Chapter Text
Hajime barely made it out of bed and into his kitchen when Kuroo burst through the door. But instead of his overbearing playboy persona that he’s usually carrying around, he comes in looking a little distressed, and worn-down. Almost like he came here on instinct but then forgot why.
The worst part? He brought Agedashi tofu. The perfect bribe (for Hajime at least).
Hajime was the first to speak, “G’morning,” While running his hands through his bedhead, not that it could compete with Kuroo’s. The taller of the two handed over the meal with a sheepish smile. That couldn’t mean anything good, especially since Kuroo rarely acted out of character.
Hajime lifted a brow towards him in hoping he would finally speak. Silent conversations were not his forte. “So…” Hajime tried again while he put the bag on the half wall separating the kitchen to the rest of the apartment.
He sifted through the bag taking out items and setting them on the counter while Kuroo mulled over his thoughts. The food was still hot which was a good sign that he asked Daichi to make it, and there was a small container of hot sauce clearly put in by Suga.
Kuroo cleared his throat, “So,” Hajime leaned his hip on the counter and waited. Knowing this was probably (not really) going to be the last time he would accept a favor from Kuroo. Kuroo already owed him a lot, and the list kept growing by the month. Sure, the favors were slowly being paid back, but at the snail-like pace he was going at they weren’t going to get very far.
“I have a favor,” Kuroo finally looked Hajime in the eye searching for a reaction. He wasn’t going to give him one. “I owe someone a favor, who also owes his friend a favor. And well, I was wondering if you can help me just this once?”
Hajime’s face was already set into a deep scowl. Kuroo was holding off the actual favor for some reason. Which made him frown a little. Normally, Kuroo would just shout out what he needed the second he entered. Hajime still didn’t say anything. This was going to be bad. He could feel it. Waiting for Kuroo to finish, he gave a stiff nod of his head to let the man continue.
“Do you want a room-”
“No.”
“Please.” And boy did Kuroo sound desperate.
Here’s the thing. Hajime doesn’t want or need a roommate. They were annoying as hell if you asked him. Sharing a space with another person was aggravating. Oh, and privacy. There was never any of that. His first year of college he decided to try dorming. Didn’t end well, because four months later he was renting a three bedroom apartment, and moving the fuck away from campus.
The biggest red flag being that he was close to being exposed. Never again , he’d told himself. He enjoyed his personal space, and stuff was easier to maintain. The rent was kind of expensive but he had the money. He already had Kuroo and Bokuto who acted as if his apartment was theirs. Another person would just add to his suffering.
“Wait. just let me explain before you throw me out.” If Kuroo was good at chemistry, then he was just as good at guilt tripping with the way he was looking at Hajime right now. Or maybe he was just getting soft.
“Five minutes.” Was all Hajime said before he opened the drawer in front of him to get chopsticks and start digging in. He’d have to give Daichi a new spatula or something because each time Hajime has his food it keeps getting better. Kuroo immediately started explaining while the former ate.
“Ok, so I haven’t gotten a lot of info yet, nor do I personally know him,” Hajime started frowning again. “But I do know that the guy is pretty chill, and goes to the same university as you. He’s an architect major,” Great, he can already imagine what a disaster this was going to be if he agreed, “He won’t disturb you, and he normally holes himself in his room eighty percent of the time. At least that’s what Akaashi said. He’ll split the rent with you, and he cleans up after himself. Not the guy for hook-ups, or one night stands so you won’t have to worry about that. And…” Kuroo trails off glancing at Hajime quickly before coughing. “Yeah, that’s it so-”
“You said ‘And’” Hajime interrupts. The guy Kuroo was talking about doesn’t seem bad, except for the architect major thing. He could already imagine projects littering his (or their?) floor. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Especially if Kuroo made him seem like an introvert.
Hajime is ninety-nine percent sure that he’d barely speak to the guy. Since Hajime was also holed up in a room for hours on end. Maybe their lives would be completely separate. Co-existing but never intertwined.
Kuroo looked Hajime in the eye. There was a flame dancing in Kuroo’s eyes, like he was about to scare his whole class of high schoolers with a simple explosion. With his signature smirk plastered on his face he said, “And,” he started, “I think it’ll be good for ya. You're always so lonely, and you need some company around you know? I’ll say you said yes, get more info, and run before you punch me.”
