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They pass each other in the halls, and—instantly, a spark.
Tooru can taste the magic in the air, burnt sugar and cinnamon, that rises, scalding, the moment their eyes meet. His skin prickles with the tension of it, electricity skimming over his nerves, because of course, of course, his body remembers.
And of course, of course, Kageyama Tobio would be here, at the most prestigious magic academy in the nation. Why wouldn't he get in, what with his raw talent and inherent skill? Why wouldn't he pass the entrance exam with flying colors? Why wouldn't he just slip, right back into Tooru's life, as if they were meant to be?
They are not meant to be, Tooru tells himself, and stares at Tobio's frozen figure for a moment longer, before he turns and continues down the hall.
Faintly, he hears what might be a whisper of his name. It certainly didn't come from Tobio—no, it must have been the ghosts that haunt the old building, the creak of ancient rafters, the howls of wraiths on the wind. Anything, anything, except Tobio's call.
“I don't know what you expected,” Iwaizumi says without looking up from his book.
“This was pretty predictable,” Matsukawa agrees. He has his feet propped up on the table, but they're tucked into a back corner of the library, hidden behind the stacks, so he gets away with it. For now.
Tooru glares at Iwaizumi first, but it's not very effective since Iwaizumi still hasn't looked up from his reading. So, Tooru glares at Matsukawa instead. Matsukawa just flicks his hand and sends a puff of air straight into Tooru's face in retaliation.
“You could, you know... just brainstorming here,” Hanamaki says, voice lilted in a mock drawl before it snaps to sharp. “Go fucking talk to him.”
Tooru glances at Hanamaki before he just pulls his legs into his chair and hugs his knees, chin resting on his forearm. “That would defeat the purpose of being mad at him.”
“I think that's the point,” Matsukawa says. He flicks a gust of air at Iwaizumi, rustling the pages so Iwaizumi loses his place.
“I was reading that,” Iwaizumi growls.
“Not anymore,” Hanamaki quips. “When you said you wanted to practice, I'd thought you meant 'let's go to the forest and fuck shit up' not studying.”
“Well, I did,” Iwaizumi says, closing his book. He jerks his thumb in Tooru's direction. "And then this brat had a breakdown over his ex, so I thought we'd postpone.”
Matsukawa stands, all long limbs and lazy movement, but there's a glint in his eyes. “Fucking shit up is the perfect cure to breakdowns. C'mon, Oikawa, we're gonna go break something.”
Tooru glares at him over his knees. “I hope its your legs.”
“We'll see,” says Hanamaki, “The night is still young.”
Iwaizumi tugs at Tooru's collar, dragging him up out of his chair. “Let's go, Shittykawa. You need a distraction.”
Tooru lets out an annoyed grumble, but he let's Iwaizumi haul him up.
Iwaizumi keeps his hand on the small of Tooru's back as they walk, a warm comfort. “You know, you really should work this out with him.”
Tooru doesn't directly respond. Instead, as they trek across the school grounds towards the back fence, he says, “Everyone always thought it'd be us.”
Iwaizumi purses his lips. “I thought it'd be us.”
“Do... you wish it was?” Tooru ventures. Yet, he's not sure if he wishes it so, either.
Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I'd never be able to stand you,” he prods. “Besides you—you two just—work. Somehow.”
Tooru nods, worries the inside of his cheek, and tries very, very hard not to remember.
Oikawa Tooru is not a genius.
But Kageyama Tobio—he's raw talent. A natural spellwriter. A rare gift.
Tooru has struggled to keep his place at the top.
Tobio's had it offered to him on a silver platter.
Tooru wants to hate him. He wants to hold to the resentment from when they first met. But the problem is that Tooru knows how hard Tobio works, because he was with him, for all of it. Every hour, all the sweat and tears and frustration, all the long nights and tentative elation of a successful spell.
In fact, they've spent so much time together, worked so closely, that their magic is intertwined.
Tooru misses it. His body aches for it. Tobio has inked himself onto Tooru's bones, pressed his memory into Tooru's senses. Every day, Tobio lingers, still with him, even though—
Even as he'd tried to get rid of Tooru.
