Chapter Text
Oikawa calls them at 2 am which Hanamaki only knows because his boyfriend answers the phone by saying, "what the fuck, dude. It's two in the morning."
Hanamaki is a bit groggy so it takes him a surprisingly long time to connect a few dots as his vision comes into focus.
First dot: They're in Issei's room which is surprisingly not as gothic as Hanamaki had initially imagined. First of all the walls are an off white, maybe eggshell. It's not that Hanamaki imagined Issei would live in an Addams' family mansion or have a hairy cousin skittering about or a hand that delivered letters. He doesn’t want to put his boyfriend into a box or typecast him. However, off-white certainly didn't make it into his head.
The walls are relatively bare. Just a few jumbles of pictures here and there. Some of his friends and family. One is a hand drawn picture of a castle with a dark curly haired princess holding hands with a man who Hanamaki assumes is Issei. It’s not that its particularly obvious, but the hair is the same and he has a firm line (like an x-axis) for a mouth. A general energy of boredom that really sells it for Hanamaki. He and the princess are in pink. The title above says BEST BROTHER EVER and it's surrounded by rainbows and two suns with smiley faces.
"It’s ruining your street cred," Hanamaki had told him the first time he saw it.
"I guess seven year olds just don't care about street cred," Issei replied easily.
"I think it's the rainbow," Hanamaki pondered tilting his head to the side as if analyzing a Van Gogh rather than a birthday gift from Issei's little sister.
"I think the rainbow brightens the room. Really makes it pop."
"You would think that. You have a thing for rainbows."
"It's basically my logo. I'm thinking of dying my hair."
"Impossible because I'm thinking of dying my hair and I refuse to be a matching couple. We're an opposite aesthetic couple. That's our niche."
"Why don't you go darker then? Really throw it back to 2006 My Chemical Romance? Back when you were a young boy and your father took you into the city." He paused for half a beat before saying, "to see the marching band."
Hanamaki refused to be swayed by the clever allusion. He dedicated all of his energy into looking extremely put out and annoyed. "Impossible. I'm team Jacob. I can't be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned. I get the rainbows."
"Well, if you must bring Twilight into it, then it must be serious. Does this assume I’m team Edward?"
“You’ll have to be. Team Jacob is taken and we’re an opposite aesthetic couple.”
“Noted, dear.”
Second dot: Oikawa is not at home. If he were this phone call wouldn't be a phone call. It would be a knock on the door or a discussion earlier in the evening. Some veiled comments or jokes that make Issei roll his eyes and eventually kick Oikawa physically off the couch to express himself or quit moping.
If someone asked Hanamaki (and no one has, which is an unforgiveable oversight), he would describe Issei and Oikawa’s relationship as violently supportive physically, mentally, and emotionally. The type you might expect from siblings who shared a room. They'll refuse to get the other a cup of water in the middle of a sandstorm. At the same time, should anyone even hint at a negative comment about Issei, then Oikawa will send them to hell with a look alone. Hanamaki is a middle child himself, so it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the dynamic, but it’s terrifying to observe in action nonetheless.
All of that is to say that Oikawa is not home in his and Issei's apartment, unless he's calling from inside the apartment, like some sort of Scream villain about to tell them they'll die in seven days.
Wait.... That was a different movie. Shit. It's so early.
Third dot: Oikawa is not home because he's apartment sitting for Iwaizumi, who is out of town for a week to go to his classes. Iwaizumi's classes are usually remote but once or twice a year they convene for discussion and some sort of hands on work. It's for physical therapy which means their touching people, but it's not as sexy as it could be. Hanamaki has asked.
Until this week, Oikawa has been surprisingly coy about visiting Iwaizumi’s space. Hanamaki has been there when Iwaizumi offered for him to stay the night and Oikawa declined, dragging Iwaizumi to his own apartment instead. Iwaizumi doesn't seem to care either way. They've only been together three months. That's one less than Hanamaki and Issei- not that its a competition (because obviously Hanamaki & Issei already won). Hanamaki figures there's some sort of method to Oikawa’s madness, whatever it might be. Iwaizumi seems to think the same, might even think the coyness could be a timidness. Iwaizumi would find that bemusedly adorable from the over six foot athlete. He's a real sucker for that old school boundary setting shit in romance. Really gets off on healthy balance between independence and codependency. Really mature of him, which Hanamaki tries not to hold against his best friend too much. We all have flaws after all. Iwaizumi’s flaw is being a well-adjusted adult when it comes to healthy wholesome relationships. He’s abysmal at starting them though. That’s obvious from how he and Oikawa needed a direct intervention to get their heads out of their asses and back into the love game (but that’s a different story).
Iwaizumi asked Oikawa if he could stop by a few nights or stay over to make sure the apartment seems lived in while he was away. Feed his cat. Water this house plants. Grown up stuff. This apparently is part of the problem.
"He has a cat," Oikawa laments and Hanamaki thinks he really must be sleep addled because he's seen Oikawa feed stray cats and whisper sweet nothing's to them.
Issei confirms this when he grumbles. "You love cats, Oikawa."
