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English
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Published:
2019-04-17
Updated:
2019-11-08
Words:
1,912
Chapters:
5/?
Comments:
23
Kudos:
47
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436

what you got, boy, is hard to find

Summary:

"what you got, boy, is hard to find
I think about it all the time"

1. watch: when Hajime doesn't look, Tooru does.

2. perspective: Oikawa Tooru is a petty, pretty asshole. Then again, there is Iwaizumi Hajime...

3. daybreak: a morning in their lives, together, closer than they had dared to imagine.

4. heart's desire: their wishes, throughout the years.

5. snow: a moment, delicate like glass, pristine like untouched snow on a winter morning.

Notes:

This is the first ficlet in what hopefully will become a collection. I have already started writing other ficlets. Constructive feedback is always welcome! Enjoy <3

Chapter 1: watch

Chapter Text

When Hajime doesn’t look, Tooru does.


Sometimes a loud person, his beauty is the quiet kind.


In silence and secret, Tooru admires it all -


his glass-cut-sharp jaw,

oh , if Tooru could cradle it, hold him like he’s everything-


his intense, fern-green gaze,

eyes trained from years of companionship, seeing more than anyone else could when he looks at Tooru-


his broad ace’s back,

carrying the weight of the match, giving Tooru strength-


his callused, coarse hands learning to be gentle,

feather-soft caresses on Tooru’s bruised and beaten knee-


his moles are the color of dark chocolate,

delicious, dangerously so-


his golden skin, darkened by the summer sun,

how Tooru yearns to touch it-

 

Tooru loves this, loves everything,

and no one can ever know.


When Hajime doesn’t look, Tooru does.

Then he turns.

Tooru’s heart stops.


Now Hajime can see every one of Tooru’s forbidden thoughts in his wide eyes,

now he can feel the exact shape and kind of Tooru’s longing, a breath between parted lips.


Maybe he knows.

And he smiles.

Chapter 2: perspective

Notes:

Got another one done, yay! Hope you'll like it :)

Chapter Text

 

i. the crush

 

He said “thank you” with a smile

that made you weak in the knees.

Tall, elegant, handsome,

his picture pulls you in,

irresistible,

promises you bouquets of roses.

(Haven’t you heard of thorns?)

The cracks in the screen

show something more,

something different

than what you anticipated.

Petty pride.

Obvious obsession.

You opened the gift

with the nice bow

to find out it contains

something you didn’t expect,

something you don’t like.

(But was he ever for you, anyway?)

 

 

 

Not good enough.

Doubt, doubt, doubt.

Blast a serve through it.

He keeps moving, like the river in his name.

(Towards the sea, towards evolution, always.)

No talent, no prodigy.

Looking up at a walls too high to climb.

He tries anyway.

“There is no game guaranteed to be lost.”

But this one is.

(Will he ever be good enough for himself?)

 

 

ii. the opponent

 

Annoying.

Infuriating, even.

That’s Oikawa Tooru for you.

Pleasant smiles and power serves

to make you feel like nothing.

One look at you

and he’s got you all figured out.

Confidence never cracking,

he cares about nothing but winning.

The girls cheer him on.

His pretty face has lured them in.

You know he has an ugly heart.

 

 

 

Someone else appears at the edge of your vision-

you don’t know him.

Didn’t notice him at all

though he’s been there all along,

since the beginning.

A teammate-

have you ever looked where the toss went when the game is on the line?

A friend-

have you ever seen who sticks by his side through the depths of doubt and despair?

A partner-

have you ever known how their heart strings, life lines, are hopelessly intertwined?

 

(So how could you believe you know anything about him at all?)



Chapter 3: daybreak

Notes:

This is so sappy. I won't say sorry though. Hope you like it, constructive comments and kudos are very much appreciated! :)

Chapter Text

Tooru’s fingers slide over bare skin, drawing indecipherable shapes. He sighs, calm, content.

Hajime blinks his eyes open, returning from slumber.

The sun rises, warm and bright, in the sky and in Tooru’s chest as Hajime smiles. How can his look be so soft, so affectionate, and still so intense? It lights a fire under Tooru’s skin.

