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There was a definite, throbbing, Oikawa Tooru-shaped hole in Hajime’s life.
Yet it took 300 kilometres and three weeks of not seeing his best friend except for through the screen of his phone or computer, and the bastard duo otherwise known as Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughing at him, for Hajime to realise that.
He’d almost followed Tooru to Toudai as well, worked himself half to death to be able to get in on his academic results should he not be offered a sports scholarship, then changed his mind at the last minute and stayed in Miyagi, getting into Tohoku by the skin of his teeth but still.
He’d been proud. His mother had cried. The bastard duo had taken to referring to him and Oikawa as Mr and Mrs Nerd, and Hajime wasn’t even able to be mad because he had been worried.
Because Oikawa had been weird after Hajime had announced that he wouldn’t follow him to Tokyo. Not bitter or resentful or remotely unpleasant – in fact, he’d been the first to congratulate him on getting into an imperial university – but Iwaizumi had known him long enough to sense the undercurrent of not right in Tooru’s demeanour for about a week afterwards.
Hajime hadn’t offered his reasons, then. Privately, he’d thought the distance would help them grow. As people and as individuals, as Iwaizumi and Oikawa, rather than the Iwaizumi-and-Oikawa that had applied throughout middle and high-school.
Unfortunately, all the distance was doing so far was proving that Hajime was an idiot.
Apparently, after spending over three-quarters of his life with one Oikawa Tooru, after doing almost everything together, after sharing all their highs and their lows and after sleeping in the same bed every time the other stayed over even after they’d reached their current heights and fitting on one single bed had gotten difficult enough to count as an extreme sport, he suddenly couldn’t be a fully-functioning person without him.
It wasn’t even any big realisation. Just…a few situations (far too many for just three weeks) he couldn’t explain without revealing himself as a massive, lost sap.
“Iwaizumi-san, you sure buy a lot of milk-bread for someone who doesn’t like sweets.”
Because he’d gotten used to buying Tooru milk-bread to get him out of his funks, and the bakery down the street always smelled so good-!
“If you water that cactus any more, it’s going to drown. Why did you buy it if you have no idea how to care for it?”
Because Tooru had a collection and he couldn’t take it with him to Tokyo so it stayed in Miyagi and he’d whined to Iwaizumi about abandoning his children-!
“I never would’ve pegged you as a secret alien enthusiast, Iwaizumi.”
He wasn’t, not by a long shot, but he must’ve developed something, either Stockholm Syndrome or just tolerance through exposure, because Tooru had dragged him along to every showing of any and every new alien-related film screening-!
In general, his first three weeks at university seemed to boil down to ‘because Tooru-!’ and he wasn’t certain how he felt about it.
He turned over in bed, tired and sore after practise and mentally exhausted after powering through his homework and assignments so he could have the weekend free, and picked up his phone.
[20:27pm] > I think I found someone who’s even more of a hardass than coach irihata. I can’t feel my legs.
He frowned. Glanced at the time. 22:48pm. The two ticks by his earlier message stubbornly refused to turn blue.
[22:49pm] > have you eaten? I know you cant cook for shit but if I find out youve properly turned into hanger-tooru because youre not eating, I’ll punch yyou
Damn. That was a bit more helicopter-parent than the concerned-best-friend he’d been aiming for, but he knew Tooru well. For all that his vanity was mostly for show, Oikawa Tooru was seldom without his phone in hand for longer than ten minutes at a time. The only time his phone was well and truly out of sight was-!
Hajime’s heart skipped a beat while his stomach dropped.
[22:58] > you better not still be at the gym or I swear to god, trashykawa, I’ll end you
Nothing.
God damn it, Hajime hated feeling to helpless.
In a fit of frustrated piqué, he turned his phone on mute and threw it onto the pile of clothes by the door, hoping that ‘out of sight, out of mind’ would work in his favour this time.
He closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, his alarm was going off and he was groaning, hand already searching by his bedside to switch the infernal screech off, only belatedly realising that he’d have to actually get up to silence it after his mini-temper tantrum the previous night.
Moving slowly enough to not look out of place at an audition for a zombie apocalypse film, he reached his phone, his thumb moving over the screen almost on automatic, and his shrill-enough-to-wake-the-dead alarm finally shut up, enveloping the room in blessed silence.