"I can't even keep a goldfish alive," Oikawa whines. "Remember in fourth grade? I killed the class fish and you had to take me to get a new one, but it was the wrong one and I still got yelled at?"
Issei groans and rolls on his back which is a bonus for Hanamaki because it reveals his shirtless chest, but a minus because he puts the phone right in the center where Hanamaki had been eyeing for his head to go.
"That's a fabricated story," Issei reminds him. "I made that up."
"I know," Oikawa snaps as if he’s the one who was shocked awake by a ringing phone at 2 am. "But the energy is correct."
"I thought you'd enjoy being away from the apartment," Hanamaki says to the phone sitting where his head might to be. It's not like he's jealous of an inanimate object (cause that would be super weird), but he might be contemplating going back in time and assassinating Alexander Graham Bell.
"Hi Makki," Oikawa chirps cheerfully. Hanamaki will not be deterred.
"You said this apartment was becoming a commune."
"A dirty hippy commune," Issei adds. His arm is now over his eyes as if this might shield him from the whole affair. Unfortunately for him, Oikawa is not just a figment of his overactive imagination.
"Makki, I need your opinion," says Oikawa. Hanamaki doesn't know Oikawa that well because they only just met when he pretended to date Issei in order to help Issei get to know Hanamaki better. Still, he thinks after these last few months he knows the setter well enough to sense the danger under the otherwise casual tone. He looks up to see Issei has lifted his arm just enough to make eye contact with Hanamaki using one solitary eye. The eye is saying “run” in all the ways an eye can.
Hanamaki can't leave the bed lest he lose all this cuddly warmth he's built up and that’s just not an investment he wants to see go to waste. Instead he says. "Okay. What?"
Issei shakes his head and hides his eye again as if to say, "I tried. Your funeral." It is exceptionally ill-mannered and no way to treat an honored guest. Sure enough, Oikawa lives up to Issei's warning when he says, "do you think Iwa-chan is happy?"
"I think he’s one of those evil guys from the Care Bear show who takes all the color out of things because they're grumpy," Hanamaki replies and Issei snorts at the reference and imagery. Score one for Hanamaki and zero for old Graham Bell and his stupid chest stealing invention.
Oikawa is not amused. "Makki, be serious."
"How can I be serious, when I'm Makki," he replies easily. "Besides, it feels like a trap."
"It's not a trap. It is a legitimate question that I need answered."
"Then you should ask Iwa," Hanamaki says in a mature tone. Far too mature for his normal mojo. This whole conversation is going far too normally. He's going to need to wear just a ridiculous outfit tomorrow to make up for it. Maybe a Big Bird costume, but that might be hard to pierce in. The dexterity in the finger area seems lacking. Where would one get a last minute Big Bird costume anyway?
Issei's voice pulls Hanamaki from his ponderings. "That's what I keep telling you. Call him if you miss him."
"I can't do that. It's two in the morning," Oikawa reminds them and a look flashes across Issei’s face like he might need an alibi. Something really convincing to tell the court when they find Oikawa murdered in his own bed. The expression flashes away as fast as it's arrived, but Hanamaki still feels the fondness it leaves behind in his own chest. Oikawa continues, unaware of the risk to his own life. "Besides it's been three months. How much can you miss someone you've known for three months?"
It feels rhetorical so they wait, which is obviously not what Oikawa wanted in his mentally prepped scene. Hanamaki wonders what he imagined they would respond to him as he ran through this scenario in the shower or just before he called. Whatever it might have been, it's probably not Issei saying "Go to bed. You have an interview tomorrow and I don't want your ugly mug breaking the camera."
Then he hangs up. Hanamaki knocks the phone out of the way and reclaims his rightful spot with a grumbled victory call. Issei doesn't comment on this, merely goes back to sleep as if this whole exchange has been a perfectly average night of being cursed with a life long friendship with Oikawa.
Hanamaki is a big believer in universal symmetry and the fact that important things in his life come in repetition. Once when he was in-between jobs he found a one yen coin and picked it up. For the next month he found one yen coins everywhere. On the sidewalk, in his car, in stranger’s houses. Once he was at a café to do some job hunting and he moved an armchair to get closer to the table. What was there in the middle of the floor where the chair had just been? A one-yen coin!
"It's a motif in my life now," Hanamaki told Iwaizumi. "Symbolism for how I'm destined to be yen-less and beautiful for my whole life."
"It's just confirmation bias," Iwaizumi replied rolling his eyes. "You've only been unemployed for a few weeks."
"Maybe it's foreshadowing," Hanamaki continued, unperturbed by Iwaizumi’s logic. "Maybe I'll die when a car hits me because I'm picking up a coin."
"Stop picking them up then," Iwaizumi snorted. It's a weird way to react to your friend’s premonition of their own demise, but Hanamaki understood we all deal with grief differently.
Hanamaki didn't listen. Instead he paused in the middle of the sidewalk just after they finished lunch to pick up a shiny coin. When he stood again he found himself outside Sejoh Tattoo and Piercing. The sign in the window had big bold letters.
Help wanted: Piercer. No experience needed. Must be okay with blood. Apply inside.
