And when the world gets sharp and tries to cut you down to size

And makes you feel like giving in

Oh, I will stay, I will rain, I will wash the words and pain away

And I will chase away the way we push, the way we pull

You're beautiful

I'll open up and be your parachute

And I'll never let you down

So open up and be my human angel

And we'll only hit the ground running, running

-Train

There are certain sounds that convey feelings so strong you'd think they entered your body through your soul instead of your ears. The sound of heavy rain on the rooftop calming you when nothing else can, the creak of a floorboard in the middle of the night making your blood run cold, the trill of laughter from someone you love reeling your heart in closer with every breath.

The sound of cardboard hitting the carpet of my living room floor followed by the rattle of the box's contents is sort of like that, making me cringe at the thought of what it entails. The box sits next to a haphazard row of several similar packages, all filled with the belongings of Oikawa Tooru. In my apartment, where I live. It's tragic.

"That's the last one Tobio," Oikawa singsongs, stepping through the door behind me carrying a significantly smaller box than the ones I just finished hauling up the stairs.

"Wonderful," I mutter, leaning against the wall and rethinking my life decisions. I bet two thirds of these boxes are clothes and the rest is his weird alien action figure collection. Garbage cluttering my entryway. "When are you moving out?"

"Depends on how the 'marriage trial period' goes," he shrugs, throwing air quotes up around the silly terminology Suga keeps insisting on using.

Daichi was completely on board with the real wedding idea as soon as it was brought up, but Suga, being the careful worrywart that he is, didn't want to jump into anything too quickly. So, after a lot of talking (during which Oikawa spent an incredible amount of time at my place), they decided to try living together for a while and see how it goes before planning a wedding.

Of course, knowing them, it's going to go beautifully. Honestly, if there's such a thing as soul mates they are the poster children. I've never seen anyone who was so deeply, incredibly, and disgustingly in love with each other.

And that's how I ended up in this roommate situation. "Where are we even going to put all of this junk?"

"It's not junk Tobio, I only keep things that are important," he tells me, opening a box and pulling out two plastic Mulder and Scully dolls from 'The X-files', holding them up for me to see as if it proves anything.

"The same question stands," I growl, rolling my eyes at his toys and opening the box closest to me, finding a dark comforter set with a UFO pattern, bringing up another very important question. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"I've already thought of that! Daichi is going to bring over an old futon from his apartment after work and we'll just set it up in your room," he smiles, nodding as if his plan is great with absolutely zero problems. Unfortunately for him I'm a professional problem finder (part time problem creator).

"That sounds amazing actually," I sneer, pushing the box away and striding over to the sofa, throwing myself down with a dull thump, "we can have pajama parties and play truth or dare. Why didn't we do this sooner?" I cross my arms across my chest, basically throwing a silent tantrum.

Oikawa just shakes his head, digging more stupid knick knacks from his boxes and lining them on the shelf up above my computer desk. He turns to me then, and I swear his eyes trail over my painting in the corner with piqued interest, one perfect eyebrow arched. "Speaking of truth or dare," he smirks, making my stomach flip, "where's your little boy toy at today?"

"Visiting his mom," I answer before actually thinking about the question. "Wait, my WHAT?"

He doesn't answer, just bursts into laughter, and I add another entry to the list of sounds that piss me off. Most of the items on that list are somehow related to him. But honestly this time I can't even blame him, the blush burning against my cheeks is completely my own fault. I walked into that one like a freshly windexed glass door.

"Sh-shut up Asskawa," I mutter, looking anywhere but his face. There's a bird on my windowsill, the TV is incredibly dusty, the mail cluttering the coffee table is weeks old. All very interesting. All less embarrassing than that knowing gaze I know sits behind Oikawa's chocolate eyes.

"You're so transparent, Tobio," Oikawa chuckles, wiping an imaginary tear of laughter from his eye, "you couldn't hide your thoughts if you tried."

