Chapter Text
In retrospect, Shouyou realizes he probably shouldn’t have assumed that he was still in Kageyama’s room.
When he finally comes to again, he’s met by bright lights and sterile smells and not by Kageyama’s warm body curled around his. His arm hurts and there’s this horrible, incessant beeping that’s already giving him a migraine and, until he blinks the fuzz out of his eyes, he’s thoroughly confused as to where he is. When he does, he’s affronted by an offensive, yet not entirely unfamiliar sight.
“Ah, fuck.” He mumbles as he takes in the surrounding hospital room. He’s hooked up to an IV, he has a bandage over his wound, and Kageyama is nowhere to be found. He’s thinking something along the lines of, he’s probably at school, and, why am I so clingy, when the literal last person he ever wanted to see in his damn hospital room walks in. The blood drains from his face as he struggles to a sitting position, moving his IV’d arm painfully in the process.
“H-hey dad.” Shouyou forces a smile onto his face as his throat constricts, his words are hardly a croak. His father scowls down at him, and the junior Hinata ponders whether he looks more like he’s just eaten a lemon or seen a dead rat.
“Shiori.” His father replies, and he tries to smother his instinctual cringe at the sound of his birthname. “I see you’ve managed to land yourself in the hospital again.” His father is obviously restraining himself; there’s a vein pulsing violently in his neck and his fists are clutched tight at his sides, his jaw firmly set.
“Y-yeah.” Shouyou murmurs in reply. “Sorry about that.” By the tightening of his father’s muscles, he can tell that’s not a satisfactory answer.
“We’ll talk about it when we get home.” His father says tersely. Hinata’s eyes blow wide.
“Home? B-but I thought-“ thought that you’d disowned me, told me to leave and not come back, thought I was finally free-
“-that I was going to leave with Kageyama.” He finishes. His father’s scowl deepens.
“No.”
+++
It takes three hours from then to get him discharged. (he was admitted not for injuring himself, but for getting a nasty cut from falling in the shower, the racks for bottles snagging his shoulder)
(ha)
(at least hes not on suicide watch)
Ten minutes after leaving the building full of too-bright lights and sterile smells, he’s standing once again in his house.
(not a home, never a home)
As he steps through the threshold, he feels his father’s anger bubbling to the surface, finally rising after being submerged so long. The door closes, and the storm begins.
The first thing he is hit with is not a fist, but biting, stinging words that pierce his skin.
“You stupid fucking bitch. Should’ve finished the job yourself.” Shouyou swallows, not daring to speak up.
The first blow comes with the sting of a rough palm against his cheek. His teeth ache and he holds a bitter taste in the back of his throat.
Next is a fist to his chest, knocking him to the floor, he feels his nearly-healed rib shudder in response. When his head kisses the hardwood floors of his (relatively nice) house, he lets himself be washed away, to live away from the blows and screaming and to be somewhere nicer. He imagines being with Kageyama, playing volleyball with him, spiking set after set after set and being happy with Kageyama and oh god he’s fallen pretty bad for this boy hasn’t he. The tides of his mind whisk him next to a playground, the place where he and Tobio always part when walking home. He imagines sitting under the stars, wind caressing his skin, healing his bruises and cuts, scrapes and scratches. He imagines the moon, hanging in the sky without a care, glowing, providing light for all those who care to look for it, suspended within a dream.
Shouyou wakes up.
His father has left the room, leaving him sore and aching and with a need to be free. That’s the reason Shouyou climbs the stairs, ever quiet, to his room. That’s the reason that Shouyou grabs a duffel bag, shoving shirts, pants, underwear, an ace bandage into it. That’s the reason that Shouyou quietly climbs out through his window, and starts walking.
+++
It is 4:45 in the afternoon before Shouyou arrives at the playground he so desired. It’s a weekday, so it’s significantly less crowded that he’d thought.
(that’s probably good)
(not as many people will see that way)
There’s a few kids, one with fiery red hair that reminds him of a fire engine, a blonde who’s screaming, and a timid-looking green-haired boy sitting with a child that has the strangest half-and half dye job that Shouyou’s ever seen. (red and white? really?) But besides that, there’s no kids around, so he situates himself on one of the rocket swings for maximum comfort.
He amuses himself for a while by watching them- particularly the spiky, blonde-haired one, who apparently has a passion for screaming die when something doesn’t go his way. Eventually, a kind-looking brown haired woman comes and picks up the children, easily escorting them to her car.
After that, Shoyou doesn’t have much to occupy his time with. Kageyama wont be passing through for at least another hour, and his phone is still at aforementioned friend’s house. So.
Well, at least he chose the rocket swing.
+++
Shouyou quickly deduces that he must have fallen asleep because, as he snaps back into consciousness, he’s met with the worried eyes of his best friend.
“Hinata? What are you doing here? What happened?” Tobio’s voice is laced with concern, his large hands grazing the bruise on Shouyou’s cheek. Hinata smiles sleepily at him.
“Dad picked me up from the hospital. He wasn’t too happy when we got back to the house.” Kageyama’s brows knit together, his expression a mix of concern and fury. “I’m tired, Tobio.” Shouyou practically whispers. “Can we go?” Kageyama’s face softens.
“Yeah. Let’s get you home.”