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Oikawa doesn't see the car, but Hajime does.
Oikawa steps off from the curb onto the road, throwing his head back to laugh at something he himself had said. His eyes are closed, crinkles of laughter around them.
No time to think. Gripping his arm, Hajime yanks Oikawa back. They spin as Oikawa falters, and then they're falling; the car zooms past; Oikawa yelps in protest as Hajime lands on him.
With a grunt, Hajime scowls at the car speeding into the distance. Then, he looks down.
Oikawa gawks up at Hajime, his breath coming out strangled and raspy. He glances to the road, then back to Hajime, bewildered. His stupid, soft hair has fallen back, exposing his pale forehead. He blinks several times.
"You saved me!" Oikawa splutters, frozen beneath Hajime.
Hajime glares down at him. They're too close - Hajime can feel a blush spreading across his cheeks. He grumbles, "You need to watch where you're fucking going."
"Oh, Iwa-chan, my hero!" Oikawa cries, grinning. "Kiss me!"
Hajime can't help it - his eyes dart down to Oikawa's lips, inches away from his face.
His heart drops as he realises what he's done - he flicks his gaze back up to Oikawa's eyes immediately.
Oikawa gasps. "You considered it!"
"No, I didn't." Hajime grunts, untangling his legs from Oikawa's. He sits up.
He jerks his head away to glance up the street, partly to make sure that no one had seen them both just lying on the path together, and partly to hide the warm flush spreading across his face from Oikawa.
"You did!" Oikawa cries again, wearing a smug grin as he sits up himself, pulling down his shirt where it had ridden up at his waist. Hajime hadn't noticed, he swears.
His scowl deepening, Hajime grits his teeth. He stands, brushing away the pebbles embedded in his palms. "I hope another car comes along this road. I'll push you in front of it myself."
"So violent," Oikawa chides, standing. "Hey, what's wrong with your arm?"
Hajime peers down: he's holding it against his body, and yeah, maybe it hurts a little. "I don't know," he says. "Your stupid ass landed on it."
Oikawa narrows his eyes. "You should see a doctor," he says.
"It's fine."
"What if you can never spike again?"
"It's my left arm," Hajime points out. "And it's fine , Oikawa. I'll just take some painkillers."
Oikawa squints at his wrist in scrutiny.
"Are you alright?" Hajime asks him.
Oikawa blinks, momentarily speechless, before nodding with a smile. "I'm fine."
"You need to be more careful," Hajime scolds, brushing Oikawa with his shoulder as he passes.
Oikawa follows after him. He scratches the back of his neck, failing at hiding the guilt on his face. "Well, thanks for not letting me die. I know you'd miss me too much!"
Hajime sends a cold glare to his side, and shakes his head. "Don't make me regret it."
In junior high, Hajime considers himself lucky that he only endured one serious injury.
They're third years, in the middle of a three versus three, when Hajime leaps too close to Oikawa to block a spike. The ball ricochets off of Hajime's hand, their shoulders collide, and his head knocks against Oikawa's.
In a blink, Hajime is on the floor, staring at the space between his knees in a daze.
"Iwa-chan?" Oikawa bleats, and when Hajime peers up at him, he's cradling his own cheek. Worry forms across his face in the shape of furrowed eyebrows and a creased forehead.
"I'm fine," Hajime insists.
A hand appears on Hajime's shoulder. He turns, his head spinning, and Kageyama blinks back at him with wide eyes. The rest of the team have surrounded him on the floor, each with grimaces and gasps of concern.
"Iwaizumi-san, are you alright?" Kageyama asks, his hand still firmly gripping Hajime's shoulder.
His blood rushing in his ears, Hajime frowns.
"Get away from him." Oikawa hisses. Hajime's attention snaps back to Oikawa; he's standing above him, wide eyed, his fingers still clutching his chin. Kageyama stumbles backwards, just slightly. Oikawa looks to the rest of the team. "Everyone get away from him."
"I'm fine," Hajime repeats, as he begins to climb to his feet. Oikawa darts forward to help him up, and, because of the desperation in his eyes, Hajime lets him. "What are you all freaking out for?"
Their coach pulls them aside, then frowns down at Hajime. "You alright, Iwaizumi-kun?" He asks.
Hajime nods, despite the dizziness clogging his head.
"You should sit out for the rest of practice," he tells him, and tips his chin to the bench by the wall.
Hajime nods again, because he agrees he's probably in no shape to continue playing.
"He should see the nurse." Oikawa affirms beside Hajime. "He's probably concussed."
The coach, with mild interest, scratches at his chin, then nods. "Yeah, alright."
They make their way to the gym's exit. "I'm taking Iwa-chan to the nurse," he announces to their team, his hand firm against Hajime's back.
