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“Why do people get married?” Tooru, age six, pulled at his mother’s sleeve.
“Because they love each other lots and lots,” she smiled down at him, eyes flickering to the wall that separated the two of them from Tooru’s dad in the next room.
“Like I love Iwa-chan?” the words bursted from Tooru’s mouth. His mother forced her finger against his mouth to silence him.
“No, Tooru, not like that. Like I love your dad,” she said anxiously.
“I think I love Iwa-chan more than you love Daddy.” Tooru pouted.
“That’s not true, Tooru.”
For the first time, Tooru was sure his mom was lying to him, because while his parents kept him up with their yelling every night that week, Hajime had held his hand on the way to school every morning.
The skin on the back of Tooru’s hand brushes against Hajime’s wrist as they stand for the entrance of the bride. They exchange soft smiles as the organ commands the hall and Iwaizumi’s cousin appears in the archway, veil flowing down behind her. Tooru had only met her once before, but even he feels like his heart might explode with joy for her today. He makes a mental note to think Hajime again for inviting him as his plus-one after the ceremony; it had pulled him away from another day of relentless serve practice ahead of the Interhigh Qualifiers - a break he had refused to give himself.
“Overworking yourself isn’t going to help anyone,” Hajime sighed. He had found Tooru in the gym earlier that week, pelting serves across the court after midnight, hours after he had told Hajime he’d leave.
“I lost track of time, Iwa-chan,” Tooru pleaded. Hajime took the ball from Tooru’s hands, and Tooru waited for his best friend to chastise him.
“Do you have a suit?” Hajime asked quietly.
“What?” Tooru’s head snapped up from where he was stretching off.
“Do you have a suit, Shittykawa?”
“Of course I have a suit, Iwa-chan. And I look amazing in it. Even more so than usual,” he winked.
“On Saturday, you’re coming with me to a wedding.”
“Iwa-chan! You didn’t tell me you were engaged!” Tooru said, scandalised, “How could you keep that from me? I’m supposed to be your best ma-”
“Oh, shut up. It’s my cousin Tsumiko’s. I’m allowed to bring a plus-one.”
“Awh, and you chose me!” Tooru threw his arms around his best friend’s neck. “You really do love me Iwa-chan, don’t you?”
Hajime scoffed, eyes darting to the floor. “Of course I love you, dumbass,” he grumbled.
Tsumiko floats down the aisle, smiling so widely Tooru is sure her cheeks must be aching. Her eyes are fixed on her fiance, Rei, waiting by the officiant, and he realises that they are almost identical to Hajime’s: bold but so dark that you could only tell they were actually green if you really looked. Tooru had spent years really looking; he had counted every perfect, sage speck in Hajime’s irises, and even now as he looks at the man beside him, he’s still fascinated by how pretty Hajime’s eyes are.
At the end of the aisle, the couple hold hands as the wedding officiant welcomes the guests and commences the ceremony. Tooru is about to reach out and hold Hajime’s, when the latter’s father glances back at them from the row in front, disdainful eyes fleeting between the two. There’s a reason Hajime had only come out to his mother. The same reason that had Tooru’s parents begging him to not tell any other family after he came out to them. They haven’t brought it up once since then, but Tooru can see the way they stiffen when he watches movies with his head on Hajime’s lap, or when he asks if Hajime can stay overnight, or when he hugs Hajime first after they win a game. They’re just best friends, he insists to them, over and over again. Sometimes Tooru wonders if he’s telling himself that more than them.
Tooru was fourteen when he realised he liked boys the same way he liked girls. And Hajime was the first person he told. He had texted Hajime to meet him at the park by his house that Winter evening, and shivered as he waited.
“It’s freezing, Oikawa,” Hajime grunted, rubbing his arms over the puffy coat he was wearing. It was one that Tooru had gotten him for his birthday only that year, but it was already fraying at the edges and the sleeves were creeping up his arms. Tooru hated that his best friend was getting taller than him, and swore his growth spurt was just around the corner.
“You came, though,” Tooru said as he lead Hajime to sit on the swings they had spent hours on as kids. Now the metal chains squeaked and shook with every movement and he was sure they’d fall apart before they got to high school. “You always come when I ask,” Tooru teased the other boy, and he revelled in the way Hajime’s cheeks tinted pink.
“Shut up, Shittykawa. Why are we here?” He bounced the balls of his feet against the tarmac.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Tooru said, voice only shaking the slightest bit.
