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Tooru is happy for his best friend. He really is, he swears. Cross his heart and hope to die.
It’s not far though, he thinks, still in denial. Hajime will be a bit more than 8,500 km away from home, a bit more than 8,500 km away from him .
It doesn’t hurt at all, he swears.
It didn’t hurt when Hajime proudly announced his college decision to the team, that one day after practice. It didn’t hurt when the team erupted into cheers for Hajime; Tooru’s the loudest of them all. It didn’t hurt when Hajime reached for Tooru first before turning to hug each of the third years. It didn’t hurt when Tooru reached out for Hajime for (another) hug. It didn’t hurt when Tooru buried his tear-stained face into the crook of his best friend’s neck and gripped that familiar toned body even tighter. It didn’t hurt.
And it especially didn’t hurt when Tooru laid in bed later that night (every night), face pressed into his pillow as he cried. Happy tears, he convinced himself.
Happy tears.
He’s happy for Hajime. He’s happy his best friend knew the path he wanted to take. He’s happy his friend got accepted into UC Irvine for Exercise Science. He’s happy his best friend wants to be an athletic trainer.
The tears finally end for the night. He knows he will wake up with puffy eyes, but at least tomorrow is a Saturday.
He tells Hajime that his allergies are kicking in— that there is just too much dust in his room— the first time he asks. His room is always squeaky clean, though. Hajime knows this but doesn’t question it; Tooru doesn’t know whether he is thankful or offended.
But if Hajime did ask, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tell the truth.
The truth is, Tooru doesn’t want Hajime to leave. He wants to be selfish. He wants to keep his Iwa-chan all to himself.
What he wants, what he’s been wanting since he was little, was to be with Iwaizumi Hajime for the rest of his life.
He wants a house in the same neighborhood they’ve been living in, the one they’ve shared so many memories in. He wants to be a teacher at Aoba Johsai and Hajime to be the volleyball coach. He wants their house to have a small front yard with a horribly painted picket fence, because contrary to what many may think, Tooru is far from artistic (he’s better than Hajime though). He wants a mailbox with their handprints on it, like from that one American Disney movie, Up. He wants two dogs, so they can each hold onto one (as well as each other) as they go for a walk to the park each morning to watch the sunrise and bask in the rays. He wants a cat as well.
Or it doesn’t even have to be that. It doesn’t have to be here in Miyagi Prefecture. He doesn’t care as long as he’s with Hajime.
Tooru acts like university is the only reason he can’t get what he wants… because it’ll hurt less like that.
He’s aware he’s annoying. He’s aware that he irritates Hajime most times. He’s aware that Hajime might have seen their friendship as an obligation and continued it out of decency. He’s aware that once they stop seeing each other everyday, once they stop playing volleyball together, they’ll stop being so close. That they’ll stop being friends.
He likes Hajime in a way that he was supposed to like a girl (it took him a while to accept this). Instead of having a kid with his own DNA with a woman he can’t care less about, he wants to marry Hajime and adopt kids with him. Family is more than just blood.
Not like that matters; Hajime doesn’t like him like that.
Time passes way too quickly. Before they know it, it’s exactly one week away from Hajime’s flight to California.
It’s not like he’s staying home for university either; Tooru has his things packed and a train ticket to Tokyo the same day as Hajime’s flight. That gives him less time to unpack and familiarize himself with the campus, but he refuses to leave before Hajime— Tooru wants to see him off.
Hajime tapes the last of his boxes. Tooru’s eyes are watering, half from the dust.
Tooru makes a joke, Hajime rolls his eyes but laughs anyway. Tooru wants to freeze time.
They head out to meet up with the rest of former third years, the soon-to-be-first-years. This will be their last hangout before everyone parts ways. This will not, however, be Tooru and Hajime’s last time together. It better not be.
Hajime’s flight is early in the morning, Tooru’s train after lunch.
Tooru gives his best friend one last hug before he hurries through the check-in. Tooru’s eyes are watering again.
~
Hajime sends an email after he settles into his dorm because it’s easiest that way. Not the fastest form of communication, but they’d make it work. They had to.
He has a Japanese-American roommate, Daniel Yasuda. His Japanese isn’t the best, but it’s better than almost every other alternative. Plus, they can switch between practicing English (for him) and Japanese (for Daniel).
It’s been a full twenty-four hours and he still hasn’t gotten a reply from his best friend.
He frowns.
Another day passes and there is still no reply— he even checks his spam folder. Hajime sends another email after lunch, updating Tooru about Irvine and asking how Tokyo is.
Tooru responds within the hour (he’s not sure what time it is over there, but hopefully it isn’t late). Hajime lights up, all sadness and homesickness melting away as he reads, eyes lingering on the excess exclamation marks and kaomojis. His heart rate picks up.
Why?
Hajime learns English much more quickly than he thought he would; it’s much easier than it was back in high school. Maybe it’s because he hears this foreign tongue almost every second of every day.
He misses hearing other people speak Japanese. No, his roommate doesn’t count.
He misses talking to Tooru. They send emails back and forth. It’s always simple and shallow because what is there to talk about? He has new friends, friends that Tooru doesn’t know. Tooru probably has new friends too, friends Hajime doesn’t know… that sociable idiot. He might even have a girlfriend now— he is a charming asshole, after all.
Hajime’s chest aches at the thought.
Why?
There’s no time to worry about that though, he has a midterm for his math class. A test in the third week; damn the quarter system.
Tooru attaches what could be a photo album in his email— it’s pictures of him and the gang. It looks like they all met up again, however, this time with a pair of girls Hajime does not know. One of them lingers a bit too close to Tooru in one photo. One photo too many.
Hajime does not like that. He does not like that at all .
His heart aches and his eyes well up. He is as confused as he is hurt.
He has no time to think about why that is, or to reply for that matter, because his roommate walks in.
He’s crying.
Hajime subtly wipes his eyes dry before turning to Daniel, who cries about his break up. Hajime listens and holds him close— it always works for Tooru. (Tooru doesn’t cry over girls, but he cries a lot.)
Daniel finishes crying and pulls away from him; his shirt is all wet now. He asks Hajime about his love life, if he has someone he loves back in Japan.
Hajime shakes his head and Daniel looks somewhat shocked; it seems like the answer he assumed was wrong.
His roommate explains how Hajime’s face softens when talking about his childhood ‘best friend’ (Daniel used air-quotes but Hajime doesn’t know why). Apparently it looks like he was hopelessly in love every time he talked about Tooru.
Hajime calls Daniel a baka and gets a pillow thrown at his face.
Hajime is lying in bed, swiping through his photos— the select few he saved from the stockpile Tooru sent him earlier that day— and almost screams as the final puzzle piece falls into place.
It’s almost two in the morning, which means it’s about six in the afternoon there (thank you internet). He rolls out of bed and heads outside before initiating a call using WeChat. He had forgotten about that app— hopefully Tooru still has it on his phone.
His best friend picks up seconds later, sounding as cheerful as ever and greets him in a voice he missed oh so much. Hajime bursts into tears; muffle sobs causes Tooru to worry, but he assures him everything is fine.
Because everything is fine. It's all fine now . It all makes sense now.
Hajime had finally realized: he needs his best friend, his number one, his setter, his Tooru, (his soulmate), in a completely different way than he did before.
“Hey Shittykawa, you know I love you right?”
And cue the horrible, uncontained sobbing. Tooru is probably ugly crying like after their loss to Karasuno, Hajime thinks, a small smile on his lips. It takes a while for Tooru to come up with a coherent response:
“I love you too, Iwa-chan.”