They always say that it's normal for you to experience homesickness in the first few weeks of being away from everyone and the place that you grew up in. They say you eventually get over it, that there will come a time where you are happy with where you are right now, and that you know that all the nights spent crying and wishing you were in your own bed back home are worth it.

Hinata Shoyo wants to ask if they're still worth it even after a month has passed.

Things take time, he knows that better than most. But everyone's patience grows thin, and Hinata isn't any different. By now, he sort of expected himself to have made some kind of progress. Any kind, even in the height department (though he knows that was kind of pushing it).

So why does this feel like a complete waste of time and energy? Why does he feel so helpless?

Those who graduated with him are doing so much better. Kageyama's playing in the international league. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are in college, and Yachi is working as a temp in a design firm. And here he is, sitting in his bedroom, crying his eyes out as his roommate sits in their shared living room, eating dinner and being carefree. Something in Portuguese is blaring through the speakers of their TV (a welcome gift from Kenma when Hinata moved in), but he can't be bothered to go and tell Pedro to turn the volume down. So he decides to hunker down in the bed, wrapping himself in the mass of blankets he had bought three days ago, and hopes that the tears will stop.

It's a stinging rampage on his face; they burn and bite more than insects do during the humidity. He knows that when he wakes up in the morning and washes his face that the person staring back at him will be someone else entirely. Someone with a red, splotchy face, eyebags that have seen better days, and the runniest nose known to mankind that would make doctors never ever want to approach him. They spill and they continue to spill, like a broken tap that just lets the water flow out in varying sizes of droplets even after you fix it.

It hurts, so so much. The pain he feels inside is worse than anything he's ever felt before. There's guilt and remorse tearing away at his soul, eating away at the tiny fibers that stitch together his very fabric of being. He feels like he's being ripped to shreds like a tailor undoing stitches to an already premade piece of clothing; he can't remember the last time he had ever felt so unraveled.

The buzzing of his phone beside him forces him to crane his neck to the side and check who could be calling him at this late at night. The call notification brightens up the phone screen; it makes him sick.

Through bleary eyes he tries his best to read the name on the screen, and once he's rubbed his eyes one too many times he makes out Kenma's name.

Why is he calling me?

Despite Kenma only fulfilling the role of sponsor during Hinata's time here, this past month has been the most lavish he's ever had to experience. Despite his current emotional state and how homesick he feels every day, Kenma has never stopped the barrage of gifts that are delivered to Hinata's shared apartment every two days.

First it was the television, which Pedro currently occupies during the night. Next was the package of books on physical health and nutrition, as well as a cookbook with a note attached to it, that read: For when you wanna try new things - Kenma. Soon after that, Kenma had made it a point to deliver the newest volumes of Hinata's favorite manga to him every week, and Hinata isn't sure if this was going to lead him to open a book rental here.

Apart from the books and television, Kenma had sent him a copious amount of money for his monthly allowance, which partly went to the blanket haul, but Hinata had put the rest into savings.

But that was it. Gifts from a friend overseas. There had been a few emails exchanged between the both of them whenever Hinata found time to write one, but that was it. It ended up making Hinata yearn for more, because Kenma has now become the only connection he has to a life he misses.

So when he sees a call from Kenma pop up on his phone, he can't help but hesitate to answer it. After all, they haven't really spoken to each other since Hinata left.

His finger wavers over the answer button. Should he, or should he not? Will he regret this? Will Kenma even speak to him?

With a heavy sigh, his thumb presses down on the little green phone, gulping slightly.

There's a little bit of static silence, and nothing is said. Hinata's anxious to say hello, but he readies himself to greet his friend when Kenma's soft voice comes through the receiver.

"Shoyo?"

No one's ever really called him Shoyo, with the only exception being his mom. Up until he had left high school he was always called by his last name, but the only other person who had called him Shoyo is Kenma. That's an unsaid rule between the both of them, to refer to each other by their first names and without the need of honorifics; mostly because Kenma hates it but Hinata couldn't help but think that it implies a much deeper sense of closeness between the both of them.

Being called by his first name, especially by Kenma, is a feeling that Hinata wants to experience time and time again.

"Kenma!" Hinata practically squeals, an obvious attempt to hide the wavering in his voice. There's a chuckle at the end of the line, a soft one. In his head, he pictures Kenma's face as one of those peaceful cats sleeping in the sun, eyes closed in bliss and purring happily.

"How have you been, Shoyo?" Kenma asks, and Hinata can hear the rustle of fabric in the background as Kenma adjusts himself.

"Did you just wake up, Kenma?" Hinata queries, and there's a soft hum in response. "I've been sitting in bed for the past hour or so, doing some work," Kenma replies, his voice still soft. "But I've fallen asleep for two or three minutes during that hour, so I guess so."