Hanamaki thinks this sort of thing happens because life knows he doesn’t pay attention the first or second time. Rather than teach him a lesson, Life has made the bold choice to repeat itself for clarity purposes. Hanamaki is fairly grateful since less change means less effort on his part and who has time for any of that? There are over a thousand episodes of One Piece he needs to get through.
“A true fan would be done already,” Issei had told him when Hanamaki shared this fun fact with him.
“You’re such an Arlong,” Hanamaki snipped back. Issei just rolled his eyes.
“If anything I’m Inuarashi.”
Hanamaki narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that?”
“Guess you’ll have to watch and find out,” Issei shrugged.
“How far is it,” Hanamaki asked. “Is it before episode fifty?"
Issei just went back to scrubbing a particularly tough stain on the plate in the sink. Hanamaki wasn't deterred. He tried again. "Two hundred? Five hundred?"
Issei conquered the stain and rinsed the dish, putting it on the rack to dry without even looking at Hanamaki.
"Am I getting closer or farther away? Issei! Don’t do this to me!”
If his coin debacle wasn't evidence enough to prove the fates believed he needed reoccurring symbolism, then his phone ringing the next day would surely add on to the phenomenon. Hanamaki makes a mental note to rub this new evidence in Iwaizumi’s face as soon as he returns from pursuing his education and probably pining over his pro-volleyball boyfriend. This time the call is not Oikawa (a relief) or Issei (a disappointment).
It’s Hanamaki's father.
"Takahiro," he greets. "Are you well?"
"I'm good," Hanamaki replies, being sure to keep the suspicion from his voice. He's running through all the possible purposes for this call. They don't normally talk of their own fruition unless they're face to face or his mother calls him. He feels like he’s stepping into a trap, but he can’t prevent himself from saying, “How are you, father?”
His father goes into some small talk style detail of his work and family, completely unaware that Hanamaki his lightly banging his head on the counter in front of him because he momentarily transformed into an eleven year old Draco Malfoy. Hanamaki vows never to tell Issei about this awkward exchange. Meanwhile his father is providing a short anecdote about Hanamaki's elder sister potentially getting engaged. That, at least, explains why the call is happening. It's a heads-up that he may need to prepare for some wedding planning and money saving. Then he moves into some of the questions Hanamaki's sure his mother put him up to asking.
"Are you seeing anyone," his father asks as if speaking Japanese for the first time. It's like he's never moved his mouth in the proper way needed to say the combination.
"Like romantically," Hanamaki teases. "Or like a spirit who follows me around groaning and moaning as it rattles its chains."
Issei would have loved loved that joke, but his father doesn't seem tickled by it. "Romantically."
"That's a pity because just yesterday Jacob Marley came and warned me I'd be visited by three ghosts."
"Is that a no then?"
Well, Hanamaki doesn't want to lie because there's no reason for his parents not to know about Issei. Even if it is an odd question coming from his father rather than his mother. "Um... It's not a no."
"Well? What are they like?"
"He's good. I like him."
"I see."
Hanamaki feels an inherent need to elaborate as if the mere suggestion of disapproving tone, no matter how subtle might be a direct attack on the subject which in this case is Issei. The problem is that Hanamaki is very sure he can't possibly describe Issei accurately. Or at least accurately in a way that translates his affections to his father who has never really been much for communicating on the same wavelength as Hanamaki anyway. They're more like two different species evolving galaxies away. Both sending out undecipherable radio waves. His father sends "I'm worried you're stagnating at a job you don't care about and a man should find fulfillment in employment," but all its paternal concern gets lost in the void of space. All Hanamaki hears is an inconsistent buzzing. Likewise, Hanamaki could say, "my boyfriend liked me so much he got five piercings before pretending to date his best friend because he couldn't man up enough to even fathom how to approach me," but Hanamaki thinks all the fondness would dissipate and it would end up sounding pathetic. Instead he says, "he works in end of life services."
"That's very stable work. Excellent for a solid future."
If Hanamaki were being a bit harsh, he'd say his father sounds slightly impressed. As if Hanamaki has chosen a surprisingly respectable man despite all the great efforts taken to be unrespectable and unpredictable in every way imaginable. Hanamaki feels like he fucked up Issei’s description a bit if his father is imagining him as respectable and predictable.
"Guess people do keep dying," he says glumly. His father hums in agreement, as if Hanamaki has conceded a point and not pointed out a tragic existential reality of life.
"Have you considered a more reasonable career," his father asks.
Their talks always come back to this eventually, so Hanamaki is as prepared as ever. Hanamaki replies, "I'm not made for a 9 to 5. I'm made for eating pasta and lounging in sun spots like a cat or a gecko."
"I believe geckos need more moisture," his father informs him and if it were Issei it'd seem like part of the joke, but Hanamaki figures his dad is just correcting the fact.
"A lizard then."
"One can't be a lizard forever, Takahiro," his father warns. Honestly Hanamaki is barely holding onto the reins of this conversation so he decides that's quite enough of this.
"I've got to go. A customer just walked in," he lies. "I'll call later this week."