Hajime was half way out of his seat with his fist clenched the moment Kuroo made a decision for him.
“I didn’t give you an answer you dipshit.” He growled.
“You were considering it!” And with that Kuroo was already out tapping away at his phone.
Kuroo wasn’t wrong. Hajime was thinking about it already. About how terrible the situation could be. He didn’t want a roommate. He was perfectly contempt with living by himself. In solitude where he wasn’t constantly at risk of being caught. Getting attention put on him twenty-four seven was not something he enjoyed. Ukai, Irihata, and Kiyoko had to deal with that. Not Hajime, never Hajime.
Coming up with hundreds of What If’s throughout his morning while he got ready to head to class already gave him a headache. But.. Kuroo did say the guy mostly kept to himself. The “And” kept coming back to him though. He was keeping something from Hajime. And what? Kuroo didn’t even know the guy who might or might not be moving in with him.
Why me? He thought. Why not Suga and Daichi? Or Kuroo himself. He knows that Kuroo has an extra room, but he does live with Kenma and - oh, that makes a lot more sense to him now. Hajime lived by himself, and he had the biggest apartment out of all of them. Great. Amazing. Best day of my life. Someone please kill me now.
* * *
The last few days were uneventful to say the least. Kuroo was avoiding Hajime at all costs. Not that he could blame him. Hajime was mad, wait no furious, because now he’d be getting a new roommate that he didn’t even agree to.
What made his day worse was the assignment he was supposed to complete on the famous Tanji Washijo in less than six hours. (Hajime hasn’t started yet.) The only interesting thing about that man was his terrible eyebrows. Why was Art History even a college course? Of course Irihata-san made him take it. Something about learning the old before the new. Yeah, that man acted like he lived in the 50’s.
Once he turned the corner he saw a group of at least fifteen girls surrounding someone. - That someone? Oikawa Tooru. The campus heartthrob, sweetheart, player, and every other word relating to those three. He was an architect major so Hajime had no idea why he would be in the Art department. Maybe something with 3D modeling? He doubted it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like architectural design. He had a few paintings and assignments with buildings as the main subject. But it seemed like child's play. Like someone downloaded one of those crappy house design games and said ‘I want to do this for a living.’ - And the group was standing right in front of the classroom.
He doesn’t recall having any classes with Oikawa. Hajime would’ve known from the fangirls constantly following him around like lost puppies. And Hajime really needed to get to class. He tried slipping through the small gap between one of the girls. “Excuse me.”
They ignored him, continuing to laugh at something Oikawa said when he saw the bag on the girl’s shoulder slipping off. Before it could fall and crush whatever was inside Hajime quickly put his hand out catching the bag.
“Oh, thank you!” said the girl taking the bag from Hajime’s outstretched hand. Again, he was ignored by everyone else, but there was a silence to the atmosphere. He could practically feel the burning gaze on the side of his face. He spared a glance and was met with ice, or was it a flame? A hybrid of both maybe. He turned away from the group and opened the classroom door.
With a relieved smile on his face he entered the classroom. Safe. “Hey Neko-sensei.” he said. Waving to the man writing on the big whiteboard in front of the class.
The teacher was fairly old. He looked to be in his seventies. With grayed hair, and a round face just starting to sag at the cheekbones. Nekomata had been teaching for years. Some say he’s immortal since he always seemed energetic, and never had to stop the lessons for a small break. It was like he went on watered down battery acid. Which reminded him of a certain orange-haired person.
“Iwa! How are you my boy.” Nekomata turned around with a warm smile on his face, and eyes scrunched up. He capped up his marker and set it down on his desk walking over to Hajime. The best feeling was when you had one-on-one time with him. He always gave you his fullest attention, and made you feel wanted. Hajime nodded with a warm smile playing on his lips.
Nekomata placed a heavy hand on Hajime's shoulder. Opening his eyes wider and looking at Hajime like he was about to pounce unexpectedly.
Hajime started sweating. Running his hands along the straps of his backpack, and looking around the classroom at the clusters of students gathered around the room. The paintings hung on the walls. Anywhere besides that piercing gaze that looked like he knew all the secrets in the world. Hajime wouldn’t be surprised if Neko-sensei knew who he was. When he looked back, Nekomata's gaze softened just a tad. Barely there unless you looked close enough.
