Chapter Text
Oikawa Tooru is five years old when the falling star drops from above right into his front garden.
It's by coincidence, probably, that he's looking out of his bedroom window, wide-eyed and fixated on the sky at that exact moment; that he couldn't sleep and sought, led by child’s instinct, to fix that by looking at the stars and feeling their distant songs echo inside his little head. Much, much later, he might dramatically claim that it was a destined moment, but if he was honest with himself, might have to admit that even if he hadn't been watching, things might have worked out the same anyway.
The star is a line of bright pale green that becomes a flash in the blink of an eye, lighting up the street below and winking out instantly.
When his eyes adjust back to the dark, there's something glowing in the front garden.
It's late, and Tooru shouldn't even be awake, but - he has to! Something just fell from space right into his garden! How can he pass up on the chance?
So he pushes his toes into his slippers, tugs a blanket over his shoulders like a cape, and pads down the stairs quietly as he can, and slips out of the front door and across the grass.
It's only tiny. The glow is fading already, and by the time Tooru picks it up, it's dim - just a dark, smooth rock that fits perfectly into the five-year-old’s palm. It's the darkest blue he's ever seen, and as he stares he can make out more and more tiny bright points suspended in the colour.
Like a chunk of the night sky in his hand.
When he makes it back to bed, he falls asleep fast, still clutching the rock full of stars. If it hadn't still been there in the morning, he'd have written it off as a dream, but as it was - he knows what he saw, and he has proof, which he stashes carefully in the drawer in his bedside table.
From that day, Oikawa Tooru’s interests are twofold: extraterrestrial life, and the boy his age that moves in across the road that very morning.
Iwaizumi Hajime ignores him when he asks if he likes aliens, favouring the line of ants marching across the pavement that he's squatted to peer at.
In fact, he doesn't seem to be interested in Tooru at all until he stumbles over Iwaizumi’s name and substitutes it with ‘Iwa-chan’. It's at this point that the newly-branded Iwa-chan’s head snaps up to look at him, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.
“My name is Iwaizumi,” he says. “Not Iwa-chan.”
There’s something in the crease between this boy's brows and the odd green of his eyes that Tooru decides he likes, so he just smiles as wide as he can, in the way that makes people coo over him and give him treats.
“It's a nickname,” he insists. “Since we're going to be best friends. It's cute!”
Those eyebrows draw ever closer.
“Best friends?” Iwazumi repeats. “I don't think so.”
He stands up, and there's an ant crawling in helpless patterns around on his hand, and Tooru recoils a little.
Iwaizumi pays him no heed, immediately walking away, back to his own house, but not before Tooru hears him mumble, “It's just an ant, Dummykawa.”
Which means they both have nicknames, which means they absolutely are going to be best friends.
-
And they are. Tooru is proven time and time again to be right: about their friendship, about volleyball, about - well. Iwaizumi still, all the way into high school, won't agree with him on the alien thing, but he's sure of it, insistent, when it comes up. He knows it, and he can provide plenty of evidence from books and documentaries, not to mention reams from the internet.
He never brings up the way the stars sing to him, or the chunk of sky he keeps in his drawer. Those things feel silly and objective, not something he can present as fact like he can with the rest of his hard evidence.
But just because Iwaizumi won't listen doesn't mean Tooru isn't right. He's right about everything else, after all.
Almost everything else.
Not his knee.
But he'd had Iwaizumi to tell him he was being stupid, then; to calm him down and slow him and steady him. His Iwa-chan, he’d sigh, adoringly. His rock.
And his Iwa-chan rolls his eyes and throws something at him and calls him a rude nickname, and the moment always pass, and Tooru doesn't have to get caught up thinking about just how much he does rely on Iwa-chan to be that for him. How much he really does adore him, actually, if he thinks about it. Which he doesn't, so it's fine - so there's nothing to worry about except volleyball, his supply of bread and persuading his friends on the existence of extraterrestrial life.
