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Tooru is sitting very uncomfortably in the car, his head as leaned back as he can have it because the seat in Hajime’s car doesn’t recline.
Groaning at his poor attempt to sleep, he drops his head on the dashboard.
“Iwa-chan,” he whines. “Why’d you volunteer me to come with you? Without asking beforehand?”
Hajime hums in lieu of a response and takes a left turn, face impassive. “Wanna go home?” he asks.
Tooru bites down on his lip.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Glancing at his profile, Tooru makes the quiet realization that trying to make conversation with Hajime would be pointless. Pressed sunlight from the dawn paints the entirety of the car, the edges of his face made alight. Hajime stares silently down at the road, his blinks slow and tired. Directions filter from Hajime’s phone.
“Iwa-chan. Where are we going?”
“Nowhere.”
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru crosses his arms. “You literally told me a day before our break started— to pack for a weeklong trip without saying, one; where the trip itself is, and two; without asking if I was willing to go. You’re being unfair.”
Hajime sighs, tired.
“My aunt and uncle needed someone to house sit. My parents had work, so I told them school was closing soon— you and I could go. And now here we are.”
“Oh. The house on the way to Iwate?”
“Mhmm.”
“The big one? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Just the two of us? Alone with the huge house and the cats in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yes. Shut up.”
Tooru releases a squeak of excitement. “You’re the best, Iwa-chan!”
Hajime clicks his tongue, cheeks tinged a pleasant red. “Shut the hell up, Oikawa. Were you not just wallowing five seconds ago?”
“I have zero recollection of such a thing.”
“Oh my God,” Hajime says, laughing, “please, go back to sleep.”
Tooru, satisfied with the lightening mood, buries himself deeper in the hoodie he’s wearing in the middle of the summer. He tugs the hood over his head after he tucks his hair behind his ear. He really needs to get it cut, it’s all over his face and excessively curly. Pulling the hoodie strings taught and leaving the center of his face so he can see, he hums absently and stares out the window.
Tooru rolls it down. The noise of scraping wind and the wheels against the glittering concrete of the highway slips into the crevices of the car— into Tooru’s skin and burning a mark there as if saying never forget.
Hajime, apparently, is amused— he rolls down all the windows along with Tooru. There’s wind everywhere, and Tooru’s insides feel bubbly and entirely silly as he giggles, shoving his head out. Hajime uses a hand to grip onto his hoodie, and Tooru feels as if driving out with no one else but Hajime and this empty highway is the single greatest moment of his life.
Looking over at Hajime now, Tooru mourns for everyone who hasn’t had the chance to see him like this— hair windswept, teeth glinting in the sun with an earth shattering smile. He mourns but is selfishly happy, because good, let everyone else in the world be cheated of the sight. Let no one else look at or love him like their heart has fallen to the ground.
Tooru bursts out laughing. Hajime looks at him and laughs along with him. Pointless and silly— beneficial to Tooru, who’s hands twitch when he catches sight of the way Hajime’s eyes light up.
☀︎
Hajime’s shoving Tooru awake at one point, and Tooru holds out for as long as he can. He shoves at his shoulder once, twice, the third time a bit rougher. Which— not very rough. Then he calls out Oikawa, quietly. Hajime sighs heavily, and Tooru bites his cheek. Oikawa, a bit more enunciated. Then, Tooru. Silence.
Hajime’s hand trails from his shoulder to the sliver of his neck. The way he’s pressing down ever-so-gently makes Tooru’s pulse beat a little faster, he knows this for sure. He knows Hajime can feel it too. Tooru still doesn’t open his eyes, but takes his breaths a bit deeper. Hajime audibly swallows, the same moment he lifts his palm and pushes it to Tooru’s cheek.
Tooru has to resist clenching his jaw, or flinching at the way the contact makes his lips tingle strangely. Hajime’s thumb moves to brush over Tooru’s lashes, back and forth, back and forth.
This is not the first time he’s done this.
It’s jarring, especially because he knows Hajime knows he’s awake.