But Hajime hadn’t moved.
1 New Message.
[01:32am] shittykawa > I thought I only had one mom, but you’re seriously competing for the title, Iwa-chan.
Proper spelling and capitalisation, no ridiculous kaomoji, no hearts or emoji to soften the jab. Tooru was either angry or exhausted beyond reason.
And suddenly, Hajime was mad.
[07:17am] > if your knee gives up on you, you’ll know who to blame.
Then, he muted the chat, and set about his day.
He refused to check his phone until lunch time, but he wasn’t surprised at what he found – two blue ticks, yet no answer. As it usually was whenever Oikawa’s injuries were brought up.
Only this time, the radio silence lasted a week.
Hajime was in lecture when the call came, and he frowned. Pissed as Tooru may still be with him, he definitely knew not to call during lectures, and they had traded timetables as soon as they had come out, so he had no excuse.
Luckily, he was close enough to the back of the lecture hall to be able to slip out without causing too much of a disruption, and he pressed ‘answer’ before the door even fully shut.
“Have you come to your senses, Shittykawa?” he asked in lieu of a greeting, belatedly realising that, huh, he’s a bit more bitter than he’d initially assumed.
“Am I speaking to, uh, ‘Iwa-chan’?” a concerned voice that was definitely not Tooru’s replied, ignoring the sharp dig.
Instantly, Hajime snapped to attention.
“Yeah. Iwaizumi Hajime. Who are you? What happened? Why do you have Tooru’s phone?” he fired off, concern washing over him like a tidal wave and almost taking his breath away.
“My name’s Yaku Morisuke. I’m on Oikawa’s volleyball team. He injured himself at practice and is currently being driven to the hospital by our coach. He left his stuff in the locker room and I thought I’d let his emergency contact know what happened. That was you.”
He injured himself at practice.
Driven to the hospital.
‘if your knee gives up on you, you’ll know who to blame.’
“-izumi-san?”
Hajime couldn’t breathe.
“W-which hospital?” he managed to choke out at last, heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest.
“Ikebukuro. It’s the closest to the university.” Came the calmer, if baffled, reply.
“Thank you.” Iwaizumi breathed, hanging up.
Then, he was running.
He barely remembered the kilometre he’d run to the station, but he must’ve been lucid enough to buy tickets and jump on the correct train, because when he finally started registering his surroundings, he found himself on the Tohoku-Hokkaido Shinkansen, and a quick glance around showed that the train had already passed Utsunomiya.
He took the next half an hour to calm his nerves as much as he could, then had to navigate the treacherous tunnels and winding corridors of Omiya, but eventually, he was safely on the Shonan-Shinjuku metro which would drop him – if Google was to be believed – eight hundred metres away from the hospital.
It turned out that, yes, Google could be trusted.
When he reached the hospital, he had to physically pause and remind himself that Tooru being injured and him being stressed as a result was not other people’s fault and he should not snap at the receptionist, no matter how tempting it’d be when she’d frowned at his haggard state, her thoughts written on her face. She finally caved and gave him Tooru’s room number when he said he was the next of kin.
After that, it was Hajime vs endless stairs and corridors (he did not have the patience for the elevator) but finally, finally Room 207 revealed itself and he didn’t hesitate before all but throwing the door open.
Tooru. Was his first thought.
Damn, there’s a lot of people here. Was his second.
Indeed, what seemed to be the entire Todai starting line-up was crammed into Oikawa’s two-bed room, leaning against the wall or awkwardly perching on the unoccupied bed; as well as an elderly lady who was busying herself with the clipboard attached to Tooru’s hospital bed who Hajime guessed was the doctor.
Stepping into the room, he ignored the presumed-teammates for the time being and made a beeline for the doctor, gesturing for the clipboard in her hands.
“Sensei,” he offered quietly, managing a small bow, “thank you for taking care of him. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, Tooru’s next of kin. How bad is it?”
The woman appraised him for a second, and he thought he saw some of the teammates startle in his peripheral vision, but his eyes were on the doctor with his best friend’s fate in her hands.
