Chapter Text
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru cries as he shoots his hand up to the sky, finger extended in a dramatic point. His eyes are trained on an elegant butterfly; Hajime’s eyes are focused intently on Tooru. “Look at how pretty! Iwa-chan!”
At the insistence in Tooru's voice, Hajime adjusts his grip on his net and looks up to the sky, grimacing slightly at the strain it puts on his eyes. The sky always seems too bright after a storm, but after a storm is the best time to find bugs. It’s a small price to pay.
Blinking past the blinding rays of the sun, Hajime finally catches sight of it. Graphium Sarpedon, a Blue Triangle Butterfly, with wings outlined in black and beautiful designs in the brightest of cyan. Hajime thinks it looks similar to the Aoba Johsai Volleyball Team jerseys, but Highschool still seems so far away. He banishes the thought.
He knows this particular type of butterfly is difficult to catch. He knows how they change their flight patterns to avoid detainment, zipping in impossibly zig-zaggy patterns. He has tried to catch one a few times.
But he has never tried for Tooru. The moment the thought crosses his mind, determination roots deep in his chest.
He will do anything for Tooru.
He loosens his grip on the net just enough to give his wrists room for movement as he watches the flight pattern of the butterfly.
It dips down quickly, landing beside one of the many damp patches of earth that the storm left behind. Puddling, Hajime thinks absently. He is almost surprised that there is only one of these butterflies around, but quickly shakes all of his thoughts away.
He can’t afford a distraction.
Tooru is no longer speaking, or giggling, or making a sound. If anything, he is holding his breath as Hajime creeps forward, lifting his net up high. If only he could catch it while it sips the puddle water.
Hajime takes another step, tongue peaking between his lips in concentration, and just as he is about to bring his net down, the butterfly darts up, wings a near blur in the air. Hajime curses, a word he once heard his dad say and was told to never repeat, and lunges on instinct. He arcs the net as high as his arms can, feeling the strain in his shoulders.
And brings it down, his prize caught in the netting.
“I… I caught it,” he says breathlessly, dropping to his knees beside the fabric and the squirming butterfly within. He carefully shifts the net around to see the Blue Triangle a little better, his eyes wide.
Tooru steps up beside him, leaning over his shoulder. “Of course you did,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone, one hand landing squarely on Hajime’s shoulder, the other moving to ruffle his hair. “You’re Iwa-chan!”
Hajime pushes him away, then grabs his shirt and tugs him down beside him, knowing his cheeks must be pink. He hopes Tooru simply writes it off as the heat of the unbearably bright sun.
“The color is the same as the Aoba Johsai jerseys,” Tooru says as he leans over the butterfly. “Well, except the black. I think white and cyan look better, don’t you?”
Highschool. Hajime nervously licks his lips, then nods. “You still want to go there, then?” he asks. He hopes Tooru hasn’t changed his mind. They had a practice match earlier that week, and had come across a boy. A boy who suggested that Tooru go somewhere else. Shiratorizawa.
Hajime knows he will never make it onto the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team. No matter how hard he practices for the rest of Junior High. He is short and lacks refinement. But Aoba Johsai… if he stays with Tooru, Aoba Johsai is attainable.
“Of course. You think I’m going to listen to that stupid little kid? He was just jealous that you get the privilege of hanging out with me. That’s all,” Tooru scoffs, leaning back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest.
His words bring a wave of relief over Hajime, even if they both know there’s more to it than that. In any case, he smacks Tooru’s arm, his face feeling even warmer than before. “Idiot-kawa. Hanging out with you isn’t all that special.”
Tooru laughs, bright and clear, and Hajime’s heart skips a beat. “You’re lying, Iwa-chan. I thought you knew that you can’t lie to me.
“Yeah right.”
“It’s true! Your cheeks go pink and you insult me, and that’s how I know.”
Tooru is right, and Hajime knows it. Still, the accusation makes him sputter, and he pushes against Tooru’s arm again, turning his face away from his friend and to the butterfly, who has finally stopped struggling in the netting.