Hajime moves away, and Tooru’s heart sinks just a little. The car door opens, closes, then opens again after a few minutes. The door on Tooru’s side. He stifles a yelp, but he doesn’t fall over.
Hajime clicks open his seatbelt— then curls one arm around his shoulders and the other under his knees. Tooru shifts a little in Hajime’s arms, heat crawling up his neck. He’s just— carrying him. Just like that.
“What’s this,” Tooru mumbles, burying his face into Hajime’s shoulder— fully prepared to be dropped. “Am I that light, Iwa-chan, or are you just that strong?”
“Oh, no, you’re heavy as fu—”
“Such a gentleman!”
“I’ll let go, you piece of shit.”
Tooru turns his head so he’s staring at the underside of Hajime’s jaw. “You wouldn’t,” Tooru says, pressing a finger against the bump of Hajime’s throat.
“I will,” he replies, and Tooru can feel him speak. “Right now. Ready?”
“Haha, oh— wait—!”
Hajime throws him onto the couch, and Tooru doesn’t know when they got in the house. “Ouch,” Tooru groans, his brain positively rattled. “You’re so rude, Iwa-chan. I was sleeping so well, and you just— threw me. You threw me! I don’t think I can move my le—”
“Oikawa, look,” Hajime calls from the floor, “it’s the cat.”
Tooru sits up so fast his head spins. “Cat? Where?”
It’s a tiny little white thing, her fur so absurdly fluffy Tooru can’t see its eyes. “Oh, hi,” he whispers.
Tooru outstretches his arm, and she pads over to sniff at Tooru’s hand. It takes a grand effort not to scream out loud when she rubs her head to his palm. With steady hands, he lifts her to his face. When she starts poking her paw at his nose, he thinks he might cry.
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says wetly, “I think she likes me.”
Hajime snorts. “Her name is Yuki. My aunt wanted to keep two of the kittens.” Hajime points at the corner of the living room which Tooru debates is the size of the entire first floor of his house. “Over there’s the mom. And here—” Hajime lifts an even smaller gray kitten from his lap that Tooru didn’t even notice. “— is Chiisai.”
The gray kitten is so small that it just barely fits in Hajime’s cupped palms, wriggling around a bit to get comfortable. Tooru can see from the couch that Hajime’s hands are trembling and his eyes are— he daresay— lit up in awe. He’s smiling, a little.
“The name fits,” Tooru says, quietly. Yuki in his lap has fallen asleep, and Tooru thinks if he stops petting her now she might wake up. Hajime lets Chiisai run off, and he gets up to walk over to the staircase.
“Go wash up, Oikawa. I put all your shit in the biggest bedroom downstairs,” he calls, his eyes trailing after Chiisai who has decided to follow him.
“I can’t,” Tooru says, “she’s sleeping on my lap.”
Hajime looks at him. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll make some food.”
☀︎
Tooru wakes up to Yuki’s tail in his face, her fur making him sneeze. She jumps out of his lap and is gone in an instant. “No,” he groans, his voice cracking and sleep laden, “come back.”
“Great timing,” Hajime says, placing a bowl in front of him. His hair is wet and his skin is flushed red from a shower. He’s wearing a white shirt that’s sticking to his back and sweatpants, with socks that are Tooru’s. Neon green.
“Nice socks, Iwa-chan.”
“Thanks. Here, eat.”
Tooru rubs the sleep from his eyes and tugs his hair behind his ears. He feels gross. “I’m gonna take a shower first,” Tooru says. “What’d you even make?”
Tooru glances up, but Hajime’s already staring. “Ah, nothing really. Just ramen.”
Tooru raises a brow. “Hmm. You have whatever's in the bowl, I’ll take from the pot.”
Hajime blinks. “Okay.”
The staircase that leads downstairs is narrow and turns slightly, and when Tooru steps on the floor, he jumps at the cold. “Ooh.” He picks himself onto his toes. “Cold.”
