Work Text:
Only entropy comes easy
-Anton Chekhov
"Is that all you're going to pack, Hajime?" Hajime’s mom stands over him in his mid-sized bedroom. A large suitcase has been thrown open, overflowing with neatly folded garments and a few smaller travel bags arranged perfectly to fit every possible nook and cranny.
"I'm only going there for school, Mom," Hajime replies, still concentrating heavily on the contents of his suitcase. He had ascertained for it to be large enough, but it could only hold so much in the end. Just perfect for Hajime who never particularly clung to any material item, never the type to assign sentimental value to trinkets and knick-knacks.
In fact, Hajime's very manner of expressing fondness for the fictional reptilian monster Godzilla was executed quite strategically--a phone case, a keychain, a maximum of two shirts, and a tumbler--all bearing an image of the giant reptile in some way or another. Tooru had teased him about it before, calling him a half-hearted minimalist fan. A contrast to Tooru whose motto was 'if you're going to hit it, hit it until it breaks' and so in the midst of his childhood recklessness managed to acquire an obscene amount of alien-themed paraphernalia, most of which were eventually relegated to the very back of his closet, the breath of impending adulthood perhaps knocking more sense into him.
"Well, looks like you have everything you need, to be quite honest," Hajime's mom remarks.
"Yeah," Hajime says as he checks the list he has made on his phone one last time, occasionally glancing at the items in his suitcase.
"Can you believe it, Hajime?" his mom wistfully says, eyes scanning the humble expanse of Hajime's room. "You spent all your life here and now you're going to America of all places for university."
Hajime manages to let out a small laugh, hoping in part that by doing so his mother doesn’t cry for the nth time that week. Her eyes remain dry, much to his relief. She eventually does leave his room and Hajime is alone, although not for long as his door creaks open and a brown head of hair pokes through the gaping entrance.
"All packed up and ready to go I see."
"Don't you have anything better to do, Shittykawa?"
"Lucky for you, I don't."
Hajime rolls his eyes, but scoots over anyway when he notices Tooru finally step into his room and walk over to where he is sitting on the floor. Tooru joins him beside his suitcase, gracefully crossing his legs as he sits down.
They had said their good-byes the previous week. It wasn't conventional for it had come in the form of playful name-calling and comfortable banter--Hajime telling Tooru that he'll probably get lost the minute he lands in Argentina, Tooru teasing Hajime that he'll be the shortest guy in their entire college campus. The respective excitement was palpable, two boys venturing outside of their small worlds as Miyagi-homegrowns and traversing oceans to chase after ambitions far greater than their younger selves would have ever imagined. But while the sharp thrum of youthful vigor existed, fear was also just as present and rather insidious even in its ability to shapeshift and easily turn the mundane and most especially the past into catalysts for longing, regret, guilt. Doubt.
"I actually dropped by because I wanted to make sure that you pack my present safely," Tooru says while brandishing a sturdy envelope that looked too big to fit in just an ordinary letter, but too small for it to be an actual parcel.
Hajime reaches out to receive the envelope. He looks at it warily and then spares Tooru a glance with a hint of suspicion.
"This is a sincere gift, Iwa-chan," Tooru says holding up his hands. "I swear. No tricks."
Raising a single eyebrow, Hajime slowly peels off the flap of the envelope. He peers into it before pulling out its singular content.
"Wait, this is--"
"Us. When we were nine years-old, I believe," Tooru says casually as he leans back against the side of Hajime's bed.
Hajime stares at the familiar image--summer in Miyagi, both of them grimy and sweaty after a hot morning of playing volleyball, and finally cooling off with generous slices of watermelon in their hands. Tooru's smile was wide and infectious--all teeth and gums--radiating absolute childlike carelessness as juice from the watermelon slice dribbled down his arms. Hajime, on the other hand flashed a more reserved smile, mouth closed shut as he recalls that he had lost two bottom teeth that summer.
Hajime flips the photo and he sees Tooru's distinct handwriting, the black ink stark against the smooth white of the photo paper. He then reads the words printed on the back of the photograph.
To the person I am proud to call my partner, the absolute best ace, I wish you all the best. Make sure you don't miss me too much, Iwa-chan.
Oikawa Tooru
A soft laugh slips out of Hajime while he turns the photograph over once more. He looks at Tooru who was smiling at him, but because he's Hajime and he's Tooru he already knows the weight of that smile. Words need not pass between them for Hajime to know that there is still a trace of fear that lingers and looms over Tooru and even though his grin is unwavering, Hajime is able to perfectly read the slightest sense of worry on Tooru's face.
"You know," Tooru says after clearing his throat. "I stayed up all night rummaging through our photo albums for the perfect picture. And by that I mean one where we both looked good. I, of course, looked good in every photograph, but you on the other ha--Ow!"
In one swift motion, Hajime thrusts his hand against Tooru's unguarded abdomen causing the latter to curl over slightly while rubbing his belly.
"You're ruining the mood, Shittykawa," Hajime gruffs.
"Oh?" A playful lilt is apparent in Tooru's voice. "Were you getting emotional, Iwa-chan? About to tear up perhaps?"
But Hajime doesn't respond and instead he flips the photograph again, their nine year-old selves staring back at him in slightly faded colors, an indication of how time could be a powerful force to be reckoned with in its unrivaled ability to wear and tear away at anything that exists.
"Thanks for this," Hajime says. "Although your handwriting is as shitty as your personality as always."
