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He’s wearing a red turtleneck today, and it’s tight enough to hint at the muscles underneath - definitely enough to make Hajime avert his eyes and bite his lip.
It’s not fair, really.
He hasn’t noticed him yet - surrounded by a gaggle of admirers by the door, that’s no surprise - but Hajime seems to have an extra sense of his presence.
He’s not the only one.
“Kaya-chan!” Oikawa says happily as the tall, dark-haired girl bounds towards him.
Hajime doesn’t need to watch to know he’s caught her in his arms. He can tell by the delighted little shriek he hears, and the giggling of the other girls.
He sighs and opens up his laptop. It’s going to be a long day.
Halfway through the second lecture, his mind wanders.
He’s thought about this embarrassingly often, though he tries not to drift in public for fear of what he might say when he’s inevitably jolted out of his thoughts.
It’s not indecent - it rarely is, unless Oikawa’s done something specific to provoke it. It’s just…
He can’t help but wonder, what if it was me.
Oikawa, leaning in to press a kiss to his neck when their professor’s back is turned - just a quick peck, accompanied by that adorable half-laugh of his and a dazzling smile.
Oikawa, tucked under his arm on the couch, playing with his fingers as they watch a movie.
Oikawa, running up and launching himself into Hajime’s arms.
Oikawa, Oikawa, Oikawa.
The hardest part is - they’d been so close. It seemed like enough, to be the person closest to Oikawa - to want in secret, and relish the fact that Oikawa is tactile with his friends. To close his eyes when Oikawa hugs him and hold on a tiny bit longer than necessary. To push him away gruffly while his eyes scream don’t go.
It was only a matter of time before Oikawa got a girlfriend - or rather, before someone got him.
Hajime had stepped aside, smiled, shattered.
The touches decreased, and he found himself pulling away more and more.
Oikawa sits with Kaya now, and the seat next to Hajime is empty.
He glances over, and finds Oikawa watching him, an inscrutable expression on his face. They both look away.
It’s better this way.
Oikawa walks up to him after lectures end, dodging two of the girls who were waiting for him at the door.
“Iwa-chan,” he says, brow furrowed. There’s a trace of playful teasing in his voice, like an offering, covering real concern. He’s giving Hajime an out, if he doesn’t want to talk about it. And an option to do so if he does.
Hajime sighs.
“Hey.”
“...you coming to practice?”
Slowly, Hajime shakes his head.
Oikawa’s face falls a little. “Oh. Why not?”
“Studying,” he says. He doesn’t say that it’s also because as a third-string player, he’s unlikely to ever be needed by this university team, so he’s been slacking off. Studying is the excuse he tells himself, to mask disappointment.
Even if he went to practice, he wouldn’t see much of Oikawa anyway.
“I thought we could go get dinner after,” Oikawa is saying.
Hajime raises his eyebrows a little. “Since when can you afford to dine out?”
“We could’ve gone to your place,” Oikawa says, the slightest trace of a pout on his lips. He’s been trying to drop the habit, but sometimes it catches up to him.
“Not sure I’ll have time,” Hajime says, another thin lie. Truth is, he probably couldn’t bear having Oikawa back in the apartment they used to share, even for a short while. Because he’d look, once again, like he belonged there. He’d make Hajime forget what he lost, until the time came for him to leave, again. And it’d all come crashing back, just as bad as before, or worse.
“I’ll text you,” Oikawa says, forgetting he hasn’t done that in weeks.
Hajime shrugs a little. “Have fun at practice.”
He does text, jolting Hajime out of his distracted staring into nothingness, pouring over a book he’s not reading.
He doesn’t ask how it’s going, if Hajime feels up for getting food.
He just texts “let me in.”
“I could have been asleep,” Hajime says when he opens the door to find Oikawa holding a bag of takeout.
“You have a regular schedule, Iwa-chan, you don’t sleep before 10pm.”
“It’s almost 9.”
“So we have an hour.”
Oikawa walks past him, and Hajime sees that his hair is still damp from his shower after practice. The smell of his shampoo is faint but noticeable.
Oikawa spreads the food on the coffee table with a familiarity that makes Hajime’s throat feel dry. He drops onto the sofa, looking up at Hajime expectantly.
Wordlessly, Hajime sits down beside him and grabs one of the boxes, and a pair of chopsticks.
“You’re welcome,” Oikawa says, with the hint of a teasing grin.
“...thanks.”
