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Tobio sat against the headboard and stared down at Shoyo who slept snugly on his pillow, gently breathing. In this state, his defenses were lowered even as he moved responsively to the lift of Tobio’s hand. The hand brushed hair away from fluttering eyelids and proceeded to move back and forth. The hair was downy. Tobio combed locks and untangled small knots though there were little to be found. Had there been more, Shoyo would have awakened in an instant. He was tender headed; Tobio had learned from past experiences.
But they had grown past the stage of getting to know one another. They had entered a new phase in their relationship where everything was out in the open and nothing was left to surprise. Tobio was mostly frowning while Shoyo was pleasantly aroused most of the day. Tobio was a diligent, almost excessive worker while Shoyo took things at a more lenient pace. Tobio had perfect vision and Shoyo was colorblind.
It had taken a significant amount of time before Shoyo told him of the disability but by the time they arrived at Shoyo’s confession, Tobio had begun to suspect. Shoyo’s color schemes were all askew. He couldn’t tell the difference between black and red, brown from green, purple from pink.
Shoyo had hidden it well, mind you. Tobio hadn’t completely guessed what exactly was going on with him, but Shoyo was good about not mentioning colors and sidestepping his wild choice in clothes.
Moving in together had pushed Shoyo to reveal his carefully hidden secret. “I’m colorblind.” At that moment, it had hit Tobio in the face. His boyfriend had not been telling him the complete truth. Looking back up at Shoyo’s face, he could see why it was kept from him. Marred in eyes typically filled with excitement, there was hesitation. “It’s no big deal.”
It really was no big deal. Nothing too big for someone like Tobio to handle. Still, as he sifted through a sizable lump of untidy hair that morning, careful not to yank, he imagined why Shoyo had waited as long as he did and Tobio had waited as long as he did to respond in kind.
Today was the day he responded.
Shoyo woke slowly. First he shuffled closer to grab where Tobio’s neck should have been and when he was met with toned thighs, his nose crinkled up. Nonetheless, he shuffled his body over on top of the legs, snuggling into Tobio’s stomach.
Tobio’s hand faltered for a split second. He endlessly admired Shoyo’s lashes stuttering above round cheeks. The crawl and sprawl of Shoyo’s hands on the sheets was mesmerizing. Shoyo’s knees rose up to curl further into him and once he settled into a comfortable position, Tobio resumed caressing.
It didn't take long for Shoyo to shake himself awake, his eyes sleepily half-lidded then wide-eyed. Tobio watched his bright and alert eyes filled with focused attention as he continued to seamlessly stroke back hair. “Good morning.” Shoyo sighed in response. His voice teemed with pleasure as he stretched, limbs angled to not hit Tobio. He further gathered himself on Tobio's body.
“Good morning.”
Like the sun, Shoyo was a slow riser. Now was no different.
Tobio imagined that he had slept well. Shoyo had been directive last night and told him exactly how he wanted to be held. Back to chest, pelvic bones melted into one another, and Tobio’s face gathered in Shoyo’s hair. Shoyo liked to be as close as possible. Tobio submerged his hands in Shoyo's shirt, raised the fabric and glided his thumb against the smooth skin. Shoyo drifted off to sleep sooner and Tobio had listened to the rhythmic pattern of his breaths.
At ten in the morning, Shoyo was now meeting the light of the sun and hugging Tobio close to him even as Tobio tried to get up from the bed. Tobio had business to attend to for the day and Shoyo stared at him as he made his way to the doorway, hand poised to hold the frame. His eyes dazedly gazed at Tobio with determination.
“Are you making breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Tobio’s voice scratched his esophagus and he was thrown into a slight coughing fit before looking up at the sound of bed blankets rumbling. He was shaking his head before Shoyo had the chance to ask Can I help?
Shoyo, on the end of the bed, sat on his knees and assessed Tobio. “Tobio.” His name was adored on Shoyo’s lips, a whisper of sorts, and he brought his eyes to Shoyo’s. They were overflowing with curiosity and disdain. “Let me do something.”
“No.” He made it clear how much he disagreed with the idea and wanted Shoyo to relax.
Shoyo jumped down from the bed, making a resounding thump on the carpet. Shoyo stood before him, short and dressed in one of Tobio’s shirts like it belonged to him. Obviously it didn’t. The length of the shirt stopped abruptly mid-thigh and hung off his shoulder. The shirt engulfed him and he looked so delicate.
Despite this, he was able to stand before Tobio with arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
Tobio smiled at Shoyo’s try at intimidation. “What do you want for breakfast?” The sunlight in the room seemed to increase tenfold when the question was presented and Shoyo said what Tobio prayed he would.
“McDonald’s.”
Shoyo’s request was his excuse to get out of the house and go about his business. Pulling out of the drive-thru at McDonald’s with hot greasy food sitting in the driver’s seat meant he had one task crossed off the list and Tobio immediately moved to the next.
Tobio had to pick up Shoyo’s color blind correction glasses.
After Shoyo’s confession months ago, so soft and unforgettably filled with regret, Tobio had made it his goal to give Shoyo what he thought he deserved: Color. It had practically been yesterday when he found Shoyo standing in the mirror, staring at his hair with his nose scrunched up, lips twisted and he spat out that he hated his hair. Shoyo had told him that his colorblindness was no big deal but when he threatened to cut off his hair, Tobio saw how much it affected him.
“The color is...not nice.” Tobio couldn’t believe his ears. The tufts of orange were too beautiful, too vibrant, too colorful chopped away.