“We took his X-Rays as soon as he got here, and the joint is fine. I’m going to try to get him an MRI for tomorrow to check for tissue and ligament damage, though I think,” she laid her hand on Tooru’s knee and lightly nudged his kneecap first left, then right, “that judging by how loose his patella is, it’s most likely chondromalacia and not anything ACL related.”
Hajime blinked.
Those words were…familiar, although it took him a few seconds of racking his brain to remember what orthopaedic pamphlet it came from.
“Runner’s knee?” he hazarded, and got a tiny smile from the doctor for his efforts.
“Precisely.”
“Why is he unconscious?” he asked instead, not willing to give into the wave of relief that hit him with all the grace and subtlety of a sledgehammer just yet.
“Oikawa-kun insisted on walking to and from his X-Ray and almost collapsed on the way back. We gave him a mild analgesic, but he must have been exhausted when he arrived or has an undiagnosed sensitivity to the compound used.”
Hajime took a moment to parse through the words and was about 93% certain what he was hearing was ‘gave him a painkiller but it shouldn’t have knocked him out; explain’ in doctor-ese.
He sighed.
“I don’t think he’s been sleeping well, recently.” He offered hesitantly. Or at all.
The doctor nodded, scribbled something down, then attached the clipboard to the end of Tooru’s bed and gave Hajime another small smile.
“Well, he’s definitely staying overnight, so you might want to make yourself comfortable. I’ll let you know if there are any developments.”
And with those words, she made her way out of the room and left Hajime to deal with the awkward silence left behind in her wake, and five complete strangers boring holes into him with their stares. He sighed again, dropping into the chair at Tooru’s bedside, careful not to jostle his friend, before turning to face the group.
“Iwaizumi-san?” the smallest of the group, a pale teen with caramel-coloured hair and kind eyes who Hajime thought he looked vaguely familiar, took the eye-contact as the opening it was. “I’m Yaku. Glad you could make it.”
Now that he was hearing it again without the overwhelming panic and worry that had weighed him down earlier, that was definitely the same calm, no-nonsense voice he’d heard over the phone.
“Thank you for calling me.” He replied, because manners were something his mother had drilled into him even if Tooru would be the first to snort at that, and because the other boy hadn’t been under any obligation to actually call.
Yaku shrugged.
“Sounds like you’d have been called soon anyway.” He waved him off, and one of the boys on his left took that as his queue to step forward.
“I’m Miyaji Kiyoshi, Oikawa’s captain. The doctor refused to tell us anything other than ‘he’ll live’ until you came, but we didn’t want Oikawa to wake up alone. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
Hajime blinked again.
“It’s not an intrusion.” Was the first thing his brain managed to come up with, then he aimed for a reassuring smile and probably managed something approximating a pained grimace instead. “It’ll mean a lot to him that you’re here. Thank you.”
Then, he considered the other thing the captain had said, and shot a glance at the still-slumbering Tooru as he addressed it.
“They have a strict patient confidentiality policy, especially when dealing with minors.” He explained, closing his eyes with a sigh as one memory in particular made itself known. “Back in Miyagi, they once refused to tell Tooru’s mother what happened because I was the one listed as next of kin and I hadn’t gotten there yet.”
He could see that his words smoothed down some feathers, particularly those of the miffed upperclassmen who had likely not taken well to being told no after having waited so long, but seemed to have ruffled some others, if the raised eyebrows and straight-up shock on some faces was anything to go by.
Tooru’s parents travelled a lot for work. That was a fact of life. The first two times Tooru’s knee had given up on him, they hadn’t even been in the country, and Hajime had been the one to go with him to the hospital, to hold his hand as they waited for the diagnosis, to pretend he didn’t see the tears when the doctors repeatedly said ‘avoid repeated strain or make time for surgery’.
And Tooru was nothing if not petty.
(the decision – Hajime had later found out, after he’d picked up the phone at 11pm one evening in the first year of high school, ready to chew Tooru out for calling him so late on a school night, and instead found a blunt, if professional, nurse on the other end, informing him of Tooru’s reappearance in the hospital and that he was listed as the next of kin – had been made after Tooru’s mother saw his knee brace and made an absentminded comment about him making a fashion-statement out of volleyball, not realising that, on the bad days, Tooru needed the brace for tasks as simple as getting down the stairs of his house. Hajime had asked, once the doctors had given the all-clear, curious and flattered and confused and touched, and Tooru had blushed, of all things. I can change it, if you want. He’d offered. But you’ve always been there for me when it mattered. I thought that deserved some official recognition.)