That last one has proven difficult over the years, but he’s not about to give up just yet. It’s no weirder an interest than Iwa-chan’s fascination with bugs. Admittedly, he’s done a lot less of that lately, but when they were kids it had seemed like almost an obsession, building his way up from the ant he’d picked up that first day, through moths and cicadas and rhinoceros beetles - and worse things like millipedes and spiders, and the like. He never did anything with them, didn’t take them home or collect them or pull them apart like some kids; just observed them carefully with that special Iwa-chan brand of seriousness. And then, inevitably, set them free, citing their short lifespans as a reason to pity them.
It never made sense to Tooru, and he hated - hates - to watch their awful little legs move, and their bodies wriggle, and their wings buzz, but -- well, everyone needs flaws, and Iwa-chan’s are his weird bug thing, and his awful fashion sense, and how awfully mean and rude he is, and, and actually if Tooru starts listing, he’ll never finish and simply expire, and depriving the world of someone like himself would be a dreadful shame.
Tooru’s flaw is probably Iwaizumi.
Even though he keeps his eyes scrunched closed in disgust during the alien autopsy parts of Tooru’s documentaries, and argues against the facts all of the experts present in them, he still watches them with him, after all.
Sometimes, when they don’t have time to anticipate the gore, Tooru takes the opportunity to slide his hand into Iwa-chan’s. It usually gets him elbowed in return, or a scathing eyeroll, but sometimes he doesn’t pull away, and Tooru’s heart gets to skip a beat.
It’s the silly, everyday stuff that he can’t follow through on, because he relies on Iwa-chan’s presence too much, and he’s happy as they are.
Maybe part of it’s because he still holds on to that vain childish thought that the two of them are going to be together forever; that he’s going to marry this boy someday because it just seems like the obvious thing to do. It’s not a conscious thought - he’s not doodling their names in hearts or daydreaming wedding plans. Just an assumption, a fact he’s never thought to question.
The idea that Iwa-chan might not feel the same is unthinkable, so Tooru simply doesn’t think about it.
For Iwaizumi’s eighteenth birthday, Tooru has an array of gentle, unobtrusive plans for his best friend, not all of them self-centred, but the other boy seems distracted all day. A little vague and distant.
It’s the same as if he were just coming down with a cold (which happens so rarely but always hits him so hard; his immune system seems to overcompensate every time), but it’s his birthday, so Tooru won’t stand for it; pouts and tugs on Iwa-chan’s sleeve every time he seems to be thinking about anything other than having fun and feeling good and paying attention to Tooru. And class, he supposes.
Tooru already cancelled practice in advance, prioritising celebrating, but he’s considering rescinding that by lunchtime.
“Do you want to work out whatever’s bothering you in the gym this afternoon, Iwa-chan?” He twirls a lock of hair as prettily as he can. Not that Iwaizumi is looking to notice.
“Huh?” Sometimes, Iwa-chan sounds as stupid as Tooru so often says he looks. Now is absolutely one of those times, but at least he has his attention. “I thought there was no practice today?”
“We-ell, at least you’re keeping up with that much,” Tooru teases, tongue poking out cute as he can manage, and then sighs over-dramatically. “You’ve been off all day, I thought a little physical stimulation might get some blood to your brain for once.”
He is imagining the slight flush to Iwa-chan’s cheeks at the suggestion of physical stimulation, he tells himself sternly.
“What - no --” Iwaizumi does seem flustered, but not in the way Tooru might have liked. “No, I’ve got plans already.”
That hits Tooru like a brick; like something cold and heavy dropping from his throat into his stomach. Iwa-chan has plans, and Tooru had no idea? Has something changed that he wasn’t aware of until now? Is that why he’s been so distant from Tooru today? Does Iwa-chan have a --
But his dread must show on his face - at least enough for the one person who can always see through him to notice - because Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and flicks him hard in the forehead.
“With you, Shittykawa, don’t go looking like I’ve broken your heart like that,” he jokes, and Tooru fights down the heat rising in his cheeks. It wasn’t heartbreak or anything, just surprise.
He’s even more surprised now, though, but his chest feels light and warm and glowing, instead.
“Well of course I’d be heartbroken if my darling Iwa-chan had planned something on his birthday without me,” he laughs, layering on the dramatics, one hand cast across his forehead as he tips dangerously back in his seat. “But really! What if I’d planned you a surprise and we’d overlapped?”
