accept the fact that he's back.
2. Inform someone who knows about his situation.
3. Acknowledge the fact that he's older now and not the same naive boy he was many years ago.

But Hinata did not feel any older. He very much felt like the 16-year old who was dragged to a basement and tortured until he lost sense of who, where, what he was. Fujiwara towering over him, softly and smoothly whispering his admiration of the blood that spilled from his open wounds. The sharp knives, the heavy blows of metal, the powerful fists— they were all sensations embedded in his very soul. Silence so overbearing when he was alone, that he was sure he could hear the blood rushing through his veins and some dripping out on to the vile floor. Smells of his own puke, piss, blood, bile, death; it took weeks for him to truly feel clean when he was finally released and found himself in the hospital.

And now the silence was threatening again. It was no longer hues of soft blues and purples— it was a striking red and lurking black. Ready to bite him. And he was weak.

So very weak.

A soft knock on his door made him gasp. A million thoughts crashed into his head. Hinata was convinced that Fujiwara was outside the door and ready to finish the job.

"Hinata," Kageyama's voice gently called out for him, "may I come in?"

Hinata just whimpered, unable to form a sentence.

"Hinata?"

He slowly lifted himself from the floor, his steps felt heavy as he finally unlocked the door. Kageyama quietly stepped into his room and closed the door behind him, making sure he locked it. His dark eyes were hesitant as they searched Hinata's flushed and sunken face. Warm and large hands found his and pulled Hinata towards Kageyama, enveloping him into a tight hug.

Hinata found himself able to breathe. It was safe. It was warm. It was good.

"He's back," Hinata croaked out against his chest. His throat felt dry.

"Yeah," Kageyama murmured, his voice low and soothing.

"I don't know what to do."

He just hummed in reply, but his grip became more firm around him.

"I don't wanna make a big deal out of it, I'm different now. I'm supposed to be stronger. But I don't- I don't know why I don't feel like that anymore. Seeing him made me remember why... why I'm so messed up in the head in the first place. Why sometimes I have to lock myself in the bathroom and remind myself to count to ten, to breathe, and I can't even tell Atsumu why I'm taking longer than usual and-"

Hinata could feel warm tears forming.

"This is so messed up, I hate it. I hate feeling so weak."

"Hinata, you're the strongest person I know," Kageyama muttered softly yet firm, "just this morning, I was thinking about the time you were about to leave for Brazil and I remembered how I was so amazed by your bravery. I seriously admire your strength, Hinata. You're honestly amazing in every way."

Hinata snorted wetly in amusement, "I don't feel like that."

"I know you don't, but I'm going to keep telling you that until you finally realize your strength."

There was a small pause. The sounds of Hinata's heavy and stuttering breaths can be heard as his tears began to wane.

"What should I do? What does he want from me?" Hinata voice was now barely a whisper— vulnerable.

"I don't know," Kageyama replied honestly, "we'll figure it out together."

Hinata just nodded, his arms wrapped around Kageyama even tighter.

"Thank you," Hinata whispered, "for..." he trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

For being here? For understanding him? For making him feel safe?

"Yeah, I know," Kageyama murmured back;

"I'll always be here."

That's how the rest found them a few hours later. Asleep in each other's arms. Both needing to know that they had each other's backs, that they were alive and present.

And that they will be okay.