This floor is different from the upstairs, the whole thing feeling very new. The floors are marble, and there’s a bed that you can pull from the wall. It almost fell on his head.
There’s even a kitchen section. The cabinets are white and bear not a single stain, and Tooru thinks if he tries using the oven he might leave with a migraine. The fridge is huge, and Hajime’s already put all the food they brought inside.
There is a door that leads to a hallway, and the sides are made entirely out of glass.
Tooru stands there and looks out at where they are. In the middle of nowhere, truly— green as far as he can see, the sky so blue it hurts to look at. There’s a barrier down the hill that he can see, and past it are goats and a hen house. There’s even a path to a pool.
Moving past the hallway and to the bedroom, he gasps at the sheer size of the bed. Four people can probably sleep on that thing comfortably.
The bathroom gives him whiplash, because he thought bathrooms of this size only existed in movies. There’s a bathtub that’s accented with gold, two sinks, a shower with at least four jets, marble floors, the whole nine-yards.
Tooru giggles to himself. He skips over to the bedroom to grab some clothes.
☀︎
Tooru’s about to shout at Hajime to warm up his food, but spots him collapsed on the couch. He’s laying on his back, one arm hanging off the edge. Both kittens are asleep on his chest.
Tooru throws off the towel around his neck and pads over to the couch.
As gently as possible, Tooru lowers himself onto the couch. It’s big enough to fit the both of them, but Tooru lays his head on Hajime’s stomach instead. Hajime moves a little under him, but only tangles his fingers in Tooru’s hair. Hajime’s abdomen tightens before relaxing again, and Tooru can feel it. He smells like fresh clothes and coffee.
“What,” Hajime slurs, and Tooru goes rigid. “Oikawa?”
“Hmm.”
“What’re you doin’.”
“Sleeping.”
“Mmph.” Hajime turns to his side, and the kittens jump off. “On me?”
Tooru slides up, fitting his head under Hajime’s chin. “Mhmm.”
Hajime throws a leg over his waist and grabs the blanket hanging off the couch. He drapes it over both of them, and Tooru feels a little dizzy.
“Won’t you get hot, Iwa-chan?”
Hajime twists a strand of Tooru’s hair. “M’whatever. You get cold.”
Tooru bites his lip, but shuffles closer to Hajime. He says nothing. He feels Hajime take a deep breath in. “Did you take a bath?” Hajime asks.
Tooru nods.
“You took too long, stupid.”
“It was a really nice bath, Iwa-chan.”
A pause. “Your hair smells nice.”
Tooru’s heart climbs up his throat. “Yeah?”
“Yep. Let me sleep now.”
“Okay.”
☀︎
Tooru ends up on the floor, tangled in the blanket.
“Ah! Iwa—”
Hajime peeks over the end of the couch and starts laughing, an octave deeper because of his sleep. “You look insane, Oikawa.”
“Hey!” Tooru slaps a hand to the floor. “Stop laughing and help me!”
Hajime sits up, clutching at his stomach. “You— you really came up here without blow-drying your hair? I’m surpri—” Hajime cuts himself off with laughter, and Tooru’s hands fly to his head.
“Oh no.” He sputters and untangles himself from the blankets, standing up. He’s about to run downstairs, but—
“Wait!” Hajime bursts. “Don’t— it’s fine.” He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
Tooru blinks. “You don’t want me to brush my hair?”
Hajime’s cheeks redden. “Well— no, not that but— sorry. I won’t say anything.”
Tooru fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “Well, I— it’s okay.” He runs a hand through his hair, but it gets stuck halfway through. “Though, it’s really tangled, so I should probably—”
“I’ll do it for you,” Hajime announces, getting up. “I’ll warm up your ramen. You eat and I’ll brush your hair.”
Tooru doesn't get a chance to respond, Hajime leaving to the kitchen and Tooru standing dumbstruck in the middle of the living room. Chiisai and Yuki decide to chase each other around Tooru’s legs. Tooru just watches them.
