I've embarrassed myself countless times throughout my life, some instances far more memorable than others.

There was the time my parents were entertaining guests and I had no idea so I walked into the kitchen in my boxers with headphones in, belting out some punk rock song I can't remember, just to turn around and see a room full of adults staring at me.

Once I accidentally walked into the girl's restroom at school and was too scared to come out so I crouched in the stall for hours until the coast was clear, missing all of my afternoon classes, and then emerged right in front of the principal.

I got stuck in a water slide when my t-shirt snagged on a bolt and they had to shut down the slide until someone could open it up and pull me out.

Every instance ended the same. With my face burning, frozen in place as fear courses through my veins even though I wasn't exactly sure what I was afraid of. Eventually, though, those feelings passed within a day or two only to resurface once in a while on a sleepless night, wriggling its way into my subconscious and leaving me internally cringing it no more worse for wear.

I've done countless embarrassing things in my twenty three short years of life, but none of them can compare to standing in the hallway of my apartment building staring blankly at a deaf boy as I offer him a CD.

He cocks his head to the side again, probably wondering if I'm so stupid that I need more explanation. No, it was clear enough the first time; I'm just useless and unable to form coherent sentences at the moment.

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter, the flush on my face so hot it's practically blistering, burning against my palm as I rub the back of my neck nervously. Am I supposed to leave? Do I try to talk to him more? What exactly is it I'm supposed to do in this situation?

"Oh!" Hinata snaps suddenly, cracking a smile and holding up a finger to tell me to wait before turning around and heading back inside his apartment, spiky hair bouncing with each step. I start to feel along the wall behind me for my doorknob, planning to retreat quickly back inside and to curl up under a blanket and probably die.

My hand finds the cold brass but just as I start to turn it the door at the end of the hall opens and... Hinata steps out of the stairwell?

No, not quite Hinata, but a smaller, much more female version of him.

She skips towards me down the hall, stopping when she sees me standing awkwardly in front of my door, my face probably the same shade of red as her school uniform bow tie.

"Hello!" She singsongs, her voice bright and friendly, incline her head towards me politely. "Can I help you?"

Help me? Not even God can help me right now.

"I- uh, what?" Nothing is processing between my brain and my mouth right now and I look like a blubbering idiot. Make that two people I've humiliated myself in front of today.

Small girl Hinata laughs at me and points her chin toward normal Hinata's open doorway. "Do you know my big brother?"

Big brother? Okay that makes way more sense than a tiny female clone.

"Uh, no...yes. Kind of?" I ramble, making a fool of myself even more.

She laughs again just as normal Hinata reappears in the doorway.

"Shouyou!" She trills, throwing her arms around his neck. She has to stand on her tiptoes even though he can't be more than 5'4 himself.

"Is this your friend?" She asks, stepping back. He starts to sign at her, as fast and his hands can go, and I have no idea how she keeps up. He apparently tells her all about my grand gesture because she turns to me, eyeing the CD that's still in my hand with knowing eyes.

"I see," she whispers. Is that pity in her voice? "My brother wants me to tell you he's very sorry that he can't listen to your song but he appreciates it and he'd very much like to be friends." She thinks for a moment before extending her hand to me. "I'm Shouyou's little sister Natsu, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

I shake her hand reflexively, the sensory overload from the entire situation numbing my skull.

"Kageyama," I mumble. "Uhh, tell him I'd like that too," I add, and I'm pretty sure my voice wavers.

Deciding not to stick around to embarrass myself any further I turn back to my door, turning the knob with a click, but once again I feel a small hand grab my arm. I turn, and once again it's Hinata, his palm warm against my skin.

He lifts up a pen, waving it at me and gesturing to my forearm with the capped end. I nod, and he uncaps it with his teeth, flipping my arm over to the smoother underside and scribbling something. "Thanks," I mutter, turning again and practically bolting into my apartment and slamming the door behind me.

I slump against the thin wood, sliding all the way to the floor and dropping my head between my knees. I need some aspirin or a strong drink, maybe the cold embrace of death.