“Forty-eight hours.” Hajime let out a large breath. No one could get past Neko-sensei. But for him to give you more time was a miracle from the heavens. Nekomata nodded, and let go of the shoulder he was gripping.
Walking back to the front of the classroom and clapping his hands. Another thing about him. Even though he was a head shorter than Hajime he was still terrifying. “I have melon bread!”
The room hushed to a whisper as everyone started settling down into their seats, and taking out their things. Hajime heard a few students sighing as if they’ve been given another chance at life. He looked towards the board and saw the same words Neko-sensei repeated to him.
While Sensei was getting ready for the lesson, Hajime took out a small sketchbook from his bag along with an H, F, and 2HB pencil. He never brought much with him when he went out. He wanted to keep all his expensive supplies stored in his studio and away from harm.
“Now I know why no one finished the assignment on time. Tanji’s eyebrows are the only thing holding his reputation,” People started chuckling, “,and he just won’t die. Damn it. How am I supposed to get the champagne if he won’t leave.” Nekomata mumbled, and the classroom erupted into laughter.
Everyone knew the history between Washijo and Nekomata. They were both volleyball coaches when they were younger. Rivals who constantly fought for the ticket to nationals. Shiratorizawa concentrated on power, and height, while Nekoma used skill. It was mostly Shiratorizawa who made it, but every now and then the ‘brain’ of Nekoma would come up with a plan to completely crush them.
Kenma was one of them. He led the team to nationals twice because of his smart thinking. It put a strain on him though, to the point he couldn’t continue in college even if he wanted to. He got sick very easily because of his weak immune system and after a rough game he’d be bedridden for days. He still played for fun when he had the chance. Hajime remembered when his team went against Nekoma. Kenma’s sharp calculating gaze, looking at each player like a chess piece. A new video game that he could win in one go. When Kenma’s eyes raked over him Hajime knew to never get on that guy’s bad side. He shivered from the memory.
Hajime barely put a fraction of his attention towards listening to the lecture. Instead he stared at the blank page of his opened sketchbook willing for an idea to come to mind.
Ah, There it was. That click in his brain telling his hand to move. The thought doesn’t last very long. Hajime knows that. A spark of inspiration that dies after a few moments. He takes that moment to sketch lines in the upper left corner of the page. A faint, barely noticeable circle, with a plus in the middle. From there he’s gone. Any smidge of attention on the lesson vanished. Not like he was intending to listen anyway.
Light shining, creating ripples, and pits, a black and white sea all contained in a small circle. The center pitch black, a vortex sucking the lines in. A perfectly rounded eyelid, just slightly bigger towards the inner corner. Long thick lashes just slightly curled at the ends. Thin delicate brows slightly arched. No single hair out of place. A gentle gaze, like the drawing was in a dream. No harshness, no icy hot stare leering at him.
A slow curve, a gentle slope. Everything about this was soft, and elegant. The tip slightly tilted up. Dainty, like a small breeze could break it. Freckles dotted around. So light, and so pale that they were hardly noticeable if you weren’t trained to see them. I wonder how it would feel to kiss the- “Iwaizumi.”
Hajime looked up from his paper. Neko-sensei staring straight at him with that piercing gaze of his. He could feel a few of his classmates staring at him. He didn’t mean to get lost within the drawings. But it was hard not too. The lesson was boring enough that he would’ve been distracted by something else anyway. “When was Ukai Keishin born?”
Ukai.. He could imagine gears turning in Neko-sensei’s mind. Connecting random parts, and seeing if they would turn. It seemed like he got a portion of them to work. Hajime answered, “April 5, 1986.”
“Hmm.“ Good, Hajime didn’t mess up. “He’s related to a good friend of mine. Ukai also coached for volleyball but soon left to establish a name for himself in the art industry. He’s pretty famous now. I bet most of you have heard of him at least once.” Nekomata turned towards the board, “He’s the owner of the Karasuno and Aoba Johsai gallery’s with Nobuteru Irihata. They both co-own each other.”
Walking towards a closet bringing out a bag of melon bread, he started handing them out. “Ha, they both hated each other now look what happened in the end.”