“Has this happened before, then?” Yaku asked softly, no judgement nor expectation in his voice, his expression sympathetic in a way that let Hajime know he already knew.
“Since the third year of middle-school, this is the fifth time.”
They lapsed into silence after that, broken occasionally by the sound of someone’s phone buzzing or sirens outside.
Then, Tooru stirred.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, scowling immediately at the bright light and lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, his arm freezing half-way when his gaze fell on Iwaizumi’s face.
“Hajime?” the brunet mumbled dazedly, torn between joy and confusion, and Hajime felt some tension leave his shoulders and something in his chest warm.
Although in his mind, Tooru had never stopped being Tooru, out-loud, after starting high-school, he’d been forced to adapt to Oikawa, or slightly less PG variations of his name. He hadn’t heard Hajime from Tooru’s lips since their last sleep-over in middle school – it was always Iwa-chan this, or Iwa-chan that – and it was only now, hearing it again, that he realised he missed it.
“Tooru.” He breathed, only just restraining himself from letting his forehead thunk against a blanket-covered thigh. “How are you feeling?”
But Tooru wasn’t looking at him anymore. His wide-eyed gaze was trained on his team that was still leaning against the wall of his room, and in particular, on-
“Yakkun,” he called, and trust Oikawa to have a nickname for someone after less than a month of acquaintance, “what meds did that nurse give me? I think I’m hallucinating.”
Yaku, long-suffering but patient, very admirably did not roll his eyes at the question. “I think it’s just morphine. Why do you think you’re hallucinating?”
Tooru didn’t miss a beat, eyes not leaving Yaku even as he raised a hand to point at Hajime’s sternum. “Iwa-chan is at Tohoku, but I can see him sitting right here.”
“Tohoku?!” that…was definitely more than one voice. Damn it.
“I’m here, you doofus.” Hajime snapped gruffly, the embarrassment finally catching up. “You’re not hallucinating.”
Tooru turned those wide brown eyes on him and frowned. “I… guess that a hallucination wouldn’t insult me.”
Hajime snorted. “Unless your subconscious agreed with me that you deserve it.”
That seemed to be what Tooru needed to believe that he was real, because he stuck his bottom lip out in a petulant pout. “Mean, Iwa-chan!”
“Iwaizumi-san,” Yaku called, and Hajime didn’t trust the eyes he’d earlier labelled kind. They saw far too much now, and he couldn’t help but fidget, “did you come as soon as I called you? It takes two hours to get here from Sendai.”
“Yeah.” Hajime replied, though the word sounded more like a grunt, at the same time as Tooru cut in to correct; “Two and a half.”
Without even looking at the brunet, Hajime raised his hand and swatted Tooru over the head, ruffling that ridiculous hair of his.
“Nobody asked, Shittykawa.”
“Ahem.” the self-proclaimed captain cleared his throat, cutting Tooru off mid-sticking his tongue out. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Oikawa. We’ll be by after tomorrow’s practice, so you better rest and recuperate.” Then, a dangerous glint entered his eyes, and Hajime was suddenly reminded of Sawamura when he got serious. “And if anyone, and I mean, anyone, tells me that you ignored doctor’s orders or did anything to aggravate your injury out of sheer stupidity, you’ll be doing diving receives the whole hour when you get back.”
Oh-ho-ho. Hajime felt a grin that brimmed with schadenfreude bloom on his face as he properly appraised the captain, taking in his words and ferocious scowl. I like him.
“Yes, Miyaji-senpai.” Tooru replied, and though the brunet seldom sounded meek, even the Great Oikawa Tooru would be cowed by the prospect of diving receives non-stop for an hour. “Thank you for coming, everyone.”
“Good.” Miyaji turned to Hajime then, his expression once again falling into its neutral lines, with the tiniest of smiles quirking his lip. “It was nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-san. Though I do wish it could’ve been under better circumstances. Keep our resident overachiever in line, please.”