Hajime sets the bowl down and gestures to the floor. “Sit, I’ll be right back.”
Tooru watches him run down the stairs in mild amusement, slurping his noodles. Hajime comes back in a little bit with a hairbrush.
“Okay. I’m gonna sit on the sofa. Move back a little.”
Hajime walks over to the couch and tugs Tooru between his legs. He starts hesitantly, brushing at the ends. Tooru might fall asleep again. Hajime ends up frustrated, tossing the hairbrush aside and separating the knots with his fingers. His fingers are warm against Tooru’s scalp.
After a few minutes, Tooru’s pretty sure Hajime’s done, but he’s still playing with the strands.
“Your hair’s really long,” Hajime says. “You gonna cut it?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Do you like it?” Hajime’s hands still.
“Don’t cut it,” Hajime answers.
Tooru smiles. “”kay.”
“Okay, I’m done.” Hajime stands up and moves around Tooru, kneeling down to pet Yuki. He looks over at Tooru, grinning. “Wanna go to the pool?”
☀︎
Tooru doesn’t get into the pool, satisfied with kicking his legs back and forth in the water and watching Hajime swim.
Hajime just dives into the deep end, while Tooru yelps when he dips his toes in it. “It’s freezing!”
He waits for Hajime to come back up from the water, but it’s starting to take too long. Tooru bites his lip, fiddling with his fingers. Anxiousness swells in his stomach—
“Holy—!”
Hajime grabs Tooru’s ankles from under the water, startling him so bad he almost falls in.
“Iwa-chan,” he whines, “why would you do that?” Hajime shrugs.
“‘Cuz I can.” He smiles up at Tooru, over-illuminated and squinting against the sun. His eyes are impossibly green.
Tooru kicks at Hajime’s bare chest, which is flushed red and freckled. “Mean, Iwa-chan.”
“You really not coming in the water?”
“Iwa-chan, you just untangled my hair. Pool water is gross, anyway.”
Tooru stares down at the way Hajime pushes his hair back and moves through the water with ease, from the bump of his spine to the expanse of his back. Hajime moves like there’s nothing in the world he doesn’t know how to do. With sureness.
☀︎
Tooru pulls the covers over his head, flipping himself onto his stomach. It’s cold down here, and this bed is much too big for one person. He doesn’t want to get up and pull on sweatpants but he definitely can’t sleep now. He just stares past the floor to ceiling window that makes him feel watched, stares at the way there isn’t a single light and the whole sky is pitch black. Listens to the way the grass hisses, it’s that quiet.
Tooru shoves the covers off of himself. He forgot to ask Hajime where the hell the slippers are, so the second the bottom of his feet meet the floor he sprints across the room, the hallway, up the stairs, and why is this house bigger than the whole world.
He pushes open the door to Hajime’s room, and launches himself onto the bed.
Tooru shuffles under the covers, facing Hajime, who’s still sound asleep. He pokes at his chest.
“Iwa-chan,” he whispers, patting Hajime’s cheek. “Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. Wake up, please.” Tooru feels his hands shaking, and curls his knees to his chest. He sniffles. “Iwa-chan.”
Hajime huffs, just a parting of lips, but Tooru’s eyes widen. “Iwa-chan?”
Hajime blinks himself awake, alarm written across his face as he searches for Tooru’s gaze. He clicks his tongue, gathering Tooru in his arms after thumbing at his tear streaked face. Hajime isn’t wearing a shirt.
“Idiot,” Hajime says, clearing his throat. “Could’ve told me you were scared.”
Tooru whines. “I’m not scared. Just cold. It was really dark down there, Iwa-chan, and I couldn’t figure out how to close the blinds and I forgot to ask you for the slippers and the bed was so big—”
“Shhh.” Hajime pushes Tooru’s head closer to his chest. “I’m right here, scaredy-cat. You woke me up, so you better go to sleep.”
Tooru traces circles against Hajime’s navel. “M’kay.” He presses his lips to Hajime’s collarbone, ignoring the way he stiffens. “Night.”