"Deflecting, I see," Tooru teases. "You know, Iwa-chan, you're never going to get a girlfriend if you keep up your tsundere attitude."
"Do you want to get hit again, dumbass?" Hajime flicks Tooru's forehead, but there was a small smile on his face and he allows his fingers to stay there, brown locks from Tooru's freshly cut fringe grazing his skin. "You're such a troublesome guy."
"Ahh, but you'll never find another one like me, Iwa-chan," Tooru gently pushes his hand away, their hands landing on the floor. Then there's a beat of silence as Tooru's own hand weighs heavy and prominent on top of Hajime's. It's warm, Hajime notices, and it's everything he knows of Tooru--callouses, scratches, devotion, strength, assurance.
Tooru pulls his own hand away first and before Hajime could open his mouth to speak, his mom raps on the door, asking Tooru if he would like to stay for dinner.
"I would love to, auntie," Tooru says as he pulls himself up from Hajime's floor. "But I actually have to get going. The sister's home to pay us a visit."
"I'll see you out," Hajime offers, but Tooru holds a hand up and gives Hajime another smile.
"I know where the door is, Iwa-chan," Tooru says. The door to Hajime's room is still close and Tooru has yet to turn the knob and swing the door open. He leans in, but he's looking down, avoiding Hajime's eyes entirely. "I'll be okay."
And Tooru leaves and Hajime is alone in his room, surrounded by so much of his life yet the emptiness is dense, almost smothering him.
He admits to himself that he better get used to this feeling.
***
11
Miyagi is sweltering in the summer and Hajime loves nothing more than to take a dip in the nearby public pool to assuage the unbearable summer heat. When he enters the public pool area, he sees a familiar head of unruly brown waves and in a surge of mischief, rushes to shove against the sunburnt back of one Oikawa Tooru who then yelps in response. Hajime makes sure to pull him back by his arm before Tooru completely falls into the pool.
"Iwa-chan you're such a bully!" Tooru whines, pushing Hajime off him.
"But you didn't fall, right?" Hajime points out,
"I almost did!" Tooru replies. In petty retaliation, Tooru reaches out to grab Hajime's arms, tugging him to the edge of the pool and attempting to push him over. "Let's see how you like it!"
"Let go of me, stupid Oikawa!"
"Never!"
Hajime eventually loses his footing on the slippery floor and he falls into the pool, his grip on Tooru's forearm firm and solid and he takes all of Tooru down with him. A loud splash later and both boys are under the chlorinated pool water. They eventually resurface, gasping for air in unison and a stillness clings to them for a split second before they erupt in laughter.
"You're so stupid, Oikawa," Hajime says, eyebrows attempting to scrunch up into a serious scowl, but the twitching corners of his mouth and the traces of laughter say otherwise.
"It's the pool, Iwa-chan," Tooru hums. "What else are we here for, but to swim after all?"
Hajime sighs in surrender and as he watches Tooru push against the crystalline blue of the pool, sunburnt and freckled arms piercing the water's surface, he feels a sense of serene calm. And he wishes for this Miyagi summer to stay still in all its muggy stickiness, in all its chlorine-scented chaos, in all its buzzing symphony of cicadas and bright firefly glow in endless grassy knolls.
At eleven, Hajime knows where he would like to stay forever, knows where home is most warm and welcoming. If only it could be like this always for the rest of his life.
***
19
Timezones are tricky, Hajime realizes.
His mother made strict instructions to Hajime to video call his family at least four times a week which he has been obediently doing with utmost consistency
And then there was the California-Argentina timezone conversion which definitely wasn't as extreme as the one with Japan, but it was just as tedious, if not more. Perhaps it was the extra weight of knowing that there wasn't an explicit agreement between him and Tooru regarding the frequency of their calls. Or even when to call for that matter.
"If you want to call me, just call me, Iwa-chan," Tooru had told him at the airport just a few hours before his flight to California.
The video calls were instigated nonchalantly, yet with enough careful consideration of what remaining semblance he could recall of Tooru’s routine. He made sure to call when it was a late Friday afternoon in Argentina because he remembers years of Tooru stretched out and lazy on his bed after school every single Friday since his 14th birthday. Tooru on the other hand would call after 9:45pm on Saturdays, Irvine time. By then Hajime would have finished most of his weekend schoolwork--a force of habit since middle school.
Things had to change eventually of course, and so clinging on to what had been obvious and familiar becomes insufficient. Calls would be missed, less frequent in their overall occurrences, and apologies left unreturned not because of any modicum of spite, but because they are miles apart for the first time in their lives and have become increasingly swept up in the undercurrents of life simply happening to them both.
Hajime relishes in those moments when they do get to talk and share snippets of California and Argentina. Time is a particle of light that slips through them with so much ease that after they talk, Hajime is always somehow surprised to see that the timestamp would clock in their conversation at four hours. And he realizes the dryness of his own throat and somehow it feels strangely comforting.
He begins to count down the days when he could feel that way again.
***
15
A shiver runs through Hajime as he makes his way to the Oikawa residence. He stuffs his hands deeper into the pockets of his puffer jacket and allows himself to sink into the thick, cable-knit scarf that's wrapped around his neck.
It's the beginning of winter and gentle snowfall has broken out in Miyagi, and at 7:30 in the morning, Hajime has already left his home to go pick up Tooru for their annual shrine visit.