Instead of going to lunch he takes a half day and knocks on Iwaizumi’s door. There's some shuffling about before a lock slides open. Moments later Hanamaki is staring at Oikawa with Iwaizumi’s cat (Mothra) in his arms. He looks like some kind of Bond villain. His long setter fingers lazily stroking Mothra’s equally long white fur. It's gotta be a nightmare to clean up after, but Hanamaki figures that's why one invests in a Rumba. Little robot butler with its little robot butler problems.
Mothra and Oikawa’s expressions look equally unimpressed. For a second Hanamaki marvels that Iwaizumi has somehow chosen to date someone who looks and acts exactly like his cat. He wonders if he could get away with pointing this out to Iwaizumi without the man giving him a dead arm in one strike. He has about four days to plan a safe distance for the reveal.
"Most people call ahead," Oikawa informs him. Hanamaki shrugs, pushing his way in because he’s known Iwaizumi longer and feels that's how it ought to work.
"I have a spare key," he warns, flopping on his favorite arm chair. "You're lucky I knocked. Besides I'm here to support my favorite withering damsel."
"I don't know what you mean," Oikawa sniffs and Hanamaki knows he does understand the meaning perfectly. It's in the way he turns his nose up and looks away. As if there's a stick shoved up his butt and he's some sort of snobby puppet. Or maybe a cat who has decided he's had enough attention and is ready to pretend like he isn't surviving on the coattails of his human companions. Mothra squirms slightly in Oikawa’s arms.
"You had a crisis at two in the morning, but now you're fine," Hanamaki says unconvinced. Oikawa let's the cat down and shrugs.
"That's how crisis work, Makki. They live as intrusive thoughts at 2 am. What should I do? Kick them out of their home? Like some heartless land developer? I'm not a Scooby-Doo villain."
Hanamaki can't tell if Oikawa is exceptionally self-aware or exceptionally emotionally constipated. Instead of addressing either he says, "every thought is intrusive for me. I didn’t ask to think any of this. Anyhow, I think you'd look great in a monster mask. Jinkies! It'd be an improvement."
Oikawa narrows his eyes and now there is something hawkish in them. The way his lips purse together. It’s the same look he's gotten on his face during a few games Issei has taken them to. Terminator gaze covering his target and dissecting them for weakness. Scannning... Scanning... Hanamaki Takahiro. Male. Born 1995. Aquarius. Weakness in his right shoulder from bad posture. Bad habit of over-indulging in dessert.
Hanamaki doesn't like it at all, but he's not a coward so he makes sure to keep his gaze steady, body still, face neutral. As if he has nothing to hide. It's probably convincing to a typical person, but the typical person hasn't been friend with Issei since middle school. Oikawa is likely exceptionally trained at subtle cues and changes of auras (or whatever it is he analyzes).
The freak’s mouth ticks up slightly at whatever it is he senses on Hanamaki.
"Let's not talk about me, Makki," he says and Hanamaki thinks he's made a terrible mistake.
The thing is Oikawa has really grown on Hanamaki. Sure, there was a nanosecond where Hanamaki thought he was dating the guy Hanamaki was crushing on. Maybe he considered making a hyper-realistic voodoo doll during that short minute or too, but now Hanamaki knows the truth: Oikawa is unhinged and reliably dramatic and weirdly insightful all in one. More importantly, he's fun and Iwa really likes him. Like an embarrassing amount. He thinks he's spotted Oikawa on at least three clients now, hidden away in the smirks of tattooed figures and animal eyes. Iwaizumi still denies it, but Hanamaki won’t be fooled. They better move in soon or all of Japan may be sporting a tattooed piece of Oikawa by the end of the year.
Hanamaki doesn't admit any of this to Oikawa because that'd be opening himself up to whatever heart to heart Oikawa is waiting to use in order to derail attention from his own melodramatic meltdown. Instead he says, "Has anyone told you that you're insane?"
Oikawa is less than unbothered. He looks as if Hanamaki has mentioned the weather outside the window was slightly cloudy with a chance of meatballs. As if he already has his plate ready to catch some free meteorological dinner. "Not usually to my face."
"I'm honored to be your first."
"Iwa-chan would never treat me like this," Oikawa harrumphs, clearly willing to play along. Hanamaki can sense he's not out of danger though. Oikawa is like a deep sea anglerfish, bobbing a friendly light before Hanamaki’s eyes just to lure him closer and closer to his overextended and extra sharp teeth.
"The also unhinged man you are dating?"
"I’m wise and unhinged. I contain multitudes."
"Multitudes of shit."
"Gross."
"Horse shit. Bull shit. Dog shit."
"Enough! Why are you here?"
Hanamaki opens his mouth to retort, but there's some words there he isn't sure he wants to come out yet. So he clamps it closed again, stands, and marches right out.
He doesn't go back to work because he already took the day off. Instead he goes to the arcade to blow off some steam by defeating teenagers at games he's been playing for longer than they've been alive.
Issei meets him there after work, stretching out his shoulders as he walks in like he knows Hanamaki is going to insist he overexert himself. The man’s not even in his mid-twenties and sometimes he acts like he has the joints of a senior citizen. It's ridiculously endearing to Hanamaki and he can't explain why.
"Shall we dance," Hanamaki asks immediately. Issei’s eyebrows move just slightly closer together.