That's the last time I'll ever try to be social. I vow it. I've learned my lesson, making friends is just not my strong suit and I should give up right now.

I twist my arm so I can see it through the space between my knees and examine the familiar bubbly scrawl. It's Hinata's phone number.

Oh great. I have his number and he doesn't have mine which means it's my responsibility to initiate the first text which also means that I am once again in a position to make this friendship into an actual friendship.

We're both doomed.

***

"Suga it's an emergency call me back ASAP."

I hang up and immediately redial Suga's number.

"Hey you've reached Suga! I can't come to the phone right now but I'll call you back as soon as-" click. This is the third time in a row I've gotten his voicemail. I'm really glad he has a social life and all but I just basically ruined mine and am in dire need of someone to tell me I'm not a completeidiot. They'd be lying, but I still need to hear it.

I drop my phone onto the carpet and let myself fall on my side with a thump. You know this isn't too bad. I could stay curled here on the floor comfortably for the three days it would take me to ultimately die of dehydration. No problem.

My stomach lets out a low grumble, interrupting my silent pity party. I stay strong for about thirty seconds before I decide that starvation and dehydration is not the route I want to take. With a groan I stand up, grabbing my forgotten bowl of cereal from the desk and making my way toward the kitchen.

I calm down considerably in the time it takes to make a sandwich, and the feeling of something in my stomach helps clear my head.

So I offered music to a deaf boy. What's wrong with that? It's not like I knew beforehand. It's an honest mistake, right? Except for the fact that afterwards I stood there stuttering and blushing like an idiot. That's the real kicker. He must think I'm an idiot.

I walk back into the entryway and pick up my phone from its spot on the carpet, checking to see if Suga called me back. He hasn't.

I scroll through my call logs absentmindedly. They're all to or from Suga, one from my mom a few months ago, and one from Oikawa? When did that asshole call me? Why do I even have him as a contact in the first place?

I click on his contact info and I'm about to press delete when a thought occurs to me; Oikawa would know where Suga is. My finger hovers over the call button for a few moments before I press it with a defeated sigh. I must really be desperate if I'm doing something this pathetic.

He picks up on the second ring. "Tobioooooo!" He singsongs, and I nearly hang up immediately.

"Don't call me that," I deadpan. I'm regretting every second of this.

"Aww, you're so mean to me Tobio! Aren't we friends?" I can hear his fake pout through the phone and I grit my teeth.

"No."

"Ouch. That hurts. You stabbed me right through the heart. I don't know how I'll go on-,"

"Oikawa! I'm not calling to talk to you, trust me. I just want to know where Suga is. He's not answering my calls." I can feel a migraine starting to pound against my temple.

"Oh you don't know? Our dear little Koushi is on a date," he answers, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"A date? With who?" Suga never mentioned having a date. Or even someone to go on a date with.

"I think he said it's someone he met at that dingy little cafe you two love so much." He must be getting bored because the annoying tone to his voice is starting to lessen.

Maybe that's why he was acting so weird when we were at the cafe last night. The mystery date must work there or something. "Do you know when he'll be back?" I ask.

"No idea," he yawns. "What's so important anyway?"

"Nothing," I snap, which catches his attention back.

"Oh? Doesn't sound like nothing. Come on Tobio! You can tell little ol' me."

I start to growl out a response but I stop to contemplate his words. Oikawa would be way more honest about how stupid I am than Suga. If I want an honest opinion on the matter then maybe telling him isn't that bad of an idea.

"Fine," I grumble.

"Great!" He claps. "Let me just grab some tea because this ought to be entertaining."

"Oikawaaaa."

"Okay, okay, fine. Proceed," he hums. I honestly can't believe I'm doing this.

"So I went to talk to my neighbor-"

"Oh the cute one?"

"Oikawa I swear to God I'll hang up right now."

"Okay! Sorry, geez. I was just trying to get the story straight."

"Okay, anyway," I sigh, rubbing my temples, "I went to talk to him and... it turns out he's deaf."

"....And? Is that the whole story?" He asks. "That's not a very big deal Tobio. Ever heard of sign language?"