“Did you plan me a surprise?” Iwaizumi is straightforward as ever even as his hand reaches out to steady Tooru’s chair, and Tooru has to pout at him.
“No,” he admits. “You hate surprises on special days. You like watching movies and eating good food and being comfortable and boring.”
Iwa-chan gives him that knowing, told-you-so look he’s far too familiar with, but there’s a warmth and gratitude in there that gives Tooru a smug little internal victory.
“Where are we going, then? There’s no big kaiju movies out right now, or even normal over-the-top stupid action, I checked a hundred times -” Well, like three times, but he keeps up with that type of news anyway, if only so he can one day be a step ahead of Iwaizumi and surprise him with something he doesn’t yet know about. Not that he’s ever managed it.
Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows and his lips twitch into the tiniest smile. It’s a look he doesn’t use often, but Tooru knows what it means, recognises that hint of a glitter in his eyes. He pouts, which changes absolutely nothing. He’s not going to find out via Iwaizumi telling him, that’s for sure, not now that he’s expressed curiosity. Probably Iwaizumi already told him while he was paying attention to something else that seemed far more important at the time, and he’s forgotten already, and this is his rightful punishment.
Tooru heaves a sigh, over-dramatised and world-weary and - because it is Iwaizumi’s birthday, after all - obviously giving up, defeated. He’s capable of patience.
-
After school closes out, Iwaizumi doesn’t wait for any of their friends to wish him a happy birthday, or anything. He changes into his shoes and just -- leads Tooru out of school grounds and straight to the train station.
“Can’t I even go home and dress myself up nice for your special day, Iwa-chan?” he whines, but Iwaizumi just shakes his head. Not like Tooru had really been expecting him to change his mind.
“No time,” he explains shortly. He is walking faster than usual. But he’d implied it wasn’t a movie, so - Tooru’s mind rushes ahead at a thousand miles a minute. Does he have a reservation somewhere? With just the two of them? Even if it’s something pricey or exclusive, and even if they are best friends, it seems unusual for it to just be the two of them, rather than inviting any of their friends along - at least Hanamaki and Matsukawa - especially for a birthday celebration, no matter how much Iwaizumi prefers things quiet.
But they were still in their school uniforms, after all, with no time or seemingly inclination to change, Tooru reminded himself firmly as they got on the train, before his mind could leap from ‘reservation’ to ‘restaurant’ and from ‘just the two of us’ to somewhere far more dangerous than he was willing to acknowledge he was capable of considering.
To shut his brain up, he talked through the train journey, about anything and everything; about today’s schoolwork, about the team, about how it was so mean of Iwaizumi not to let him go home and at least get his present and fix his hair --
Iwaizumi is somehow distracted enough to tell him his hair looks great today with nothing but honesty in his tone, and that’s enough to shut Tooru up for the last few minutes until their stop, pink-faced and a little dizzy. He has to be dragged by the wrist off the train, but Iwaizumi only seems to be the regular level of exasperated with him, so he doesn’t worry about it too much.
He lets go of Tooru’s wrist once it’s clear enough he’s actually paying attention enough to follow, and the band of skin where they’d made contact tingles from the sudden lack of content, almost cold even in the warm summer air.
It’s only a short walk to their destination, but it’s clear enough on the approach at least where they’re going: the huge white-and-glass building is pretty unmistakable.
“Why’s the aquarium such a big secret?” Tooru asks, doing his level best to keep his incredulous pout as cute and wide-eyed as possible.
“It wasn’t a secret.” Which means Tooru was right and he was just being kept in the dark to make him antsy and flustered. “Just kinda funny watching you squirm and wonder sometimes.”
“Mean Iwa-chan!” Tooru smacks him in the arm. “Bully!” Not too hard: it is his birthday, after all, and he’s got that tiny hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are such a soft green in the sunshine that he can almost imagine there’s affection there as well as amusement.
Plus he’s being taken on an aquarium date, which has to count for something, whether or not the other boy is thinking of it as a date or not.
Which he might, seeing as how he’s already paid for their tickets in advance.
They get plastic wristbands so they can go in and out if they need to - Iwaizumi’s is a bit too tight, and Tooru can see him itching to loosen it or gnaw it off or something silly, and resolves to hold his hand only if he catches him at it. They’ve got a slot to meet and feed the penguins, even, which he assumes is why Iwaizumi was in such a hurry.
