snapshots
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Summary
It’s taken a while for this development to settle in and there are still some days Tooru has to double check. Feel Iwa-chan’s warm palm press against his own and thread their fingers together, tight and sweet until Tooru doesn’t know where one begins and the other ends. The only urge in his chest to scream. Loud and unrestrained. From the top of a mountain, their high school rooftop when they all eat lunch, their empty street after everyone’s settled in for the night, and shot straight full speed into the vast cosmic abyss. Overbearing and echoing through the peninsula, the universe as he knows it, and the many many more ahead and undiscovered, until everyone, every last being, sentient or not, knows just how much he feels.
In which he loves Iwa-chan a lot.
Series
- Part 1 of snapshots
- Part 1 of the iwaoi mixtape
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Tooru, at nineteen, is a responsive lover. Much as he had been at eighteen, seventeen, sixteen — his whole life.
It hadn’t surprised Hajime the first time they had slept together. At least, not in the way he would have imagined.
Because under the covers, between the sheets, pinned still against a twin XL mattress that was probably older than both of them, Tooru was the same person he had known — loved — his entire life.
Loud and brash. Attention seeking and feisty and abrasive and brazen, above all. All the things Hajime knew came with loving someone whose intensity could rival the sun’s.
——
Gone is that perfectly sensible boy. That put-together star athlete who always wore every part of his high school uniform perfectly, the obedient sweetheart who played by the book.
In its place remains a trembling horny mess. An angel desecrated by lust, by Hajime. One who cries for his best friend’s fingers, his mouth, his touch.
Hajime feels like he's losing his mind.
Series
- Part 2 of snapshots
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"You guys don’t want to come celebrate with us?” he asks, using that ridiculously exaggerated lilt that Hajime is all too accustomed with.
“My mom’s gonna skin me alive if I’m late picking my sister up from ballet,” Hanamaki explains, hiking his sports bag up on his shoulder. “Last time, she decided to walk home on her own while a pervert was on the loose.” Matsukawa gasps theatrically, but the other ignores him. “And anyways, I think an occasion like this calls for a better celebration than convenience store nikuman. I deserve cream puffs and pancakes at the very least, Captain.”
The mention of his shiny new title of exactly twenty-five minutes causes Oikawa’s face to light up, its brightness rivaling that of a thousand-watt bulb. Hajime and Matsukawa exchange bitten grins behind their wrists as their friend preens, everyone basking in the elation of the good news.
The immediate aftermath of Oikawa and Iwaizumi taking charge of their team.
Series
- Part 4 of the iwaoi mixtape
- Part 1 of sunset on the horizon
- Part 3 of snapshots
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Summary
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru greets from where he’s perched on the stone railing just a few inches away from their window, arms wrapped around his knees like this is something normal.
Iwa stares at his boyfriend, flabbergasted. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
“Enjoying the rain.”
“Like our landlord’s going to enjoy fining us for the floors?”
Tooru rolls his eyes at his boyfriend as if Hajime is the ridiculous one for wanting their deposit back.
Hajime pinches his nose. Breathes in heavily before saying exasperatedly, “You’re going to get sick.”
“And?” He turns to look at Hajime, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “A three-day long cold. That’s the most that can happen — worst case scenario.”
He slides over to his right, shoves the window back open with his movement, and pats the spot beside himself. “Come, sit with me.”
“You have lost your mind,” Hajime replies, though he knows he’s already fighting a losing battle as he begins to survey the sill.
The one where they're act like protagonists in the rain.
Series
- Part 4 of snapshots
- Part 8 of the iwaoi mixtape