Chapter Text
1881
[Curtain Up]
An accelerated heart rate, fast moving feet, and the tension of aching muscles. If one reached forward they would surely find themselves electrocuted by the sheer power on the stage. Every movement, every muscle, and every note harnessed to perfection. His voice soared above the audience in gorgeous waves of passion, the subtle and smooth phrasing pleasing to the ear. With bated breath, the audience leaned forward in their seats wishing for just a moment they were the one he was singing to, or the one he was singing about. The performer’s warm brown eyes flashed with glee and silent temptation as he took in the audience. He had them in the palm of his hand. If he wanted, he could make any one of them his, but instead he turned his attention toward the sky. With closed eyes and hands pressed to his chest, he wished that his song would reach one specific person in the audience; and if he remembered the performer, maybe he could find his home again.
The last phrase would demonstrate his growth, powers, and technique. It was a skill he had honed for years and one he was proud of—a soaring cadenza that would bring the audience to their feet. Their applause would roar through the opera house. The singer took a full breath through his nose and snapped open his eyes with a smile.
Indeed, there would never be a day that he would not think of the man watching from the audience.
Please let this reach him, he thought.
“ Please promise me that sometimes you will think...” and there it was, the soaring cadenza extending from his lower range to the highest part. His voice moved quick and sure throughout the phrase.
“... Of me!” Oikawa Tooru finished his phrase with his arms outstretched and a triumphant smile spread across his face. His sweat slick brow glistened in the gas light. Breaths escaped him in gasps as his knees began to tremble.
Men and women alike rushed to their feet. Loud praises rang throughout the hall coupled with thunderous applause. Their faces were hidden in darkness, but their joy and love was enough to bring tears to Tooru’s eyes. Warm tears reached the corners of his eyes. Never in his life had he received such praise and he was struck by just how wonderful it felt.
His chest tightened. He licked his lips and waved to the audience before bowing with a flourish. To the side, he heard the soft thud of objects hitting the stage. He glanced to the side as several roses piled up on the stage. Symbols of love.
Oikawa Tooru had made his debut at the opera.
From this point forward, he would be the most coveted talent in the world.
In box eight, the stunned Viscount Iwaizumi Hajime sat back in seat. After all these years, there stood his childhood friend stood there before him, glowing with joy. He rose from his seat and added his own cheers and applause to the non-stop roar. Hajime beamed with pride. Tooru had done it. After all the challenges, pain, and despair, he stood in the light of greatness. It was a privilege to witness him flourish and grow. His green eyes lingered on his old friend and trailed after him as he slowly backed away, the curtain threatening to swallow him whole. He glanced at his companions, the brand new managers of the opera house, Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi, who both watched him with a knowing smile.
Hajime frowned in displeasure at the two men. “Why didn’t you say Oikawa Tooru was playing the lead role?” he whispered accusingly.
Koushi shrugged with a light laugh. “It was a last minute change. Originally, he was just in the ballet ensemble and chorus.”
Daichi rested his arm on his husband’s shoulders and leaned back in his seat. “Can’t say I’m too upset with the change either. He has one of the finest voices I’ve heard in a long time. I almost didn’t recognize him, but his father was the famous violinist who passed a few years ago so the name ‘Oikawa’ instantly registered.”
He flashed a grin at Hajime. “Did you find his performance to your satisfaction, Viscount? After all, you are the one patroning this operation.”
“If you’re dissatisfied, we can have him fired on the spot,” Koushi teased with a knowing glance.
Hajime was grateful for the dim lighting of the opera house. His flushed cheeks would have given away that he was certainly not dissatisfied. Anxiously, he cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I am… very much satisfied.” He settled back in his seat as the curtain opened once more to reveal the chorus beginning another number. Slowly, the strings picked up and the melody crescendoed to life.
Daichi leaned forward to whisper in Hajime’s ear. “We will get you a private audience with Oikawa after the show.”
“I’d appreciate that.” A small smile tugged at Hajime’s lips. “Do you know anywhere I can buy flowers?”
The opera ended with another round of applause, but the audience only rose to their feet when the object of their affections made his way to the stage one last time. Tooru offered them bright smiles, several winks, and a few kisses which only riled them up more. Even Hajime was affected by the singer’s flirtation, an ever present blush colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Tooru was shameless.
Koushi and Daichi pulled him from his seat with a laugh.
“If you have any hopes of getting your boyfriend flowers before the stall closes, you need to leave now,” Koushi chuckled, pushing his friend forward.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Hajime stuttered.