“You need to stop forgetting to eat, Iwa-chan.”
Hajime almost shrugs, stopping himself at the last moment. Oikawa frowns.
They eat in silence.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” Oikawa says, setting down his box and startling Hajime by the shift in movement. “But at least tell me there’s someone you do talk to?”
“...what?”
Oikawa gives him a look so heavy with sadness that Hajime almost gasps.
“I… I don’t know what’s happening here, but I want you to be happy.”
Dread pools in Hajime’s stomach. “...what are you talking about?”
“...I know you’re avoiding me. And I probably deserve it, but… I’m worried about you. You look pale and unhappy, and I know you’re not taking care of yourself properly. Usually… usually you’re the one who knocks sense into me, and I’m not good at… I’m not good at doing that for other people. But… you need to let someone in. You can’t do everything alone.”
Before Hajime can protest, he’s standing up and gathering the boxes in the plastic bag to take to the trash in the kitchen.
The bag rustles, followed by the click of the cabinet.
“I’ll always answer if you call,” Oikawa says from the hallway. “And I’ll stop bugging you now.”
Hajime can hear him pulling on his shoes and picking up his bag, but his words are dead in his throat. He can’t even turn.
The door opens.
Hajime holds his breath. Two conflicting voices in his head cry out, don’t leave and please go.
The door closes.
Hajime lets out air in a shuddering breath, and doesn’t try to catch the tears dripping into his lap.
He doesn’t go to class the next day. He doesn’t even get out of bed.
At around 2pm, someone knocks on his door. Hajime ignores it.
He can hear voices, recognizes Bokuto and Kuroo, and his limbs feel exceptionally heavy.
He closes his eyes and holds still as a statue until the knocking stops and the voices fade.
He drifts in and out of a dreamless sleep, and wakes when the light in his room fades.
Reaching for the phone, he ignores the notifications and opens up his messenger.
To: Oikawa
sorry
He turns off his phone and drops it beside the bed.
He knows an apology doesn’t fix that he’s made his best friend worry so much, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
He turns under the covers, feeling heavier than ever. He needs to change something - but how, without the energy to stand?
Half an hour later - he must have dozed off - he’s woken by frantic pounding on his door. It’s more insistent than the knocking from earlier, urgent and loud.
Then, a key turning in the lock.
Before Hajime can think, the door to his bedroom bursts open to reveal Oikawa.
His hair is a mess, and his eyes are wide with fear.
“Iwa-”
His eyes fall on Hajime, and it’s like all energy drains from him. His knees give way and he sinks to the floor, hands covering his mouth.
Hajime lifts himself onto his elbow, concern taking over fatigue.
“Oikawa, what-”
“You’re okay,” Oikawa gasps. It’s hard to see his expression in the dim light, but the glint of tears in his eyes is unmistakable.
Terrible things flash across Hajime’s mind - is he hurt? Someone else? Has something happened?
The shock gives him the energy he needs to push himself out of the bed and to the floor in front of his best friend.
“What happened?” he asks, reaching for Oikawa’s arms.
He’s shaking, drawing ragged breaths as he fights back the tears.
“Y-you- you didn’t come to class, and- then that message, and you didn’t answer my- my calls, I thought-”
It takes a second for the horror to set in, closely accompanied by a huge wave of guilt.
“Oh- I didn’t mean- I was just- I wanted to apologize for yesterday, I should have-”
Oikawa shakes his head, finally reaching out and grabbing hold of Hajime’s sleeves. “You’re okay.”
It’s the little quiver in his voice that breaks all of Hajime’s resolve. He closes the distance between them, wrapping Oikawa in his arms. It’s a little awkward, with both of them on their knees on the floor, but as soon as his face is buried in Hajime’s shoulder, Oikawa starts sobbing.
He’s managed to pull them both up onto his bed, and Oikawa has stopped crying. Now they’re just sitting side by side, but some of the tension between them is gone.
Hajime waits, not wanting to be the first to break the silence. He’s drawing small, soft circles on the back of Oikawa’s hand, and he’s not pulling away.
“I was so scared,” Oikawa says finally, quiet, heavy. “I thought I’d… I don’t know. That you’d hurt yourself. That you’d- that you’d left me.”
You’re the one that left, Hajime thinks bitterly, but bites down on that thought immediately.
As it turns out though, he doesn’t need to say it. Oikawa seems to read it from his silence, from the fresh tension in his limbs.