"Yeah I know, I'm not done. The deaf part isn't the problem. I found this out because I was trying to show him a song....that I wrote....about him," I cringe at the words. Why did I ever think that was a good idea in the first place? From now on I'm going to voice all of my ideas out loud before doing them and see if they sound as ridiculous as this one. That ought to be helpful.

"Ah I see," he says, "so you made a big fool of yourself."

"Yeah," I sigh. "And then he gave me his number," I add, and Oikawa starts to laugh.

"He gave you his number? Then what are you worried about?" He says between giggles.

"That I looked like a giant loser?" I think it's a valid concern.

"Okay, listen Tobio; do you want my honest advice?" I've never heard Oikawa sound serious before. It's kind of odd.

"Y-yeah," I stutter.

"This is what you do. Tomorrow you're going to text him. Just make pleasant conversation and once the ice breaks invite the kid to coffee or something."

"Yeah but-"

"Ah ah," he tsks, his metaphorical finger wagging at me, "I'm not finished. I'm going to call a friend of mine for you. He works with kids with hearing as speech impairments and teaches sign language on the side. You're going to meet with him and learn how to talk to this kid properly. Sound good?"

"I-," I honestly don't know what to say. I didn't know Oikawa was capable of acting like a decent human being let alone go out of his way to help me. "I-, yeah. That sounds great actually. Thanks Oikawa."

"Don't mention it Tobio. Just try to refrain from making an ass of yourself again and everything will work out fine," he trills, back to his pretentious asshole tone.

"I'll try," I mumble, deciding not to argue with him this time.

When I hang up I let out a deep breath. I feel a lot better, like some of the stress has been lifted from my shoulders. "Everything will work out fine" he said, and I can't help but hope he's right.

When I crawl into bed that night I'm plagued by the thought that Oikawa and I might actually be friends. It's nightmare fuel.

***

The next day I slink stealthily through the hallway on my way to and from work, checking beforehand to make sure Hinata's door isn't open. I'm lucky enough both times to avoid another awkward encounter.

I take my phone out when I get home, ignoring the seventeen missed calls from Suga. He had his chance. I'm not upset with him but I just want to let him worry a little bit. I'm sure Oikawa filled him in a little so at least he knows I'm not hurt or anything.

I curl up on my bed as soon as I kick off my shoes by the door and roll myself up in the thick comforter. I've had about six hours of sleep in the last two days and it's starting to take its toll. My eyelids grow heavy and my mind goes fuzzy, in that stage right between awake and asleep where everything is dull edges and muffled sounds, when it feels like you're sinking deep into the feathery surface of blessed unconsciousness.

I'm ripped out of my pillowy escape by a loud banging at my front door. "Leave me alone," I groan, rolling over and stuffing my head underneath a pillow. Whoever it is can wait. Nothing can pull me out of this bed right now, not even a hand around my ankle literally pulling me out- "Hey! What the-," my sentence is cut off by a rough flick against my forehead.

"Don't EVER leave me a message like that and then ignore my phone calls, Kageyama Tobio, I swear I could STRANGLE you right now!" I look bleary eyed up into the very angry face of my best friend. I don't think I've ever actually seen him this upset.

"Hey, you ignored me first," I say, rubbing the tender spot on my forehead where he flicked me, "and that hurt by the way."

"Good! I'm glad it hurt! You deserve a lot more!" He crosses his arms roughly across his chest, still glaring at me. "And I wasn't ignoring you. My phone was off but I called you back as soon as I could." With an indignant huff he plops down on the edge of the bed.

"I assume Oikawa told you everything or else you would've been breaking down my door last night," I sneer, pulling the blankets back up over my head. "Where were you by the way? He said you were on a date."

"Well...I was."

I move the blankets just enough to form a tiny space that I can see him through. "With who?"

He blushes and turns away from me a little, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I never noticed that we both have that same habit. I guess five years of friendship syncs you up like that.

"Uhhh, a barista, from the cafe. I met him right before you showed up the other night. We hit it off pretty well so we went out for coffee last night." He turns back and shrugs, shooting me a tentative smile. "I thought it would be a weird choice seeing as he worked there but he seemed to have a good time. At least I hope he did," he breaks off, staring towards the wall reflectively.