"You don't know anything." That's probably untrue, no matter how much I want to believe it. Everyone around me seems to know me better than I know myself, which is kind of unsettling.

"I know that you've changed a lot," he says, his expression turning from amusement to something oddly serious.

"What do you mean?" I ask him, meaning to add a bite to my tone but it just comes off as genuine curiosity.

"You're just different. I don't really know how to describe it. Maybe you don't see it, but I do. And Suga does too. Ever since you started talking to Hinata you've gotten...softer," he explains, glancing to the side as he searches for the words to explain his thoughts.

"Softer?" I know that I've tried to become braver since I met Hinata, tried to make myself more worthy of happiness, but softer? I'm not so sure. Is this new me that everyone seems to see better than the old me? Do they like this me better?

"It's like you see things differently," he continues, "you used to see everything as a threat, and you walled yourself off to avoid getting hurt. But now you're more open, like you're ready to accept your feelings even if they end up hurting you. You careabout things now."

"I've always cared," I mumble, looking down at my feet and biting at my bottom lip. I must have been doing it for a while without noticing because the salty metallic taste of blood touches the tip of my tongue.

"Well now you show it," he counters, and I'm still not sure how I feel about this serious side of Oikawa that I've only seen a few times. He looks at me for a minute, and I watch as he thinks, so many questions passing across his face as he chooses which one to ask. "You love him don't you?"

"What?"

"Hinata. I can see it when you look at him. I mean, my dating record is pretty colorful, and I've never been in love myself, but I know it when I see it," he says, eyes trailing off as he thinks, his thoughts probably going so much deeper than this conversation. "I see it in the way Suga and Daichi interact, and hear it in the way they say each other's names, and with you, well, it's written all over your face."

"Come on," I sigh, standing and turning back to the open box near the sofa, "let's get you unpacked."

He smiles at me, a real smile, and it suits him well. It's not a straight answer, but he doesn't need one. He already understands so much more than I could convey through speech.

His words don't bother me like they should, like they would have just a few months ago. The old me would have pushed them away, regarded them as bullshit Oikawa made up just to annoy me, but the new me knows they're true. Things are changing, and I'm not scared, I just hope, beyond everything else, that they're changing for the better.

***

I'm late leaving the house for work the next morning, tripping over a pile of boxes and sending a string of obscenities Oikawa's way, hoping that the rustling I heard within one of the cardboard cubes meant something had broken. As the day wears on, however, I feel better; I'm in an oddly great mood considering that I'm, well, me.

I stop by Michimiya's classroom at the end of the day, finding her unpacking a shipment of pink flowers pushed together in tight little bundles. I don't know the name but I'm sure I saw them in Uncle Ittetsu's shop a few weeks ago. All of my new flower knowledge was pushed away by everything else that happened that weekend, all kind of blending together in my mind. It was just a few weeks ago but it feels so distant, like it took place in an entirely different lifetime.

"New shipment?" I ask, knocking lightly on the threshold and leaning against is as she lifts a bundle to her nose, smiling as she breathes in the fragrance.

"Yup," she answers, beaming as she turns to me, hands overflowing with pink petals. "That flower shop I told you about has such beautiful blooms all year long. I just can't stop ordering them!"

I hum in answer, nodding as she finishes placing the flowers in vases and lining them on a shelf among others. I'm not sure why I came in here, but it makes me feel good to have some small connection back to that little town Hinata came from, that place that welcomed me with so much warmth, even from this far away.

"What kind is that? The pink ones you just got," I ask, pointing at one of the brand new vases.

"Oh! Those are azaleas. Aren't they pretty? They're some of my favorites," she gushes, her face lighting up the same way Kenma's does when you mention Pokémon (he told me his favorite is Espeon but I have no idea what that means). "They symbolize fragility," she continues, her teacher side coming out.

"I like the, uh, stringy things."

"Oh the stamen and pistils? They're for producing pollen. Azaleas' have really long ones that are usually dark pink-," she pauses, looking behind me with surprise, "oh hello Ukai!"