See, magic is a connected thing. It's beyond the individual, and it ever tries to be whole again. There are times where magic just fits. Where wizards find each other and discover that they hold in them two pieces of the same puzzle, and together, they're stronger for it.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa have been paired since they were children, their magic so intertwined that the remnant touch of it is indistinguishable between the two of them. They've grown, with this shared thing; they've nurtured it together.
That's what Tooru and Tobio had, too—right until the moment Tobio tried to tear them apart.
He succeeded, even though it hadn't been with the spell he was writing, but instead with his words.
The problem is: Tooru misses him.
But he's not going to put himself through greater heartbreak. If this is what they've become, then there's no sense in trying to salvage the bond. Let it fade, and, in time, Tooru will be okay again.
In time.
“Tooru.”
Suddenly, he's cornered. It's between classes, and Tooru was on his way to his advanced spell ingredients lecture when Tobio managed to find him in the stairwell.
Tooru does his best to scowl at him, even as his skin tingles with the proximity. Just this is enough to make him nearly lightheaded, breathing in the scent of Tobio's magic.
“What?” Tooru snaps.
“Tooru, please. Talk to me,” Tobio pleads.
“I am, aren't I?” Tooru tilts his chin up and takes advantage of their meager height difference to sneer down his nose at Tobio. “You came to me, so you want to say something, right?”
“I—” Tobio falters, and then his nose crinkles up like he's tasted something disgusting. “You took everything the wrong way.”
Tooru scoffs. “Great way to start, pinning all the blame on me.”
“You overreacted!” Tobio protests. “It's not—it's not what you thought.”
Tooru's eyes narrow into a glare. “That's not an apology.”
“What?” Tobio says. “Why would I—” His eyes go wide, either with realization or in reaction to the anger obvious on Tooru's expression. Perhaps he can feel it, the fury simmering across Tooru's veins. His magic must be tainted with it.
Tooru reaches out and grabs at Tobio's chin, holding him in place. The touch sends electricity shooting down Tooru's arm, but he ignores it. He ignores the heat spreading across his entire body, too, as he steps closer, into Tobio's space. He can feel Tobio's breath against his lips. A year ago, that would have been a promise.
Now, it's a threat: “The next time you talk to me,” Tooru snarls, “You better come on your knees.”
He walks away, then, leaving Tobio behind in the stairwell, trembling. With each step he takes away, it feels as if a new cut is carved against his flesh.
Anger still poisons him, tuning his spells towards aggression.
Tooru drags Iwaizumi out to the forest behind the academy, under the guise of practice. But Iwaizumi knows him too well—that this is an excuse to burn off the fury, to exhaust himself until he's raw.
Even the nature around him doesn't calm him. Instead it just highlights the stark contrast of his bad mood.
Tooru feels his blood and bones call to the forest around him. This is his element—plants, nature—and today, he delivers destruction. There's a horrible cracking sound as Tooru twists a spell into a tree. He reorganizes its cells, decomposes its bark, carves something angry and horrible into it. When he's done, the tree is bent into an unnatural shape, but unbroken, as if this twisted, retched thing was meant to be like that.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Iwaizumi asks.
“Nothing happened,” Tooru growls.
Perhaps the tree is like his bond with Tobio—unnatural, not meant to be, yet still built into their beings and molded into their souls.
“Something happened,” Iwaizumi says, matter-of-fact. “Spit it out.”
“I just—” Oikawa starts, furious, and he stops.
Overwhelmed, he lifts his hands and strips all the leaves from a tree with a twitch of his wrist. He grinds his teeth against the depletion of his magic and forces as much anger into his spell. As the leaves fall around him, Tooru summons the world to his bidding. The ground trembles, and before him burst black roots, gnarled and deformed as they twitch and writhe where they emerge from the hard ground.
“Jesus,” Iwaizumi breathes.
Tooru lets his hands fall, breathing hard. He stares at the mass of twisted darkness he's brought from the ground, and feels nothing.
