Work Text:
The open window bleeds a sheet of yellow light onto their faces: Haiji watches it tint the twin’s hair a deep yellow, the colour of a canary, tries not to laugh when Nicochan-senpai growls his way through a particularly bad bout of snoring, to which Yuki frowns at even in his sleep.
Their post-exam party had gone much later than he expected - he even had to run to the nearest conbini to grab a couple more drinks and snacks (he snuck a mouthful of fried chicken on the walk back, thinking the twins would inhale it all the second the smell of it wafted through Aotoke) - had thrived all throughout the night in the ways of drunken cheering and chaotic party games. however, all of the exhaustion combined from the daily running and exam prep seemed to take a toll on the group, because Haiji returned home to his friends, all passed out and collapsed around their little beat-up table, instead of laughter, yelling, and Shindo shoving a drink in his face to down.
If haiji could, he thinks, he'd box up this moment, tie it with a neat bow, and play it in his mind forever, all of it - he can still see his friend’s faces, bathed in darkness but illuminated with the yellow street light - wanting to remember even the seemingly minuet:
- the empty cans of Asahi super dry sprawled over the ground;
- the manga open over Prince's face like the world’s smallest tent;
- the trivia card still clutched in King's hand, the rest of the stack scattered around his head like a halo;
- the little red-and-white dotted party hat strapped over Musa's chin instead of on top his head;
- Shindo, face almost the colour of Musa’s hat;
- and Kakeru, slumped in the corner, hair rustled and sticking up in all directions, jacket shucked off only to his elbows.
He can’t though, of course -- so he settles: he makes sure his phone is on silent before snapping a photo, then, deciding it not enough, recording a little video. At one point he zooms in on Yuki’s frowning face, and can’t help the smile on his face. He already knows, when he shows this to them all in the morning, the look of Yuki’s face, the horrified embarrassment, can already hear the inevitable yelling and chase to get it back.
Haiji hums to the tune of Nicochan-senpai’s snoring, briefly considers finding a clip of the Hakone Ekiden DVD and blasting it on full volume, just to see their reactions. He’s just about to do it, in fact, thumbing with his phone, when his eyes settle over Kakeru’s bedhead and all of sudden, he’s there again, reliving the moments of the morning, remembering the way he had rolled over, having just woken up and laughed at the sight of it.
“How do you never wake up with bedhead?” Kakeru had asked him, batting away Haiji’s hand from his hair. then, caught in a middle of a yawn, reached over to pull him closer to where he was sprawled over Haiji's futon.
“Come here,” Kakeru said, his voice thick and coarse from sleep. Haiji squirmed in his grasp, “Wait! I want to take a photo of your hair,” he laughed, struggling but succeeding to grab his phone from where it rest beside his pillow, fighting against the grip of Kakeru’s arms wrapped around his waist -- twisting around to face Kakeru, Haiji had pointed the phone at Kakeru’s face. the noise of the shutter informed Kakeru of his failure, he grumbled in response, Haiji turning away from his face again so his boyfriend couldn’t make a grab for it. He went to unlock his phone, set the photo as his lockscreen, an innocent action.
But for some reason, looking at it, digital pouting Kakeru with a bird nest for hair, the time and date stamped above him -- 8:30, July 15th 2018 -- had his brain reeling with, falling into the something he couldn’t quite name, almost and maybe fear, wondering if this, all of this, was resigned and restricted to time, the end slowly approaching with every day that came and went.
But then, Kakeru had murmured into his ear, Haiji hearing his smile through the words, “You deserve a punishment for that,” and the thought was lost to the feeling of the soft nick teeth on the back of his neck, the wet sound of sucking, a warm hand making its way up, under his shirt. He had gone tense and loose-limbed all the same time, the phone slipping from his grasp, Haiji blinks, stoops down to catch it, just before it clatters to the floor.
He shakes himself back into the present, before letting himself look back at his friends again, his hands on the door, and for some reason, the memory has left him shaking with that something -- stuck there, in his lungs, snowballing, shortening his breath.
A million thoughts rattle in his mind at once -- wondering why he never thought of the after, whether it will all last: meals, four years of them, ultimately prepared for the sole purpose of this - Hakone. Teamwork. Bonds. Connections, interweaved: criss-crossing between all of them, maybe gossamer, maybe not.
But he’s kidding himself, he thinks-- he'll lose it all, Haiji knows. All of it, everything he's worked for - soon to slip through his fingers, come and go as quickly as it came. He’ll have to watch it too, have no choice -- the last day of hakone ekiden, he thinks, might be the last day of it all like this. The sounds of yelling, complaining, cheers and laughter, arms slung around shoulders, ten dirty plates at dinner, food demolished - imperfect but perfect to him, his team.
He’s starting to feel dizzy -- so he goes to close the twins room’s door, hands shaking, begins his descend down the stairs, feels the fibers and the nerves in his knee tense until his gait is brittle and stiff.
Step-by-step, he’s gained his strength back, and step-by-step, he’ll lose it too.
He doesn’t make it to his room.
Instead, Haiji stops at the end of stairs, curls in on himself, tries to remember to breathe, where he is, focus at one thought at a time --
In, out.
The boys are upstairs.
In, out.
They’re all here, together, still here, not gone.
In, out.
I'm here, I'm okay.
in, out.
Kakeru loves me, loves. Not past tense.
In, out.
I'm loved, I'm home.
In, out.
Home, together. Here.
Haiji goes to stand, exhales, straightens his spine, shoulders back. He tastes salt, tears sliding down his cheek, goes to wipe them away.
He’s about to shuffle to the kitchen, find some water to clear his head, when there’s a sudden explosion of noise upstairs, muffled only slightly by the walls, manages to make out --
“Oh my god, Nicochan-senpai, invest in some anti-snoring device, please, shut up--” Yuki, voice bleary.
“Yuki-san, why are you yelling so loud!? You woke me and Joji up--” Jota, his familial whine.
“You’re the one yelling?!” Yuki again, this time, indignant.
“Hey, guys lets all get along, don’t fight--” Shindo, somehow still drunk.
“Oh my gosh, it’s so messy in here--” Musa, horrified --
before it all erupts into a flurry of nine distinct voices, yelling interspersed with little bouts of hiccuping and laughter.
Haiji can’t help it, he laughs despite himself --
“Haiji?”
He turns, Kakeru’s standing there, blinking all bleary-eyed. “There you are,”” he says, voice soft and gummy with sleep. Haiji smiles at the sound. “I wondered when you were coming back before I fell asleep.”
“Don’t worry,” he replies. “I'm home now,” Haiji says, both to Kakeru and himself.
____________
At the finish line, Haiji is shaking.
“You did it,” Kakeru whispers into his ear, “we did it -- we’re here for you,” he says.
And it doesn’t sound like a finality.