Hajime couldn’t help the arched eyebrow, nor the incredulous scoff. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the last decade?” he asked rhetorically, and was rewarded by that tiny quirk growing slightly more pronounced.
Then, the captain took his leave, and the team, like good little ducklings, followed. Only Yaku stopped when he was right at the door, turning back to Iwaizumi with a grin.
“I hope you know, Iwaizumi-san, but Tetsuro is never going to let you live this down.” And so saying, he strolled out, leaving a paling Hajime behind.
Tetsuro. Kuroo Tetsuro. His roommate. And that-! Fuck, that was Yaku. Yakkun. Kuroo’s Demon Senpai. Goddamnit.
“Iwa-chan?”
Hajime almost jumped at Tooru’s voice, having forgotten that the team leaving meant that they were now alone.
“What did Yakkun mean?”
Hajime sighed. “Kuroo Tetsuro is my roommate, and, from what I understand, Yaku’s old teammate from Nekoma. And…let’s just say that he’s almost as much of a pain in the ass as you can be.”
“Why is he at Tohoku though? Wasn’t Nekoma a Tokyo high-school?”
Hajime wanted to bash his head against the wall.
The two of them couldn’t have been more obvious in ‘not addressing the elephant in the room’ if they’d tried, though he wasn’t about to be the one to point that out. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have his motivations for his spontaneous visit examined under an Oikawa-branded microscope just yet.
“It’s a good university.” He shrugged. “And he’s dating Glasses from Karasuno, so being in Sendai makes that a bit more manageable, not that he’d admit to either.”
And hadn’t that been a fun one to find out.
(it was times like these Hajime wished for brain-bleach.)
One look at Tooru’s face told him just what the brunet thought about that particular match, and Hajime snickered despite himself.
Silence fell between them, and though not awkward per se, it wasn’t their usual, comfortable silence; a fact only highlighted by them both refusing to meet each other’s eyes.
Hajime let the silence hang as he mulled over the words he’d been meaning to say for over a week, before deciding that, hell, he’d already basically shown his hand just by being here; now was as good a time as any.
“I’m sorry.”
Although the words were barely above a murmur, Tooru’s head snapped to him, eyes wide and disbelieving.
“I…what for, Iwa-chan?”
“My last message to you.”
Hajime didn’t have to be looking at him to see how Tooru flinched at the words – he could feel it just fine.
“Well…” Tooru sighed, and there was an edge to the word that made Hajime immediately get over himself and face his best friend in alarm. “It’s not like you were wrong, in the end.”
The wry, self-deprecating tone hurt more than if Tooru had slapped him.
“No.” Hajime shook his head, though what, exactly, he was disagreeing with, even he wasn’t sure. “But I still shouldn’t have said it.”
Tooru shot him an odd look.
“A month away isn’t enough for you to develop emotional maturity, Iwa-chan, so you better stop before I start worrying that an alien is using you as a meatsuit.” He jibed, though there was a genuine smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m serious, Trashykawa.” Hajime scowled, but even he could tell it lacked the usual bite.
“I know.” And, as if that was all it took, Tooru softened. “And I accept your apology, on the condition that you come up here and warm me. The A/C makes it feel like the Arctic in here, and chattering teeth are not cute, no matter what Hollywood says.” He whined, wiggling a little to shuffle to the other side of the hospital bed and make room for his friend to sit.
Hajime raised an eyebrow. “I could also just switch the A/C off.” He pointed out, snorting when Tooru all but pouted.
“I’m closer.” He insisted stubbornly, brightening immediately when Hajime sighed and started to move, knowing he’d won.
It was a tight fit, and between having to keep Tooru’s knee elevated and trying not to make too much noise so as not to alert the nurses, Hajime was sure it couldn’t have been all that comfortable, but Oikawa was practically vibrating with contentment, so they made do.
“I still can’t believe you’re here, Iwa-chan.” Tooru mused sleepily after a few minutes, voice unusually quiet, his head pillowed on Hajime’s outstretched arm and his injured knee resting over Hajime’s thigh. “Coming all the way from Sendai to check on me like my knight in shining armour~”
And though Hajime had been about to drift away himself, he snorted at the comparison, yet none of his usual acerbic quips came to mind.