Hajime turns a corner and he finally arrives. After greeting Tooru's mom and slipping off his sneakers, he climbs the stairs to Tooru's room. Hajime knocks a few times, but no one answers and so he pushes the door open only to see Tooru still in his futon, wrapped in the warmth of his blankets.
A groan leaves Hajime's mouth before he makes his way to the futon to nudge at Tooru's sleeping form with the pad of his foot.
"Wake up, dumbass," Hajime says. "It's already eight."
Tooru stirs and unfurls himself from his fetal pose.
"Good morning to you too, Iwa-chan," Tooru's voice sounds hoarse and Hajime initially thinks it could be the remnants of sleep in his throat, grogginess clinging to him like the clumps of snow on the tree branches outside. But then Tooru coughs and sniffs hard and Hajime could tell that something wasn't right.
"Sure are eager, Iwa-chan," Tooru says as he sits up. He proceeds to slip his fingers in his mouth to pop out his retainers and then place them in the container beside the futon.
"I've seen you do that a hundred times and it's still kinda gross," Hajime comments, grimacing.
"Well good news," Tooru declares while wiping his hands on his pajama pants. "You are more than welcome to look away. But I understand if you don't want to. I'm irresistible after all."
Hajime was about to kick him when Tooru sneezes loudly.
"Hey are you alright? I mean, can you even go out in the cold like this?" Hajime asks.
Tooru coughs a few times in response.
"Guess not," Hajime concludes.
"Sorry, Iwa-chan," Tooru says while scratching the back of his head. "But you can go on without me. Ask someone else from the team. In fact I bet some of them are at the shrine right now."
It's quiet and still dark inside Tooru's room and Hajime soon finds himself plopping beside Tooru on his futon.
"Nah, let's just go next time," Hajime tells Tooru. He reaches out to press his palm against Tooru's forehead. No fever, he thinks.
"Are you going to yell at me for getting sick?" Tooru asks carefully.
"No," Hajime replies bluntly. Then he pushes Tooru's bangs out of his forehead with impressive force. "But I will yell at you for still not getting a damn haircut."
Tooru lets a small laugh spill out of him before falling back onto his ocean of blankets and pillows.
"You should leave, Iwa-chan," Tooru says. "Wouldn't want you getting sick too."
"I walked all the way here in the cold, dumbass," Hajime huffs. "You can't get rid of me just yet."
Hajime notices Tooru's eyelids flutter shut and he thinks he's probably going to drift back to sleep.
"I would never want that," Tooru mumbles. "Not in a million years."
And Hajime stays.
***
20
Winter break was a new concept to Hajime when he started school in California. Americans took Christmas holidays seriously, he realizes, and at this point he has gotten used to the lonely dormitories and to the much distinctly warmer winters compared to snowy Miyagi.
He just wrapped up his finals and after a blur of farewells and cheery ‘happy holidays!’ from friends, including his own roommate, he collapses into an exhausted heap on his bed, ready to doze off and retrieve the immeasurable hours of sleep he had lost over the past week or so. Before Hajime completely surrenders to slumber, he checks his phone for the time. Almost 5:00 pm. It’s evening in Argentina, he thinks. He hesitates briefly, then proceeds to unlock his phone, opening Instagram thereafter.
Hajime doesn’t really use the app and quite frankly, even after over a year since getting peer-pressured by his college friends into making an account, he has yet to embellish it with snapshots of his life. It remains entirely barren save for the photos he has been tagged on. Hajime then types in the handle of Club Athletico San Juan. It takes a few seconds to load before a flurry of images appear on his screen. He scrolls through them casually until a photo of Tooru appears. Clad in a fading and sweat-soaked turquoise Aoba Johsai volleyball club shirt, Tooru was caught mid-laughter, brown hair matted down with perspiration and skin already honey tan from the Argentine sun. The picture was obviously candid and something in Hajime coils as he swipes to see two more photos of Tooru, both of which look to have been taken in succession as Tooru’s eyes remain vibrantly crinkled, the wide, toothy grin an aftermath of tumbling laughs probably shared with his other teammates who weren’t in the picture.
Tooru was nowhere near Hajime at the moment, and yet he could hear that unmistakably contagious chuckle. And suddenly he’s eight and he’s sharing a joke with Tooru for the first time and Tooru laughs until tears appear in the corners of his eyes. And then they’re 12 and they’re spending a weekend afternoon watching One Piece and it’s one of the show’s funnier episodes and that causes them both to giggle and snicker the entire time. And then they’re 17 and Hanamaki accidentally receives a ball to the groin and while everyone breaks out in obnoxious guffaws, Tooru and Hajime are looking at each other, doubled over in laughter all the same, but it's because of an inside joke they share only between themselves.
Hajime closes the app and as if possessed by some sense of urgency, he boots up his laptop and clicks on Skype. He opens the most recent conversation and chooses the video call option. It rings for a few seconds and then there’s a faint static, indicating that the call had been picked up.
“Iwa-chan!”
“Hey,” Hajime says and he somehow surprises himself with how shy he sounds.
“How was finals? Are you still alive?” Tooru asks him.
“I actually just finished,” Hajime replies. “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up, by the way.”
“No, no it’s alright. Really,” Tooru smiles and Hajime notices the retainers in his mouth.
He must have been getting ready for bed , he thinks.
“So, are you doing anything in particular right now?” Hajime asks.
Tooru shakes his head. “Nope. I’m all yours, Iwa-chan.”