I can see a delicate pink tinge his cheeks again as he thinks. It's been so long since Suga has been on a date. I can't remember the last time to be honest. Was it college? He always seems too busy dealing with me and my bullshit internal crises that seem to happen almost weekly to have any time for himself, let alone to /date/. Well great, now I feel like a worthless piece of shit friend. I mean, I always knew I was, but this is particularly shitty. I really hope this date went well. Suga deserves it. And every other good thing in this world.

"So what's this guy's name? Is he nice?"

"Oh he's great! His name is Daichi. He's kind of the strong, commanding type but he's also really sweet. We're going out again on Saturday. For dinner instead of coffee this time."

He looks happy and I want to say something nice like "congratulations" or "I hope it goes well" but I'm apparently incapable of pleasant conversation so I just huff through my nose and roll over. I'm sure he understands my meaning.

I'm almost asleep when he speaks again. "Oh, by the way, Tooru wanted me to ask if you've done what he told you. What does that mean?" He asks, pulling the blanket away from my face.

Shit I forgot about that. Texting Hinata isn't exactly high on the list of things I'm super willing to do since it meant I would have to initiate the conversation, but being his friend is really high on the list. I groan and try to tug the blanket back but Suga doesn't budge.

"Kageyamaaa."

Gathering all of my strength I sit up, shooting him the best glare I can muster which just ends up halfhearted and weak. "This," I say, lifting my arm to show him the slightly smudged ink on my skin. He cocks his head to the side, confused.

"Was that on your arm at work all day?"

"It's Hinata's number," I explain. "And yes. But that's not important right now." He didn't need to know about how I'd forgotten it was there until some kid in one of my classes pointed it out with waggling eyebrows. "Oikawa wants me to invite him to coffee."

"Oh! That's great! Have you done it yet?" He's practically bouncing with excitement.

"What do you think?"

"Well then do it right now!"

"I'm really tired. Maybe tomorrow," I mumble, picking up a pillow and pulling it to my chest, but Suga grabs it from me and whacks me in the face. "Hey! What the f-"

"Text him!" He shouts, cutting me off. He drops the pillow and picks up my phone from the bedside table, shoving it in my hands. There's no getting out of this.

"Fine! I don't know why you and Oikawa won't just let me stay a friendless loser," I mutter, lifting my arm to see the scribbled numbers as I create a new contact.

"Stop griping and just do it already," he laughs, fluffing my pillow and putting it back where it goes.

He watches as I type out a message, erase it, and rewrite it over and over, trying to achieve that perfect balance between nonchalance and general friendliness. I don't want to come on too strong but I don't want him to think I'm a douchebag. I am, but he doesn't need to know.

I finally settle on the wording and hesitantly press send.

"See? Was that so hard?" Suga asks, prodding me gently in the ribs.

"Yes."

We sit in silence for a few moments, my phone sitting on the rumpled blankets between us. My heart beating too fast, not an anxious pounding, like the feeling of an impending thing you have no control over, but more of a fluttering, like the expectation of something hopeful.

The screen lights up and I feel the vibration through the fabric of my comforter. Suga looks up at me, smiling so wide it crinkles the corner of his eyes, hiding the freckle beneath the left one, and I promptly grab the phone and chuck it across the room.

"What the-," Suga's smile quickly changes to a shocked gape as his head swivels around to see the phone laying screen down in front of my closet door. "W-why?"

"I-I don't know," he turns back to me and I return his wide eyed gaze with an equally shocked expression. "I just...kinda panicked. It was a reflex."

"It's a text not a bomb!"

"I know!"

With an exasperated sigh he gets up and grabs my phone from its resting place on the floor, shaking his head in disapproval and mumbling to himself. "Well it's not completely broken," he mutters as returns to his perch on my bed. I reach for it but he pulls back. "Are you going to behave?"

"Just give it back," I try to snatch it back but he holds it just out of reach. "Yes I'll behave!" I shout, desperate to check the message and way past being able to regain my dignity.