“What? Did you do something? Are you suspended again?” Hajime crossed his arms. Tooru cringed as he recalled smashing their English teacher’s window with a volleyball the previous year.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what? You’re worrying me.”
“Awh, Iwa-chan, you care so much about me!” Tooru kicked the other’s leg lightly.
“Just tell me,” Hajime said as he rolled his eyes.
“Well, Iwa-Iwa, I realised something…” he began. Hajime nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I like boys. Or at least, I think so, anyway.”
“Oh. Okay,” Hajime scratched his neck, “So you’re gay?”
“No, no- I still like girls. Maybe like… bisexual, or something?” Tooru said nervously.
“Okay, that’s cool.”
“You’re okay with it?”
Hajime scrunched up his nose, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I- I thought maybe it would make things weird.”
“But nothing’s changed, Oikawa. I swear, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”
“Why are you being so mean after I just bared my soul to you?” Tooru shoved Hajime’s shoulder.
“I only called you an idiot.”
“That’s mean, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said. “You should only ever refer to me as ‘Japan’s future star volleyball setter’, or ‘the funniest and most charming friend you have’, or ‘your favourite person in the whole, wide universe’.”
“You’re an idiot.” The corners of Hajime’s lips curled upwards.
“Could you humour me just once, Iwa?”
“Okay, fine. You’re an idiot, and you’re my favourite person in the whole, wide universe.”
A year or two later, Hajime waited by the phone all day. Tooru had told him he was going to come out to his sister when she came over. Hajime had promised that if it went badly like it did with his parents, he would whisk Tooru over to his house and play all of his stupid, favourite movies to distract him.
Tooru wiped his eyes on his sleeves as he walked up the stairs to his room, a soft smile on his face as he reached for his phone and dialled Hajime’s contact. He imagined the other’s face twisted in disgust at the awful cacophony of beep and boop noises voiced by Tooru himself that he had forced Hajime to make his ringtone.
“Oikawa?” Hajime breathed after he picked up.
Tooru’s breathing was ragged as he started to speak, tears still streaming down his face. “She hugged me, Hajime,” Tooru whimpered, “She said she loves me and she’s glad I told her.”
“You scared me, Oikawa! I thought it went disastrously when I heard you crying,” Hajime said.
“It’s called tears of joy, Iwa!”
“I know that now. I’m so happy for you.”
“Can we still meet up for movies, anyway? I miss you,” Tooru said.
“Sure. Get your ass over here.”
Tsumiko looks up at her soon-to-be husband with a dusty blush splattered across her cheeks as Rei reads out the vows he had written.
“Miko, the first time you made breakfast for me, you burned the toast,” he earns some chuckles from the guests. “But you then spent the next ten minutes scratching away at the bread until the burnt parts looked like a smiley face, and I adored it. And you do the same with every crap thing in life. You scratch away at it until it’s something wonderful and something better, and I love you for that.” Tooru thinks his speech is a little bit cheesy, but even he finds himself chiming into the chorus of “Aww’s” that flood the room. The groom continues talking as Tooru lets his mind wander to his favourite time that he and Hajime had breakfast together.
“You need nutrition, Oikawa,” Hajime had commandeered Tooru’s kitchen far too early on a Monday morning, after he had stayed overnight.
“I get lots at lunch and dinner,” Tooru said. “I’m not a breakfast person.”
“You will be now we have morning practice everyday. You need the energy.” Now they had started high school, their team volleyball practices were even more frequent, much to Tooru’s excitement.
“When did you even learn to cook this stuff?” he asked, jumping up to sit on the counter beside the stove, where he could watch Hajime fry the eggs.
“When my cousin, Tsumiko, comes to visit for a few days, she always cooks breakfast. I just help her.” Hajime flipped the bacon.
“Iwa-chan, who knew you were so talented?” Tooru said.
Hajime sent him a look. “This isn’t talent, Oikawa. It’s just making food.” Hajime tossed a burnt piece of bacon at him to nibble on.
“Oh, but it’s such good food, Iwa!” he sighed in delight as he tasted the meat.
“Then you should learn to cook too.”
“I don’t need to cook,” Tooru bent over the stove and slung his arm over Hajime’s shoulder. “I’ll always have you here to do it for me.”
The other scoffed, “Shut up, Shittykawa. And get away from the gas before you set yourself on fire.” Tooru jumped from the counter, grinning to himself. Hajime hadn’t denied his statement.