Hajime rubs the back of his neck, oddly nervous for some reason so he avoids looking straight into his webcam and his screen altogether. “Do you wanna watch One Piece?”
“Sure, Iwa-chan,” Hajime looks up to see Tooru smiling at him.
“Cool,” Hajime manages to reply.
“By the way,” Tooru begins. “Feliz Navidad, Iwa-Chan.”
“It’s not yet Christmas, you idiot,” Hajime points out.
“But it’s almost Christmas,” Tooru reminds him.
Hajime rolls his eyes, but he is so happy and sure he wishes nothing more than to tune out the rest of the world by slumbering away for a good ten straight hours, but Tooru was here. Not here here , but he can see him and it’s more than enough for Hajime.
“Merry Christmas, Oikawa,”
Tooru is chuckling and Hajime is positive that Christmas has come early.
***
18
“Have I ever told you how unlikable cherry blossoms are to me?” Tooru plucks yet another stray pink petal from Hajime’s head. “Always making a mess and whatnot.”
“How do you manage to still be so shitty even during our graduation?” Hajime deadpans.
“Language, Iwa-chan! My nephew is only a few feet away!” Tooru admonishes him.
And Tooru was right. His nephew Takeru was there along with Tooru's sister and his parents. Hajime's parents were also nearby, mingling casually with Tooru's mom and dad.
It's still cold in Miyagi, but the school gym where they just had their graduation rites was sufficiently warm and so Hajime finds the coolness of the outdoors pleasing.
"You know, I was really touched when Kindaichi and Yahaba cried," Tooru confesses. "In fact I almost wanted to cry, but there's too many people here. Can't let them see me like that. Nope."
Hajime rolls his eyes. "Okay, Mr. Popular."
"Don't worry, Iwa-chan," Tooru whispers, leaning in to Hajime. "I'll share some of these snacks those girls ga--Ow!"
A flick of Hajime's finger lands on Tooru's forehead and the latter soon struggles with trying to balance the farewell presents of his admirers while nursing his forehead, already turning a light shade of red.
"Iwa-chan! What if Takeru sees?" Tooru exclaims. "I won't be the respectable uncle he looks up to anymore?"
"What's this about being a respectable uncle to Takeru?" Tooru's sister walks over to them, Takeru in tow just a few steps behind. She looks every bit like Tooru with much softer features and without any of Tooru's impressive height.
"Tooru was being annoying," Hajime answers abruptly.
Tooru's sister laughs. "Ah, as usual."
"How can you gang up on me like this?" Tooru whines.
"I'm on your side, Tooru!" Takeru declares. He's dressed neatly and he rushes beside Tooru, immediately eyeing the bundle of ornately wrapped gifts in his arms.
"I think Takeru has hidden motives," Hajime teases.
Tooru's sister chuckles at the situation. She then opens her purse and pulls out a sleek digital camera.
"Alright you two," she says, bringing the camera to her face. "Move in close for a photo. Takeru, can you come here for a moment please?"
"I'll hold those for you, Tooru," Takeru offers while extending his arms.
Tooru laughs, genuinely amused, and so he starts piling the gifts on Takeru's outstretched hands. "Make sure you don't run away with any of those."
Takeru smiles sheepishly before scampering away to stand beside his mother.
"Okay look here, guys," Tooru's sister moves back a bit. "Ready?"
Tooru throws an arm across Hajime's shoulders and pulls him closer. Hajime does the same in return and he could feel the warmth radiate from Tooru and suddenly the early spring chill is long gone.
"1,2 Cheese!" Tooru's sister says.
A gust of wind suddenly blows out of nowhere and a shower of cherry blossom petals flutters down and covers Tooru and Hajime in delicate pastel pink.
"Stupid cherry blossoms!" Tooru exclaims, aggressively dusting off the petals from his uniform. He then turns to his sister who is looking down at her digital camera."Nee-chan, can you retake the photo?"
"I think you two better come see this," Tooru's sister waves at them.
Hajime and Tooru walk over and they peer down to look at the small screen at the back of the camera.
The image is impressively crisp despite the wind's fortuitous presence. But upon a longer glance, Hajime couldn't help but feel a sense of gripping elation in his chest. Staring back at them is a still of Tooru flinching from the combined force of the wind and the swirl of cherry blossom petals, and so in the process he ended up tugging Hajime closer, their heads touching.
They both look ridiculous--eyes screwed shut, a knee-jerk reaction to the flurry of dust and petals, the wind carding their hair especially Tooru's whose bangs were pushed to the side, but to Hajime, it only adds a certain charm to him and the same feeling of elation dissipates and is replaced with something more akin to fondness.
"You both actually look very cute," Tooru's sister speaks up. "A little disheveled, but still pretty adorable."
"Tooru looks funny!" Takeru points out. "He's making a face like he wants to poop."
Tooru gasps and it's comically exaggerated. "Takeru! How can you say that about your lovely uncle!"
"That's what you get for slandering the cherry blossoms," Hajime mentions casually.
Tooru scowls at Hajime, but Hajime knows it's all an act and so he reaches out to ruffle Tooru's hair and this catches the latter off guard.
"Cherry blossom petals," Hajime says as he pulls away. "Still got some on your hair."
"Are you done being overdramatic now, Tooru?" Tooru's sister is stuffing the digital camera back in her purse. "Because we need to go. We made reservations at a restaurant in case you forgot."
