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Runaway Ball

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Kageyama’s driving the truck, wind whipping their hair, hot mid-spring air burning their skin and whipping sea salt against their eyes. The breeze is hot and the whole earth is boiling with blue in the distance, rimmed by Kageyama’s horizon of a window, rolled down, stupid fucking window bringing in mosquitoes. Hinata told him what would happen, but Tobio disapproved, something about it being hot enough to-he didn’t listen- the windows were already rolled down too much to goddamn hear anything. They both surrendered to the tantrum of debris that flung itself into the front of the car as the truck zoomed down the highway.

It’s about time that the sky is darkening that they slow the truck down, park it under a tree, and start to roll up all the windows. The crickets are coming out and it seems like every bug alive is trying to exist in this exact moment as they quickly struggle over each other trying to close every open part of the car in time.

Sweat on their brows, huffing with a seatbelt still strained into his collarbone, Hinata smacks at his face, relieved for the day to be over and for the shop to be closed, so to speak. Tobio is staring off into the distance, until he jerks towards the glove compartment, scrambling his hand over Hinata’s sweaty knee, not bothering to apologize as he reaches for the flashlight inside.
Hinata’s attention goes to the other at the sound of rustling and clicking, watching Kageyama flatten a map with red sharpie and blue pens lines on it on his knee.
He draws a mark with one hand but the contrast prevents Hinata from seeing where. He doesn’t mind though, and instead views their surroundings: the dusty dashboard, silty with random bits of sand and a piece of restaurant candy, the blurred view outside the window. He kicks at used pop bottles ruffling against each other in the bottom of the seat where Hinata lays.

“How far away are we now?” he asks.

“Does it matter? I’m taking us there.” Tobio doesn’t turn his head when he answers, just flicks his eyes angrily in one line straight towards Hinata.

Hinata puffs up his cheeks in response, pretending to scowl, pretending not to trust Kageyama.

His friend reaches up instead to take off the other’s seatbelt, still cinching into his neck in a almost painful way, the former leisurely taking his off almost as soon as the keys left the ignition. Hinata didn’t know why he didn’t bother to leave them in, but some battles weren’t worth the energy. Or the glaring.

Kageyama offers to keep watch when its dark enough they start to worry people are around them. Nobody was around when they parked, in some side-by forest with an opening big enough to drive through, but who knows if they’re in somebodies backyard. Whatever. They have no choice.

Hinata doesn’t want to sleep first, but it’s only when Kageyama is nearly forcibly ripping his binder off that Hinata coincides, making sure to even the tables by evenly lecturing Kageyama the same about binder safety. Kageyama huffs when Hinata thinks he believes the other’s not looking, and switches out for a sports bra. The orange haired boy has his faced pressed against the glass, his shoes still on, watching his old setter stare out of the windowshield with his head in his hand. He falls asleep.
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