Hajime and Tooru
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“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.
“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.
“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
Series
- Part 1 of Hajime and Tooru
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“Iwaizumi,” he starts, and he's already too late when the brunet's expression changes, “Hajime.”
His eyes are the size of saucers, hands splayed and pressed tight against the chipped and dented wood of the table. “Hajime,” he repeats, and he repeats it again. “Like...like the constellation?!”
How in the world would he knows something like that? “Yeah...like the constellation.”
Iwaizumi's stomach drops out when his smile stretches from ear to ear, leaning over the table to tell him his own name. “I guess it's gotta be you then... because I'm named after it's counterpart.”
“Tooru,” Iwaizumi blurts, and watches the smile fall from his face. “Oikawa Tooru, right?”
Series
- Part 2 of Hajime and Tooru