"How about we start with air hockey and then we can negotiate on Dance Dance Revolution," he counter offers.
"Alright," Hanamaki conceded for now. He knows when to hold them and when to fold them. Right now he'll let Issei get comfy. Then he'll decimate those old joints in a dance off. He's channeling Kevin Bacon as they speak. Ready to convert a whole overly religious town to the beauty of terrible 80’s dance moves and Satan worship.
"How was your day off," Issei asks as the air turns on. Hanamaki grabs his striker before it floats away out of reach.
"Half-day," Hanamaki corrects.
"Treat yourself," Issei replies. With a flick of his wrist he knocks the puck across the table, against the side wall, and right into Hanamaki's goal. Hanamaki pouts slightly, looking up at his boyfriend who innocently pushes the small sombrero like striker back and forth in front of his own goal.
"Oikawa had an obsession in second year," he explains casually. "I barely made it out alive."
Hanamaki decides he's going to make sure he chooses a really elaborate song in DDR to make up for this betrayal. Even if it's sort of hot when he boyfriend is good at stuff.
Huh. Maybe he and Iwaizumi have the same sort of maladapted attractions when it comes to that. Hanamaki shakes his head to clear it of any thoughts other than conversing with his boyfriend and getting the puck into the goal across the way. He knocks it across, but Issei blocks it, sending it lazily back across the board. Hanamaki moves it slightly to the right before ricocheting it off the wall. It bounces back and forth horizontally until he snaps his own striker against it. The puck zooms straight towards Issei’s goal. The imagined crowd leans in to watch with bated breath. It’s a perfect shot!
Then Issei blocks it with an easy move. It doesn't even seem like he's breaking a sweat.
"Nice," Issei offers supportively.
"Don't patronize me," Hanamaki scoffs.
"What was the occasion for the half-day," Issei asks as they fall into a rally.
Hanamaki shrugs. "I spoke to the council about it."
"The fellowship?"
"No, the board of advisors. It's got Hanamaki, Makki, and Takahiro on it."
"Yeah?"
"Vigorous debate, but the motion passed 5-1."
"Who are the other three members?"
"Don't worry about them. They're tenure picks."
"I don't think that phrase means what you think it does."
The puck zips passed Hanamaki's defenses and the score board moves 2-0. Issei even smirks this time. "He's a ten, but he can't talk and hock at the same time."
"He's a fifteen," Hanamaki retorts. He's going to defeat Issei even if it has to be a mental game. Issei is weirdly adept at Hanamaki's mental game though, which shouldn't be so fluid since they've only been dating four months. "He's a ten, but he shortens hockey to hock."
"He's an eight. He's a ten, but he peels the whole banana and holds it unpeeled to eat it."
Hanamaki makes a face and the puck clunks against the goal. 3-0. "A two."
"Really," Issei says.
Hanamaki nods vigorously, leaning down so he's eye level with the table as he places the puck. He sticks his tongue out slightly in focus. He almost misses Issei’s eyes zeroing in on the metal protruding from his tongue. Luckily Hanamaki doesn't miss it because that's when he strikes- while the man is distracted by his blood going to areas less useful to air hockey.
Clunk! 3-1.
Hanamaki stands up, beaming at his own genius as Issei releases an exasperated breath through his nostrils. Like he can't believe he fell for such a ploy, but will likely fall for it again. Hanamaki explains his thinking, "He's an abomination to nature."
"If you can't handle me at what you assume to be my worst," Issei says, as if he peels bananas and wraps his bare hands around the fruit to eat it even though Hanamaki literally saw him eat one yesterday like a standard person. "Then you should prepare because that's not even close."
Hanamaki manages to block the next shot, but just barely. The puck returns to Issei perfectly positioned for a slap shot (or the air hockey equivalent). Issei is a heartless brute so he takes it. The puck bounces once in the middle of the table before zinging around Hanamaki's block for a 4-1 score.
Hanamaki’s not even really mad. He's sort of really into it, but he's not going to lose this badly so he sets up the puck, sticks out his tongue again. Issei narrows his eyes like its taking real concentration not to be taunted into another lost point. Well, Hanamaki supposes he'll bring out the big guns then.
"I like you," he says seriously. "I'll be growing on you like moss now."
Issei’s ears bloom pink, face open and expression somewhere between surprised, embarrassed, and fond. He recovers too quickly though because the puck doesn't clunk against his goal. Instead he smacks it back to Hanamaki and the scoreboard ends in a 5-1 game.
Humiliating.
"Okay, I'm ready to be punished," Issei says, nodding towards the flashing dance game behind them.
"Not in public, Issei," Hanamaki teases, turning to hurry into place. "I'm a man of privacy and virtue."
"You're invitation to the nunnery is in the mail," Issei assures him.
"As it should be," Hanamaki agrees. "Until then, let's dance our pants off!"
Because adulthood is a curse no one can avoid (even through bribery since Hanamaki has tried), it continues to haunt him the next day. This time in the form of Sakusa Kiyoomi, the owner of this particular Sejoh Tattoo & Piercing.