Noticing a couple of the first years pale, Hajime offers them a tight smile. "I'm alright, really, it's just a headache," he assures them, and lets Oikawa guide him towards the nurse's office. She might have gone home already, seeing as they're at afternoon practise.
"Iwa-chan, I'm sorry," Oikawa says as they walk.
Hajime glances at him, trying to ignore the dull throbs in his head. He knows there's no point telling him not to worry, because Oikawa will do that anyway. "It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to our positions."
"But it was my head."
"It's not your fault it's so big."
"Mean!" Oikawa pouts. With a huff, he turns and opens the nurse's office - it's unlocked - and they step inside.
The nurse peers up from her computer, with her coat already on; she was probably getting ready to leave.
"Go, Iwa-chan," Oikawa commands, pointing to the bed in the corner of the room.
Dutifully, Hajime collapses on the bed with a sigh, and sits there with his legs swinging off the edge.
From across the room, Oikawa explains to the nurse what happened.
She comes over with an ice pack and applies it on Hajime's forehead, tutting as Hajime winces against the cold. Behind her, Hajime notices Oikawa slip out of the room. He scowls despite himself, unable to explain the tightness twisting in his chest.
The nurse tilts his chin up, examining his eyes. "Don't worry," she says, realising his frown. "I only sent him to collect your things."
"Oh," Hajime says, suddenly relieved.
"You boys are too rough," the nurse chides, gingerly applying the ice pack back to Hajime's forehead. "Lie back and hold this here," she instructs, and Hajime does so.
From her point of view, Hajime supposes that may be true; members of the team are always being sent to her with bent fingers, bruised wrists and twisted knees.
"We'll be more careful," Hajime promises, guiltily staring at the tiles on the ceiling rather than the nurse's face as she studies his head.
"When you get home, make sure you rest." The nurse instructs him. "To bring down the swelling, you can use an ice pack like this one for short periods of time."
"Thank you for your help," Hajime says, before the nurse returns to her desk. He tries to relax against the stiff mattress, his headache already being soothed by the cool pack.
A short while later, Oikawa returns with Hajime's bag.
Oikawa takes the seat by the bed, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, an incorrigible frown twisting his features. The window behind him welcomes in the dying sunlight, illuminating his silhouette in the gloom. If he squints, Hajime thinks he can see a bruise swelling on Oikawa's cheek.
"Your mom's coming to pick you up," Oikawa tells him, finally lifting his gaze to meet Hajime's. Hajime nods, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. Slowly, tentatively, Oikawa leans forward, resting his elbow on the mattress with his chin in his palm.
"How's your cheek?" Hajime asks.
"S'fine," Oikawa answers.
"You going back to practice now?"
Hajime hears Oikawa swallow. "Do you want me to?"
Hajime frowns. "That's… I asked first."
Oikawa huffs out a breathy laugh. "I'll stay until Auntie gets here," he says. Hajime feels like he's holding back a taunt or a jive, something like, Iwa-chan would miss me too much if I went back now.
Closing his eyes, Hajime settles back against the pillow. "Alright," he says. He feels a drop of water slide down his eyebrow, melting from the ice pack on his forehead. "I am fine, though."
"I know," says Oikawa. "Sorry, still."
"It wasn't your fault-" Hajime begins, but Oikawa cuts him off.
"You know, I think I've built up a resistance to your headbutts, now. Maybe I should start headbutting you back."
Hajime grins. "No, you're just thick skulled."
"So rude," Oikawa whines, but his voice is quieter than usual, and Hajime can tell, even with his eyes closed, that he's smiling just from the tone of his voice.
Laying there, Hajime listens to the nurse typing on her keyboard and the distant sounds of traffic out the window. A light breeze drifts in from the curtains, ruffling the slightest of hairs on Hajime's head.
Hajime opens his eyes and turns to Oikawa. Their eyes immediately meet. Oikawa's hand is suspended in front of his face, his finger outstretched to touch Hajime's forehead. They watch each other, as a sheepish grin breaks out over Oikawa's face; Hajime's heart skips a beat. Gently, Oikawa presses his finger against Hajime's skin. Then, he swipes at the drops of water trickling down his temple.
Hajime's throat tightens as he's held under Oikawa's gaze.
"Iwaizumi," the nurse calls, and Oikawa drags his hand away. "Your mother's at the front gate."
Promptly, Hajime holds the ice pack to his forehead as he sits up and slides off the bed. There's something swelling in his chest, a new, unexplainable tingling, that only soars when he hears Oikawa collecting his things behind him. There's no need to look back; he knows Oikawa is following him.