Fire magic isn't his specialty, but he knows enough. Tooru snaps his fingers, and then roots burst into flame.
He turns to face Iwaizumi. “I said—nothing happened.”
They pass each other, between classes. Tobio holds his gaze, for as long as he can, and Tooru feels longing ping through his chest all over again.
Tooru is studying, outside, just as fall edges towards too-cold. Still, the day is nice, and he's sitting against a tree, drawing comfort from the gentle swaying of branches in the leaves.
The sound of laughter, rare but familiar, causes sparks to dance across his skin, and suddenly the sun is too-hot.
Peeking around the tree trunk, he finds Tobio sitting in the grass alongside a redhead and silver-haired man. They're talking animatedly about something.
Tooru turns back around, hiding behind the tree, before Tobio can spot him. He feels his heart beating against his ribs, and wishes, so badly, that this would end.
The bonds are supposed to fade, as time goes by—so why... does he still feel this endless pull towards Tobio?
Tooru misses him.
Tooru finds a small bouquet of flowers at the door to his room. They're not signed for, but he feels the remnant of Tobio's magic on them, spells whispered against their petals.
But Tobio's strong suit isn't natural magic, and by morning, they're wilting on Tooru's desk where he'd left them because he hadn't had the strength to throw them away.
Two days later, Tooru breathes life into them again, and this time, they stay blooming for a week.
Tooru looks up from his book when he's read the same paragraph three times and still hasn't processed any of it. Kuroo is flopped across his bed on the opposite side of the room, one headphone in as he watches some video game livestream.
“How long does it take a bond to fade?”
Kuroo turns his head, slightly, and then drags his eyes away from his laptop screen after another moment. “Uh, depends on the bond?”
Tooru absently smooths the corner of the page he was reading between his fingers. “How long do you think the bond between me and Tobio would take to fade?”
Kuroo's brow furrows at him. “You still feel it?”
“I...” Tooru puffs out his cheeks, indignant, and then lets the air out in a huff. “I didn't say that.”
Kuroo narrows his eyes. “I mean, I didn't know you before we started at the academy, so...”
“Right,” Tooru says. “You wouldn't really know how close we were.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo says.
He turns his head back to his game, and Tooru looks back down at his book.
But then, without looking at him, Kuroo adds: “But I think, if it's lasted this long without you two casting anything together, then it might be worth trying to salvage... It's hard to find something that special.”
“Yeah,” Tooru murmurs, and the page he's been worrying at finally rips.
It's taken nearly four months for him to get here, to work up the courage to face this—whatever it is—between them.
Tooru knocks on the door to Tobio's dorm room.
The door swings open, and the redhead Tooru had seen with him before blinks up at Tooru with blatant confusion written across his face. “Who are you?”
“Is Tobio here?” Tooru asks, instead of answering.
“Yeah, but—” Suddenly, he lets out a squawk as Tobio comes hurtling towards the door and shoves his roommate out of the way in the process.
“Ow! That hurt, assho—”
Tobio flings the door open wide, turns to his roommate, and deadpans, “Get out.”
“What the—why do I have to go?”
Tobio glances at Tooru, and then at his roommate. “Please,” he grits out.
The roommate's brows furrow, confused and still a little angry, and then his eyes widen, realization coming over him. “Is this the guy?” he asks excitedly.
Tobio looks at him, entirely exasperated. “Leave.”
“If it's this much trouble,” Tooru interrupts their squabble. “Then I'll come back another time. Or not at all.”
Tobio turns to him, gaze pleading. “No. Stay, please, I—” He breaks off, swallowing hard.
“It's fine!” his roommate chirps, and slips back Tooru, disappearing down the hallway.
“Come in?” Tobio asks. His voice sounds very small in comparison to his interaction with his roommate.
Tooru follows him in, and Tobio glances around, perhaps embarrassed about the mess of clothes and things scattered about, but it's not like Tooru didn't know how organized he was before.
Eventually, Tobio turns around to look at him. “Would you lik—”
Tooru holds up his hand. “Unlike you,” he starts, and he watched Tobio swallow again. “I planned what I was going to say before I ambushed you. But before I say that, since apparently I'm the one at fault, I want you to tell me why.”