As if on cue, Tooru's stomach rumbles loudly and this prompts Hajime to poke him in the rib.
"Didn't I tell you to grab a snack before the graduation ceremony?" Hajime nags.
"I didn't want to spoil my appetite when we eat out!" Tooru says in defense. "Also who would have thought the ceremony was going to last three hours?"
Hajime sighs. "It was literally in the program they gave us a week ago, dumbass."
"Are you two coming or what?" Takeru is flailing his arms in the distance as he calls their attention. Unbeknownst to the two, their families have already begun walking towards the Aoba Johsai campus gates.
Tooru snatches Hajime's wrist without warning. "We're coming!"
Hajime looks down to see where Tooru’s lithe, setter fingers have wrapped themselves around his wrist and it hits him that this is the last time that Tooru will be grabbing him unprompted and proceeding to drag him--much to his annoyance--wherever they needed to go in Aoba Johsai. Be it in the middle of the hallways during the mad rush towards the cafeteria, in the open space of the campus after class hours when they’re running late for volleyball practice, or anywhere else really, all uniform-clad--a distinct hallmark of their youth which Hajime momentarily felt he had to leave behind upon exiting Seijoh’s gates.
But Tooru is holding on to him, absentmindedly resolute, and Hajime is engulfed in familiar relief--the knowledge that he can safely orbit around Tooru and that the tender gravitational pull of his existence is all the assurance he could ever need.
***
22
The graduation cap and gown that’s sprawled on Hajime’s bed almost remind him of Rorschach test ink blots. Shapeless and anxiety-inducing. He finally pulls out the graduation sash from its plastic wrap and the shiny, blue fabric glimmers slightly in the late afternoon sun. The pristinely embroidered gold lettering on the sash makes Hajime’s chest tighten.
UC Irvine, Class of 2016.
He realizes that he has been holding his breath and Hajime eventually exhales and along with it he relinquishes traces of tension that has been hanging over him for the past few months.
I’m finally graduating, he thinks.
The realization alone makes Hajime smile and suddenly he’s buzzing with a sense of excitement, a kind of sensation similar almost to adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s been a long time coming after all, and the usual plights of a typical college student weren’t the only things Hajime has had to deal with it. There was the inevitable homesickness. Days and nights longing for his mother’s cooking, the annual street festivals of Miyagi punctuated by colorful fireworks displays, the unmistakable hum of cicadas during the summer, and of course Miyagi winters that were satisfyingly nippy on a good day, but downright brutal on much worse ones.
There was also the language and cultural barriers which although Hajime had managed to overcome eventually, he would be lying if he said that none of his initial qualms as an international student lingered. Bits and pieces remained after all those years still--not being able to crack the kinds of jokes only a Japanese native would understand, struggling in turn to keep up with the local slang and the pop culture references his American peers made. As Hajime looks at the graduation sash in his hands, he understands that he is grateful for UCI and for the sunny embrace of Irvine, California. But they will never be Japan. They will never be Miyagi.
Hajime is pulled out of his reverie when his phone starts ringing and he sees that it’s the alarm he has set, reminding him that he needs to go to the airport to pick up his parents. He picks up the hanger from his desk and slips the gown and the sash on it. After smoothing out any remaining folds and wrinkles with his hand, he hangs it on a command hook outside his closet.
He takes one last look at his dorm room before softly closing the door behind him as he leaves.
The traffic is ruthless and it's more than an hour drive to LAX, but Hajime arrives in time just as his parents’ plane lands. He waits for them as they retrieve their luggages and soon enough, Hajime greets his mom and dad as they emerge from the LAX arrival area.
“Hajime!” his mom cries out, running towards him and proceeding to wrap her son in a warm hug.
“Hi, mom,” Hajime replies and he embraces her back.
Hajime’s dad walks over and throws an arm across his shoulder for one of those more reserved side-hugs and Hajime is suddenly both happy and shy because it’s been so long since he has last seen his parents, but also he can’t remember a time when they’ve been this overt in their display of affection.
“Well, let’s get going,” Hajime tells them. “It’ll probably take us an hour or so to get to your hotel, so we better hit the road as soon as we can.”
“Wait,” his mom says. “There’s one other person we’re waiting for.”
Raising an eyebrow, Hajime wonders who else could have possibly travelled with his parents to California. His aunt perhaps? Or maybe that cousin of his that he was sort of close with when he was in middle school. Hajime continues to run names in his head, however not for long when a familiar face appears in the crowd of people walking through the arrivals exit way. His jaw drops open and his eyes widen as the figure saunters closer to them. The same brown hair albeit shorter, the same brown eyes, and now a much distinctly tanner complexion than he last remembers.
“Oikawa,” Hajime says under his breath.
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru waves at him and Hajime notices that he’s gotten taller too.
Dammit, Hajime thinks to himself.
“Tooru-kun planned this whole surprise for you, Hajime,” his mom shares brightly. “And it was perfect when we found out that his arrival from Bueno Aires was just a few minutes behind. Very serendipitous, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Hajime responds absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on Tooru who was beaming at him and he smiles in return.
“Congratulations, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says and his voice is soft and if it weren’t for the fact that his parents were there, he would have crushed Tooru in a fierce hug, pressing his face against that wavy brown head of hair.
Instead, Hajime clenches his hands repetitively at his side and utters a quick thanks before guiding them to his rental.