It beats its wings pathetically, just once, giving in to its situation. Hajime thinks he understands how the butterfly feels.
“Do you know what a butterfly kiss is?” Tooru asks suddenly, breaking the silence. When Hajime looks back at him, he is surprised to see Tooru’s face mere inches away, his eyes full of determination.
Hajime frowns. “No.”
He’s heard the term before, but never thought much of it. Isn’t a butterfly kiss just how butterflies show affection?
“Want me to show you?”
“Obviously,” Hajime huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he slips his attention to the butterfly, expecting Tooru to reach for it or something. But that’s not what happens at all. Instead, Tooru comes closer to him. So close that their cheeks are pressed together.
So close that Hajime feels like he might die, his skin burning. “What are you doing?” he asks, shifting to try and push at Tooru, though really… he doesn’t want to push him away at all, not that he’d admit it out loud.
Tooru doesn’t move. He just locks his arms around Hajime’s shoulders. “I’m giving you a butterfly kiss.”
“What?”
Tooru huffs dramatically. “I said, I’m giving you a butterfly kiss. Like you told me to do. Now stay still.”
Hajime bites back a squeak, because how uncool would it be to squeak in a situation like this? And he freezes There’s a flutter just beside his right eye, brushing over his skin, and it tickles. Then it stops. Abruptly.
“You’re supposed to flutter your eyelashes too,” Tooru says, face still pressed up against Hajime’s.
The tickling, soft, brushing feeling he felt was Tooru’s eyelashes? The realization shoots through Hajime’s heart, and he really does let out a squeak this time, his face so hot, he’s sure he is burning Tooru.
“It would be easier to just give you a real kiss, Stupid-kawa,” he says in his haze of embarrassment, finally succeeding in shoving Tooru away.
“Oh really?” Tooru says, and he sounds breathless. When Hajime looks at him, he looks breathless too, his eyes wide. But then that look of surprise fades into something much more Tooru. Sly and smooth and challenging. “Prove it.”
Hajime doesn’t let himself think. Much like with catching the butterfly, he moves on instinct. His grip on Tooru’s shoulders is tight, out of a mix of nerves and possibly excitement, and he lunges forward, crashing their faces together.
It’s more of a painful nose, forehead, and mouth smash than a kiss.
It leaves Tooru falling over in laughter. “You call that a kiss?” he cackles, one hand supporting himself against the ground as the other rubs at his face. “That was awful.”
Hajime has never been more embarrassed, and he looks away defiantly. “What, like you can do better?” he nearly growls, ignoring the dull pain in his face as well as the sharp sting in his chest.
“Of course I can,” Tooru grins, pushing himself back onto his knees in front of Hajime. Instead of grabbing his shoulders, as Hajime had done to him, Tooru cups his hands on either side of Hajime’s face and brings him closer. Slowly.
The sharp feeling in Hajime’s chest dissolves, turning into something more panicked, but significantly less painful. When Tooru kisses him, it’s the gentlest of touches, like the flutter of his eyelashes on Hajime’s skin.
It’s over in a moment, but a moment is more than Hajime ever thought he’d get.
“Told you so,” Tooru says smugly at the wide and flushed look on Hajime’s face. “Now, go get the camera. We need to take a picture of this butterfly before we let it go.”
Wordlessly, Hajime nods and gets to his feet. As he passes Tooru, he pats him on the head a little absently. It isn’t until Hajime has the camera in hand that he allows himself to process just exactly what had happened.
Tooru kissed him. Sure, maybe it was just him rising to a challenge, wanting to prove he was better than Hajime, but Tooru’s lips were on Hajime’s and maybe they were chapped but they were also warm and perfect.
The memory of the kiss gives Hajime butterflies, a phrase he never has understood until now. Surprisingly, it’s a thought that makes Hajime smile. A tiny little expression of happiness.
He will never forget this. He vows it to himself as he clutches the camera to his chest and returns to Tooru, a flush spreading to the tips of his ears. As Tooru smiles up at him from beside their captured butterfly, Hajime’s heart skips a beat. He will never, ever forget this moment.