Tobio stares at him. Finally, he says, “It's not your fault.”
“Go on,” Tooru says.
“I didn't mean... for you to think the spell was to cut our bond because I wanted to.” Tobio takes a deep breath and looks away. “I figured... I figured if you ever didn't want me, that it'd be easier if there was a spell, so it'd be quick. Instead of...” Tobio waves his hand between them. “Instead of this.”
“You...” Tooru licks his lips. “You thought I wouldn't want you?”
“I mean, not... not then, but some day, maybe. Like now, I guess. You're...” Tobio smiles bitterly, gaze still directed at Tooru's shoes. “You're so much better than me.”
“What?” Tooru squawks, and Tobio looks up in surprise. Tooru gestures at him. “You're a spellwriter!”
“So?” Tobio fires back. “You're amazing and skilled and beautiful—” he clamps his mouth shut, blushing. “You could do a lot better than me. You're good with people. You'd meet someone, eventually. Or—I thought maybe you'd want to try bonding with Iwaizumi.”
“Iwaizumi's bonded with Daichi and Kuroo,” Tooru deadpans. “And even then, I knew him since we were kids, and it never happened. Besides, he's not... He's not the one I want.”
Tobio nods, and bites his lip. Tentatively, he asks, “Who is?”
Tooru stares at him, dumbfounded at how dense Tobio is. He sighs and steps closer, tilting Tobio's chin up with a gentle touch. “You, obviously.”
“Oh,” Tobio breathes out. “Oh.”
“What I came here to say,” Tooru says softly. “Is that I wanted things to be okay between us. I was hurt, and I still want an apology—”
“I'm sor—” Tobio starts to blurt out, but Tooru puts his finger over Tobio's lips.
“Let me finish. I wanted us to have a clean slate. I wanted to know if you didn't want the bond between us, so I could either move on, or... I guess figure out if I wanted to try again.”
“Do you?” Tobio whispers.
“I think so,” Tooru says.
Tobio reaches for him, then, wrapping his arms around Tooru's waist and pulling him close. His touch still sends electricity down Tooru's spine, and he melts into the hug. Tobio buries his face against Tooru's shoulder, and whispers apologies to his collarbone.
“I'm so sorry, Tooru—I didn't—I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to fuck things up.”
Tooru turns to press his nose to Tobio's temple, and breathes in the scent of magic—burnt sugar and cinnamon. “I'm sorry, too,” he says. “I didn't realize you were scared of—of losing me. Tobio, that's ridiculous, you know that? I've only ever wanted you.”
Tobio smiles against Tooru's neck. “Okay. Okay.” He pulls back to watch Tooru's expression. “We're good?”
Tooru bites his lip to contain a smile. He feels whole again, like he could take on the world. “We're good.”
They're holding hands as they make their way to the forest. It's some ungodly hour of the night, and they're supposed to be asleep. Kuroo's probably wondering where Tooru disappeared to, and if they get caught, they'll both get written up.
None of that matters.
What does matter: the warmth of Tobio's hand in Tooru's, a defense against the looming winter chill; the rustle of the trees around them, soothing and friendly; the words, laced with power, that ghost past their lips as they recite their first spell together in over six months.
Magic blooms between them, warm and comforting. Flame dances between Tooru's fingers, and a sapling sprouts at Tobio's feet. Together, they're whole; together, they're invincible; together, they're magic.
Tooru holds up the flames in his palm, watching the flickering reflection in Tobio's pupils. And then, as he closes his palm, they're drenched in starlight instead.
Tobio brings his hands up to cup Tooru's cheeks, and this time, there's a different type of magic between them.
Tooru leans forward, and their lips meet. The kiss is chaste and quick, and Tooru pulls back, breathless. In the moonlit darkness, they meet each others' eyes, and Tooru can taste magic on his tongue, strong and addictive.
And then Tooru grabs at Tobio's shirt and drags him close again for another kiss. Then another, and another.
This is all he wants, for the rest of his life.
Together, instantly, a spark.