Kageyama should be happy.

 

He should be, really, it would be rude not to, especially since Kageyama's in a reunion surrounded by friends he haven't been keeping in touch to, lately, some he haven't even seen in years. He should be grateful for their presence beside him, but strangely, Kageyama feels alone.

 

"I should be happy," he whispers to himself, as if speaking it into existence will make it true. Kageyama absent-mindedly picks at the hem of the jacket he's wearing. It's worn out, he thinks. It reminds him of the one he used to wear back when he spent most of his time in Sakanoa store in high school. 

 

Coach Ukai was never one for aesthetic but his store was welcoming, with its mismatch furniture and odd-colored table cloths, and for a boy who didn't have any one to go home to most nights, it was home. Kageyama smiles timidly at this stray thought. He was happy then.

 

He should be happy now.

 

"Are you okay, Kageyama?" Hinata's voice rings softly in his head, and for a while Kageyama thinks he might have imagined it, but when looks up, the boy, no, man, is there in the seat in front of him, in the living room of Daichi and Suga's small apartment. Hinata's hazel eyes studies him curiously.

 

"I'm happy." Kageyama blurts out instead. He feels the tip of his ears go warm, shame flooding his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. Why he can never seem to speak coherently whenever Hinata looks at him is lost on Kageyama. It's the one thing that remained the same since all those years ago.

 

Hinata laughs quietly, eyes bright and warm and god, Kageyama should really be happy with this. 

 

Hinata gives him a small smile. "I'm glad you are."

 

The chatter around them gradually fades into white noise, and for a while it's just them; just Kageyama and Hinata, the old souls who learned to love themselves through a sport. 

 

Kageyama stares at his friend. Hinata still shines as brightly as he did back then, radiant and beautiful.

 

Dazedly, Kageyama realizes that Hinata's still everything he had wanted in life and more. Perhaps, he was, too, for Hinata, once. But they were just kids, then. Restless teens who never bothered to talk about their feelings because, why should they? It's Kageyama and Hinata. They understood each other better than anyone. They should've known what they wanted, what they felt.

 

But things, they change, do they?

 

The ache is still there as a reminder; keeping him in a loop of wishing and wishing that Hinata never actually left, that Kageyama had the courage to take his hand after that last practice and choose not to let go, that he was able to say "I love you, have loved you for years and years and will love you for more, for as long as you'll let me."

 

But this is reality, and reality a lot for Kageyama. His heart yearns for Hinata on nights when he replays the memory over and over again in his head, picks it apart piece by piece; wondering what he should've done differently. He hates himself for leaving it at "See you later, Kageyama!" 

 

But that's just it, isn't it? It's just a memory to hold on to. At the end of the day, it's just a fragment of the past that he can never change, no matter how much he wanted to. A part of him wished for Hinata to have felt the same pain, to have ached for Kageyama the same way he did, because Kageyama waited for him. All those days he struggled to improve himself in Brazil, Kageyama waited for him. 

 

It was later that he realized he waited for something Hinata could never give him.

 

Hinata's phone rings, startling Kageyama out of his thoughts. His friend regards the phone with fondness and makes a move to stand.

 

"I got to take this call. Boyfriend duties," he jokes, shaking his phone slightly in front of Kageyama. 'Atsumu' the phone reads, along with three different-colored heart emojis that's just on brand for Hinata.

 

Kageyama forces out a laugh.

 

Hinata seems to take it positively and rewards Kageyama with a beaming smile. "See you around?" He asks, hopeful eyes focused on Kageyama.

 

"Yeah, see you around." He confirms, praying to any god out there that he atleast sounded sincere.

 

Hinata leaves, then. Kageyama lets his eyes linger on his back for a bit. It was a familiar scene; one he has seen in his head repeatedly, and just like two years ago, Kageyama couldn't bring himself to do anything to stop Hinata from walking away.

 

"I can't be happy," he mutters to the empty space in front of him, pouring out his honest thoughts one last time to the man who will never hear it. "Not without you."