They're outside when Oikawa turns to Hajime. "I'll walk you there," he murmurs, already beginning to walk to the main school's entrance.
"Nah, Oikawa. You should get back to practice. I can get there myself."
Oikawa turns. "You sure?"
"Yeah, it's not like I'm gonna get lost."
"But Iwa-chan, all your brain cells might have fallen out earlier."
Hajime marches towards Oikawa. "Just because my head hurts doesn't mean I won't hit you."
Hesitantly, Oikawa takes a few steps back, but he's smiling. "Sorry, sorry," he chirps, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He hands Hajime his bag. Then, his grin widens. "I'll come see you after practice."
Hajime rolls his eyes, but nods. "Yeah, alright. See you later."
The sun is setting behind them, painting a golden glow over the school grounds. They cast long shadows on the path, the dark figures on the floor standing much closer than the boys in reality. In this light, Oikawa's eyes glisten as he watches Hajime. Dragging his eyes away, Hajime doesn't understand why he feels a warm flush creeping over his cheeks.
Oikawa nods back and sends Hajime a wave. "I'll see you later, Iwa-chan."
"Is he awake yet?"
From under his covers, Hajime groans. There's a stiffness in his wrist he can't shake, the pain being a development he'd earned yesterday after Oikawa had fallen on it.
He hears more murmuring downstairs, followed by the familiar creak of his staircase. His door swings open, and soft footsteps pad over to Hajime's bed.
His covers are thrown back. "Wake up, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa sings, standing above Hajime with his hands on his hips and a sharp grin on his face. His hair's wet, which means he'd showered at school but, strangely, not blowdried it. Hajime scowls up at his best friend, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. "Thank god you don't sleep naked."
"Get out," Hajime groans, dragging his covers back up to his chin. He doesn't sleep naked, but he also doesn't have a shirt on, and it's cold. "And why aren't you at practice?"
Oikawa had insisted yesterday that Hajime didn't have to attend morning practice - it had taken a lot of convincing, but Hajime had eventually agreed and welcomed the idea of sleeping in.
"Coach let me leave early after I told him about your injury," Oikawa explains, as he drags open Hajime's curtains. Hajime squints at the incoming sunlight.
"Okay. But why are you here?"
"I'm checking on you. On your wrist. How is it?"
"It's fine," Hajime sighs. Finally, he sits up and peers down at his arm. It's not bruised, not yet at least, and only hurts when he moves it. "Probably just sprained."
Oikawa perches on the edge of Hajime's bed, straightening out his legs. "Auntie's making us breakfast."
Hajime squints at him. "Oikawa, seriously. Why would you come all the way back here if you were already at school?"
Oikawa looks around the room, as if he hasn't spent as much time in here as in his own bedroom. Then, he finally regards Hajime with a small smile. "Because I feel bad, Iwa-chan. I'm here to help you. I even made your lunch. And I'm gonna carry your stuff today."
"You are not."
Oikawa is giggling as he stands up. "Iwa-chan always takes care of me. Let me return the favour!"
"I have to do that because you're an idiot."
"You love it."
Hajime glares at him. "Dumbass, just get out. Let me get dressed."
"Do you need help with that?"
"Get the fuck out."
"Hajime-chan, we're going to get lost!" Tooru whines. He tugs at Hajime's hand, his palm clammy and cold. "I'm going to get lost!"
"Just be quiet and keep hold of my hand," Hajime instructs. He points behind them. "The park's right over there, okay?" They haven't gone that far into the woods, and he can still hear faint laughter of the other children playing. Nothing to worry about.
They come to a fallen trunk in their path, huge and swamped by thick moss. Hajime climbs up it, and then swiftly turns around to offer Tooru a hand and yank him up.
They carefully make their way along the trunk, Hajime marching in the lead.
Iridescent colours glisten in front of Hajime's eyes. He stops, and Tooru stumbles against his back.
"Ouch," Tooru groans, rubbing his nose. "Why'd you stop?"
Pointing to the darting colours in front of him, Hajime shuffles to the side so Tooru can see too. "Look," he whispers. "Dragonfly."
Tooru peers over his shoulder, as they both stare at the insect flitting from tree to tree.
"Pretty," Tooru murmurs. "It's blue."
"It's green," Hajime argues in a hushed voice.
"Looks blue to me."
"Maybe you're colourblind."
"Am not."
Hajime sighs, because he knows they can argue like this for hours. Still, he whispers, "Are too."
"Am not."
"I wanna catch it."
"We'd never be fast enough," Tooru decides, as the dragonfly buzzes above their heads. They gaze up at it in awe, before it zips away, leaving them with the ambience of the trees. "And he's gone."
"Back to his dragonfly family," Hajime suspects, still watching after the direction it had flown away.