They kicked off the drive back to Irvine with light chatter--Hajime’s mom asking Hajime about the graduation, Hajime’s dad asking Tooru about Argentina, and so on. Eventually the car becomes quiet as exhaustion grips both Hajime’s parents. He looks at the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Tooru who was still staring out the window, the streetlights flickering against the browns of his eyes.
“You okay back there?” Hajime asks.
“Of course,” Tooru says with a tired grin. He returns Hajime’s gaze by staring at the rearview mirror. “Iwa-chan is an excellent driver as expected.”
Hajime clears his throat. “Well, we’re almost there. So just hang on.”
“You got it,” Tooru manages to execute a playful, but rather lazy mock salute.
Hajime smiles and dreams of driving around with Tooru riding shotgun.
They finally arrive at the hotel and after Hajime drops off his parents at their room, he makes his way to Tooru’s own room even though he knows he’ll get to see him again the following day for his graduation ceremony.
Somehow Hajime’s nerves kick it into overdrive and he can feel the way his heart thumps incessantly against his ribcage. He lands a few knocks on Tooru’s door before it eventually swings open to reveal Tooru brushing his teeth.
“Please come in, Iwa-chan,” Tooru greets him, sending toothpaste foam flying everywhere.
“Can’t you do one thing at a time?” Hajime says with a mild scowl.
“You know me,” Tooru continues as he closes the door behind them. “I love to multi-task.”
Tooru disappears into the bathroom and Hajime hears him spit out and rinse his mouth. A minute later, he comes back out and picks up a container from the nearby table before sitting down on his bed.
“So,” Tooru begins as he pops open the container, revealing some kind of clear plastic material inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit the night before your graduation nonetheless?”
Hajime shrugs then he sits down beside Tooru, the bed dipping as he leans back comfortably on his hands. “To catch up, I suppose.”
He looks over at Tooru who he notices is slipping in the plastic material in his mouth.
“You’re still wearing retainers?” Hajime inquires, cocking an eyebrow at Tooru who pops on the bottom half of the oral appliance.
“Ah, but these are Essix retainers, Iwa-chan,” Tooru declares proudly. “No more wires, as you can see. Also I don't really have to wear them every night.”
"I see," Hajime says, but he couldn't care less about Tooru's dental concerns because he's thinking of a million other things he plans on telling Tooru--how he's been going under mentorship to train professional athletes, how he's intending to apply for a team in Japan and eventually be one of the national team's official trainers, how once Tooru returns home and plays for Japan, they can be together again. It will be just like it was before and thus the distance and the time apart will be all worth it.
"By the way, I have something to tell you," Tooru interrupts his rushing thoughts. "I was actually planning on telling you this tomorrow, but since you're here, I might as well tell you now."
"Tell me what?" Hajime says and the nerves are back. If there's one thing Hajime has known of Tooru is that there is not one way to predict him. Sure Hajime can boast about his ability to recognize Tooru’s sincerity or lack thereof, but what he's actually thinking is an entirely different story and perhaps this is a part of Tooru that continues to be perceived as growing pains for Hajime. He will get used to it, he tells himself. But he feels that at times he is too young, that he’s just a boy of nine all over again and he wishes for his friendship with Tooru to be simpler. But Hajime has been around too long to know that Tooru will never associate himself with what is simple. One could call him crazy. Wildly ambitious and wholly ready to take on the world in reckless abandon. And like a moth to a flame this is perhaps what draws Hajime to Tooru--the drive, the hunger, the uncertainty that comes with that drive and hunger.
“I’m planning on getting naturalized,” Tooru says slowly. “As an Argentine citizen.”
Hajime struggles to keep his voice steady. There’s suddenly a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. “Can I ask why?”
Tooru clears his throat. They’re both heavily avoiding eye contact as their gazes are instead transfixed on a spot on the carpeted floor.
“So I can play for Argentina’s national team,” Tooru explains.
“Ah,” Hajime responds and to his ears it sounds like a surrender, although he’s not quite sure what he’s surrendering to.
“You know Blanco coaches the Argentina national team,” Tooru continues. “We’ve talked about it, but I never told him I actually plan on getting naturalized.”
“What?” Hajime exclaims. “Wait, have you even told your parents about this?”
“Nope. You’re the first to hear. And the only one so far,” Tooru proclaims. “I’ll tell them once I’ve finalized everything. Wouldn’t want to worry my dear mother.”
It surprises Hajime how he isn’t exactly at a loss for words the way he would have expected him to be in such a situation. It’s as if he has always seen it coming and that it’s only a matter of time until the truth is completely unravelled and is offered to him on a silver platter.
“I know you’re probably thinking ‘Shittykawa, what’s wrong with playing for Japan?” and I want you to understand that it’s not about that,” Tooru tells him. “I just--I can’t explain it to you now, but this is what I want to do.”
“You’re wrong,” Hajime speaks up.
“Excuse me?”
“I said you’re wrong because I’m not thinking that, Shittykawa,” Hajime says. “That’s not what I was thinking at all.”
Hajime turns to look at Tooru and he holds his gaze steady, a faint blush already threatening to creep up his neck. “Because I already know that nothing I say will stop you because you’ve already made your decision and I just--I just want you to know that I think you should do whatever it is that feels right for you.”
There is a moment of deafening silence before Tooru blurts out a chuckle. “Oh, Iwa-chan. What am I going to do without you?”