“Shut up, Tooru.” He grumbled at last, and felt the other freeze for a second, before, if possible, relaxing even further into the thin mattress and cramped half-spooning position they had going on.
“Mm. Whatever you say, Hajime.”
It took a herculean effort, but Hajime managed not to react to the sound of his first name falling off Tooru’s lips until the brunet’s breathing had slowed and settled into sleep. Only then did Hajime allow for the startled breath to escape him in a whoosh, and settled in for some serious introspection.
The results of said introspection soon had him pulling out his phone and beginning the arduous task of attempting to type left-handed, as his right arm was still being used by Oikawa as a pillow.
Minutes, or maybe hours passed in much the same way, and Hajime too caught himself drifting off once or twice, phone almost falling out of his hand both times.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Iwaizumi started at how close the sleepy murmur was to his ear and almost dropped his phone again.
He’d failed to notice that, over the course of their nap, Oikawa had gradually shifted so his head was pillowed more on Hajime’s shoulder than his bicep, his breath puffing against Iwaizumi’s neck on every exhale. He’d also somehow missed the deceptively-strong arm that had wormed its way to wrap around his waist, or that Oikawa’s breathing had fallen out of the sleep pattern at some point.
“I messaged Kuroo asking if he could try to see if he could save my bag from the biochem lecture hall.” Hajime replied, knowing that Tooru wouldn’t let him just ignore the question, but not quite ready to admit what he’d been doing when the question came.
“I still can’t believe you just left it there.” Tooru snickered, though if he noticed their unusually intimate position, he didn’t let it show. “Silly Iwa-chan.”
“Yeah, well.” Hajime tried to shrug, but seeing as he was a) horizontal, and b) had seventy kilos of teenager weighing down one of his shoulders, it didn’t really work. “Had slightly more important things to worry about.”
“Mm.” Tooru hummed again, and Hajime really wished he’d just say something. “That looked like a really long text message.”
Not that though!!
Goddamn Oikawa and his goddamn inconvenient powers of observation at the least opportune moments.
“That’s because it wasn’t.” Hajime snapped, irate and embarrassed at having to show his cards when he wasn’t even sure he wanted anyone to see them just yet. “It was an email. To the admissions office. At Toudai.”
Tooru fell silent, and when Iwaizumi bit the bullet and glanced down at him, he found wide brown eyes staring up at him in incomprehension that was offset by a glimmer of almost desperate hope.
“A transfer request.” He clarified, perhaps needlessly, not taking his eyes off Tooru’s face, and was rewarded by a dazzling, genuine smile that appeared on his best friend’s face, chasing away the earlier incomprehension to make way for an expression of pure joy.
“Aw, I didn’t realise you missed me that much, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa teased, earlier sleepy tone giving way to his usual teasing drawl.
“Shut up, dumbass. Don’t think that I won’t push you out of bed just because you’re injured.” Hajime scowled, and he could feel his face heating up, to his great mortification.
“Mm, no, you won’t.” Tooru replied, voice ringing with absolute certainty. “And I missed you too. Though you should know that anything Suga-chan might try to tell you on the subject is a big fat lie.”
Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow, letting his head drop back on the pillow. “Suga-chan?”
“Sugawara. Refreshing-kun. My roommate and Yakkun’s boyfriend.”
Hajime snorted. “What is it with everyone in Karasuno pairing off with the cats?” he grouched, feeling a smile tug at his lips when Tooru snickered.
“Two couples does not equal ‘everyone’, Iwa-chan, don’t generalise!” he chastised, and Hajime rolled his eyes, unseen.
“Shrimpy is with Nekoma’s setter. Does three justify it, oh great Oikawa-sama?” he sniped, though instead of a sharp riposte, Oikawa fell uncharacteristically silent.
“I think I preferred it earlier.” He said suddenly, a propos nothing, and Hajime frowned.
“Preferred what?”
“Preferred you calling me by my name.” he mumbled at last, and Hajime was sure he wasn’t imagining the way the Oikawa’s cheek suddenly warmed where it was pressed against his shoulder.