Was he really that excited for something like that? A thought strikes him, and as they approach the first - small, introductory - tanks, he bumps their shoulders together, grinning bright.
“Could it be, Iwa-chan?” He barely gets a grunt in response; Iwaizumi is ducked down a little to watch a selection of very small, brightly-coloured fish swim patternlessly around their tank, staring unblinking, with the intensity he’d usually hold for the nasty bugs he puts so much time into. Which only confirms Tooru’s thought, of course.
He bites back a giggle and bumps Iwaizumi again.
“Have you finally moved on from your awful, wriggling, segmented first love onto a prettier, wetter object of affection?”
This earns him an extremely tired Look, and an eye roll, so he’s right, or at least partially.
“Something like that,” Iwaizumi replies, after long enough that it takes Tooru a second to remember what he’s responding to.
His ears are red, which is as close to a full-body blush as Iwaizumi gets, and Tooru isn’t sure what that means, but he’s happy to take it as a victory nonetheless.
Iwaizumi spends twice as long at each tank as even the most fascinated child, peering steadily at each occupant visible through each of the steadily larger windows, and Tooru doesn’t even have the heart to whine that he wants to get to the bigger, more exciting fish, not with that genuine interest written so clearly and openly across his best friend’s face. Not with him letting Tooru take as many photos as he wants, with and without himself in them. Not with the way he nods so seriously and thoughtfully whenever Tooru reads out the facts on the signs beside each tank, like it’s the most important information in the world.
If he’d known he’d get such reactions, he might have read aloud the books about insects he’d brought home from the library as a kid - refusing to look at the covers, only shoving them into Iwaizumi’s startled hands and loudly voicing his disgust over any gratitude the other boy tried to display.
No, that was impossible. Way too gross.
Why couldn’t Iwaizumi have been into fish this whole time, instead of creepy-crawlies? At least most of them aren’t too unpleasant to look at, and there’s no chance of him trying to make Tooru hold them against his will.
(There’s an interactive rock pool area, a little way in, and Iwaizumi holds every single crab they’ll allow, while Tooru perches ever-so-delicate and prim on the damp rock and tries not to grimace too much when he’s encouraged to touch. He takes a selfie with the big cartoon fish on the wall instead and tries to use covering it in stickers as an excuse to ignore the attendant talking Iwaizumi through all his damp, many-legged friends for as long as he can.)
(It turns out starfish just feel sort of like rocks. Which makes sense, because in Tooru’s experience, so do stars.)
He has to hold fish to feed the penguins, too, but that’s absolutely worth it, because they are simply too adorable and he can never in a million years hate them, especially when they’re excitable and bouncy and vying for his attention just because he has a little food.
They vie more for Iwaizumi’s attention. It’s inexplicable - even the penguin handler doesn’t seem to know what to make of it. The penguins just seem to adore him, swarming him a little and bumping into his shins so he has to stay stock-still to keep from accidentally kicking any of them. He has on that expression of sort of embarrassed disbelief that Tooru sees so rarely: the last time was when someone had casually mentioned Dearest Kyoken-chan’s very obvious crush on Iwaizumi and then they’d all had to spend the rest of the lunch hour persuading him that yes, really .
Tooru’s pretty sure Iwaizumi still doesn’t really believe them, despite it being objective truth, but he’s not about to complain about having less competition.
Not that there could ever be any contest for someone being more important to Iwaizumi than him, he reminds himself firmly, as the increasingly flustered penguin handler does her best to separate her flock from their and his object of affection.
They’re faster than their waddling gait would suggest; they keep scuttling around her and back to Iwaizumi, and Tooru has never seen anything more adorable or relatable in his life. He takes as many photos as he can and sends a choice few to the entire team.
Or tries to: apparently the signal inside the building is nowhere near enough for him to connect to the internet. Which explains the lack of responses since they entered the aquarium - not even mocking ones from Makki, calling it a date. Not that he hasn’t been thinking of it as such, but no one else is allowed to unless Iwaizumi’s okay with it.