Then, Hajime notices a furious buzzing by his ear.
"Hajime-chan!" Tooru cries, darting forward - they fall through the air together, Tooru yelping in his ear, and land with a thud on the forest floor.
"Ow," grunts Hajime, scowling down at the ground. Breathless, he turns to Tooru. "What was that for?"
"There was a hornet!" Tooru exclaims, his eyes darting around the trees.
Hajime sits up, brushing dirt from his hands. "It's gone now."
Tooru turns back to him, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes widen as his gaze drops to Hajime's leg. "Hey, your knee's bleeding!"
Hajime lifts his knee to his face, and blows on the rocks and pebbles embedded in his skin. He wipes at the blood - before he hears a quiet sob break out from beside him.
"Why are you crying?" Hajime asks, his stomach dropping at seeing his best friend so upset. "I'm the one bleeding."
"I'm so sorry!" Tooru wails, covering his face with both of his muddy hands. "Hajime-chan, I'm sorry!"
Hajime stands up, wincing at the sting in his leg. He glances down at Tooru, still crying, unsure what to do.
"Stop being a baby, Tooru," he says. "It's not like I'm dying."
Tooru only cries louder.
"I forgive you, okay? You saved me from the hornet, right? So, thank you." Hajime mumbles, crouching down to pat Tooru's head. Sniffing, Tooru blinks away his tears as he glares at the floor. "Quit crying, or Auntie's gonna think I pushed you again."
Scowling, Tooru pushes his long hair back and dries his eyes with his wrists. With a pout, he stands up too. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have pushed me that time."
"You deserved it."
"Did not!"
Hajime offers out his hand. "Let's go home."
Studying it carefully, Tooru grasps Hajime's fingers. "Does your leg hurt?" He questions. "Do you need me to carry you?"
"No!" Hajime grunts, before realising that Tooru was being genuine. Seeing the guilt in his eyes, Hajime shakes his head. "No, thank you," he amends. "It's not that bad."
"I'll always have your back," Tooru promises, "because you'll always have mine."
As they break through the line of trees, Hajime nods in agreement, but Tooru mustn't see.
"Right, Hajime-chan?" Tooru asks warily. He tugs on his arm, staring at him with big eyes.
"Of course," Hajime answers easily, and offers Tooru a toothy grin.
"Oikawa, what are you doing here?" Matsukawa asks. He's leaning back in his seat, one elbow propped against the back of the chair.
"And why are you carrying Iwaizumi's bag?" Hanamaki adds, tilting his head as Oikawa only sends them a wink and a peace sign.
"Iwa-chan is injured," he announces, stepping aside to reveal Hajime behind him, (who has been scowling at the back of his head) with his arm in a sling.
"Holy shit," Hanamaki wheezes. He looks at Oikawa. "What did you do?"
"I'm innocent!" Oikawa attests, as he sits down at Hajime's desk. He places his own bag on the floor, and begins sorting through Hajime's textbooks.
"Looks more like you're whipped," Hanamaki retorts. He raises an eyebrow at Matsukawa.
"Well?" Matsukawa asks, gesturing between them. "What happened?"
Oikawa stops fiddling with Hajime's bag and clasps his hands together. "It all happened so fast," he recounts. "Iwa-chan was distracting me as I walked out into the road, right in front of an oncoming car. Luckily, Iwa-chan stepped forward and took the hit for me, and it bounced off his head."
Hanamaki nods in understanding. "Like something from a movie, huh?"
With his right hand, Hajime swipes at the back of Oikawa's head. "Stop being so dramatic," he scolds, ignoring Oikawa's whine in protest. "Oikawa didn't look as he was crossing the road; I stopped him from being hit by a car; he landed on my arm to say thanks."
"Wow, Iwaizumi," Matsukawa says.
"Yeah," Hanamaki adds, "wow. What a hero."
Oikawa nods, spinning in his seat to face the two of them. "Iwa-chan, my knight in shining armour!"
"You're so annoying," Hajime tells him. "And, get out of my seat."
Obediently, Oikawa stands, straightening out imaginary crinkles in his sweater. Then, he lifts his chin to peer down at his friends. "Makki, Mattsun. You must protect Iwa-chan today. He's fragile."
Both of them salute.
"Aye, aye, captain," says Hanamaki.
Hajime can only glower at the ceiling, exhaling deeply. "It'll be out the sling in a few days," he says.
"Can I sign it?" Hanamaki asks.
"You don't sign slings," Hajime tells him, "you sign casts."
"I want to sign Iwa-chan's sling too!" Oikawa chirps.
Scowling, Hajime looks at Matsukawa expectantly. Slowly, the latter smiles, and then leans forward. "I would also like to sign it."