Oh thank god. My salvation. I didn't mean to get dragged into an involuntary botany lesson yet here I am, somehow unwilling to burst Michimiya's bubble. I mean, I'm glad she loves her job, but I was just trying to be pleasant.

"Afternoon Miss Yui," he nods, waving at her before turning to me. "Kageyama! I've been looking for you everywhere. I want to see you in my office."

"Am I in trouble?" I smirk, and the two of them seem pleasantly surprised, cracking small confused smiles themselves.

"Usually," Ukai quips, chuckling under his breath. "Just make it to my office before you leave, brat."

He waves at Michimiya again before heading back the way he came. I turn back to her, shrugging at the strange encounter. "I wonder what I did."

"Probably smiled too much," she answers, a quirk at the corner of her lips, "he must think you're an imposter or something and wants to know where the real Kageyama is."

Apparently everyone has noticed this change in me earlier than I did. Was I really that bad before? "Actually I'm the real Kageyama," I tell her, "the guy you knew was actually the imposter all along."

Michimiya rolls her eyes, pushing me lightly on the shoulder and laughing as she shoves me toward the door. "You'd better go get your punishment."

"If I don't come in tomorrow go to the police and tell them the boss murdered me," I say, earning another laugh as I leave, making my way towards Ukai's office.

It's a short walk and I'm there in no time, pushing the door of the small office open and slipping inside. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yeah, sit down," he answers, a cigarette clenched between his teeth as he points at a chair opposite the desk, eyes not leaving his computer. He finishes typing whatever he's working on, rereading it a few times before clicking a few more buttons and turning to me. The cigarette is mostly a stick of ashes now.

"Yamaguchi dropped by this morning looking for you. He didn't want to interrupt your class so he gave me some info for you," he tells me, watching me through narrowed eyes.

"What'd he say?" I feel a bit of guilt climb into the pit of my stomach. I totally forgot about Yamaguchi's card in the whirlwind of events that happened since I met him. He was nice enough to take his time and listen to my work and I couldn't even give him a call.

Ukai must see this spelled out on my face because he exchanges his serious expression for one of comfort. "Don't worry about not calling him. Tadashi is a really nice guy, he totally won't blame you for it," he tells me, and my stomach unknots a little.

"That being said," he continues, "he was very impressed with your music and he's seriously interested in working with you. Try to be a bit more proactive okay? Opportunities like this don't happen often."

"Opportunities? What info did he give you?" I feel the bite of that old chilling fear crawling up my throat, but I push it down. I've come too far for that.

Ukai takes a long drag from his cigarette before answering me. "He wants you to come to a big audition at the end of the month," he says, pushing a professional looking flyer toward me over the desktop. "It's a huge deal. There's going to be a ton of hot shot composers there scouting for new talent."

The flyer has a list of some of the composers Ukai is talking about along with the name of Yamaguchi's agency. "That's also your invitation so don't lose it."

"I don't know, boss," I say, trying to pinpoint the emotions jumbling around in my chest. Excitement, nervousness, anticipation, fear. Too many to try and unravel. "I don't think I'm cut out for this kind of thing."

"Are you kidding me?" Ukai snuffs his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk, immediately pulling another from the pack and sticking it between his lips. "You have no idea do you?"

The flicker of fire from his lighter reflects on his face, casting a shadow up along his features, reminding me of kids sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories with a flashlight held beneath their chins. "About what?"

"You're so dense," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Kageyama you're the most talented musician I've ever met, and I've met some great musicians. You write from your soul and you're damn good at it."

He takes another drag of the cigarette and I take the opportunity to speak but he lifts a hand to silence me. "I'm not done. You've got so much ahead of you, so much time to show the world your gifts. You're better than this place, kid, and I'll be damned if I see you end up stuck here pushing papers behind a desk all day and smoking yourself into an early grave, wishing you'd tried harder when you had the chance."