☀︎
Tooru scratches at his stomach and shuffles over to the kitchen where Hajime’s already standing. He takes a seat on the island, spinning around on the chair. Hajime opens the fridge and slides over a Tupperware of tangerine, along with a glass of water. He gestures at it.
“Eat this for now. I’ll make something later.” Tooru claps his hands together with glee, chugging down the water and leaving the ice to chew after. He glances over at Hajime filling the cats’ bowls with food. He doesn’t spare a glance at Tooru, only walks into his bedroom and clicks the door shut. Tooru blinks, and pouts. He bites down on a tangerine.
☀︎
In a few minutes, Hajime comes out with his guitar.
Still not looking at Tooru, he slides open the door for the balcony and shuts it behind him. A little something pokes at Tooru’s chest.
Tooru lifts Chiisai and trails after Hajime.
☀︎
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru lilts, dropping himself on the blue chair, gently placing Chiisai on his lap. “Are you going to sing for me?”
Tooru’s only teasing, but Hajime still doesn’t look up. At first glance he seems normal— no sudden movements, no shaky hands, no fidgeting— but Tooru notices. He notices the way Hajime is blinking more than he does, the way he refuses to meet Tooru’s eye, the slight stiffness of his posture.
Hajime clears his throat. “Yes.”
Tooru keeps petting the cat. “Yes, what?”
Hajime lifts his head, fixes the guitar on his lap. Looks at Tooru. “I’ll sing for you.”
Tooru’s heart falls to the ground. “Huh?”
In the next second, Hajime starts strumming a rhythm. He sings so deep Tooru thinks he can feel the ground shake. Maybe I’m yours if you’re crazy for me.
☀︎
By the end of the song, Tooru’s crying so hard he can’t speak.
“Oh, fuck,” Hajime says, sounding a little choked up too. “Would you stop that?” Hajime grips his wrists and tugs Tooru’s hands away from his face.
Tooru sniffs. “Iwa— ugh. You—”
But Hajime’s lips are soft on his forehead, his nose, his lips. “Sorry. Don’t cry.”
“Who’s crying?” Tooru says, voice hoarse. He wants Hajime to kiss him again. “Can you kiss me again?”
Hajime laughs and shakes his head, but cups his jaw and kisses his open mouth. Tooru giggles, pulling away to look at Hajime’s face. His eyes are green and giving. “Is that why you took me here? To serenade me?”
Hajime shoves him, then pulls him closer. “Hell no. This was an opportunity and I took it.”
“You wrote the song?”
Hajime stills. “I— um, my mom and I wrote it together.”
Tooru blinks. Chiisai and Yuki stare at Tooru’s shocked face in wonder. “Oh, God,” Tooru wheezes, “you and your mom? I can’t even imagine—”
“Tooru, if you don’t shut your mouth.”
“But— you wrote a love song for me with your mom! Are you crazy? I think you are—”
“I’ll tell her about how you came crying to me in the middle of the night—”
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru cuts him off. “Hajime.”
Hajime raises his brows. “Hmm?”
“I love you,” Tooru says. Hajime grins, and takes a bite at Tooru’s nose.
“Yeah yeah.” He tugs a strand of Tooru’s hair away from his face. “I love you, too.”
☀︎
Tooru picks up Chiisai and Yuki, making a dash for the door. “I’m taking them!”
“Oi—!” Hajime wraps an arm around his waist, and Tooru hums, the kittens jumping from his arms. He turns around in Hajime’s hold, pressing his lips to Hajime’s forehead.
“Damn it. You’re such a bastard.” Hajime shakes his head. “You just wanted me to come get you, huh?” His eyes are fond.
“Oh, haven’t you gotten it yet, Iwa-chan?” Tooru drops his head to Hajime’s shoulder, the only things in his peripheral vision green, green, and green. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”
☀︎
so just let me be yours like no one else before
and baby you'll see
that you make me crazy like no one else could be
maybe i'm yours, if you're crazy for me