Tobio could have let Shoyo cut his hair off. He could have walked out and shaken away that ache he felt, that one that burrowed under his skin and said He doesn’t know how special he is. Tobio had to put an end to this.
“Do not pick up that razor.” Were those tears pricking Shoyo’s eyes or was Tobio imagining it? He cupped his cheeks in his hands and held Shoyo’s face to his and their breaths mingled. “I love the color of your hair.”
“Tobio.” Shoyo sounded out of breath and Tobio could feel the heaving of his tiny chest against his own. “Do you think I need to get this fixed?”
Tobio knew exactly what Shoyo was referencing to and no words entered Tobio’s mind at the time. Nothing came to mind. A no or yes would have adequately sufficed and, yet he choose, after a long moment and eyebrows knitted thickly on his forehead, to say, “Do you want to fix it?”
“That’s not an answer.”
He was right, but Tobio didn’t plan to give him one. Instead, he removed his hands, grabbed the razor and denied him an answer for three weeks.
He was sure Shoyo would have forgotten by now. Anyone in that circumstance would have.
Stepping back into the apartment, he saw Shoyo at the kitchen table. He was still in Tobio’s shirt and boxer briefs and Tobio grimaced, both pleased and displeased. That shirt needs cleaning. “Here is breakfast.” Shoyo dug in immediately, grabbing hash browns and biscuits first.
Tobio cleared his throat and sat across from Shoyo and was naturally absorbed in his boyfriend. His chin rested in the curve of his hand as he watched Shoyo smoothly spread butter and simultaneously sip on his juice. Shoyo’s eyes twinkled and Tobio couldn’t help but smile.
“I have something for you.”
Before coming into the apartment, Tobio had made a detour to the mailbox and gotten a special delivery. He presented it on the table for Shoyo to see. “This is for you.” It was clearly printed on the box, Shoyo Hinata.
Mouth full of bread, Shoyo tilted his head and asked, “Tobio?” as if to say What is it?
“Open it.”
Open it he did. Tobio felt slightly disappointed that he hadn’t thought to grab a camera to capture Shoyo’s initial reaction. His eyes were widened and his fingers shook when he saw the glasses sitting neatly in the box. “Tobio?” Tobio was startled by how small his voice sounded. The unsteady way his hands clenched and unclenched above the box made Tobio itch.
“Put them on.”
Shoyo was careful which was visible. He knew how expensive these glasses were. He knew how long Tobio had to save and how much he took out of his savings and how often Tobio worked overtime. Kageyama Tobio slaved for these glasses and Shoyo treated them with reverence and frailty.
They fit nicely on Shoyo’s face. “Do you like them?”
He didn’t answer. Shoyo was too busy sitting as still as humanly possible, flitting his eyes around the room. He drew his knees up to his body and blinked languidly. He couldn’t make coherent words and ended up stuttering out indecipherable sounds and left his throat to move over obscure noises.
Tobio got up and stood next to Shoyo. He leaned down to his ear. “What do you see?”
“Is that what apples look like?” His voice, hardly a whisper and taken by wonder, shuddered. “What color is that?”
“Red.”
Shoyo’s fingers clutched his bicep, “Tobio.” It became clear to Tobio he had never seen this color but mere impressions, prowling shadows. “I,” he began but choked and wavered. “What color is that?”
He was pointing at the living room ottoman. It was possibly one of his favorite places to burrow up and fall asleep in a ball. Tobio found him dozens of times shivering, crowded by homework assignments and volleyball magazines.
“It’s purple.”
Shoyo had not gotten up from his curled up position, but he did turn to gawk up at Tobio, glasses sliding down his nose and all. Tears were welling up in his eyes and Tobio couldn’t look away from the teardrops slipping down dainty pink cheeks and, in fact, he wasn’t willing to look away. He flitted a thumb over the dewy skin. More followed at that moment.
“I want to get up.” Tobio moved out of his way. He was shaky on his feet, but he was moving nevertheless, staring at choice objects and asking what color it was or letting his tears speak for themselves. Tobio. Tobio. It was a mantra Tobio was growing to appreciate. The one person who always had words was out of them and could only think of his name to say.
A warm feeling in Tobio’s chest had grown reminiscent of apprehension when Shoyo traveled to the bathroom. He wholly inspected the room but, to Tobio’s surprise, he avoided the mirror. Grabbing a hold of Shoyo’s chin, he directed him to look and see.
A gasp left Shoyo's lips, loud and full of force. Tobio let his hand slip and watched as Shoyo trembled in place, overwhelmed. “Is that-” His body was racked by emotion and he noticeably swallowed it down so he could finish his sentence. “Is that my hair, Tobio?”
Tobio nodded and Shoyo replicated his motions. He was truly speechless and yet his mouth fell open as he grabbed a handful to better inspect. “What color is this?”
“Orange.”
Shoyo let his voice crack when he said, “It’s beautiful.”
“I know.” He watched Shoyo in the mirror, taking it in at different angles before he said lightly, “And you wanted to cut it off.”
“I-I…” No words again. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Tobio placed his head on top of Shoyo’s and hugged him from behind and answered the question thrown at him so many days ago. “I don’t think there is anything to fix.”
For a moment, no one moved and they gazed intensely at one another, taking in exactly what Tobio had said before Shoyo turned and buried himself in Tobio. Finally, Shoyo had gathered up his words to say, “I love you, you know.”
Like all the days previous to this and the days to come, Tobio had fallen more in love.
“I love you too.”