It was Iwaizumi’s turn to fall silent, unsure what to say.
“It was you who decided that we should stop doing that in the first place.” He pointed out, looking anywhere but at Tooru.
“I was fourteen, Iwa-chan!” the brunet exclaimed, petulant and exasperated in equal measure. “Fourteen and young and stupid!”
“You’re still young and stupid.” Hajime snorted, putting his phone down in favour of bringing his left hand up to flick Oikawa’s forehead.
“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Tooru whined, bringing the hand that had until then been drawing meaningless patterns over Iwaizumi’s ribs to rub at his forehead.
“Hajime.” He corrected unconsciously, making Tooru’s gaze snap to him.
“What?” Oikawa breathed, eyes trained on Hajime’s, daring him to repeat.
Iwaizumi had to clear his throat before he could speak, sure his voice would’ve broken had he spoken just then.
“Call me Hajime.” He clarified, wanting to look away from Tooru’s arresting gaze but finding it impossible to do so.
Oikawa turned, raising himself up on his left elbow and looking down at Hajime’s still-reclining form, his cheeks tinged a fetching pink.
His eyes flickered over Iwaizumi’s face, as if searching, before his expression firmed with something not unlike the determination Hajime often saw on court.
“Are we finally going to acknowledge this, or will we dance around it for another three years?” he asked seriously, and the non-sequitur threw Iwaizumi almost as much as the oddly vulnerable look in his eyes.
He swallowed.
“Acknowledge what?” he knew, though. Or had a solid inkling about what Oikawa was about to say.
Judging by the way Tooru’s eyes narrowed, he knew that, too, and was not above calling him out on it.
“You know. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
Suddenly, Iwaizumi felt tired.
“What do you want me to say, Oikawa?” he sighed, sounding world-weary and exasperated even to his own ears.
But Oikawa just narrowed his eyes, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.
“I want you to not punch me.”
“Wha-?” but before he could finish, soft, slightly-chapped lips were pressing against his own, and the chaste, close-mouthed kiss didn’t even last long enough for Hajime’s brain to get back in gear and kiss back before Tooru was pulling away.
“-oh.”
When his eyes refocused, Oikawa’s face was still close to his own, brown eyes wide as they flickered over Iwaizumi’s own face, searching for a reaction.
Hajime didn’t think he was imagining the scared look in his best-friend’s eyes either.
If he wasn’t so scared himself, Iwaizumi would’ve laughed at the irony of the indomitable Oikawa Tooru being scared of him, but as it was, all he could manage was a startled blink.
After a few more seconds, Oikawa’s expression crumpled, and he let his forehead thump against Iwaizumi’s shoulder with a quiet groan, before looking back up.
“I’d really appreciate it if you said something right about now, Iwa-chan.” he announced, looking almost pitiful, and Iwaizumi snorted before he could stop himself.
Immediately, Oikawa’s face fell, and Hajime cursed inwardly when he felt the other start to pull away, clearly taking his unbidden reaction as rejection.
Not thinking too much about what he was doing, only focused on wiping that dejected expression off Tooru’s face, Iwaizumi’s hand darted out and curled around the nape of the brunet’s neck, holding him in place above him.
He searched frantically for something to say, anything, but his mouth moved before his brain could approve what came out.
“All this talk of your kissing prowess in high-school, and you barely manage a three second kiss?” he asked, the words incredulous but his voice teasing, and he sees Oikawa’s eyes widened before his mouth opened a little in shock.
“I- you- what?”
Iwaizumi laughed.
Somehow, after that, it was almost too easy to put pressure on the hand still resting against Oikawa’s nape and pull him down, slotting their lips together for the second time.
It should be weird, he thought absently. He’s known Tooru since they were both running around the park with scraped knees and snotty noses, has seen all his worst sides and witnessed almost every embarrassing moment or tactless quip.
Instead, the only thing that was weird about kissing Oikawa was how not-weird was.
They were both warm and a little sweaty, Tooru’s breath a far cry from minty freshness after a nap and a few hours in the hospital, and Hajime was willing to bet he wasn’t much better, and Oikawa was still perched awkwardly, half-above, half-on top of him. There were no fireworks behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes, nor any butterflies in his stomach – all he felt was an overwhelming wave of fondness, and, beyond that, peace.