“True, but that bright red blush on your face says you wouldn’t object if he was.”
Daichi shook his head at his husband and took Koushi’s hand in his, tugging him forward through the throng of attendees. The lobby raged with praises for Tooru. Those who recognized Koushi and Daichi stopped them along their way outside.
“That young man is truly a rising star!” one shouted, cheeks flushed with too much wine.
“Where have they been hiding him all these years?” another asked.
“I just thought he was a pretty face. Certainly a beautiful dancer,” came a voice behind them.
Koushi and Daichi, the new owners of the opera, smiled and nodded, pushing through the attendees trying to give Hajime some space from the watchful eyes of gossipers. While the papers knew the Viscount was a patron of the Opera House, many did not know how young he was. He’d only assumed his father’s role within the last year after the older man had passed away after a dreadful fight with influenza left him weak and on death’s door. The former Viscount died in his sleep, shocking Hajime’s mother. She quickly followed her husband’s fate. Hajime was left alone in a big house with no family to call his own, only a title and an enormous amount of wealth. The estate left something to be desired and was much too large for his liking. He maintained the estate at the behest of the crown, but left it to the butler and other servants to manage the day to day operations.
Hajime pulled his jacket tightly around him. Autumn was slowly turning into winter. His breaths left him in small clouds as he rushed to the closing flower stall.
“Please, if you have but a moment,” he pleaded with the disgruntled stall owner. “I would like to make one last purchase.”
The owner glared at him and looked him up and down with a sneer. “I was closing up, my lord.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” Hajime pulled out his walled and offered the man a wad of bills totalling up to more than the most expensive bouquet would cost.
The crotchety man quickly changed his tune and opened up the stall with an apologetic smile.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much left in the way of roses, my lord.”
Hajime waved him off. “That’s alright. Roses are much too cliché I think. He’s received many already.” He squinted in the dark trying to get a look at what he had left.
“I have white gardenia, pink carnations, and pink camellias.”
Hajime’s face lit up. “That’s perfect. I will take them all. Wrap them up in a bouquet for me?”
The owner started at the word “all”. “Are you positive, my lord?”
Hajime nodded.
“Well, alright then.” The man busied himself arranging the flowers in a neat pink bouquet with splashes of white.
“Those will be lovely,” Koushi commented, leaning against Daichi with a smile.
“Do you think he’ll like them?” Hajime asked softly.
“If they’re from you, I’m sure he’d love weeds.”
Hajime rolled his eyes. “If he remembers me. It’s been years.”
“If he doesn’t, then you’re a handsome and rich stranger who has taken an interest in him. I’m sure that would be enough to spark his interest as well,” Daichi commented. “Besides, you’re unforgettable.”
The Viscount shrugged and turned his attention back to the stall owner who finished wrapping the stems of the flowers. The man offered them to Hajime without another word.
Hajime took the flowers and cradled them in his arms with a murmured thanks. The corner of his eye twitched as his heart rate slowly increased. He was going to see Oikawa Tooru in person for the first time in ten years. So much had changed since they were fifteen and sprawled on beaches together and stolen their first kiss.
It was a fond memory that Hajime cherished. His time with Tooru was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
He cleared his throat and looked to his friends for reassurance. They both offered him bright smiles.
“Well, lead the way.”
In the back of the theatre, the ballet troupe surrounded Tooru with squeals of joy. One-by-one they hugged him tightly and kissed his cheeks. The apples of his cheeks were flushed as he hugged them back. His heart still pounded in his ears. In his soul he knew he could execute a flawless performance, but to truly experience it was something different entirely. It took his breath away.
“Tooru!” One of the ballet troupe shouted as he shoved his way through the crowd. “You were unbelievable,” Yahaba Shigeru shouted, wrapping his arms around the taller man and holding him tightly. He pulled back with a bright smile. “C’mon, before the vultures tear you apart.” The ballerina guided his friend through the throng of dancers and actors with a tight smile, anxious to have his oldest friend to himself.
Tooru followed in a daze, stunned by the praise that followed him through the halls and echoed in his mind. He wondered if his words had reached him, Iwaizumi Hajime, the newly minted Viscount. It had shocked him to the core to hear his name announced by the new managers of the theatre. It was a name he hadn’t heard in years, but his face and sparkling emerald eyes were always the object of his desire. He could not escape their allure in his dreams. In fact, he did not want to. The echo of his warm laughter in Tooru’s heart had brought him much comfort through these difficult years.
