Work Text:
Fleeting touches were how it started.
His feelings had always been there, dormant in the back of his mind, waiting to be released by something. A key in a lock, a clue in a riddle that Tooru just couldn’t solve. But the answer was always going to be him. Tooru didn’t know if his heart could take it.
Soft, fleeting touches when passing a water bottle, a book, a ball, a jumper, anything. The brush of his calloused fingers against Tooru’s own. The lingering flesh heating his own as he avoided eye contact. The touch present but always out of reach.
Jokes that went slightly too far, pushing a boundary that they had never set into place. Pushing the boundary hurt, the realization that it would never be more than a boundary hurt him. It kept him up late at night, throat squeezing tight as he forced back tears. He got sore throats from how hard he would try.
Iwaizumi was always just out of reach.
Always out of reach, always just slightly past Tooru’s grasp. It hurt him, it was a hollow feeling in his chest when he was alone. A pained empty feeling but when they were together, all of it was forgotten. They were together and that was enough until one of them went home and Tooru was left with a hollow chest and a sore throat.
The fleeting touches got worse, they were handprints next. Iwaizumi had large hands, warm palms pressing against his back, pushing him in training, patting him on the back. Large, strong hands that kept Tooru up at night, panting in his quiet room. Large, rough palms pulling him up when his knee gives out, pressing a cold pack against the swollen skin, pulling a jacket around his shoulders.
The worst was his waist. A celebration night at Tooru’s, a party with too much alcohol for how young they all were. He wanted to get past, instead of saying “move”, just like always, he placed a large, strong palm on Tooru’s waist, slipping it round to the small of his back and just moved him. Tooru had let him. It didn’t stop the flush of heat he felt, watching him wander over to sit back down after filling his cup, his broad back disappearing into the crowd of people.
A hollow chest and a sore throat followed that night, after being sick from the alcohol.
Every time, it was the hollow chest and a sore throat.
The closer to graduation they got, the more desperate Tooru became. He wasn’t ready to lose him, to lose any of them, but especially not him.
The day Iwaizumi told him what college he was going to broke Tooru. He hadn’t chosen the same. They were splitting apart at the seams and Tooru couldn’t even be angry at him because the way he spoke about his future made Tooru want to scream. He looked happy, and along came the hollow chest and sore throat. He wanted to tell him that they’ve always been together, why was Iwaizumi suddenly changing how they’ve always been? How could he?
Tooru never asked him. He was too afraid of the answer. He was too afraid of being told he wasn’t needed anymore, too scared to hear that he had moved on. That he had left him behind.
Hollow chest and a sore throat.
Graduation crept closer. Tooru pushed himself harder and harder to ignore everything, stayed late at practice, stayed up late studying, burnt himself out at both ends. His coach had asked him if he was alright after a particularly long night left bags under his eyes. He laughed it off, saying he was fine. He ignored the way Iwaizumi stared at him, strong hands gripping the ball he held. He ignored every stare, every mouth open just about to say something before Tooru brushed him off. He ignored it all. He kept his head down, kept his face plastered in a smile.
He got a girlfriend. He thought having someone else would take his mind off Iwaizumi, thought it was a good idea to distance himself in any way he knew how. She was cute. In any other life, Tooru thought they would have worked, maybe settled down together, 2.5 kids, dog, the whole deal. She was short with dark hair and dark eyes, it was almost painful how similar she was to Iwaizumi.
They went on dates, Tooru turning down the offers to hang out from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, offers from Iwaizumi. He ignored the jeers and boos he got from Matsukawa and Hanamaki. He couldn’t ignore the frowns he got from Iwaizumi, the crestfallen look.
Hollow chest and sore throat.
He dated the same girl for about five months, which was a good record for him all things considered. He was a good boyfriend; they went on dates, studied together, he always walked her home after practice. She hadn’t ever had a boyfriend before so everything Tooru did, she felt special, overwhelmed at times. He was a lot sometimes. They had kissed, but never really anything further.
Another house party, Hanamaki’s parents were away visiting distant family and offered to host. Tooru agreed to come if his girlfriend could, obviously they said yes.
He expected everything to go his way, he expected a fun night with his friends and his girlfriend. He expected to be drunk, but not overly so.