Nekomata wasn’t looking at Hajime anymore, but he couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that he knew a lot more than he let on. Hajime did everything he could to hide his identity. He wanted his paintings to be known, not himself as a person. He knew that it would bring chaos if people found him out. Imagining interviewers asking for information, and peaking into his personal life made him uncomfortable. He’d rather have his paintings show who he is, than him verbally speaking it.
Once class ended Hajime packed his stuff and walked towards the door, melon bread in hand. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. His paranoia is getting to him.
Upon leaving the classroom he almost ran into a group of students. The hallways were packed with people walking to their classes, or leaving. Hajime’s current goal being the latter. Quickening his pace to get to the front door faster.
He’s shuffling around in his bag searching for his phone when he feels a heavy weight land on his back. He stumbles forward when his bag falls off his shoulder and drops to the ground. His books, and pencils scatter around the floor.
“I’m so sorry. Really, really, sorry. I was rushing and I didn’t see you there.” There were people sparing glances as they rushed through the hallway. No time to stop and see what happened, or even help. Except for one. Ah just my luck, he thought. In front of him was the person who he just happened to bump into again. It seemed that Oikawa wouldn't stop rambling, “I was going to a class, and I wasn’t looking at where I was going and-”
“It’s fine.” He wheezed out. He prayed that his phone wasn’t cracked. He started gathering his pencils when Oikawa joined and helped pick up his books. His phone was indeed not cracked. At least that was a plus to his day.
Hajime grabbed his backpack from where it laid beside him to put his stuff away. They worked in silence for a few seconds only the rustling of materials being put away, footsteps, and disjointed conversations around them before everything was packed. Oikawa was the first to stand up, glancing down at his own bag resting across his body, and held out his hand towards Hajime to help him up.
Hajime gripped his hand still using most of his own weight to help himself up, and slung his bag over his shoulder. Oikawa’s hand lingered for a moment longer, fingers softly sliding along his palm before dropping to his side, and wow his hand was soft. Was it weird to compare the feel of someone's hand to the smooth taste of custard? Was that even comparable?
He smiled a charming smile, or what was supposed to be one. It didn’t seem genuine, instead it seemed practiced. A model who knew just what kind of smile to use during a photoshoot.
“Thanks.” Ohhh, he was bad at conversation. Hajime wanted to punch himself for being so dry. Oikawa’s smile turned into a smirk. It reminded him of Kuroo’s own. They’d get along pretty well. He thought.
“No problem.” With an equally dry response. Oikawa turned around and started walking away from Hajime. After a few steps he stopped and turned his head staring straight at him. Still smirking but this time with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He winked, “I’ll see you around.” With a wave of his fingers he turned back around and left.
Hajime, still feeling dazed, looked after him for a few seconds longer before turning towards the exit. His bag felt a little lighter than earlier, maybe that was just him.
* * *
At the intersection Tooru stopped walking waiting for the light to signal. He dug through his bag slung across his torso. He grabbed the book and examined it. Glancing at a few pages he saw drawings. Most done in pencil, a few in pen, and some both.
Pages covered in flowers, buildings, faces, and more. It was full of creativity. Some very messy sketches turned into intricate pieces. To think someone like that could draw like this . He expected messy scribbles, badly written notes, and bent pages. This was the complete opposite. He should stop judging people quickly.
He closed the book wanting to look into it more for later. Moving with the crowd of students he walked across the road. At the end of the street there was a set of stairs going underground. He took the next train to Akaashi’s place. He held onto a pole squeezed between students, and workers.
He was alone with his thoughts again. This time they kept coming back to a calloused hand, a slight scowl, and sharp eyes. He didn’t know the color of them, yet he’d like to know. He knew the man took a history class, but that’s about it. He wanted to know more.
He was shook out of his thoughts from the speakers that indicated he was at his destination. Getting off the train he headed up, and went to the complex a block away.
“Aka-chan! I’m Back~”
“Hey Tooru.”
“Toss me a pen.” Tooru stepped through the bedroom door and set down his bag. He started taking out his books and laptop, heading towards the bed. Letting them scatter messily across the comforter, he sat at the edge bouncing his leg.
Akaashi squinted at him from his desk. He was hunched over his laptop, and three different textbooks. “Don’t you have one?”