A solid arm warped around Tooru’s shoulders and held him tightly.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Hanamaki Takahiro chuckled, his eyes glistening with pride. The ballerina hooked his other arm around Shigeru with a smirk. “I just saw Miya’s face and he looked absolutely furious that the show went on without him.”
Takahiro pressed a limp wrist to his forehead and feigned to swoon. “How dare they replace me, the most talented star in the opera world. Nevermind the fact I can’t act to save my life. I’m absolutely the most stunning person to ever grace the stage.”
Tooru snickered and shoved his friend off. “Careful not to let him hear you say that or you might end up with a particularly nasty review in next week’s column.”
Takahiro and Shigeru rolled their eyes.
“What are they going to do? Fire us? Next to you, we’re the only other dancers capable of keeping tempo and following instruction. Instructor Washijo would lose his mind if we were gone,” Shigeru pointed out. “Granted, I would do anything to be rid of that nasty old man, so maybe a nasty review is what I need.”
“Don’t say that,” Tooru laughed as he pushed in the door of his dressing room, which he’d only recently acquired. The wafting smell of flowers greeting the trio as they entered. Flowers of all shapes and sizes lined the mirror, vanity, and floor. Spring had come five months early.
Tooru beckoned his friends inside and closed the door behind him with a wicked grin, ignoring the cacophony of color. “You’ve worked too hard to get where you are now, Shigeru. You’ll be the principal dancer after this season. No need to give up on the dream just to spite Atsumu and Washijo. However, I’ll be the first to admit that dethroning Miya Atsumu as the lead felt damn good.”
Tooru let out a groan of frustration and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the carefully styled waves. “I wish I could have seen the look on his face when he realized that the show was not cancelled just because he threw a fit. I also sang that aria better than he could have ever dreamed.”
“There is the Tooru I know and love!” Takahiro cheered. He tugged open a dark wood cabinet and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “Compliments of the new managers,” he hummed. He pressed on the cork.
Tooru and Shigeru tensed and waited for the pop.
A loud knock on the dressing room door resounded through the room. The three dancers jumped. Maki hid the bottle of champagne behind his back and slammed the cabinet door shut.
“Let me in, losers. I know for a fact the managers left you a bottle of the best champagne in the country and that you’re hogging it to yourselves,” a man said.
Takahiro’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief. “Issei.”
Tooru quickly opened the door with a grin and tugged the set designer into the room. “Four’s a bit of a crowd don’t you think?” He teased.
Issei glared at him. The daggers in his eyes quickly turned into a bright grin. He picked Tooru up and spun him around the room with a booming laugh.
Tooru’s eyes widened in surprise. A shout of surprise escaped his lips just as Issei set him back on his feet and gripped his shoulders tightly. His eyes shone with pride. “Those gaggle of rich people don’t know what hit them! You should hear them in the entry hall! Oikawa this! Tooru that! ‘I’ve never heard a voice as beautiful as Oikawa’s!’ ‘It’s such a shame they’ve been hiding him all these years!’ Blah blah blah—it’s enough to drive any sane person mad!” Issei slapped his friend on the back.
Takahiro cleared his throat behind them and arched his brow.
“And you,” Issei strode over to his fiancé, “were divine, truly angelic as always.” He pressed a kiss to Takahiro’s cheek.
“That’s what I thought,” the other laughed.
“Get a room,” Shigeru groaned.
Tooru laughed and wrapped his arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “You and I both know they won’t leave until they get a sip of the champagne Takahiro is hiding.”
“Damn right,” Issei confirmed.
Takahiro revealed the champagne with a flourish. “Bottled in the year 1842,” he hummed in delight. “Want to do the honors, Tooru?”
Tooru held up his hands and shook his head. “I’ll leave it in your skillful hands.”
The other man grinned. He tugged a rag off Issei’s tool belt and wrapped it around the bottle. With a furrowed brow he gave the bottle a push. The pop sounded through the room as the dancers and set designer cheered.
“Glasses?” Shigeru asked, looking around the room as some of the champagne leaked out of the bottle.
“Crap.” Issei frantically opened the cabinet, revealing more bottles of wine but no glasses.
Tooru howled with laughter. The singer snatched the bottle from a dismayed Takahiro and chugged the fizzing liquid with a smirk before handing it to Shigeru.