Hajime glares at the front of the classroom. "This is not happening."
They’re fifteen.
In the waiting room, the two boys sit hunched together, Hajime shivering and dripping wet with rain water. Tooru isn't crying anymore. Every so often he sniffs and wipes at his nose, but his hand never stops gripping Hajime's.
They don't have to wait long. Two nurses arrive with a wheelchair, and just at the sight of it, Hajime's stomach drops. Tooru stiffens beside him, his head still propped against Hajime's shoulder.
"Tooru, we've got to go," Tooru's mother says, gingerly taking Tooru's elbow.
Hesitantly, Tooru stands. Hajime's fists clench at the sight of him wincing as he puts too much pressure on his right leg.
"Your friend can stay here," one of the nurses explains to Tooru, as he gets seated in the wheelchair. Hajime thinks, secretly, lightning-fast, that that title has always been an understatement for what Tooru is to him.
"No," Tooru says, his eyes pleading with Hajime. He doesn't think he's ever seen him looking so scared.
"It's alright," Hajime tells him. "I'll wait right here."
Tooru takes in a deep breath as his mom squeezes his shoulder. He slouches back in the chair, keeping his dead stare forward as he's finally ushered away from Hajime.
Hajime leans forward, running a hand along his throat as he glares at the floor.
Depending how severe the injury is, this really might be the end of Tooru's volleyball career. Before it even had a chance to start.
Hajime holds a hand to his mouth, fighting the twisting knots of anxiety tightening in his stomach. Involuntarily, his leg bounces up and down, whilst all he can do is stare at the floor.
If this is the end for Tooru, then does that mean it's the end for Hajime, too?
As a child, Hajime could have played any sport - but he chose volleyball, just so he could keep up with his best friend. He chose Tooru.
How can Hajime keep playing with that passion they had shared, if Tooru can never play again?
Hajime swallows despite how dry his throat is and shakes his head. There's no use thinking about this. He repeats the words back to himself: we don't know anything yet.
But no matter what happens, Hajime will be there for him. Hajime will be there for his best friend, who he's known since he knew himself; the boy who used to hide behind pillows during shark movies, who has a small curved scar under his chin from their baseball phase when they were seven (Hajime is much better at batting now), who insists on dragging his cold hands along Hajime's face in winter.
When Tooru returns, he's on crutches. His parents leave him to sign things at the front desk. Standing in the middle of the hallway, his grip so tight on the crutches his knuckles are white, he looks incredibly lost. His eyes are red raw, and his every movement is sagged down by exhaustion. "Hajime," Tooru croaks.
Hajime rises to stand beside him. His hair is dishevelled and wild; if Tooru knew, he'd usually be trying to frantically tame the rogue curls. Hajime desperately wants to reach out and fix it, wants to smooth it back with his fingers - so he balls his hands into fists at his sides to stop himself. Licking his lips, he's not sure where to start. He glances down to the brace secured around Tooru's knee.
Tooru shakes his head. "Let's just go home," he says, defeated.
Nodding, Hajime walks with him outside.
When Hajime comes home with a bloody leg and a red-eyed Tooru, he's told he's not allowed to play out the next day.
Consequently, Hajime is lounging, his whole body spread out around him on the floor, watching his TV with mild interest. He's unbelievably bored, his knee has scabbed over so it hurts when he bends it, and it's too hot in his house.
"Hajime," his mother calls from the front door - someone must have knocked whilst he wasn't listening. "Tooru-chan's come to see you."
Hajime sits up, smiling as Tooru bounds into the room with a smile of his own, holding a blue ice lolly.
Hajime's smile falters as he stares at it. "Did you not get me one?"
Tooru presents the ice out to him. "It's yours," he says, looking down at the floor. "He wouldn't let me buy two. He called me greedy!"
"Oh," Hajime says. He takes the ice cream. "We can share it, then."
"Isn't that gross?"
Hajime shrugs. "I don't mind. Even if I'll get all your germs."
Tooru plops down onto the mat beside him, sticking out a tongue at Hajime. "I don't have germs! But fine... We can share. How's your leg?"
Biting a chunk out of the ice (and ignoring the chill that numbs his mouth and brain), Hajime passes the ice cream to Tooru, and lifts his leg up. "It's healing," he says, lightly tapping at the scab.
"I have my own battle scar too," Tooru says, and shows Hajime his elbow. He peels back a blue bandaid, and beneath there's a small scrape. It's nowhere near as big as the cut on Hajime's knee.
"Cool," Hajime says. He reaches out and taps it carefully.
Tooru frowns.
"What's with that face?" Hajime asks.
"You're being gentle!"