Kissing Tooru felt like coming home.
Hajime let the kiss run its course, then pulled away as much as he could with his head resting against the pillow, and broke it. This time, their faces were even closer than before, and the pink flush on Tooru’s cheeks was unmistakeably a blush.
“Is this what you wanted to acknowledge?” Iwaizumi asked, his voice slightly breathless, but still overall more put-together than how Tooru looked.
If possible, Oikawa’s blush grew.
“When did you get so damn smooth?!” he whined, dropping his head against Hajime’s shoulder but keeping it there this time even when Iwaizumi doubtless jostled him as he laughed.
“Why are you so freaked out is the better question.”
“Why are you not?!” despite the words being muffled by Hajime’s shoulder and neck, the way Oikawa’s voice rose an octave was still painfully clear.
Iwaizumi shrugged.
“I dunno. I just feel like we were always meant to end up here.”
Tooru raised his head, eyes wide, his expression slightly disbelieving when he met Hajime’s gaze. Yet, beyond that disbelief was relief, and, if Iwaizumi was reading it right, gratitude.
“So do I.” he confessed quietly, so different from his usual volume and overwhelming confidence.
“Then why the deer-in-the-headlights look?” Iwaizumi asked, moving the hand still resting on Oikawa’s neck to lightly poke him under his right eye.
The blush that had almost faded came back full-force.
“I just never expected you to say it.” He mumbled, looking away, and Hajime felt himself soften.
“Just as you are sometimes capable of an intelligent thought, I can do feelings every once in a while. Don’t get used to it, though.”
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa crowed, indignant, but there was a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes, and when he ducked down to kiss Iwaizumi again, all that earlier self-doubt and disbelief was gone.
Against Tooru’s lips, Hajime smiled.
The Oikawa Tooru-shaped hole in his life was once again filled.
In the end, Tooru didn’t need an operation. The doctor had been right – as long as he didn’t overwork himself and regularly iced and rested his knee, he would be fine.
A week after the incident, Hajime’s transfer request was approved, and a week after that, he’d fully moved in into his dorm at Todai.
Kuroo had, just as Yaku had promised, absolutely ripped into him when he found out about his spontaneous trip to Tokyo and subsequent transfer. “Knight in shining armour feels too nice. Boyfriend with helicopter-parent syndrome, maybe?”
His mother had been amused and sad to see him move even further away, but she hadn’t been surprised. “It’s not like you’ve left his side since you met. Unmei no akai ito had always been evident with you two.” And Hajime had blushed, but could not disagree without lying.
Tooru’s volleyball team accepted a new spiker with knowing looks and teasing jibes, but Hajime fit there in a way he hadn’t quite managed at Tohoku.
Overall, dating Tooru was much like being best friends with him, only now, it seemed, the earlier stop-gaps were long forgotten. Tooru all but clung to him, touching always, and though in public, it was still ‘Iwa-chan this’ and ‘Iwa-chan that’, in private, Hajime passed his lips with no hesitation, and it never failed to make Hajime smile.
In their first year, they pushed each other harder than they ever had before, and caught the other every time when they threatened to fall.
In their second year, they became known as ‘that setter-spiker duo from Tokyo’ and Tooru’s face lit up every time he heard the expression.
In their third year, Tooru became captain, and Hajime was his long-suffering but ever-present VC. That year, when they faced down Kageyama, they wiped the floor with his team, and Tooru didn’t stop glowing for a week afterwards.
Towards the end of the year, when all the matches and tournaments were over, and final exams, as well as graduation were looming right around the corner, Hajime stood in their shared flat, a letter clutched in his trembling hands.
“Hey, Hajime.” Tooru called, strolling into their bedroom, the same letter held by his side, a dazzling grin on his face. “What do you say to another three years together?”
Hajime’s response had been to kiss him with all that he had.
In the second year after graduating university, Hajime and Tooru stood side-by-side on a court somewhere in Italy, 1 and 2 emblazoned proudly on the backs of their red and white jerseys of the Japanese National team.
Hajime belonged at Tooru’s side just as surely as Tooru belonged at his.
(and, sometimes, on top of him as well.)