Eventually, Hajime placed a steaming dish in front of Tooru, the food laid out in a poor attempt at a dog’s face: the fried egg the snout, the toast the ears, the bacon the eyes…
“I’m not a kid, Iwa-chan.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Hajime deadpanned.
Tooru smiles fondly at the memory. It seems making shapes out of breakfast food runs in the Iwaizumi family. Hajime sits up higher on the pews when Tsumiko begins her own vows, bouncing his knee in the way Tooru knew he only did when he was excited. He had seen it in first year of high school when they were still waiting on the bench during matches, he’d seen it when he was at a restaurant waiting for his favourite tofu dish to arrive and he’d seen it the first time they ever got drunk, having begged Tooru’s sister to buy them something to celebrate their latest win. Tooru supposes he should be looking more at the happy couple than at Hajime as they recite their marriage vows. But there are a lot of things Tooru should be.
At every parent-teacher meeting in elementary school, Tooru’s parents were told the same thing about his behaviour in class.
“He tries hard, but he’s too much of a distraction to the other children. He’s too loud in class,” they said.
His third grade teacher put him on the opposite side of the room to Hajime to try and quieten him down in lessons. He scowled at her for the entire day, arms crossed as he tried to get Hajime’s attention from his table. On the way back from school, he was clinging to Hajime’s wrist tightly, and only let go when his mother told him he would cut off the blood supply to his best friend’s hands.
“I’d be really sad if you lost your hands, Iwa-chan,” he said, “You wouldn’t be able to spike any of my sets.”
“I lose my hands and that’s the only thing you care about?” Hajime replied.
Tooru huffed. “Where would I be if Iwa-chan wasn’t there to hit all my perfect sets?”
“Setting to someone else? Probably someone better.”
“But you’re my favourite person to set to! And you always will be!” His voice echoes around the entire block, and the other parents walking their kids home tut at him.
Tooru didn’t get quieter as he got older, but the way his voice commanded the room became part of his charm to most people. Girls swooned at the way everyone in the vicinity could hear Tooru’s playful flirting towards them and his teammates appreciated the energy he radiated when commenting on their plays during practices, or motivating them before matches.
“I don’t know how Iwaizumi has put up with you this long,” Hanamaki said, throwing his head back against the arm of the sofa. It was their first year of high school, and Tooru had invited his friends over for a movie night. It consisted solely of low-budget sci-fi films that all followed the exact same shitty plot, yet had him enraptured every time anyway. The clock was reaching 4am and everyone but Tooru was battling to keep their eyes open.
“Because Iwa-chan loves me,” he said, ruffling Hajime’s hair so it stuck out haphazardly.
“Not if you keep messing up my hair,” he grumbled, pulling away from Tooru’s grasp.
“I’m making you appear all rugged and tough, Iwa. Girls will like that.”
“I don’t care what girls like,” he said sleepily, settling his head against a pillow he’d borrowed. Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared a glance.
For one fleeting second that night, Tooru let himself wonder if Hajime wasn’t straight.
Two years later, Hajime came out to him. They had just lost in the Interhigh Miyagi Prefecture Finals to Shiratorizawa, and Tooru was replaying every toss, serve and block he did in his head, searching for where he wasn’t good enough. Where did he let his team down?
“Don’t overthink it,” Hajime had broken the silence as they walked home from the gym.
“It’s normal to think about where you can make improvements after you lose, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said.
“I’ve known you for over ten years, Oikawa. I know you’re blaming yourself for the whole thing.” Tooru looked at him wordlessly. Hajime sighed, “You need to distract yourself. Just forget about volleyball for a bit.”
“You say it like it’s so easy. I don’t think anything could get my mind off of the match right now.”
Hajime stopped walking and tugged at Tooru’s sleeve, snickering to himself. “Okay. I’m gay, I think.”
The Earth slowed its spin around them and Tooru’s heart quickened in his chest. He didn’t know how long he stared at his best friend for before responding.
“Trust you to drop the biggest confession ever to prove me wrong, Iwa-chan.”
Hajime’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Somebody’s gotta humble you,” he said.
“Oh, shut up!” Tooru elbowed him. “Are you for real, though? You’re gay?”
“No. I lied,” Hajime deadpanned. Tooru froze and gawked at him. “God, you are so stupid, Oikawa. Yes, I’m for real.”