"I can be gentle," grumbles Hajime, grabbing the ice cream back from Tooru after he thinks he's had enough.
"Yeah, with little bugs."
"You're a little bug."
Tooru gasps indignantly.
After sitting on the bench at practice and giving all the pointers he can to his team, Hajime walks home with Oikawa, his arm still in its sling. Hajime is glad that Oikawa didn't need much convincing to leave earlier today, because he'd been staying later and later everyday recently. With Nationals right around the corner, he was more motivated than ever to perfect his serves. Much to Hajime's dismay.
They end up at Oikawa's house, because his parents have a date in the city and he wants to abuse his freedom with the downstairs television.
Pressing play on the remote, Oikawa sits back as some action movie he'd chosen starts on the TV.
Hajime glances to the left of him along the couch, unsure if he should mention anything.
The thing is: Oikawa is touchy, and it's not unusual for them to watch movies together with his head resting on Hajime's shoulder. It's normal, and part of their movie-watching ritual at this point. Despite how many times Hajime complains about Oikawa making his arm go dead because he's leaning on it, it feels strange not having Oikawa beside him.
Oikawa is relaxed at the other end of the couch, but the distance, to Hajime, is staggering.
"What's up?" Hajime asks, frowning at him.
Oikawa, leaning against the arm of the couch with his head propped up by his knuckles, frowns back at Hajime. "Hm?"
"What are you doing?" Hajime asks. "Get over here."
Surprise flashes across his face; Oikawa's mouth parts in a silent gasp. Wide eyes blink once, and the shock is then replaced with a sly smile.
"What's up with you?" Oikawa asks, before sliding closer to Hajime. He's careful not to knock Hajime's arm in its sling, and settles with his shoulder against his.
Hajime gulps. "Nothing's up with me," he defends, turning his attention back to the movie.
"You just initiated me cuddling you."
Hajime stares ahead at the television screen, but he isn't really sure what's going on. Cuddling. His heartbeat quickens. "No, no I didn't."
"Sure. Iwa-chan will do anything but admit he enjoys my company."
"Of course I enj- I saved your ass yesterday, isn't that enough?"
"Maybe," Oikawa hums, and he rests his head on Hajime's shoulder; intrinsic. His soft hair tickles Hajime’s ear. "I don't think you're milking this enough, though. I'm seriously indebted to you."
"Really?"
"Not that you should abuse this power, or anything."
"Just because you're an asshole who would, doesn't mean I will."
"So kind of you," Oikawa mutters.
Hajime nods in agreement, watching the movie. "Get me something cold to put on this, would you?" he asks with a smirk, nudging his injured wrist.
Oikawa swivels his head to scowl at Hajime. He narrows his eyes, pouting. "Okay. Only because I hate to see you in so much pain."
Hajime's face is blank as Oikawa leaves the couch, and he tries not to miss the warmth beside him too much.
Hajime has only just gotten out of the shower when he gets the call.
Hopping into his sweatpants, he hurries over to his phone, and narrows his eyes at Oikawa calling him at this time of night. Glowering at the downpour of rain outside, he answers the call, slotting it between his shoulder and ear as he collects his dirty clothes.
"Oikawa?" He answers. When he gets no reply, he pauses in the middle of his room. "Oikawa, if you're still at the gym, I swear to god -"
There's a shaky breath that crackles over the call, and it sends shivers down Hajime's spine.
"Iwa-chan."
"...What's wrong?"
"It's… It's my leg."
Throwing on his hoodie and storming downstairs, Hajime breaks into a run once he meets the road.
He has never ran faster in his life.
Hajime bounds into the school, panting, his thoughts frantic, and the only thing on his mind is Oikawa. He skids towards the gym in the heavy rain, and then halts in front of the crumbling boy sitting on the steps in tears.
"Tooru," Hajime stammers, the name just slipping out. He holds out his arms, not sure what to do, so he settles on crouching in front of him and gripping his upper arms. "Tooru, what happened?"
"It's my knee - the bad one," Tooru manages in between sharp breaths. His face is twisted in pain. Clamping down the sobs, his hand is crushed against his mouth. "I can't walk on it."
"Your parents are driving over right now," Hajime tells him. "They - we're gonna go to the hospital."
Hajime is angry, of course he is. Tooru has been warned countless times about overworking himself. But Tooru doesn't need anger right now, he needs Hajime, a steady shoulder to cry on, and a hand to hold to assure him the world isn't ending.
He wants to ask, how did this happen, where does it hurt, how can I help?, but he refuses to panic, not when Tooru is already doing enough of that himself. All Hajime can do is helplessly hold him in his arms.
