I was the one you always dreamed of,

You were the one I tried to draw.

How dare you say it's nothing to me?

Baby, you're the only light I ever saw.

We're going down,

And you can see it too.

We're going down,

And you know that we're doomed.

My dear,

We're slow dancing in a burning room.

- John Mayer

That night Hinata doesn't stay over, and I do my best to chalk it up to him just being tired (regular tired, not 'I secretly hate my boyfriend' tired) because on a list of things guaranteed to make me overanalyze everything in my life this definitely makes the top five. So he wanted to sleep in his own bed by himself for the first time in a few weeks, what's wrong with that? It's probably because of the way he claims I steal the blankets when I roll over in the middle of the night, which I don't. No matter the reason, I have no reason to get upset. And I'm not; upset that is. It's an oddly freeing feeling. Of course I'd rather have him in my arms like I've grown so accustomed to, but I'm proud of myself for not losing my shit. I wonder if Hinata knows I can handle these things now. So he went home, and I went home, to our homes that are so close and yet separated by the width of a hallway that feels like a mile, doubled by each closed door, and that was okay.

This morning I woke up oddly refreshed, sleeping well again despite the change; and had my normal bowl of cereal before considering texting Hinata to see what he had planned for the day, but as I pick my phone up off the table it vibrates in my hand. I don't even have to check the name, my mind wandering briefly to the possibility of telekinesis as I slide the screen.

I'd be lying if I said my heart doesn't sink, that my blood doesn't run cold for an instant, but it is not nearly as debilitating as it could be. I don't respond, I just stand and make my way across the empty metaphorical miles between us, hoping that he hasn't left yet. I don't know what I'm planning, knowing full well that I can't take any more time off of work to accompany him (Ukai has pulled enough strings for me already); at best I just want to say goodbye.

He's walking out of his room with a deflated looking duffel bag in tow when I enter, hair messy and sticking up in more places than usual. He must be in a hurry to catch the train.

"Hey," I breathe when his eyes lock with mine and surprise flashes briefly behind them.

"Did I wake you?" He asks, setting the bag down to sign and pausing to run one hand through his unruly curls, fingers catching on a tangle. "I didn't think you'd be up yet."

He has charcoal smudged on his fingertips and exhaustion in his eyes, and I realize that his crumpled clothes and messy hair are due to a sleepless night instead of a hurried departure. He gets carried away with his art sometimes, he same way I do, and at that point sleep means nothing. The only thing that matters is getting the ink or paint or sound out of your veins any way possible. That tired look on his face, that slump of his shoulders, is something I understand on a cellular level.

"Yeah I've been up a little while. I came to see you off," I tell him. "When does your train leave?"

"Half an hour. The net one isn't for another four hours," he replies, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "I would have told you earlier if I could, mom just texted me less than an hour ago."

"Don't worry about it. Do you want me to walk you to the station?"

He glances toward the window, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it so quickly I almost don't see it before picking his bag back up. "Sure."

I throw on a pair of jeans and some shoes before heading downstairs to where Hinata waits, his smile halfhearted as I take his bag and his hand. He must be really tired, all of his movements and expressions sluggish and off, so we remain silent as we walk. Whatever he was working on must be really spectacular. I wonder if I'll get the chance to see it.

His hand is limp in mine, and his shoes scrape across the pavement as he drags his feet. The birds on the telephone wires don't sing, and hardly any cars pass on the street. It's as if the whole world sat awake last night and now can't seem to keep its eyelids from falling closed. Maybe the earth is working on its own project: some big cosmic show that it's still struggling to prepare for. I want to know what it's planning, but then again I figure I should just let it be.

Maybe I should just let Hinata be. I don't need to worry about spending this time apart, be it a night or a month, because he'll be fine. We'll be fine. Distance and time are not measures of love, and neither is the strength in which his fingers grip mine.