He approaches with his usual slightly styled black, wavy hair. His two moles on the right side of his forehead barely visible through the longer strand. He is taller than average with a lean build and he wears a mask over his face because he's a bit of a germaphobe. Which is great for their profession because Sejoh has got to be one of the most satirized tattoo parlors in all of Japan. He always shows up in a full track suit to cover the elaborate sleeves up his arms. Hanamaki and Atsumu once made a bet to see who could chart more tattoos. They turned up the heat, spilled coffee on their boss' pants, and even created an elaborate scenario where a child was lost and needed a jacket for hypothermia. None of it worked and honestly it's a miracle they kept their jobs. Hanamaki figures he has to officially admit defeat that Atsumu has probably seen a lot more of the tattoos than Hanamaki will ever see. Still, he thinks getting the boss to fall in love with you is sort of a cheap way to win a bet.
Said boss spots Hanamaki and walks over. Hanamaki tries to run through any bad behavior he's had recently. He's mostly been on time and he hasn't accidentally pierced someone's eyebrow when they wanted a ring through their nose instead. He's pretty sure he's been working at Sejoh the longest at this point, so he's got the years of bullshit to give him some buffer. Did he pull any pranks recently? Not at work, no. He's really been focused on orchestrating misery and mischief with his new friend and boyfriend.
Huh, Hanamaki didn't realize he was getting so attached to the two scoundrels. Hanamaki is saved from any further epiphanies when Sakusa gets to him. He's a man who gets right to the point, which Iwaizumi respects. Personally, Hanamaki would prefer a bit more conversational foreplay.
"I'm helping to open a new branch across town. I think you should take over this one."
If Hanamaki had been drinking water, he would have spit it out for a comically long time. Maybe directly into Sakusa's face for the slapstick quality of it all. Dehydrated King that he is, Hanamaki settles for a dumbfounded, "You can't be serious."
"Like the plague," Sakusa replies. Which is a common saying but from Sakusa it sound even more terminal.
"I don't think I'm upper-management material. I don't radiate day manager authority, you know? At best I'm a graveyard shift supervisor. Not even. The night custodian."
"I don't think I'm being clear," Sakusa replies. "You wouldn't be manager of any kind. You would be part owner. A stakeholder in the company and the sole proprietor of this store."
Hanamaki is so shocked by this poor decision making that he just stares opened mouthed at his boss. Sakusa adjusts his mask, looking disapprovingly at Hanamaki's theatrics. As if he's over-reacting. Hanamaki feels he's under reacting because he must be witnessing King Leer's decent to madness with this sort of nonsense.
"Sakusa," Hanamaki reasons. "There's no way you think-"
"I do," Sakusa says cutting him off. "I already put down your name. You can decide by next Friday. Really consider it too. These opportunities don't come around often."
Hanamaki can feel the noose of a necktie looming before him. Cubicle offices and business meetings. Graphs and charts. He might have to master excel. God, he hates excel! My father would be so excited by this, Hanamaki thinks vaguely and he doesn't even cringe at how he sounds like his next thought will be to threaten a someone with red hair and a hand-me-down robe. Sakusa turns away then because Atsumu arrives. Hanamaki doesn't even get to make fun of them for being a couple that squeezes hands in greeting when they see one another at work. As if the whole place doesn't know they're together. He's too busy contemplating where he went wrong to be seen as responsible enough to run a whole business.
This time Hanamaki doesn't go to Iwaizumi's apartment. Instead he dials Oikawa's number which Issei had given him for emergencies and because Hanamaki had won a staring contest from across the hallway. The setter picks up much like he answered the door. Hanamaki can't help but picture Mothra's unimpressed meows.
"Why are you calling me, Makki?"
"Because you're in crisis too and that makes you more appealing to talk to than someone who is sane and stable."
"Oh," Oikawa chirps. "I talked to Iwa-chan. I'm all better now."
"You're a liar."
"How dare you. You fell in love because of me and my lies."
That's sort of true, but Hanamaki won't be thrown off his path by something like a small truth coated in lies. He challenges, "What'd he say then?"
"He said ‘Makki is a heathen and he dyes his hair.’"
"The scoundrel," Hanamaki snarls, not at all believing the setter. First of all, he doesn't dye his hair. It's naturally this pinkish brown. Second of all, even if he did Iwaizumi wouldn't notice. Once Hanamaki dyed a patch blue and the man went a full two days before asking about it. "I'm coming over."
Oikawa is at his own apartment this time. He lets Hanamaki in and leads him to his room. His walls are the same off-white as Issei’s, but it's also plastered on one side with pictures and posters. A jumble of images as violently opposed to one another as some of color combinations on the floor surrounding them. There has to be at least three different candles burning in the room creating an intoxicating lavender, vanilla, tropical breeze sensation. Who knows what color his carpet is because it looks like there was an extremely dangerous and tragic closet eruption. There's barely room to step in the wreckage. Hanamaki’s sure the death toll is astronomical. The desk is cluttered as well as the bedside table. The bed is barely noticeable under what seems to be dirty clothes, though there is also a sequin shirt that looks far too small of Oikawa’s current build.
Hanamaki is pretty sure this is how Alice felt meeting the mad hatter for tea or maybe that caterpillar trying to peer pressure her into psychedelics. It's all so overwhelming that for a moment Hanamaki forgets his problems.