Hajime rolls to his back, the bed sheets pooling around him, and Tooru wishes, not for the first time, that he could capture this, the moment, him. Be a painter or a poet, spend a whole life of artwork on just one muse.

He loves these quiet, slow mornings, light shining through the blinds and on Hajime’s skin, turning it golden.

“Had nice dreams?”, Tooru speaks into the companionable silence.

Hajime captures Tooru’s hand with his own, pulling it to his cheek, closing his eyes with a soft sigh, as if Tooru’s touch is all he wanted in that moment. Tooru aches with the tenderness of it all.

“Mhmh. But I like waking up to you more.”

Tooru gasps. Well, shit. “Iwa-chan, you can’t say such cheesy things this early!” He grabs a pillow to smash it in Hajime’s face, muffling his laughter.

“Tooru, you- your face!”, Hajime manages to say between breathless bursts of giggling.

Tooru flops down on him, hiding his red-hot face by Hajime’s shoulder. “No fair, Hajime!”

Hajime hums, hugging him. “I like that better,” he says.

“What?”

“You calling me Hajime. Iwa-chan is nice, too, but- I guess it feels more intimate.”

“So honest. And so cute,” Tooru grumbles. He pushes himself up, hands next to Hajime’s face, diving down for a kiss, deep and lingering.

Hajime’s hands curl over Tooru’s back, roaming. Hajime breaks the kiss, frowning, and Tooru whines in protest. The stroke of his calloused hands doesn’t stop, leaving tingling sensation all over Tooru’s skin.

“Tooru, the scratches on your back need some salve.”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

Now it’s Hajime’s turn to blush. “Shut up. I know. Didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“But I just took you that well, huh?”

“I’m never having sex with you ever again," Hajime deadpans.

“Are you sure about that?” Tooru smirks, pressing light kisses to Hajime’s neck, finding his sensitive spot, pushing his knee up into delicious places.

Hajime groans, his back arching. “You’re such a bastard.”

“And you love it.” Tooru’s fingers find their path, now familiar, down Hajime’s sides. Hajime remains silent except for his heavy breathing.

“So you’re not denying it.”

Hajime pecks Tooru’s cheek. “No,” he agrees.

Tooru stares down at this dear, dear face. “I never thought my life would be like this. That I’d be this happy. That I’d have you,” Tooru murmurs, tracing Hajime’s sharp-angled jaw, his lips, red and wet from their kisses, with his fingers, something delicate, something precious.

“Same for me. I’ve always been yours but that you wanted to be mine, too- I only dreamed it, never dared to consider it for real.” 

“It took a long time. But it was worth it, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Hajime says, so fond, and reaches up to carefully tuck a strand of hair behind Tooru’s ear, “you are.”

Chapter 4: heart's desire

Summary:

Beneath the stars shooting across the night sky and colorful paper slips tied to trees moving in the breeze, two boys grow up together and make their wishes.

Chapter Text

i. The stars blaze in the night sky. As time passes, more and more appear to light up the dark.
Iwa-chan lays beside you on the blanket, for once not fidgeting with that restless energy. (You have already set up the tent for a sleepover in the Iwaizumi’s garden.)
"It’s pretty, isn’t it?”, you say into the silence.
Iwa-chan just nods, wide-eyed, and you turn back to the sky. Suddenly, stars start falling, leaving silver trails on the black canopy.
"Shooting stars!”, Iwa-chan says in wonder.
“Let’s make a wish,” you suggest. Your sister had told you about wishing upon shooting stars. “Close your eyes and think of your wish.” You do. Your first thought is about nailing that serve. "Iwa-chan, what did you wish for?”
Iwa-chan frowns. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.” “Hmph, maybe. But I know what you wished for, anyway!”
“As if, stupid.”
You grin, sure of yourself. “You wished to catch that big beetle, right?”
Iwa-chan’s expression turns grim, pissed off, and he blushes just a little. You start wrestling on the grass, high pitched laughter resounding through the night. Times are innocent and easy.