"I wish I could come with you," I say, turning to him when we reach the front of the station, his train not yet in the loading bay. He looks up, eyes squinting and nose scrunching up with the morning sun behind me shining in his eyes. Now he knows how I feel constantly.

"You'd probably be bored the whole time anyway," he replies, letting go of my hand to sign. "Mom's idea of visiting is sitting at the diner all day discussing business and politics with Uncle Ittetsu. Natsu gets really into it but it bores me to tears. Yachi's cooking is amazing but even she can't save me."

"Sounds like a blast," I chuckle, imagining Natsu heatedly debating government policies with her mother and uncle. I'd pay real money to see the look on Mz Takeda's face the first time her daughter got that immovable set to her jaw and stern edge to her words that appears when she gets worked up (which happens fairly often), seeming to make her grow several inches.

A woman's voice comes over the intercom, announcing the arrival of the train that will carry Hinata back to his home where his family waits. His gaze has dropped from mine to the sidewalk so I lift his chin with one finger until he returns it. "Your ride's here."

He smiles, letting air whistle through his nose instead of stretching his lips over his teeth. It's like a rain check for a smile, a statement giving the sentiment but not the reward. "I guess I should get going," he signs, taking the strap of his bag out of my hand.

He turns to leave, but I catch his arm, pulling him into a quick hug, images of standing in this exact spot and hugging Natsu in the same way popping in my head. She had smelled of strawberries instead of pencil shavings and stale sweat, but I kiss the top of his head anyway before letting him go. "Tell everyone hi for me. Have a good time, I'll miss you."

"I'll try," he mutters, nodding as he steps back. I can see words swimming behind his eyes as if he wants to say something, but they disappear quickly and he turns, walking up the path and away from me.

I watch as he climbs aboard the train before the doors shut and the wheels start their slow progression from immobility to scraping motion on the tracks. His head appears in one of the side windows, but he faces forward, missing my waving had in his peripheral vision.

And just like that, he's speeding away on thousands of pounds of metal and human cargo, and I wonder what I'm going to do with the rest of my day.

***

I still haven't answered that question by the time my classes end that Tuesday, the sound of chairs scraping on the floor and buckles snapping on guitar cases meeting my ears. I haven't done anything interesting for the last couple days; a little writing here, a little playing there, a few hours of video games littered in between. Not far off from how my daily life used to be, but much less empty. Hinata hasn't texted much, and I haven't bothered him.

It's not interesting, this quiet existence I've fallen into, but it's comforting. I would be content going on like this forever, staying on the same path with the same people, but I think I'm ready for something new. Routine has built me into the person I am, finally comfortable with the way the outside air feels against my skin, but that person sees a staircase of opportunity and is itching to climb.

"Knock knock," a voice calls from behind me, and I turn to see Asahi smiling gently from the doorway, tapping his fist lightly against the frame. "May I come in?"

"Oh, yeah! Of course," I answer, rubbing the back of my neck which is warm with the realization that I've been standing in the middle of the room staring at the wall for god knows how long. "Sorry, I was just spacing out a bit."

"Happens to the best of us," he chuckles, striding across the room in about three long legged steps and setting his bag down in his usual seat. I drag another chair over from the circle in the center of the room and we both sit down. I'm always amazed at the strength of the plastic chair as it groans under him but does not yield. "So how have you been? We haven't met in a while."

"Yeah," I mutter, running my fingers through my hair as I try to remember the last time we actually sat here like this. Too much has happened between then and now. "I'm really sorry about that. I've had a hectic couple of weeks."

"Don't worry about it at all, Kageyama," he answers, holding up a hand to stop my apology. "Tooru called and explained for you. I'm just glad you're back in town and feeling better."

Sometimes I forget that Oikawa can actually be a pleasant human being sometimes (probably due to the fact that I can count these occurrences on one hand), and I am always surprised when I hear about it. "Oh, he didn't tell me about that."