I think he's talking to himself more than he's talking to me, and I want to say something to comfort him (even though I know I'm completely awful at that), but he smiles, reaching over the desktop to punch me lightly on the shoulder. "So you're going to this audition, okay? And if you don't I'll fire you for being a fucking idiot. Got it?"

"Got it," I answer, and he smiles wider.

"You should probably prepare something new to present. You only have a few weeks though so you'll have to work fast. Whatever your inspiration was for those last couple pieces you wrote worked really well for you so I'd suggest using it again." He snuffs out his cigarette and stands, moving towards the door and holding it open.

"That shouldn't be a problem," I say, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest as I stand and make my way out of the office. I stop just outside the door, turning back to Ukai. "Thanks, boss."

"Don't mention it, kid. Make me proud."

I nod and turn, heading toward the entrance as my heart pounds against my ribs. Those are the words my father said to me the day he bought me my first guitar, the goal I've been trying to accomplish for the past sixteen years. I've already failed that request once, but maybe, just maybe, I can do it this time. Fear is replaced by heavy determination, filling me with pride and a desperation for accomplishment that I've never felt before.

'Make me proud.'

Just watch me, dad. Just watch me.

***

It's somewhere between two consecutive bowls of cereal being tipped over on the coffee table all over my new music sheets and crayon drawings extending from their intended scraps of paper onto the walls of my hallway that I realize I need help.

Oikawa's older sister dropped Takeru off this morning begging for us to babysit since her sitter caught the flu, but Oikawa had some important appointment he couldn't miss so I was left with one extremely rambunctious seven year old and an apartment filled with things just waiting to be destroyed. I put down the washcloth I'm using to scrub crayon off of the wall, having made absolutely zero progress, and pull out my phone to type out a quick distress call.

Somewhere behind me a breakable object of some sort crashes to the ground. I let out a deep groan, standing to go make sure Takeru is uninjured and silently hoping it was one of Oikawa's alien figurines that were broken.

"Takeru?" I peer into the living room, finding the boy standing next to a knocked over lamp, eyes wide with fear.

"I'm sorry Uncle Tobio! I didn't mean to!" He looks on the verge of tears, arms pulled tightly across his chest as he bites his bottom lip. I can't help but laugh.

"Don't worry about it buddy. Here, let's get you away from the glass so I can clean it up," I tell him, reaching out to lift him up and placing him on the sofa behind me. "Just watch some cartoons for a while, okay?"

He nods, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes to catch the unshed tears, turning away from me to check up on the happenings in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The attention span of a child will never cease to amaze me.

After the glass is all swept up and put in the trash I remember the text I sent, picking up my phone from where I left it on the floor and sliding my thumb across the screen to see Hinata's response.

Me with a baby? Dear god, no. That's a recipe for disaster. Something like a goldfish is much more my speed. I shake my head, clearing away the thought of a small dark haired baby glaring at Oikawa before responding.

I turn back to the living room, keeping a close eye on the open glass of juice clutched between Takeru's hands, and after a few minutes there's a small knock at the front door, followed by Hinata's soft footsteps through the front hallway.

"Oh thank god," I sigh, deflating at the sight of the tiny ginger godsend, "Takeru, this is my friend Hinata. He's going to hang out with is for a while, okay?" I snap to grab the boy's attention, making sure he heard me over Mickey Mouse.

"Wow! You're Uncle Tobio's friend? You must be really cool!" Takeru stands on the sofa, turning around to jump up and down while clutching the back panel, oddly reminding me of Hinata himself.

Hinata giggles, smiling brightly over at Takeru. They seem to be getting along already.

"Nice to meet you Takeru!" The boy stares at Hinata's hands like they're some foreign object, his little pink lips forming a curious 'o'.

"He says it's nice to meet you," I translate, kneeling down in front of Takeru so I can make sure he pays attention to what I tell him. "Hinata can't hear so he uses his hands to talk to us," I explain.