“Funny story, I was kind of rushing and-” Not letting him finish, Akaashi tossed him a pencil. He caught it before it could hit his face, fumbling it around his hand. He knew how much Tooru hated these kinds of pencils. How cruel humans could be.
“ Aka-channnn. ” he whined. Tooru twirled the pencil between his fingers. It was better than nothing. He just didn’t prefer using the long hexagonal pencils. It also wasn’t a pen. Which he had asked for.
“You’ve lost five of my pens. Buy your own.” He deadpanned. Akaashi stood up from his desk taking his glasses off, and came over to the bed sitting next to him. He used his finger tracing patterns on Tooru’s bouncing thigh. “I found a place for you. Kuroo said that the guy agreed, and that you can move in whenever.”
His leg slowed down to a stop, just his foot shaking now. Akaashi continued, “You know the Aoba Johsai Gallery you’re obsessed with?” Tooru lightly punched his shoulder, “It’s about a twenty minute walk from there, and it’s about a 10 min walk to school. So you won’t have to take the train anymore.”
“Who’s this Kuroo person?”
“He owns me a favor.”
“You didn’t answer my question. He could be a serial killer setting me up.”
He sighed, “He’s a student teacher who teaches chemistry. So yes, he could be a serial killer who intends to kill you with explosions, or chemicals. Now are you agreeing or not.”
“Do I know the person I’m supposedly moving in with?”
“No? His name is Iwaizumi Hajime if that rings any bells.”
It doesn’t, but it feels like he should know it. “Nope, and yes. I’ll ask Tsumu-chan if he wants to help us with boxes.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts tapping on one.
To: Twin #1
>>(3:15) Tsumu-chan~! Aka-chan found me a place :D I need to see how weak you are when carrying boxes up the stairs
Akaashi chuckled, then stood up and said he was going to get some water. A few moments later he received an answer.
From: Twin #1
>>(3:16) ur only saying that becuz u don’t want your hair soaked in sweat
He wasn’t exactly lying. Sweat soaked hair was a nightmare.
From: Twin #1
>>(3:16) when?
“Aka-chan! Do you have time on Friday!” he shouted right as Akaashi turned the corner.
“I’m deaf, please shout louder.” Tooru took a deep breath. “Wait, no stop, yes I do.”
To: Twin #1
>>(3:18) Day after tmrw
>>(3:18) Omi-chan can come and help too! I know u wanna see how strong he is ;)
From: Twin #1
>>(3:19) no u pervert i already know how strong he is
>>(3:20) mattsuns coming. I told him to draw 2 moles above his eyebrow since ur thirsting for my b o y f r i e n d that bad
To: Twin #1
>>(3:20) Oh fuck off u ass wipe. I saw someone wayyy hotter than them today anyway
>>(3:20) I’m going to fry my brain rn. C u later <3
Tooru turned his ringer off knowing the complaints to stop studying and take a break were going to come soon. Then set his phone down on the nightstand, and opened his laptop. He sat with his legs crossed, placing his laptop in his lap. He flipped through one of his textbooks, and began studying.
Hours went by while he was absorbed in his work. He didn’t notice Akaashi finishing, or when he left the room. He blocked out the distant noise of pans being placed on the stove. He was juggling between his physics homework and trigonometry when he smelled, more than heard Akaashi cooking. It was enough to make him come back to reality and realize how late it had gotten. He looked to his left where an alarm clock sat. Only six hours had passed. I could study for a few more.
Glancing at his phone he saw a message pop up.
32 Unread Messages from Twin #1
>>(9:28) istg if you aren’t taking a break right now ill… (unlock for full message)
Yeah, Tooru should really call it a night if the death threats he was getting were anything to go by. He typed out a quick message saying he was done for the day. Placing the laptop (which was almost dead) beside him, he stretched out his legs, careful of the textbook in front of him.
Reaching for his toes he felt his back pop, wrists slightly aching from typing. He slid his legs off the bed and stood up immediately feeling dizzy. He was very tired. Getting barely enough sleep to call it healthy. He could say he’s insomniac, but that would be a very obvious lie knowing how much he studies.