The emptiness in Tooru's eyes chills Hajime more than the rain ever could. He sucks in a weak breath, staring forward at Hajime's neck. "What if I can't play again?" he whispers, but even over the rain, Hajime hears him.
"Don't. Don't think about that - we don't know anything yet. It might not be serious. We don't know."
Finally, Tooru meets Hajime's eyes. His voice is wavering, shaky, and it's breaking Hajime's heart as the words spill out of him. "But what if it is? What if this is it for me? What if I went too far?"
Hajime shakes his head. He cups Tooru's face, and gingerly wipes at the tear rolling down his cheek with his thumb. "Then we'll deal with that, if that's the case. But right now, all we have to do is breathe, alright?"
Swallowing, Tooru closes his eyes, and his head sinks. Hajime moves to sit beside him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He's doing everything he can to stop his world from breaking in two. Tooru falls against Hajime, his face buried into his neck.
Hajime feels his heart bubbling up his throat; his heart beating wildly in his chest; his heart sobbing quietly on the steps next to him.
They stay like that as the Oikawa's car pulls up in the torrents of rain, and Tooru's dad helps Hajime carry him to the car. They stay like that in the backseat, in the waiting room, with Hajime's hand gripping Tooru's the whole way.
It's the night Hajime realises he's in love with his best friend.
Explosions erupt on the screen, illuminating the room in flashes of yellow and white. Oikawa returns with a small tub of ice cream.
"You got that for yourself, didn't you?"
"We can share it," Oikawa says, revealing two spoons in his other hand with a grin.
"I don't like ice cream," Hajime reminds him.
Oikawa sits down, leaning into Hajime, and simply places one spoon on the other side of the couch. "That's fine by me," he says, because the asshole already knew Hajime didn't like ice cream. Carefully, he holds the tub over Hajime's wrist.
Sighing, Hajime's gaze flicks back to the movie as Oikawa begins to eat the ice cream, humming happily to himself.
"You enjoying that?" Hajime asks, sinking deeper into the couch to get more comfortable. Oikawa does the same, adjusting his head so he fits better against Hajime's body.
"Mhm. You sure you don't want some, Iwa-chan?"
"I'm sure."
"How's your wrist?"
"Cold."
Oikawa takes the tub of ice cream off Hajime's arm, holding it in his own lap now. As Oikawa shovels another spoonful into his mouth, Hajime glances down at it.
"What flavour is it?"
Oikawa lifts his head, and watches Hajime with his heavy gaze. "See for yourself," he says, and strangely, places the ice cream on the table. "Kiss me."
Hajime freezes. He can't look away from Oikawa. The movie melts away; all he can hear is his own heartbeat thumping in his chest.
The ball is in Hajime's court now.
"Don't joke about that," Hajime says. His voice is quiet, quieter than he'd like it to be, but it's all he can manage when he feels so exposed.
"I'm not joking, Iwa-chan."
"Oikawa," Hajime says, because he's not sure what else there is to say. He doesn't trust himself to say anything else.
The silence lays heavy between them.
"Whatever," Oikawa breathes out. He snaps his head back to the screen. "Let's just watch the movie."
"Oikawa," Hajime repeats, and this time, his voice is a mere whisper. Oikawa looks back to him, and their faces are so close.
Hajime's heart rate quickens at the distance between them, the warmth that floods his chest as he stares into Oikawa's eyes.
Bridging the gap first, Hajime meets Oikawa's lips in a kiss. A faint brush, shy in nature, the lightest contact. Oikawa exhales weakly, his breath warm against Hajime's chin. His eyebrows are creasing just slightly, his eyes closed.
Anxiety twists itself in the pit of Hajime's stomach, watching his best friend's face, before Oikawa leans in, and they're kissing, again.
Hajime is quick to respond, his hand snaking up to Oikawa's neck, resting at his jaw. The kiss is cold, delicate, and all Hajime's ever dreamed of, the sickly-sweet strawberry ice cream flavour and all.
Softly, Oikawa sighs against Hajime. He’s tilting his head, leaning in to deepen the kiss, when there's a turning of a key in the door.
Oikawa flies back in alarm, shoving Hajime's injured arm in the process.
"Fuck!"
"Sorry!"
"Hi, boys." Oikawa's mother calls, striding in after kicking off her shoes at the genkan.
Oikawa peers over the edge of the couch, still wide eyed, and waves weakly at her. "How'd it go?"
"It was lovely! Such a nice restaurant, too," she answers. "I'm so tired, we'll tell you more about it tomorrow."
Oikawa’s father softly pads into the room, loosening the fancy tie at his neck and calling out a greeting to the boys. Pausing by the sofa, he squints at the fight scene on TV. He glances down to Hajime.
"Another one of Tooru's picks?"