He didn’t expect Iwaizumi to be drunk when they arrived. He was the one to open the door, grinning at Tooru and tugging him inside, closing the door after his girlfriend stepped inside. Large, warm hands pulling his jacket off, hanging it up, calling over his shoulder that Tooru was here.
It was odd. To be pulled around like this, to be pushed into the sofa and a drink given to him. It was odd to see Iwaizumi like this, drunk but distant in a way Tooru wasn’t used to. They hadn’t been talking much recently, Tooru not making time for him. It was like a fever he was trying to sweat out, he was hoping once the fever broke, he’d be fine. He would stop thinking about him, but he was always in the back of his mind. His fleeting touches, his strong hands, his warmth, his laugh.
Tooru finished whatever was in his cup in one go.
He got another, and another, and another. The night got blurry, he felt too hot, retreating outside, sitting on the porch. The cold air felt nice against his sweaty skin, eyes closed as he lay back on the slightly damp wood.
He didn’t hear the door open but felt someone sit down next to him, a large hand pushing his hair off his forehead. He smiled, already knowing who it was. He heard faint words, like his head was underwater, a ripple against the surface. Then a rock crashed through, he felt lips against his. They were gone before he could react, eyes opening as he watched a broad back disappear back into the house. Large hands clenched, a fleeting touch against the door handle.
Hollow chest, sore throat, eyes full of tears.
They didn’t talk for a while. Tooru didn’t seek him out, too scared of what would be said. He kept his head down, leaving when practice ended, staying with his girlfriend. Hanamaki and Matsukawa tried to ask what was wrong and he brushed it off, almost flinching when he saw Iwaizumi’s face crumple, the boy turning away and leaving the trio stranded.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked at Tooru then back at the empty space that Iwaizumi had filled moments before back to Tooru. He shrugged, hearing his girlfriend called for him, saying a quick goodbye before heading over to her.
They got closer, Tooru spent nearly every weekend at hers. Realistically it was only a matter of time before she asked him about having sex. He had skirted around the matter, making up a few excuses about not feeling ready.
Was there an excuse? She’d catch on if he kept saying no, she’d realise. Everything Tooru had worked hard on keeping secret, everything he didn’t want anyone to know. He worked himself, making a stop at a shop on the way over, getting what he needed. He knocked on her door, smiling as she opened it. Her parents were away for the weekend, no excuse.
They went straight to her room, candles lit in the dark space. It was cheesy, but Tooru knew she was into that sort of stuff. He set his bag down, why were his hands shaking?
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He hadn’t meant to. She was staring at him, naked except for her socks, her cheeks flushed. He hadn’t to say that. His hands shook as he pulled himself away, grabbing his clothes and dressing quickly. He could feel tears running down his cheeks. His name from his lips. He heard her saying something but he couldn’t stay. She was pulling on a gown, grabbing his hand and asking him to calm down. He had one sock on, his t-shirt sticking to him with sweat from their actions. His knees gave out, collapsing to the floor and sobbing into his hands. His name from his lips instead of hers.
He felt her cover his shoulders with a blanket, the lights flicked on then a bottle of water pressed in his hand as she gently pried his hands away from his face.
She didn’t look angry, but Tooru’s vision was filled with tears. He drank some of the water, mumbling thanks, wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath.
Hollow chest, sore throat, and wet cheeks.
He told her everything, every last detail. She sniffled a few times, Tooru could understand that. She wasn’t mean about anything, only offering comfort in her soft voice. She told him she could always sense something, whenever Imaizumi would enter a room, Tooru would change ever so slightly, she could always see it. What surprised Tooru the most is that she told him her own story of unrequited love, a girl she went to middle school with who was now on the swim team with her. She told Tooru everything too, about her version of the hollow chested feeling she got. Sweaty palms and butterflies in her stomach.
He didn’t know if he felt relieved to know she felt the same way, or sad to hear she felt the same way.
They decided to break up, but Tooru promised he would still cheer her on at swim meets if she did the same with him at his matches. She agreed and Tooru hugged her, holding her tightly in the dark night. He kissed her forehead gently, wishing her goodnight before heading home.