ii. It was okay to be close on special days, so you threw yourself at Iwa-chan. “Happy birthday!”
Iwa-chan grumbled but hugged back just as tightly. You breathe in the scent of laundry detergent, your second home, and just best friend. Is it creepy to want to put his scent in a jar to take with you everywhere, whenever you need comfort?
"Now you’re older than me.”
“It’s like this every year, dumbass.”
"Well, at least I’m taller!” It was true. Now at 13 (or 14), growth spurts had already started, upsetting the equilibrium of your heights.
“Not for long, I’ll get you in high school, at the latest.” “You’re awfully sure about that, aren’t you.”
"Boys, stop squabbling!”, Iwa-chan’s mom shouted from the kitchen.
“Don’t forget to wish for sure victory,” you remind him.
"Of course. What else would I wish for, anyway?”
And with that, Iwa-chan blows out the candles on his birthday cake.

iii. When Iwa-chan comes close, stretching out a hand, slowly, carefully touching your cheek and there is a sunrise in your chest, warm and bright, hopeful, you know something is very, very wrong.
Your eyes flutter closed as his fingers caress your skin and you sigh, wistful, wishful, as he pulls back.
"You had a lash on your cheek,” Iwa-chan says with a small smile that burns hot beneath your skin.
“Oh.” Oh.
He lifts his finger, so you can see it. “Make a wish,” he whispers.
You blow on it and it flies away into nothingness.
Iwa-chan watches it but you watch Iwa-chan. A sort of terror has your heart beating fast.
Your wish doesn’t come true that day.

 

iv. You bow and turn to the crowd, your leaving certificate in hand and the usual smile on your face. The graduation ceremony seems to take forever.
You’re fidgeting. Nervous.
You find Iwa-chan after the ceremony. He nudges you with his shoulder and smiles, grim and sort of determined.
"Iwa-chan, I-”, you stop because - no, it can’t be- Iwa-chan’s second button is missing, cut off neatly. “We don’t even wear gakuran,” you say, stupidly, since there is not much else to say.
How could you have missed this?
Iwa-chan blushes- actually blushes- a pretty pink, not unlike sakura-petals.
You feel sick and force a smile. “Well, congratulations to the lucky girl.”
Iwa-chan frowns. You want to smooth the wrinkles out, make him smile again. “Oikawa-” but you slip away, swift, carrying your head high.
There is no more denying this- you are in love with him. It’s scary, how much you wish his button, his confession had been for you.

v. A Tanabata wish paper frees itself from the branch it’s tied to, carried away by the wind.
Swirling in the air, it slowly but surely falls to your feet. You pick it up, unfold it.
The handwriting looks much like Iwa-chan’s. “To be with him” is all that’s written on it. Simple but clear.
It’s probably just your own wishful thinking but frantic hands grab for your phone anyway.
“Iwa-chan.” You sound breathless.
“Oikawa? Are you okay?”
No more waiting.
“I have something to tell you.”

Chapter 5: snow

Summary:

The scene felt delicate, almost fragile, like glass in Tooru’s clumsy hands.
Like the glitter of freshly fallen snow on a winter morning, untouched, pristine.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Tooru woke up, golden light flooding the small bedroom.

Hajime’s bedroom and Hajime’s bed and Hajime, fast asleep next to Tooru, one heavy arm thrown over Tooru’s torso, a welcome weight.

Hajime’s face was so relaxed, his hair a mess, his lips parted (Tooru could still remember their taste). Tooru pressed a hand against his own smile, chest filled with warmth.

He didn’t dare to move. The scene felt delicate, almost fragile, like glass in Tooru’s clumsy hands. Like the glitter of freshly fallen snow on a winter morning, untouched, pristine. Tooru wanted to stop time then, lay there forever, next to him.

Hajime’s eyes slid open. “G’morning,” he mumbled. He wanted to lift his arm but Tooru was quicker, securing Hajime’s hand on his waist.

Hajime’s skin was soft where Tooru slid his palm up over his naked shoulder, the hint of stubble rough on his jaw. Tooru touched Hajime’s lips with his fingers first, staring at them, wet, plush, soft, then he kissed him. Tooru could feel Hajime smile against his mouth. He pulled back, loving how Hajime chased him. “Good morning,” Tooru said, grinning.

Maybe it was fine to play in the snow.

Notes:

I am apparently a sucker for those waking-up-together-in-the-morning-scenes. Oh well, here you go :)