Tooru sighs, deep and slow and resigned, knowing no one is paying enough attention to ask him what’s wrong anyway. He looks up, wonders how much water is on top of him right now, and then back at Iwaizumi, who seems to almost have extracted himself from the penguin enclosure to rejoin Tooru, and whose ears are still very pink, and decides it’s worth waiting and letting his messages send later.
When they reach the biggest tank in the building, the room is empty aside from the two of them, and the fish.
The water casts blue light and soft, dark shadows across the planes of Iwaizumi’s face, and as he takes in the sight of that expanse of glass and water, for once there’s no crease between his eyebrows.
Tooru can’t find anything clever to say, in the quiet of that blue room, after managing to take a - slightly shaky - picture of this unusually serene Iwa-chan. So the two of them just stand there for a while, watching the life in motion spread out in front of them, caught in a sense of quiet awe. At some point, their hands find each other, fingers catching and winding together naturally, and neither of them say anything of it even as they go through the rest of the place - as before, but connected there, just for a little while.
He forgets to take any more pictures.
Iwaizumi tries to sweep through the gift shop without any fuss or bother, but there is no way Tooru is letting him get away with that. He treated Tooru to this entire experience, and it is his birthday after all, so he’s basically legally obligated to accept a gift bought for him.
It is, of course, a penguin. It’s soft and squishy and he bumps it into Iwaizumi’s shoulder and face and gives it a silly voice - “I love you, Iwa-chan!” - and insists that Iwaizumi names it as soon as they’re out the door.
“Uh,” Iwaizumi stalls a little, clearly lost for ideas. The sun is low in the sky, lighting him orange in stark contrast to the blue inside. “Penguin...san?”
Tooru purses his lips, and shakes his head with as much stern disapproval as he can summon.
“Have some imagination, Iwa-chan, I am begging you - for once.”
Iwaizumi holds the penguin up to eye level, appraising it carefully.
“He loves me, you say?” he asks, slow and thoughtful.
“He said it, not me!” Tooru insists, pointing an accusing finger at the penguin. He can’t hold the giggles in, though. “He thinks the woooorld of you and will never leave you alone because he loves you soooo much.”
“Then -” Iwaizumi’s eyes shift from the toy bird to the pouting boy beside him. The sun’s hitting his eyes at a funny angle, so they look too-bright, almost reflective, and greener than ever. “Since it’ll be nice to have one who loves me, and who’ll never insult my intelligence or looks or any of my other personal qualities, I’ll call him Tooru.”
Tooru - the real one, not the toy penguin - gapes.
“No!”
Iwaizumi nods solemnly.
“That’s not fair - you don’t even call me Tooru!”
“Too late. That’s his name now.”
Tooru-the-boy wails in anguish. Tooru-the-penguin gets tucked into Iwaizumi’s schoolbag. His little beak is poking out and it’s adorable. It’s ridiculous, of course, to resent an inanimate object he himself bought as a gift, and yet --
He pouts at it. And continues pouting all the way to the train station, and when he pulls out his phone on the train to check his slew of messages and make sure everyone’s super jealous of what an amazing time they had today without any of them.
He only stops pouting when he goes to take a travel selfie for the end of the day and finds the other Tooru pressed up against his face.
“Seems he takes after you in a few ways,” Iwaizumi says, completely deadpan, but he can’t meet Tooru’s eyes and his ears are red.
He’s trying to cheer him up, Tooru realises, even though he was sulking over something so silly in the first place. There’s a rush of gratitude that feels like a whole roaring ocean in his chest, and he tugs Iwaizumi into the picture as well. They take five from various angles, and they’re some of his favourites from the whole day, he thinks, even if the other boy is doing his usual thing of not making eye contact with the camera.
“So I’m supposed to be having a meal at home tonight,” Iwaizumi begins, once Tooru is done and Tooru is back in his bag, and photos are being sent out to not just their own team members, but all the members of other teams whose numbers he’s managed to get, one way or the other.
(none for Ushiwaka, whose number he keeps deleting, and which keeps making its way back onto his contact list anyway)
(when he finds out who keeps doing that he’s going to go to jail. because he will have committed grievous bodily harm. he can only hope iwa-chan will be around when that day comes, to restrain him)
(he can’t imagine not having iwa-chan around)
Iwaizumi is still talking.