"Yeah," Hajime manages, and only hopes he can't see the obvious blush heating his cheeks in the dark of the room.
"Awful taste," he grunts, shaking his head with a smile. "Don't stay up too late. You both have school tomorrow," and with that, he trudges upstairs, following behind Oikawa’s mom.
"Goodnight," Oikawa calls, before collapsing back against the couch with his wrist covering his eyes. Upstairs, they hear the bath begin to run.
"I have excellent taste in movies," Oikawa grumbles.
Hajime isn't sure what to say - he's not quite over the fact that he and Oikawa just kissed.
Slowly, Oikawa sits up. He runs a hand through his hair - the action alone makes Hajime's heart ache - and watches Hajime. On his knees, he leans forward, and kisses Hajime on the lips chastely.
Hajime blinks back at him.
"I get to do that, now." Oikawa states.
"You do?" Hajime laughs.
"Yes, Iwa-chan. I've wanted to do that for so long."
Somehow, the heat burning across Hajime's face manages to increase in intensity. "Me too," he confesses.
Oikawa reels back, exasperated. "Then what took you so long!?"
Hajime glares at him. "Why do I have to be the one to make the first move?"
"I was the one making all the moves!"
"I made," Hajime argues, looking off to the side, "a couple…"
"Name one, Iwa-chan!"
"You have no idea how hard it is being in love with your best friend."
"What?"
"What?" A huge explosion goes off on the TV. Hajime looks away, anywhere away from the gleeful sparkle in Oikawa's eyes. He stares into the screen, his heart thudding. "Nothing. Nevermind."
"You…"
"Stop talking."
"Iwa-chan," Oikawa says, breaking into an easy laugh. "I do know how hard that is."
Hajime sucks in a breath, warmth flooding through his chest. He dares to meet Oikawa's eyes again, and he can see it on his face; he's just as scared, just as giddy as Hajime is. And there it is - that familiar, soft ache in Hajime's chest that he welcomes as they watch each other.
"Oh," Hajime manages, nodding. "Right."
"Yeah," Oikawa breathes out, releasing a sharp exhale. He's concentrated on pulling at a thread on his socks, with a shy smile that sends butterflies fluttering in Hajime's stomach.
Hajime watches him. "Well, now what?"
"What?"
"Are we dating?"
"Iwa-chan, you're not romantic at all!"
"You want me to come back with flowers and chocolates? Don't answer that, I know the answer."
Still smiling, Oikawa shuffles closer on his knees. "Sorry about your arm. And for fucking up our first kiss."
Hajime shrugs, lazily smiling across at him. "It's alright. We can make up for it."
Oikawa stops, beaming. He buries his face in his elbow, shaking his head.
They burst into soft laughter. Hajime feels his own blush reddening, but allows himself to feel smug. Oikawa melting against him is so endearing, all Hajime can do is reach across and pat Oikawa's head, threading his fingers through his soft hair.
Relaxing against the touch, Oikawa peers up at Hajime, reflecting his soft smile. "Hey," he says, quietly. "Let me sign your sling."
"Huh?"
"Boyfriend privileges: let me sign it."
Hajime can't help but grin fondly at the word. Still, he shakes his head. "No."
Oikawa leans forward and kisses him. Hajime thinks, maybe, he can get used to this. "Can I sign it now?"
"You make a pretty compelling argument, but it's still no."
Falling back against the coach with a pout, Oikawa slips his arm over the edge of it, resting his head in his hand. "I think we should break up."
"Forget it," says Hajime with a grin, rolling his eyes. "You're not signing it."
Tooru's hand is wrapped around Hajime's right elbow as they enter the gym.
"You two are late," Matsukawa comments, nodding at them in greeting. He's pulling over a cart of volleyballs, and comes to stop by the gym's double doors with his arms crossed.
Hajime glances to the clock at the wall. "We're three minutes late."
"And, we were busy," Tooru supplies through a mouthful of chocolate and caramel, flicking his hair out of his eyes defensively.
Matsukawa glances between them - at Tooru's hand encompassing Hajime's arm, at the pretty red box slotted under Tooru's other arm - and raises an eyebrow.
"Woah, what happened to no one signing your sling?" asks Hanamaki, jogging over to stand beside Matsukawa.
With a grimace, Hajime peers down at the huge kanji for Oikawa Tooru was here written on his arm, and at the assortment of doodles scribbled all over the white fabric. Lots of love hearts too, to Hajime's chagrin.
Tooru looks up from the sling. "Only me," he declares with a smug grin.
Hajime sighs, but nods. "Only him."
Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a sly smile.
"Fucking hell," Hanamaki wheezes. He looks between the two of them, his grin widening. "Finally ."