“Can I move back in?” he asks. No preamble, no uncertainty. Just plain, unaltered truth.
“You don’t have to,” Hajime says, almost panicked - he’s not doing that badly, he’s just having a bad day, Oikawa doesn’t need to worry-
“I want to.”
Hajime lets the words hang between them for a moment.
“I thought things were going well with Kaya.”
Oikawa folds his hands in his lap. “She’s- she’s great. But I don’t belong there.”
Hajime frowns. “What are you talking about? You two are happy!”
“But you’re not.”
Hajime stops, as if shot by a bullet. When he finds himself again, he turns to face Oikawa in shock.
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything!”
“Iwa-chan-”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Oikawa,” he says, suddenly inexplicably angry, pulling back his hand. “I don’t want your pity! I’m handling myself. The last thing I want is that you hold yourself back because of me. I told you that when you made first string, and when you moved out - I’m your friend, not a shackle binding you to the past. I don’t want-”
“It feels wrong!” Oikawa blurts, silencing him. “It feels all wrong, Hajime. Everything I’m doing is carrying me away from you, and I hate it.”
Hajime exhales, incredulous. He tries to blow past the use of his first name, but it makes the words feel heavy and sticky in his throat.
“We’re not joined at the hip, Oikawa.”
“We used to be.”
“So what? People change!”
“Not us.”
He says it with such conviction that Hajime startles, taken aback by the sudden intensity of his eyes.
“I know we grow, and we change, but- the way I feel about you hasn’t changed. You’re- you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”
Hajime huffs out a humorless laugh. “You’re so fucking selfish. You don’t get to decide where I go, what I do. We all have lives to live, Oikawa.”
“I know that!”
Oikawa sounds frustrated now, and Hajime can tell by his voice that he’s close to tears again.
“I know, okay? And I thought that was how it had to be. I knew things were going to change. But I didn’t think that’d mean that we wouldn’t be friends anymore. Not you. I can let the past go, but- not you. Never you.”
Again, Hajime swallows the words he wants to say - you’re the one who’s running away. Moving forward. Like you should, like my feelings don’t matter.
And then, more quietly, in the back of his mind, they’re my burden to carry.
“Look, I know that you don’t need me here anymore,” Oikawa says. “But I can’t let you get rid of me so easily.”
Hajime looks up at him, startled.
“I’m not- I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
“Then why are you so determined to make me leave?”
Hajime lets out an exasperated sound, like he’s explaining the same simple concept to a toddler for the tenth time.
“I can see you’re happy with Kaya! You should stay with her!”
“Is that what you want?”
“Who cares what I want?” Hajime snaps, before he can stop himself. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you not holding yourself back, it’s-”
“But you’re wrong,” Oikawa interrupts, “you’re wrong!”
“How so?”
“Because-” Oikawa breathes into his hands, covering his face as if praying for patience. “Because if I had to choose between her and you, I’d always choose you.”
The silence that hangs between them is like a veil, swallowing everything else.
Oikawa is looking at him, a helplessly open expression on his face.
“You-” Hajime takes another moment, shaking his head, trying to understand what Oikawa just said. “That’s- that’s so stupid, Oikawa, why would you- why ruin a perfectly good relationship? I can’t- I can’t give you what she can. I can’t help you grow like that-”
“Can’t you?”
Hajime stares.
“What… what are you saying?”
Oikawa looks up at him, lost and found at the same time, in hopeless honesty. “I’d always choose you, Iwa-chan. Every time.”
“But I’m not-”
“I don’t care.”
“Oikawa-”
“I don’t care .”
Their eyes meet, and Hajime falls silent.
“I’ve always been in love with you.”
The words are simple, but they take a second to reach Hajime’s brain, because Oikawa had uttered them like he would any other words. Not like a secret, a confession, a revelation. Just as the truth.
When Hajime doesn’t speak, Oikawa looks down and continues softly: “I’ve known for… for years, I think. No one- no one cared about me like you did. No one was closer than you. No one was more important. I don’t know when it started, but it’s… it’s always been you. But I knew you didn’t- you couldn’t- so I tried to ignore it. It would be fine, as long as I could still be close to you. I couldn’t lose you.”
“But- what about-”
“Kaya is sweet. She deserves someone who can put her first, but I can’t do that. I don’t know why I thought I could. I moved in with her, because it seemed like the logical next step, but-”
He gestures helplessly. “I keep coming back to you. And I couldn’t- I can’t keep lying, pretending. Not to her, so I... I broke up with her. And not to you. I just… needed you to know.”