“But I kinda…” he trails off, scratches the back of his neck, a little awkward. “I don’t know. Do you want to just - get convenience store food and eat it on the hill, instead?”
Tooru doesn’t have to ask what Iwaizumi means - there’s plenty of hills around, sure, but there’s only one that they’ve climbed hundreds of times, apart and together, for countless reasons, from runaway attempts to meteor showers to so many failed attempts to catch UFOs. It’s not technically a place that belongs to anyone but nevertheless it’s - their space. That Iwaizumi wants to spend the evening there instead of with his family could probably be worrying if he chose to look at it from that angle, but it’s much easier to just be happy about getting to monopolize his best friend’s time.
“Well, I’ll be sad to miss out on Iwa-chan’s mama’s cooking,” he pretends to deliberate. Iwaizumi elbows him in the side and he collapses in laughter. “I’d love to - my treat, though, okay? And I get to stop at mine and get your present on the way.”
Iwaizumi pretends to think about it too, and eventually nods his agreement.
-
Iwaizumi makes sure Tooru buys himself real food, not just bread, and waits outside with the carrier bag for a good ten minutes while Tooru fusses over his hair as well as grabbing the present.
He doesn’t seem impatient or irritated when Tooru emerges, once again flawlessly put-together.
“Ever steadfast and patient,” he compliments him as they start walking up the path around and behind Iwaizumi’s house. “My Iwa-chan; my rock.”
This gets him an eyeroll, of course, but at least an amused one, he thinks.
“Just in a good mood,” Iwaizumi reassures him. “Any other time and I’d be up the hill and eating your food already.”
“That sounds more like you,” Tooru agrees cheerily, although they both know Iwaizumi values Tooru’s health too highly to actually eat more than a mouthful or two of his food in retaliation. Iwaizumi bumps him with his shoulder, clearly trying to seem grumpier than he’s feeling; it just makes Tooru laugh.
It’s a short walk, but with the time it took them to ride the train and buy food as well, the sun has almost fully set by the time they’re sat on the little ridge they’ve so often occupied, since they were kids and not really allowed to go off unsupervised to somewhere so isolated. The streetlights below and the half-moon above are plenty of light to eat by, though, so the sun paints the sky red and then winks out below the horizon without much fanfare.
It’s quiet, aside from the cicadas, and the distant singing from the stars that Oikawa learned from an early age no one else could hear. The air’s still warm, and where they are there always feels like there’s more of a stillness than anywhere else near.
The kind of quiet that he, for once, doesn’t want to break.
Peaceful, he supposes, sipping at his iced tea and watching the sky. It’s habitual now, to check for dark or bright shapes between him and the stars, and he’s caught Iwaizumi doing it too on plenty of occasions. That, he supposes, is his fault, for dragging him out alien-hunting so many times. They never spot anything, but they still look, even if Tooru isn’t actively making them.
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi starts, breaking the silence between them almost hesitantly.
There’s something about his tone of voice. Something soft and cautious that makes Tooru want to take it very seriously. Something that makes his breath catch a little, that he can’t define in words but feels important , and -
Is Iwaizumi going to confess to him?
He does his best to stay calm, and patient, and not let his suddenly-pounding heart jump up out of his throat.
“Yeah?” He manages to keep his voice light and airy. No good if he puts too much pressure on, or something, he tells himself.
Iwaizumi’s eyes are fixed on the stars.
He visibly bites his lip, shakes his head, and gets back to finishing his bento.
Tooru can wait. He’s waited twelve years, he can wait a bit longer.
A while longer passes, and they’ve finished eating and put all their garbage back into the carrier bag, and Iwaizumi is leaning back a little to watch the sky as he sips his aloe juice.
It takes almost a full minute for Tooru to notice that he’s humming.
It probably wouldn’t have taken so long in any other circumstances, but the song echoing soft and low in Iwaizumi’s throat blends and blurs with the rest so perfectly that it’s only by proximity Tooru can tell that this noise, this particular tune that sounds so natural from Iwaizumi, seems to come so easy to him, is the same song the stars are singing.