Hajime smiles at him and he prays that the corners of his mouth don’t quiver the slightest. “Probably not deal with anyone who calls you Shittykawa.”
“That,” Tooru points out. “is an alternate reality I wouldn’t even remotely enjoy.”
“Anyway, I think I better get going,” Hajime stands up and slowly shakes one leg from potentially sleeping. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They stalk towards the door and Hajime slowly turns the knob. The door opens and Hajime steps out onto the hallway.
Hajime turns around and he sees Tooru lean his head against the door frame. "Good night, Iwa-chan."
"Good night," Hajime says back.
Once Hajime is in the rental, he sits still for a few seconds. The sound of his breathing fills the entire space and he realizes that his hands are shaking. He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and he pushes his head against the backs of his hand.
In the eve of his college graduation, in a rental car parked outside some hotel at night, Hajime cries for the first time in a long time.
The graduation ceremony happened far quicker than Hajime anticipated. Once it was all over, he is reunited with Tooru and his parents who sat with the other friends and family members of the UCI graduates.
"Okay," Tooru says, raising his mom's phone to eye level. "1,2 cheese!"
Hajime smiles, his mom and dad on either side of him beaming with parental pride.
"You guys look great," Tooru tells them.
Tooru could speak for himself, Hajime muses.
He was in a dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, two buttons undone from the top to slightly reveal the sharp cut of collarbones. He pairs it with casual blue jeans and his sneakers, but Hajime notes how Tooru's once teenage build had already been replaced by a grown-up and more significantly athletic body and so the simple outfit on Tooru makes Hajime's face feel hot and he thanks the graduation gown he has on because it gave him an excuse when his mom asked him about the hint of red that stains his cheeks.
"Why don't I take a photo of you boys?" Hajime's mom offers. She excitedly pushes both Tooru and Hajime together before standing back to admire her work. "There. Now, smile!"
Tooru turns briefly towards Hajime and Hajime could see the dusting of freckles that has formed over the bridge of Tooru's nose. A sudden urge to kiss his freckles overwhelms Hajime and so he tears his gaze away and proceeds to aggressively throw an arm across Tooru's shoulders, harshly pulling him in closer and causing him to stumble.
"Ow, Iwa-chan!" Tooru exclaims. "Can't even be bothered to be nice to a friend who travelled from another country for your graduation?"
"Shut up, Shittykawa," Hajime huffs. "And just look at the damn camera and smile."
Tooru chuckles lightly. "With pleasure."
"Are you boys going to stop picking on each other or what?" Hajime's mom has the smartphone pointed at them and she's already tapping one foot in mild exasperation.
In one fluid motion, Tooru wraps his arm around Hajime and the latter tries hard not to flinch. "We're ready, auntie!"
"1,2 cheese!"
Hajime smiles and he's trying very hard not to pass out from the commotion his heart is making.
Turns out Tooru's visit was very brief and that his flight back to Bueno Aires was the morning after the graduation. A practice game had already been scheduled beforehand and their team's coach had acceded to Tooru's request to visit Hajime only after much tireless convincing and compromising which involved Tooru agreeing to fly back as soon as possible.
Hajime picks up Tooru from the hotel early in the morning. He's still very mildly hungover from the small drinking party at their dormitory. Tooru came with him and he was grateful that his friends weren't being their usual inappropriate selves to accommodate Tooru who could actually be so surprisingly shy and Hajime wondered if Tooru who had just stepped foot in Argentina years prior was like that. Bright-eyed and nervous. Totally different from the current Tooru whose Spanish rolled off his tongue with ease, the honey tan of skin a constant reminder to Hajime that Argentina has embraced Tooru as much as Tooru has embraced the country.
"Good morning, Iwa-chan," Tooru opens the car door and slides into the passenger seat. He drops his bag between his legs before stretching himself.
"Didn't even bother to comb your hair?" Hajime comments.
"I'll be sleeping in the plane again anyway," Tooru runs his fingers through his bedhead, attempting to tame it to no avail.
"You ate breakfast already?" Hajime releases the handbrakes and the car begins to move.
"Yeah, they had free breakfast at the hotel," Tooru tells him. "Why? Are you going to take me out on a breakfast date, Iwa-chan?"
"It's a long drive to LAX," Hajime deadpans. "If you get hungry along the way, I'm just going to ignore you and keep driving."
"So grumpy in the morning."
"So can't shut the hell up even if it kills him in the morning."
Tooru laughs and it's the kind of laugh that makes Hajime's lungs feel tight, his throat parched as if he had just run a marathon.
They talk for the first 20 or so minutes of the drive, lighthearted banter interspersed casually in between. Eventually the car is quiet and the silence stretches far too long for comfort and somehow it makes Hajime's skin itch with awkwardness so he turns on the radio to fill in the dead air.
"...and up next, we have a timeless classic by iconic 60s rock band Chicago. Here's If You Leave Me Now!" The radio DJ announces. The DJ's voice soon fades and is replaced by the band's melodic singing. The opening lyrics almost makes Hajime laugh out loud, but he holds it in.
This is too sick of a joke, Hajime thinks to himself.
"I heard this song get played in Argentina a few times," Tooru shares. "Never actually knew what it meant. You speak English, Iwa-chan. Do you know what they're saying?"
"Just another song about falling in love basically," Hajime lies.
"I see," Tooru remarks. He begins to softly hum along to the tune of the song, but he eventually stops and Hajime sees that Tooru has fallen asleep.