He makes to leave, but Hajime has the presence of mind to reach out and grab his arm.
“Wait.”
His voice sounds foreign, like it’s not his own.
Oikawa gives him the saddest, most painful smile he’s ever seen in his life. “It’s okay, Iwa-chan. I’ll give you some space. I know I’ve been selfish-”
“Yes,” Hajime says, cutting him off. “And now I’m asking you to wait.”
“But-”
“You can’t- you can’t just say all of that and not even let me answer.”
Oikawa’s eyes say what’s there to answer, and he’s determined to prove, to explain-
“It’s okay, really-”
“Me, too,” Hajime says, and it’s clunky and too fast and awkward but it’s also raw and true. “I’m- I feel the same way. About you.”
Oikawa tenses, apprehension in every single muscle.
“What?”
Hajime exhales, because he’d expected the pressure to lift, just a little, but everything still feels surreal.
“I’m in love with you.”
Oikawa stares at him, eyes wide.
“...what?”
Hajime forces out a single, awkward huff of laughter, but it’s dry and it feels off. “Yeah, I- yeah.”
There’s a change. It’s subtle at first, in the set of Oikawa’s shoulders and his eyes, a flicker, a tiny light -
He laughs, too, once, incredulous, his face contorting as he tries to hold in the inevitable-
And he’s crying.
He sucks in air in tiny gasps, unable to move or speak as big tears roll down his cheeks, collecting at his chin, shaking along with the hitch in his shoulders.
Hajime watches him unravel, barely aware of his own eyes beginning to water.
Oikawa lets out a garbled sound - it might have been his name, or some other word that got lost along the way, but Hajime couldn’t care less. Slowly, carefully, he’s reaching out for Oikawa’s hand. Everything is blurry, but Oikawa’s pulse slamming against his wrist feels sharp and real.
“H-Hajime,” Oikawa says, a little more intelligible this time. He’s pressing their palms together as if it’d save his life, fingers digging into Hajime’s skin.
Hajime tries to smile, but he’s still crying and it probably looks ridiculous, but Oikawa exhales in laughter, and suddenly the tension is broken, and-
Without even a split-second’s warning, Oikawa throws himself into Hajime’s arms.
Hajime gasps at the impact, but his arms come up on instinct, pulling Oikawa close. He can hear his tiny sobs, and each one feels more relieved than the last.
Somehow, they’ve ended up lying down, Oikawa’s head resting on Hajime’s arm, face buried in his shoulder. The tears have faded, but the anxiety has not, not entirely: Oikawa’s arm is loosely draped on Hajime’s hip, like he’s afraid to hold on too tightly, lest he scare Hajime off.
As if anything ever could.
Hajime leans forward to press his face into Oikawa’s hair, letting out a soft, content sound. After all the crying, he’s left with overwhelming relief. He tries to communicate this without words, by holding Oikawa close and leaning into his touch.
“I thought I was never going to be happy,” Oikawa mumbles, breath warm over Hajime’s skin.
“...you’re so dramatic.”
Oikawa pokes him, and he squirms.
“It’s true!” he protests. “You would’ve- there are always ways to be happy.”
“Not without you,” Oikawa insists, and this time Hajime is the one to poke him.
“I can’t solve all your problems, Oikawa.”
Oikawa exhales, deflating a little. “I know. I’m not- that’s not what I’m asking.”
“...good. But I can… I can be by your side while you face them.”
He can feel Oikawa’s smile, hear it, doesn’t need to look to know he’s got a stupid-happy expression on his face.
“...so cheesy.”
“You said you’d let everything go except me.”
Now it’s Oikawa’s turn to squirm - his embarrassment is incredibly endearing.
“And I was serious!”
“So am I.”
Oikawa wails, more drama than actual affliction, and finally squeezes his arms around Hajime tightly.
“You better not be lying to me…”
Hajime shakes his head. “Never to you,” he says, echoing Oikawa’s own words.
Stubbornly, Oikawa lifts his head so he can look at Hajime’s face in the half-dark of the room. The sun has completely set, the only light they have left is the square that’s falling onto the floor from the illuminated hall.
“...promise?” he asks, with that tiny hint of insecurity he can’t quite seem to shake.
Hajime studies his face, much like he would a painting, a soft smile on his lips.
“Promise,” he says, and pulls Oikawa down to kiss him.