"What's are you doing," he asks. There’s a tone of desperation he didn’t expect to appear. Like maybe the three candles are really getting to him and his fight or flight instinct is attempting to take over.
"Cleaning my closet," Oikawa replies as he holds up a shirt. Coincidentally, it's a white short sleeved button up with block sketches on it. Closer inspection shows its Alice looking annoyed at the tea table with some sort of words from the original Lewis Carroll text. Serendipitous enough to make Hanamaki consider the phone calls and the found coins once again. Maybe Oikawa is like his guardian angel or emotional guide or something. That would be just awful.
Instead of asking if Oikawa is looking for a way to earn his horns (since he can't possibly be an angel looking for wings), Hanamaki asks, "Why?"
"Lunar New Year," Oikawa responds, tossing the collared shirt onto the floor in what might be an avalanche of clothes to keep. He holds up a pair of volleyball shorts that he must have owned since high school. He doesn't hesitate to throw those onto the bed.
Reject pile, Hanamaki surmises. His eyes linger again on the sequin top. Maybe he can sneak it out when Oikawa is distracted. He’s not sure he has a plan for it, but he strongly feels everyone needs a few sequin pieces to work with in any wardrobe and his current line of outfits are particularly void of sparkles.
"It's nowhere close to-" Hanamaki begins but Oikawa shifts, throwing his arms out at the mess they're both embroiled in.
“How am I meant to clean out my closet when I'm a bitch, a lover, a child, a mother, a sinner, and a saint? They all need outfits!”
“You're hideous,” Hanamaki tells him.
Oikawa lets a disbelieving huff of air from his nostrils, rolling his eyes like Hanamaki has just told him that Ptolemy was right- Earth is the center of the universe and also gravity only applies to apples. “Makki, I'm sitting here looking at you looking at me. Skin glowing. Hair perfectly fluffed. Outfit somehow impeccably chosen to be both comfortable and figure fitting. Why would you lie?”
Hanamaki narrows his eyes at the man. It’s only once he tunes out all the smells and sights of the room that he can really focus in on Oikawa. The idiot is right. He does look handsome in a nonchalant way. Not at all like someone who is surrounded by absolute chaos. How is his hair even that fluffy without obvious product?
“I meant on the inside,” Hanamaki informs him.
“Oh well.” Oikawa shrugs. “I'm okay with that. Iwa-chan still likes me.”
“That just reiterates that he's also unhinged. Maybe more so.”
“Good for him. I'm a trophy boyfriend.”
Hanamaki sort of feels like every time he talks to Oikawa all of his control goes out the window. Like Oikawa is able to slow down time and mess with his mind in ways he’s not use to. He doesn’t know how Issei made it as far as he has. Hanamaki tries to reclaim the flow. "So you just felt like Marie Kondo-ing the place?'
Oikawa sighs running a hand through his well fluffed hair. It doesn’t even mess it up. There has to be product or a portrait in Oikawa’s attic that gains a terrible blemish for every sin he commits. Hanamaki is convinced those are the only two logical options.
"Also Iwa-chan subtly hinted he might be interested in giving me a drawer whenever I feel comfortable coming over. I can't take all this stuff with me or he’ll think I'm crazy."
There's a lot to unpack there. "Why were you worried if he was happy or not? He wants to give you a drawer. Also how did he subtly hint at it?"
"Don't worry about the details of my telepathy," Oikawa hums tossing three pairs of tangled socks over his shoulder and onto the bed. Then he flops back onto a pile that seems to have grown without Oikawa touching it at all. Seriously this weird candle combo is doing something to Hanamaki’s perception of reality.
“It's not fair,” bemoans Oikawa. “Iwa-chan is always so put together and calm and I'm always a mess and it's not fair.”
“Iwa is not put together about you,” Hanamaki informs Oikawa. He uses his foot to nudge away a suspiciously fuzzy pile before sitting down on the small island of carpet available. “Like at all. Two weeks ago I saw him challenge a stranger to an arm wrestling match.”
“He does that all the time.”
“Right and you see how that's weird?”
“No,” Oikawa huffs and Hanamaki is almost convinced that maybe Oikawa doesn’t think that’s odd. This whole interaction is making Hanamaki feel like maybe Oikawa goes about his days and weeks and months like the muse of some surrealist painter. Clocks melting to his right and swans reflecting elephants to his left. Oikawa continues to justify. “He's a competitive show-off.”
Hanamaki will concede that point. “Correct. Around you. He's totally normal without you around.”
Oikawa hums like he’s not sure he believes Hanamaki. Rolling on his side to give Hanamaki a deeply skeptical look. Hanamaki sighs and braces himself to share a tidbit he will definitely deny saying later. “It is actually sort of cute that you make him lose his damn mind.”
Oikawa makes a high pitched noise that probably sent dogs barking down the block. It makes Hanamaki scrunch his own face up in regret.