"He seemed really worried about you," he continues, pulling his books out of his bag as he talks. "I didn't know you two were so close."

"Neither did I," I mumble, but he doesn't hear me.

"Ready?" He asks, and I nod, still slightly distracted by his words.

We go over vocabulary for a while until he seems satisfied with my memorization, and we move on to response time. My hands feel so much surer than they had when I first met Asahi, and I'm able to read and respond to him quickly and efficiently. I can see a bit of pride on his face as he watches my fingers, and I feel my own pride budding in my chest. I've worked hard with sign language, harder than most things in my life, and the results really show it.

"I don't think you even need me anymore," Asahi beams as he signs the words at me. "You sign like someone who's been studying for years."

"I've had a lot of practice," I reply, my hands moving reflexively. "And a really great teacher."

"You flatter me," he responds, dropping his hands and choosing to speak out loud, breaking the tranquil silence of the room. "I mean it, though. I don't think there's much more I can teach you."

"You'd be surprised. I'm a deeply unlearned person," I quip, waving off the concern that flashes on his face. "I guess you're off the hook then. You can stop wasting your afternoons with me."

"I wouldn't call it a waste," he smiles, stuffing his books back in his bag and turning to me. "I've enjoyed these sessions. It's rather refreshing working with an adult instead of children for a change. Not that I don't love my job! It can just get a bit tiring sometimes."

"I bet," I nod. My experience with children begins and ends with Takeru, and I sincerely doubt I could handle more than one of him. I can barely handle him alone. But the thought does give me an idea. "Could I ask you a question, Asahi?"

"Of course!" He answers, setting his bag back on the floor and sitting down. "What can I help you with?"

I fidget in my seat for a second, not used to starting conversations on my own like this. "How did you get into this line of work? You work with hearing and speech impaired children, right? Where did you start?" The questions pour out, and both of us seem surprised by it.

"Oh! Well, that's an interesting story," he starts, rubbing one hand against the whiskers on his chin absentmindedly. "It has a lot to do with Tooru, actually."

"Really?" Oikawa had told me Asahi was an old friend but I had never asked him to clarify.

"Mhmm. We met in high school, jeez that was a long time ago," he continues, "and we were pretty close for a while. He used to volunteer for one of those Big Brothers, Big Sisters programs that pair you with kids in foster care and things like that."

"Oikawa? Volunteer? Are you sure?" I ask, unable to conjure up images of a young Oikawa spending his days downtown with a gaggle of kids at his heels.

"Surprising, I know. But he's a lot more compassionate that he likes to let on," Asahi tells me, fondness in his eyes as he talks about our mutual friend (I use the word friend loosely). "He enjoyed it so much that he convinced me to come along with him, and after a while we both developed a love for it. When college rolled around it seemed obvious that we should study Child Development, and we did, but Tooru quit after two semesters."

I feel stupid for barely realizing it, but this makes total sense. I knew he was the same age as Suga but I never bothered to ask why he also started at our university a year late. "I met him just after that," I say, thinking back to days when we would passive-aggressively compete for Suga's attention. "He changed colleges and majors. I think he got a degree in literature or something."

"He never told me why he quit, but we've managed to keep up contact. Anyway, after he left I finished my degree and found a job at a local elementary school. I've been working there for a few years now and I love it. I guess, despite everything, I owe that to Tooru," he finishes, smiling warmly at me again. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," I answer, not quite a lie but not quite truth either. I don't know what type of answers I was looking for but, as interesting as the conversation was, these are not them.

"Well I hope I helped," he says, standing again and pulling his bag strap over his shoulder. "If you have any more questions, or just want to say hello, feel free to call me."

"I will," I respond, and it doesn't feel like a lie. "Thanks for everything, Asahi."

I extend my hand and he grips it, his handshake surprisingly gentle. "It was my pleasure. Give Tooru my best," he grins, and I nod in answer before he turns to leave the room with the same giant strides as when he entered.

