<Smiles - A Kagehina Oneshot>

Smiles

You are so brave and quiet
I forget you are suffering.
~ Hemingway

—

Some days, Hinata felt like the smile on his face was a lie. Something twisted from an unattained truth in hopes to solidify his bright image. Like a bad work of art his fake smile was; something painted on to convey a message that didn't quite reach. I'm not okay, but I will be, became, I'm okay, I always am. And so, Hinata felt alone — felt like a fraud. He felt as if the people around him had simply forgotten that sunshine and daisies wouldn't last forever.

In the end, the night would always come and the daisies would always wilt away.

Hinata constantly tried so hard to prove himself every step of the way. Endlessly working to perfect himself to see his goals through. To see from atop the summit of the world, to taste the air of victory, smell the sweet aroma of gold. He would have the hardest spike; the highest jump; the cleanest receive; the fastest feet. He would play for Japan and become a world renowned ace. The Tiny Giant 2.0. Hinata put the work in, he would receive results.

He would. He must.

Some days, though, he felt like the most effort he could give wasn't enough. He'd never play for Japan. He'd never be an ace. He'd never be the Tiny Giant, much less live up to him.

The thoughts would curl like pungent smoke and twisted vines. Like a seed planted in his gut and flowering in his lungs, his breathing would start to feel like a chore. These were the days that Hinata would look in the mirror and wished he hadn't. The days that the person who gazed back was some short, sparkly eyed, carrot top kid, who would never make anything of himself. Dreaming a dream that would forever be a fantasy and never be his to touch. The days he got out his paint and brush and painted on a big smile he wished were real.

—

Everybody has their breaking point, Kageyama observed as he watched the Living Sun dim, shrouded behind the mountains of muscular arms blocking its path. He could tell Hinata was trying his best to hide it, but his boyfriend's movements were beginning to hint at sluggish; all the clouds in him smelt of rain. The setter just wondered how long it would take for the storm to set in and pour down.

Kageyama began to think his sets to the short middle blocker were fruitless — block after block he hit. It seemed the thunder had lost its lightning as Hinata's sprints across the court were becoming few and far in between and his yells were getting more and more frantic. Desperate for his treasured view from the summit but only receiving an eye full of failure.

The mini practice match was over before it truly started and the results showed as expected. A loss that wasn't too surprising nor disappointing. Kageyama wasn't too upset though —the game was just a practice — besides, he had other things to worry about anyway; like the middle-blocker who'd vanished from sight as everyone else wrapped up and cooled down. He found Hinata outside on the steps staring blankly at the shadowed concrete — wind brushing his curls — cradling his bottle in his lap and picking at some scabs on his limbs.

Kageyama didn't try with jabbing insults and stood watching for a moment before the male noticed him and flashed what was probably supposed to be a bashful smile. Kageyama didn't comment on how painful it looked, nor mention how much that shit made him want to throttle the ginger. He simply threw him a sweat towel and ran his hand through Hinata's amber locks before he headed back inside. Kageyama was bad with words for one but he also knew best he wait for the other to burst than trying to cox forced answers out of him. He knew Hinata and how he knew the other liked to put on a brave face, squash his emotions down as far as possible, and to look larger than life in the eyes of those around him.