"Thanks for listening, Makki," Oikawa says and his smile is oddly authentic. One he might give a really close friend. As if Hanamaki's listening has really helped calm his mind and nerves. It makes Hanamaki feel oddly protective of the setter. Like he might go to battle should the setter need backup. Oikawa must sense this emotional weakness because he shuffles through the clothes in front of him, eyes not meeting Hanamaki as he speaks, a tone too innocent to be believed. "You're turn to tell me about your problems."
Hanamaki's been bamboozled. Damn that setter and his scary analytical people skills. Still, Hanamaki feels like he owes Oikawa now that the setter has orchestrated this bonding moment between them. He shares a bit with Hanamaki and Hanamaki shares a bit with him. Magneto and Professor X playing an endless game of chess. He's sure this was Oikawa’s whole goal, but it's worked so he fills Oikawa in on his conversation with his father and Sakusa.
Oikawa doesn't sound as sympathetic and understanding as Hanamaki did. "Do you always create your own problems?"
That’s really rich coming from Oikawa fucking Tooru. Just to be difficult, Hanamaki replies, "I do. It's important to stay local. Buy organic. Smaller carbon footprint."
Oikawa doesn’t take the bait. "Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe having a stable job you like enough not to quit and a boyfriend you're low-key in love with is a good thing. I feel like its a good thing."
“I feel like if you have to say something is a good thing more than once, then it’s probably the opposite.”
“Listen to your sensei. I have also struggled.”
"Let's tone it down dude," Hanamaki says because this is the second time today Oikawa has used the L word when referring to Hanamaki and Issei and neither time sent Hanamaki into an overdrive of questions. If anything it settled the noise and made him feel nestled in the truth of the statement. Which can only mean one thing: Oikawa is right and Hanamaki hates that prospect even more than the idea that he might need to buy this tattoo parlor and propose to Issei immediately. Never one for graceful defeat, Hanamaki adds, "The whole multiverse doesn't revolve around you and your thoughts."
"Says who?"
"Says me because it revolves around me and it can't revolve around both of us or some weird stuff starts happening. I don't get it, but it does."
"Are you alluding to quantum mechanics and general relativity because-"
"Don't explain anything else. I didn't come here to learn."
They stare at each other for a moment and then Oikawa sighs like he's truly suffering because of Hanamaki, which is bold. Hanamaki could really make him suffer but he's a good person so he's choosing not to. That makes him a saint and Oikawa a lucky bastard. The lucky bastard in question stands and goes into the living room. When he returns he has a notebook and his glasses on (clearly for aesthetic because there is no way he removed his contacts so quickly).
"Tell me about your relationship with your father."
"No," Hanamaki replies, but he lays down on a pile of clothes like it’s a couch. It’s a bit too lumpy to be completely comfortable by it that's fine.
"Okay," Oikawa compromises. "Tell me about your fear of staying in one place."
"Also no."
"Okay what will you tell me about?"
"I'll tell you about this-"
Oikawa interrupts him. "I'll quit if that's a dick joke."
Hanamaki gives a stubborn harrumph and crosses his arms. "Fine. You know I was led to believe you don't like to address emotional issues head on. Something about an existential crisis table."
"That's with Matsun and Iwa-chan. You're a neutral party," Oikawa replies as if this is obvious. "And your boyfriend needs to stop revealing all my secrets to the commoners."
"I am not-"
Oikawa interrupts again. "Why don't you want to run the tattoo parlor?"
"I should have been better at performing with calculated mediocrity," Hanamaki laments. He throws an arm over his forehead for theatrical effect. It brings a hideous yellow and black sweater vest with it. It's so terrible it's almost fashionable and Hanamaki thinks he has the perfect parachute pants to match. Just a real eyesore to make it chic.
"So you like what you do." Oikawa snatches the vest away. He looks it over, then back at Hanamaki before tossing it into the keep pile. That cements the idea that Hanamaki's going to steal it along with that sequin piece. It was 50/50 before but now it's 100% happening. "Why's that bad?"
"You don't get it because you're a square."
"I'm going to square up with you and fight if you don't stop trying to derail my focus."
"Okay, okay. You’re just so condescending."
"Why are you surprised? I thought we just established that Matsun and Iwa-chan talk about me."
"Maybe you're just too much to describe."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It sounded like one."
It’s obvious they aren’t getting anywhere meaningful. Clearly Hanamaki sharing the problem at all was the milestone for their session today. Obviously Oikawa agrees because he declares, "Enough emotional mature discussion!”
"Same time next week?"
"I can't," Oikawa huffs. "I'm all booked next week."
"Monday: pining. Tuesday: aching. Wednesday: yearning."
"I'm ignoring you and your nonsense," Oikawa states, not ignoring either. "Let's recover with a movie!"
"Okay but not Predator vs. Alien."
"You'll watch what’s played for you," Oikawa scolds, but he sympathizes with Hanamaki's plight enough to play some obscure Korean body snatcher movie instead. Really kind of him. Hanamaki vows never to admit it to Oikawa’s face.
It's not until much later, when Hanamaki is back in his own apartment that he sits up with a lightbulb moment. He may not have performed with calculated mediocrity so far, but it's never too late to do worse at your job! Now is his time to shine, he decides. With a little bit of effort he can tarnish his own reputation and correct the equilibrium all this stability has thrown off kilter. Tomorrow he decides, his plan begins.