Thanks to Hajime, Tooru was successful in thrawting away any thoughts about Shiratorizawa or Ushiwaka or missed opportunities that night.
Everyone who knew they both liked men thought Tooru and Hajime were a couple, and countless times they’ve had to refute the notion of any romantic relations to people who asked them about it.
“Iwa-chan and I are best friends!” Tooru would say in response, throwing his arm around Hajime. “He probably wishes he could date me, but alas! I do not feel the same way about him.”
“If I only had one wish in life, it would be to date anyone but you,” Hajime said. Tooru only grinned in response, pulling his best friend in closer.
He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about a universe where him and Hajime were a couple. Hajime would make a good boyfriend, he thought, and he would never have to worry about not being good enough himself because if Hajime had stuck around him for this long, he must love Tooru. In this alternate universe, they would spend even more time together. And that would be nice. Tooru was always happiest with Hajime by his side.
After Tsumiko finishes her vows, the couple exchange rings and Tooru rests his head on Hajime’s shoulder, hoping the latter’s father will be preoccupied by the ceremony and not them. Hajime sneaks his hand up behind Tooru to stroke the back of his hair, fond eyes glancing between him and his cousin. Tooru nestles into the touch, his cheeks tinting pink as Hajime ruffles his hair just the way he likes it when they’re alone. The officiant pronounces Tsumiko and Rei husband and wife, and Hajime only pulls his hand away to stand and clap for the newlyweds as they kiss.
Tsumiko is beaming at her husband like he’s the only person on Earth, and Tooru wants that. Someday, he wants to marry someone who looks at him like that. His heart warms and he turns to thank Hajime for inviting him.
At the reception, Tooru goes with Hajime and his family to congratulate the couple before settling down at a table for the meal. He overindulges in the food so he’s feeling bloated and fatigued, but Mrs Iwaizumi drags him to the dance floor after, anyway. He dances hesitantly with her, until the nausea fades away and Oikawa Tooru is commanding the dance floor. There is a circle crowding around him as he gets down to a Rihanna song, and he even lifts one of the flower-girls onto his shoulders as he starts a conga line with the guests. As the DJ announces that dessert is soon being served, the crowd on the floor start to disperse, but Tooru is still spinning around with a few of the bridesmaids, who laugh as he over exaggerates every movement. He catches Hajime watching him from their table, and the other doesn’t look away when their eyes meet.
Tooru’s heart pounds louder then the music, because Hajime is looking at him just the way Tsumiko was looking at Rei at the ceremony.
“Look at those heart-eyes he has!” one of the bridesmaids giggles at Tooru, whose gaze is fixed on Hajime.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Tooru says.
He navigates in between guest tables to make his way to his best friend, who is holding two dessert bowls in his hands.
“I grabbed you some,” Hajime says, passing the ice cream to him. “And I asked for one of the spoons they were giving to the kids.” Tooru looks down at the bright blue, rocket-shaped plastic that is sticking out of his ice cream scoop only. His heart swells, but he can’t let Hajime know that.
“I’m not a kid, Iwa-chan! I don’t need space-themed cutlery!”
“Your favourite cereal bowl has planets painted all over it.”
“Bowls are tableware, not cutlery.” Hajime looks at him pointedly, and Tooru’s grin widens. “Thank you, Iwa,” he says after a few seconds, bending down to press his forehead against Hajime’s shoulder.
“After you finish your ice cream, let’s go outside for a bit. The gardens here are really pretty,” Hajime murmurs against Tooru’s hair. Any other day, Tooru would tease Hajime over how romantic he sounded until the other pushed him into a bush or something, but today, Hajime’s words only flustered him.
“Okay,” he says, blushing against Hajime’s chest.
“Where’s your jacket?” Hajime says, tutting at the way Tooru began to shiver as soon as they left the reception hall.
“I don’t know… I took it off when they played a Gaga song- things were getting serious.”
The corners of Hajime’s lips curl upwards and he glances down at the cobblestone path, chuckling quietly.
“I think you might be the light of this party, Tooru. My family will want you at every future event.”
“I am so down for that! I’ll be an honorary Iwaizumi.” Tooru’s teeth chatter through the last part.
“Geez, wear my jacket,” Hajime starts peeling it off of his shoulders as they reach the peony bushes.
“Awh, Iwa-chan, how sweet!” Tooru says, “But you know it would never fit me. You’re just tiny compared to me.”