The scent of green onions and chili oil brought him out to the kitchen. The window was slightly ajar letting in a cool breeze. Akaashi had changed into his pajamas. A dark blue long sleeve with grey sweats making his figure look longer, and slimmer.
He set a glass of water on the counter, and Tooru sat down drinking slowly. “How much chili oil do you want?” Akaashi asked.
“Fried rice?” He made a sound of approval. “One spoon.”
Akaashi didn’t say anything else, just the soft clattering of utensils being heard. Tooru set his cheek against the cool countertop. He didn’t feel like filling in the silence. Talking was already too difficult when his eyes couldn’t stay open for more than five seconds.
A small bowl of fried rice was placed in front of him, and he sat up. Akaashi sat across from him. They said their blessings and dug in.
Akaashi’s cooking was good, great even. With something as simple as the meal they were having, it still tasted like he went to eat at a restaurant. They ate in silence, both of them too exhausted to start conversation.
When they finished Tooru gathered the dishes, and started rinsing them. It was the least he could do since he was crashing rent free.
He dried his hands after putting the last spoon away. Dragging his feet to the bedroom to put away his things. A futon was already rolled out beside the bed, and Tooru wanted nothing more than to just lay down, and forget about the work waiting for him the next day.
Putting his books away and charging his laptop, he headed to the bathroom to wash up. He passed Akaashi who handed him a melatonin pill. He didn’t take them often, but after long study sessions he always used them. His brain was still stuck in study mode. Which lead to bad habits of staying up.
He swallowed the pill with the glass of water on the sink top. After brushing his teeth, and cleansing his face he finally headed back to the futon waiting for him.
Akaashi was on his phone already settled into his blankets. That man was always tired but somehow still had the slightest energy to function. Tooru didn’t know how he did it. He quickly changed out of his jeans to just his boxers, and pulled on a hoodie. He slipped into the futon, and felt the meds kick in, instantly making him more drowsy.
“Good night Tooru.” Akaashi’s voice felt far away. He didn’t know if he mumbled out words or just strings of letters before he let sleep overtake him.
* * *
Takahiro wasn’t rude. He was just blunt, and sarcastic. At least that’s what he thought when he half-heartedly apologized for accidentally spilling coffee on a customer. What could he say? Someone ordering a drink with more than four words was already put on his shit list. Best friend included.
“Makki! Look what you did-”
“I have eyes.” He interrupted.
Oikawa’s lips pulled down into a pout while glaring at him. Geez, was he still twelve? “Besides,” Takahiro already shoving him towards the back room, “I have a teal shirt that’ll look way better on you.”
Oikawa reluctantly stopped pushing against him. He wasn’t that cruel to do that to his best friend. The drink had been iced, and he was making him look hotter than he already was. Not that Takahiro would say that out loud. That would only grow his terrible ego. Who could deny that Oikawa was hot? It was painfully obvious even without him bragging about himself. “I already have to deal with moving tomorrow. Can’t you make my life a little easier?”
“By helping you? Nah, I bet you already have Akaashi, and the hot blond helping.” He dug around his locker handing a towel to Oikawa who snatched it from his hands. “Who are you moving in with?”
“Aka-chan said his name was Iwaizumi Hajime. That’s such a mouthful to say, do-”
“You know Iwaizumi?” Now that was some good information right there. He was already coming up with a scheme.
Oikawa looked at him confused. “No? Do you?”
“Nah, I just heard of him.” He lied. Oikawa wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Instead pulling his shirt off, and changing into the clothes he gave him. Turning the conversation he said, “What time are you going?”
“I’m planning to leave around four-thirty. A few of my friends are planning to help me. The offer still stands if you want to give me a hand.” glancing at Takahiro from the side. He shot back an unamused look, raising an eyebrow mockingly. He’d be watching instead of helping.
Oikawa finished changing. Tucking the teal button-up into his jeans leaving the front open revealing a white T-shirt underneath. Placing the plastic bag with his shirt inside the locker he closed it.
They went back to the front near the counters. Oikawa’s previous order, newly made by Kunimi, sitting there. He bid farewell to everyone, and left with his drink. Takahiro pulled out his phone from the front pocket of his apron.
To: Famous piece of beef
>>(2:15) i’ll see u tmrw ;)))
From: Famous piece of beef
>>(2:15) no plz peacefully fuck off