Hollow chest but no sore throat.
The weeks leading up to exams were rough. Tooru isolated himself, kept his head down at school, didn’t make every practice. They didn’t go to nationals and it stung, a deep ache in his bones, yearning for something he couldn’t grab. It was a painful irony, really.
His parents asked about his friends, asking if he was seeing them soon, asking if they had plans. Tooru brushed the questions off, saying something about once exams finished they were doing something.
Tooru froze when he heard his mother mention that Iwaizumi had been over the other day asking for him, asking if he was free to talk. Tooru had been out, running his thoughts off. Tooru brushed it off. His mother asked if everything was okay. He brushed it off.
Hollow chest and a slightly sore throat.
Exams came and went. Tooru knew he had done well, he was always good at studying, always got good grades. He was going to college, but not the one he wanted. None of them were ever going to be the one he wanted, there was one and he hadn’t applied there so what was the point?
Tooru got invited to another party. He declined at first, it was someone from basketball that he shared classes with. He didn’t think he could face a party, but as the night went on, he was convinced. He changed, wearing a pair of jeans and a nice shirt. He told his friend he was going, smiling when he got an all capitalised answer of ‘YES!’
The party was too loud, too hot, with too many unfamiliar faces. He danced with a few people who brought him drinks over, liking the attention from the obviously older party-goers. The boy had mentioned some of his older brothers friends were here and that they were good people. Tooru didn’t really care, he liked the closeness of another body, the warmth he felt against his back, the hands gripping his waist. Not large hands, but close enough.
One of the boys asked his name, the voice in his ear was deep. Not deep enough, but close enough. He told him, taking the drink the man was offering, taking a sip and watching him over the rim of his cup. He was tall, light hair, and had a nice smile. He looked older than Tooru, not by much, but older still. They danced for a while, the bass from some English song thumping through the house, shaking Tooru’s bones as he moved.
He excused himself briefly, heading to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and neck. The image in the mirror was blurry, but it was him, as always. He heard a faint knock on the door, a call of his name. Voice not deep enough to be the person he wanted it to be. He opened the door, smiling at the taller man, letting him take his hand, leading him back to the dancefloor. They bypassed the dancefloor, heading through the hallway and up to the stairs, slowly heading up. Tooru asked where they were going but he didn’t hear a response. He heard his name be called, a voice deep enough to be the one he wanted.
They reached the top of the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his free hand, turning and freezing on the spot. Iwaizumi, panting softly and looking up at him, a soft grey shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He felt a tug on his hand from behind him, from the taller man. He heard him shout something, tugging again. Iwaizumi stepped up, telling the man something, something Tooru couldn’t make out but he felt his hand get dropped before it got taken by another hand. A large, strong hand.
He couldn’t make out what Iwaizumi was saying to him, simply content to just nod and get led back down the stairs and out the front door. They didn’t live far away, the cold air helping to sober Tooru up. He gripped Iwaizumi’s hand tighter, feeling a sore throat coming on.
He felt better when they arrived at Iwaizumi’s, silently heading in and kicking their shoes off, hands still gripped together. Tooru could hear his heart beating as they climbed the stairs to Iwaizumi’s room, the familiar creak of the stairs echoing in the quiet house. Tooru’s heart beat faster.
His room was messy, clothes littered everywhere, his desk full of books, his bed unmade. He led Tooru over to the bed, sitting down and tugging his hand gently, an invitation. Please, sit down.
He sat and they were silent for a while, Iwaizumi’s thumb slowly stroking over Tooru’s soft skin of his hand.
They both spoke at the same time, Tooru stopping when Iwaizumi didn’t. He apologized, apologized for messing everything up by kissing him, saying that he just wanted his best friend back, that he missed him, that he was sorry. Tooru didn’t really know how to respond. How do you tell someone you don’t want them to be sorry? How do you tell them you are hopelessly in love with them?
Tooru kissed him, moved his free hand to cup Iwaizumi’s jaw, keeping their lips pressed together even when he felt himself start to cry, even when he felt Iwaizumi start to cry. He felt himself get kissed back, the awful taste of beer on Iwaizumi’s tongue, but he didn’t care.
No longer did he feel the hollow chest and sore throat.