“Pass it around, gentlemen. It’s the only way you’re getting any of this fine liquid.” Tooru pulled out the chair at his vanity and slumped in his chair, cheeks flushed with exhilaration as the bottle made its way between his friends.
It had been some time since they had all spent time together. Takahiro and Issei were still celebrating their pre-marital bliss and had finally moved out of the opera house’s apartments and into their own. Shigeru was always picking up extra rehearsal with the ballet troupe and personal training sessions with Washijo now that it was expected he would be one of two principal dancers next season. Tooru was supposed to be the other one, but with his debut he did not expect he would be doing much dancing from now on.
As for Tooru, his evenings had been spent elsewhere. Where exactly? He was not sure. More often than not it felt like a dream; dreams haunted by a melodic baritone coaching out Tooru’s inner song. These lessons always left him exhausted and wondering who this angel of music was. He wondered if it was the spirit of his father. He hoped it was the spirit of his father, because if it was not... then who was the tall, broad man in the mask?
His easy smile slipped from his face as he remembered the lessons with his teacher and the somewhat terrifying hold the man held over him. The angel seemed to be omnipotent. He would scold Tooru for practicing too hard, staying up too late, or for a number of things. It was as if he was following Tooru’s every move. Tooru supposed that if the angel was simply a dream, then it would make sense for him to know everything that Tooru did in the light of day. However, he did not know if even in his wildest dreams he could create such a character.
“Tooru?” Shigeru’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Tooru’s dark eyes flicked to his friend holding the door open for their aging choreographer, Washijo Tanji. In his weathered hands he held a bouquet of red roses sprinkled with white clovers and a black envelope embossed with purple letters “UW”.
Tooru rushed to his feet, giving his choreographer a small bow. “Instructor Washijo, what a surprise.”
The old man grunted and pushed himself into the room and handed the flowers and card to Oikawa. “You did well tonight, Oikawa. He would be pleased.” He gave his student a knowing look.
Tooru blanched and nodded. He clutched the bouquet of roses tightly, not feeling the gentle prick of their thorns in his skin.
“As for the rest of you,” Washijo began, whirling on the other men in the room. “The ballet troupe was a disgrace. Come—we rehearse now. Out of this room this instant.”
Takahiro and Shigeru frowned and grumbled, but dutifully marched out of the room preparing themselves for the hell Washijo was about to put them through.
“You too, Matsukawa. Give Oikawa some time and space to breathe.”
Issei rolled his eyes and looked to Tooru for confirmation.
Tooru shrugged and nodded. “I’ll find you after I’m done getting out of all of this.” He gestured down to the frilled suit, reminiscent of the late French monarchy.
“You’re the boss.” Issei glared at Washijo on his way out.
The choreographer waited for the younger men to leave. He crossed his hands behind his back and cocked his head at Tooru.
Oikawa cleared his throat and looked at the envelope in his hand. “Who is this from?”
“Your mentor,” Washijo said matter-of-factly. His hooded eyes took in the bottle of champagne on Tooru’s vanity. “He would not be pleased to know that this is how you are conducting yourself on the night of your debut.”
“My mentor? You mean he is real?” What a terrifying thought.
“Did you think he wasn’t?”
“I didn’t know what to think,” he replied stiffly. “As for my conduct, I don’t see how that should be any of your concern, sir. It was a celebratory drink among friends, nothing more.” Tooru set the roses down and crossed his arms. “If you will excuse me, I’d like to get out of this costume so I can go home.”
Washijo scanned Tooru’s face. “Very well. Rest well this evening, Oikawa.”
The old man turned to go, but stopped suddenly. “I would be careful who you develop relationships with Oikawa. He may be quick to anger.”
“Goodnight, Washijo.” Oikawa’s words were laced with steel, ending the conversation between him and his former instructor.
Washijo nodded and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Tooru let out a loud groan, his fingers scrambling to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. The geezer had a lot of nerve marching in here and telling him to mind his company with his friends. He was so quick to judge, easy to anger, and always found a flaw in whatever Tooru did. Like Tooru was never good enough.
He rolled his shoulders back, forcing out the tension brought on by Washijo’s presence. Tugging off the rings decorating his fingers, his eyes glanced down on the black envelope resting against the beautiful bouquet. With a sigh, Tooru sat back down at his vanity and carefully opened it. His fingers grazed over the dark purple card. Neat and careful pen strokes wrote:
You did beautifully. I will come to you again tonight.
-Your Angel, UW
Tooru took a shaky breath.
He was real.