I don't stay very long, gathering my stuff and leaving the room shortly after him. My thoughts race as I make my way home, words and memories bouncing off of my skull and mixing together as I try to make sense of what I've learned. I may not have gotten the answers I was looking for, but I feel substantially closer to them than I have been. My ideas for the future lay just on the edge of my vision, and my fingertips are itching to reach for them.

Soon, I think to myself. I'll figure it out soon, and then I'll be unstoppable.

***

Decadence is a word that has always confused me. I've always assigned a positive connotation to it, using it to describe things that are delicious or beautiful, but I was surprised to find the negative implications that come along. Indulgence is always pinned with it, which confuses me even more because doesn't self indulgence make people happy? Or maybe I'm just looking too deep into this, I think, taking another bite of grease covered pepperoni pizza.

"I think I'm going to settle on third grade," Suga says between bites of his own pizza, pulling at a piece of stretchy cheese with his fingers. "It's just such a good age, you know? You can hold a real conversation with an eight year old but they're still adorably innocent."

"Are you regretting taking your student teaching credits in a kindergarten class?" I ask from across the coffee table. This is our first pizza night in a while and it feels great to see Suga and Daichi sitting on my sofa with oily paper plates in their hands. I'm even glad to have Oikawa here in the recliner seat.

"Just a little," he sighs, guilt practically dripping in his voice. "The kids are adorable and the teacher is great, but it's just so hard to hold their attention for more than two minutes. And the messes. I never knew there were so many spillable substances in a classroom."

"That's what you get for working with kids. They're messy and noisy and they can't even wipe their own noses. Except for Takeru, of course. He's an angel," Oikawa says, dabbing the top of his pizza with a napkin. Yeah right. He's lying through his teeth; he loves kids.

"He's kinda right, babe," Daichi adds, reaching for another breadstick from the table. "You signed up for this. I don't know why you thought twenty three kindergartners in one room sounded like a good idea."

"I'm pretty sure my entire thought consisted of 'five year olds are super cute this will be great'," he says, shaking his head as if to reprimand his past self. "I think I just need more practice. What's messier than a five year old?"

"Babies," I answer, saying the first thing that pops in my head.

"That's perfect!" Oikawa claps, a wicked glint in his eyes that immediately makes me uncomfortable. "You should have a baby! Or buy one or whatever."

Daichi immediately chokes on his bite of breadstick, hitting his chest with a closed fist, and Suga I too busy staring at Oikawa with eyes wider than I think humanly possible to notice. "Holy shit," I whisper to myself, hand frozen in the air where I had begun to lift it to my mouth.

No one makes a sound, except for Daichi trying not to die in the corner, as Oikawa and Suga have a silent stare down. I could probably reach out and take a handful of tension from the air, it's so thick. The front door opens, and everyone's heads whip up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Hinata looks horrified as he walks into the living room finding four pairs of eyes meeting his all in a different stage of horrified and scared.

"Hinata!" Oikawa calls, breaking the silence and effectively changing the subject. There's a collective exhale before everyone smiles and waves and Hinata cautiously takes a seat by me on the carpet.

"Hey," I breathe, my heart still beating against my ribs. "I didn't know you were coming home today."

"Sorry," he answers, leaning forward to grab a plate and some pizza but sitting it on his knee so he can sign. "Forgot to charge my phone so I couldn't text."

I nod, inconspicuously searching his face for signs of the exhaustion I saw before he left. The skin under his eyes seems darker than usual but other than that he looks a lot better. "Did you have a good trip?"

He begins to tell me about his visit and Suga, Daichi, and Oikawa fall into their own (tentative) conversation in the background. I smile as he tells me about different things he talked about with his mom or very Natsu-like things Natsu did, my fingers itching the entire time to reach out and trail his face or brush his hair back. I almost wish everyone would leave so I can have him to myself. I settle with a hand on his knee and a chaste kiss on the cheek to say I've missed him.