Hinata smiles, aware that Kenma can't see him. But if he did, he'd probably smile back too, in that small smile kind of way Kenma does, and not very often too. Hinata had called it Kenma's special smile, which he only gave to people he thought was special.

Superficial to Hinata yes, but it made him feel important to a person.

"It's noon there, Kenma..." Hinata begins, but he hears Kenma grumble.

"Sleep is for the weak, Shoyo."

Hinata lets out a laugh, one that deeply resonates within him. He never fully understood how hollow he felt inside up until now.

"You sound really happy, Shoyo," comes Kenma's soft voice. "Are you enjoying it there?"

Are you enjoying it there?

The question makes his heart break. He's doing anything but enjoying it; so far, it's been one tumultuous rollercoaster after another, one where he doesn't know if it'll stop doing the loop at all.

He's been waking up at the crack of dawn for training, meeting up with teams on the beach and practicing with them whenever he could. In the one month he's been here, he's managed to find a job as a delivery boy, but it's been taxing so far. He's been doing everything he can: sticking to Coach Ukai's strict diet regime, meeting up with Coach Washijo's friend Lucio Kato to improve his skills, taking it upon himself to further his physical wellbeing and strength. But nothing, nothing at all, seems to be going in the direction he wants it to go. So no, he's not enjoying it, he loathes it; but he can't tell Kenma that. He can't make his friend worry.

So he lies through his teeth. After all, Kenma has no way of checking up on him from all the way in Japan.

"Yeah," Hinata says, swallowing down the sob that threatens to spill out from his throat. "Yeah, I'm enjoying it."

Oh, how badly does he want to scream into the receiver and tell Kenma that it hurts, that it hurts so fucking much, that he misses home and wants to come back to the small town he grew up in.

"That's great to hear, Shoyo," Kenma replies; he sounds pleased. "I'm happy. I just wanted to call and check in on you, and see if you're doing okay. So it makes me happy to hear that you are. Do you need any more money?" Kenma asks, now sounding concerned. "I can always arrange for more-"

"No, it's okay," Hinata interrupts, wiping away the small tears that escape the corner of his eyes. "I got a job here as well, so I'm making my own money. You don't have to worry."

There's no reply from Kenma other than a small hum of understanding. There's more rustling of blankets, and a small purr is heard.

"Ah, Pudding is here," Kenma says, his tone soft and warm again. "I named my cat Pudding."

It's such a small and trivial thing, but it makes Hinata smile. A small one, but it's still a smile, which is more than he can muster at the moment.

"Did you name him that because your hair used to look like pudding?" Hinata queries, now lying down on his back, the phone next to his head.

"Uh, no," Kenma replies, clearly not impressed with the joke. It makes Hinata chuckle.

"I named him after you," Kenma says, clearing his throat. There's a warm feeling that rises in Hinata's chest, and the tears on his cheeks dry up from how hot they've become.

"Because you know, you remind me of pudding. Well, you at least smell like it. Hence the name," Kenma explains bluntly, as Pudding lets out a little meow.

Even if Kenma isn't there in person to see his reaction, Hinata looks away from the phone, now feeling very shy.

"That's-that's nice," Hinata stutters out a reply, now looking back at the phone screen. "I didn't know I smelled like pudding but it's nice to k-know that I do." Hinata clears his throat loudly, now resting on his side.

"Yeah, so if you tell Kuroo about it I won't talk to you ever again," Kenma answers, but Hinata can tell he's feeling bashful. "It's embarrassing to say something like that out loud, now that I think about it. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable-"

"No, no!" Hinata rushes, his eyes widening in surprise. "I'm not uncomfortable. Just...just really honored in a funny way, you know?" He smiles at the phone like an idiot, knowing full well Kenma can't see him at all.

"I don't," comes Kenma's blunt reply; Hinata can't help but laugh out loud, this time more genuine than before. The hollowness inside him is slowly filling up.

"It's getting late there, Shoyo," Kenma says after a while, breaking the shared silence. "You should get to sleep."
Hinata looks at the time; it's almost half past one in the morning. He can no longer hear the sounds of the television in the living room, which means Pedro must have gone to bed a while back.

"Ah...yeah, you're right..." Hinata begins, as he breaks into a loud yawn. He stretches his arms like a cat.

"Sleep well, Shoyo," Kenma whispers, loud enough for Hinata to hear through the receiver. "We'll talk soon. It was nice hearing your voice."

There's no reply from Hinata, whose eyes have shut themselves tightly in drowsiness, his body curled up underneath the mass of blankets. Who knew crying could sucker-punch the energy out of you?

Kenma chuckles warmly, murmuring a small "I love you" into the receiver before cutting the call.