“Shut up, Oikawa. I used to be taller than you,” Hajime guides Tooru’s arms through the tight sleeves of his jacket.
“Do you remember in elementary school- when we had to put our coats on before going to the playground, you always did this for me?”
“Because you were too useless to be able to do it yourself.”
“I got confused easily!” Tooru says. “And the zipper always got caught.”
“Don’t worry, Tooru. I promise this has only got buttons,” Hajime teases as he straightens out the lapel.
“Tooru?” Iwa-chan, you only call me Tooru when you’re sad! Are you sad?” Tooru grasps Hajime’s wrist.
“I’m not sad,” Hajime says. “I guess I’m just thinking a lot, right now.”
“Oh, is that why you brought me out here? Do you need to talk?”
Hajime shrugs, shuffling out of Tooru’s grip only to fiddle with the sleeves that crawl up the other’s forearm, stretched taut from his arms.
“Nothing bad has happened, has it Hajime? Did your dad do something again? Do you need to stay at mine for a while?”
“No, nothing like that, Tooru,” He squeezes his hand.
“Then what is it? If it’s embarrassing, I promise to not laugh at you.”
“That’s a lie, and we both know it.” Hajime looks at him amusedly. “But it’s not embarrassing, I don’t think…”
He pulls Tooru to sit down with him on the stone bench nearby. “Seeing Tsumiko get married had me thinking about my own wedding. I know it’s years away, but-“
“I was thinking about it too, Hajime.” Tooru threads his foot in between Hajime’s legs to link them together.
“Really?” Tooru nods, and Hajime gets the confidence to continue.“I was thinking about the kind of person I would want to marry, the person I’d want to spend my life next to… Who would you want to?”
And it hits Tooru like a sledgehammer: a realisation that shatters the line between platonic and romantic he has been tiptoeing on for eighteen years. The line that let him ignore those nights where the air would shift between them enough that they’d be pressed up against each other in a way that Tooru could never justify the next morning. The line that made him define the way Hajime lit him up like no other person he had ever met as a friendship intensified by time, but let him admit that the other was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.
Tooru knows the person he’d want to spend his life next to is the person he’s already been spending it beside.
“Tooru, are you okay?” Hajime cups his chin gently, “You just spaced out a little.” He blinks twice, shaking himself back into reality. “Sorry for getting a bit deep. We don’t need to talk about this.”
“No, Hajime. I want to.” Tooru traces his fingers over Hajime’s hand on his face, eyes fixed on the other. His voice is shaky, “I know who I would want to spend my life with...”
“You do?”
Tooru nods, raising his hand to stroke the side of Hajime’s hair. “Do you?”
Hajime swallows, leaning in closer towards him, his breath hot on Tooru’s skin. “I think so.” They stare at each other for seconds, or maybe hours- whichever it is, it’s definitely not long enough for Tooru to think clearly.
“Am I reading this completely wrong, Hajime?”
Hajime looks at him one final time, before closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Tooru’s. He brings up his other hand to clasp Tooru’s face from both sides as the other kisses back, their lips gentle but messy against one another. A side effect of too much love in too tight of a space.
There’s an intensity behind each swipe of Hajime’s tongue against Tooru’s mouth, a fervor that he feels radiate throughout his whole body. Every point of contact between them feels like a swarm of electricity on a bright, burning nerve that hasn’t ever been touched.
When they finally part, Tooru is breathless and blushing, his hands clinging to the front of Hajime’s shirt.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Hajime says as he leans their foreheads together.
“You have?”
“Tooru, I’ve loved you since that one snowy day in fourth grade. I forgot my gloves and you gave me one of yours for the walk home.” Tooru’s eyes light up for the millionth time that night, and he presses a soft, short kiss against Hajime’s lips.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to realise,” he says.
“It’s okay.” Hajime chuckles. “It means we got to have our first kiss in this place instead of in your One Piece bed sheets.”
“What do you mean? That would’ve been even more romantic!” Tooru says.
“I hate you,” Hajime deadpans.
“No, you don’t.” He pulls Hajime in by his tie to rejoin their lips.
“Hey, maybe I won’t have to be an honorary Iwaizumi in your family. I’ll be a real one,” Tooru remarks as they walk back to the reception hall.
“You’re so fucking stupid,” Hajime says.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’ll take your name.”
Tooru creates a new line to walk. A tiny thread of gold that ties him and Hajime together.