The temptation to brush aside his cropped fringe is strong and Hajime only grips the steering wheel tighter. He wishes that in one of the existing multiverses out there, he's freely sweeping Tooru's brown hair with his fingers or intertwining them with Tooru's own ones while in the middle of a week-long roadtrip. He hopes that in at least one of those multiverses he is courageous enough to be honest, brave enough to be more selfish than he needs to be. Because he knows he can't do or be any of those in this universe. In this particular one, he is Iwaizumi Hajime and he wants to hold Oikawa Tooru close to him, but Tooru feels too big for his embrace. And so in this universe Hajime shall willfully allow himself to curl into the safety of his own fears. For himself. And for Tooru.
They finally arrive at the airport and after finding a parking spot, Hajime reaches over to shake Tooru awake. Tooru stirs and he stretches away the sleep from his body.
"Looks like we're here," Tooru says. He looks at his watch and he smiles. "And I have ten minutes to spare before boarding."
"Yeah," Hajime replies. "Traffic was really shitty."
"No worries," Tooru unlocks the car door and swings it open. "Walk me to the pre-departure?"
"Sure."
They walk inside and Tooru tells Hajime to wait for him while he gets his boarding pass. Nearly seven minutes pass and Tooru returns near the entrance where Hajime is standing.
"Guess this is it," Hajime speaks first.
"Yeah," Tooru raises a fist and Hajime bumps it lightly. "I'll see you soon, Iwa-chan."
"Sure," Hajime replies and he smiles at Tooru, this force of a human being who Hajime has known all his life and he knows that there's still so many things left unsaid and he clings on to the sliver of hope that they'll get to say these things to each other soon. But what Hajime also feels is irrevocable fear, because while he is certain that at this point and maybe even in the near future, he will continue to choose Tooru, he is so painfully afraid of an instance where Tooru no longer feels like the unconscious option to Hajime. And so as Tooru steps away from him, back turned as he walks to the gates and to the departure area, Hajime transforms that fear into a split-second moment of boldness.
"Tooru!"
Tooru turns around and before he could even open his mouth to speak, Hajime crashes into him with a powerful embrace. Tooru wraps his arms around Hajime and Hajime feels him trembling and as a response he squeezes him tighter. They breathe in each other, letting their hearts beat in sync in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the airport.
They need not speak and they simply hold each other in silence until the airport intercom announces that the passengers for Buenos Aires are to already begin boarding the plane.
Hajime breaks apart first and he looks up at Tooru whose eyes are wet with tears. No words pass between them and after Tooru exhales a shaky breath, he smiles one last time at Hajime before walking away. Hajime drops his head, looking at the dirty airport floor in an attempt to steady his heart rate lest he breaks down later.
"Iwaizumi Hajime!"
Tooru's loud voice cuts through everything and Hajime sees him waving at him from a good distance away.
"I love you, Hajime!" Tooru yells. "I love you, I love you!"
Tears begin to roll down Hajime's cheeks as he blinks in shock. Yet he finds himself laughing eventually. "Go board your plane already, dumbass!"
Tooru is all smiles before he disappears from Hajime's line of sight.
***
27
"Is that all you're going to pack, Iwa-chan?" Tooru asks.
"I'm only going there for a vacation, in case you forgot," Hajime says as he makes a final note of all the items in his luggage. "And how many clothes would I even need in Argentina? It's not like I'm going to wear a coat."
"Well if you ever run out of anything to wear, there's always the option of you staying naked," Tooru teases.
"Really? We just had sex," Hajime says. "How can you be horny again?"
"My expert opinion is that you're very hot so you can't hold it against me," Tooru replies.
They're in Hajime's apartment and the summer Olympics have just ended. Argentina took home silver, losing to Russia by just four points in the final set. Hajime was there for all of it--Tooru's three consecutive service aces, the brilliantly played setter dumps, and the spectacular tosses that utilized the arsenal of talented wing spikers of team Argentina. He was glorious. Unmistakably so. And Hajime couldn't be more proud.
"Have I ever told you this frame looks tacky?" Tooru comments. He holds up a large picture frame with divisions that allow multiple photos to be displayed at once. The frame has four photos in total--one when they were nine with watermelon slices in their hands, a photo of them during their first volleyball match in junior high, the high school graduation photo that Tooru's sister had taken, and the last one from when they went on a trip to Kyoto two years ago.
"What are you complaining about now, dumbass?" Hajime asks.
"This frame looks like a window," Tooru tells him bluntly. "You could have picked something a bit more stylish."
"Well it's my set of photos," Hajime says, snatching the frame from Tooru's hand. "So you can't whine about how the frame looks like."
Hajime realizes he's standing close to Tooru so he extends a hand to pinch Tooru's cheek. "And stop shitting on my home decor, will you?"
But before Tooru can whine any further, Hajime's hand travels from Tooru's cheek to the back of his head and he steadies him before planting a kiss on Tooru's mouth."And also you need to shut up for maybe five seconds."
Tooru grins at Hajime and it's a familiar shit-eating grin that Hajime has known all too well. "And you said I was the horny one, Iwa-chan."
Hajime rolls his eyes and before he could come up with a retort, he just ruffles Tooru's hair instead.
"Troublesome guy," Hajime mutters fondly.
"Ahh, but you'll never find another one like me, Iwa-chan."
And in the stillness of the summer air, Hajime agrees silently.