Archive of Our Own

“Come on, Tooru!” Hajime urged as he hurried up the side of a small, unnamed mountain, his sneaker-clad feet slipping and scrambling in the dirt with every step.

At ten years old, he was already well-versed in the adventures of climbing, mostly from all the time he’d spent in the small mountain village where his grandparents still lived. There wasn’t much around to keep such a young boy occupied. Not in the same way that his home in Miyagi, with all of his friends and his sports clubs and his games, was able to.

And so, while the grown ups talked, Hajime climbed. He hiked all over the mountains, discovering them bit by bit, and becoming addicted to the dirt beneath his feet, the challenge of the climb, and the exhilaration of finally reaching the top. And when he returned home at the end of the summer, it was always with a small collection of rocks and a mouthful of stories for his best friend to envy. Tooru was always jealous of Hajime’s adventures.

But this year was different. This year, Hajime had been allowed to bring his best friend along. And Tooru had demanded almost immediately to be shown the mountains from Hajime’s stories. (Though it was hard to actually believe that with how the other boy kept whining and dragging his feet.)

“Iwa-chan, slow down. I can’t keep up!” Tooru complained. He was still several feet below Hajime, whom had no issue in scaling the mountain’s slope, and was apparently struggling to pull himself up a particularly steep face.

Hajime reached down and grabbed one of Tooru’s hands, hoisting his friend up the last bit of the face with a loud grunt. Tooru scrambled up, and then promptly plopped himself down on the ground at Hajime’s feet. Panting heavily, Tooru pulled at the neckline of his cool, alien shirt (the one his mom had bought him after throwing what Hajime considered his best friend’s worst temper tantrum in years, just to shut Tooru up) and wrinkled his nose in obvious disgust at the sweat clinging to his skin. “Why are we doing this anyways? Can’t we just go play volleyball?”

Hajime rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one that wanted to climb up here in the first place, dumbass,” he answered, shoving his friend’s shoulder. Tooru gasped.

“That’s a bad word! You can’t call me that!” Tooru exclaimed, affronted. The expression he wore was almost identical to what Hajime imagined his other, more normal friends would look like if he ever told them he had just murdered someone. It was actually kind of amusing, if Hajime was being honest. At least for a moment.

Well, more like half a second. Then Tooru’s nagging just became annoying. There were several more comments about Hajime’s brutal use of language and how Tooru “gave Iwa-chan a cute nickname, why can’t Iwa-chan do the same, it just isn’t fair!” before Hajime finally just turned around and continued climbing, not caring in the slightest whether Tooru would follow him or not.

Unsurprisingly, Tooru did follow, along with his loud, broken cry of, “Iwa-chaaaaaaaaaaaaan.”

Hajime just sighed.

“Jeez. You’re such a crybaby.”

He let go of the rock he was hanging onto and let his feet slide down the mountain’s slope to where Tooru was still sitting, sniffling pathetically. His best friend looked up at him with a watery glare.

“I am not!” Tooru argued. The smallest hint of tears glinted at the corner of his eyes, which Tooru rubbed at furiously until Hajime, whose long friendship with Tooru meant he was used to the other boy’s theatrics by now, took his hands and pulled him to his feet.

“You were about to cry right now,” Hajime insisted. He gave Tooru a small push up the incline, prompting his friend to keep climbing, and added, “Just admit it. You’re a crybaby.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“You are too!”

Tooru stomped his foot. “I’m not a crybaby!”

“Then finish climbing the mountain,” Hajime dared, which made Tooru glare at him with renewed energy. His entire, almost-ten-years-old body was quivering with determination, the same way it would whenever Tooru couldn’t quite get something right during volleyball practice and Hajime would have to bump balls to him over and over again until Tooru figured it out.

“Fine! I will!”

The boy huffed and stomped his way up the mountain, driven on by sheer force of will. Behind him, Hajime grinned.

Tooru never could turn down a challenge.

The two were quiet for the remainder of the climb, save for their panting and random warnings about loose rocks or slippery ground here and there. Hajime would have called it a miracle if he didn’t already know how Tooru got in situations like this— quiet, focused, intense. With Tooru’s newfound determination, the two of them were able to reach the top in half the time that Hajime had expected. And all of the whining, all of the teasing and dragging of feet, was made worth it by the sudden excitement and triumph that washed over Tooru’s face at the summit’s view.

“Wow,” he breathed. Hajime looked over at him and found that his eyes were practically sparkling, a radiant beam stretched across his face. Tooru ran across the top to stand at the other edge and exclaimed, “Iwa-chan, I can see the house from here!”

“I told you.”

Calmly, Hajime walked over to stand by his friend’s side and looked out over the valley spread out below them, where his grandparents’ small village sat cradled just below the mountain he and Tooru had just climbed. On either side of the valley were other mountains; taller than the one he was on, and more dangerous. A small voice inside of Hajime cried out in glee at the thought of one day scaling them, and then conquering even taller mountains, and even taller ones. Higher and higher, until he had stood at the highest pinnacle of the world with his best friend at his side.

His best friend, whom had suddenly let out a little whine and had turned around to run off to god knew where.

Hajime watched him jog to the left, towards a small collection of resilient trees growing right near the edge. “What are you doing?”

“I want to go higher,” his friend answered as he grasped a low-hanging branch of one of the trees. Trees that were definitely not sturdy enough for Tooru to be climbing on. Not this high above actual, level ground.

“Tooru, that’s dangerous,” Hajime admonished. He watched anxiously as Tooru pulled himself up on one branch, and then another. “You’re gonna get hurt.”

“No I won’t.”

He climbed easily up the tree, where he perched himself amongst the branches like a gigantic, careless bird. When he looked back down at Hajime, it was with an expression of expectation. As if wondering why Hajime hadn’t already joined him up in that small tree.

The boy in question crossed his arms. “No.”

Hajime wasn’t going up there. Tooru could risk his life all he wanted, but Hajime was certainly not going to join him in that, no matter how much Tooru whined. And boy, could he whine.

“Come on, Iwa-chan!” Tooru called in exasperation, which then quickly melted into some sort of exaggerated realization. Like he had stumbled across some sort of terrible secret that he was about to use against Hajime. “Oh! Is Iwa-chan scared?”

He whispered the last word like it was something dirty. Never mind the fact that he was still perched up high in a tree that would certainly bend under their combined weights, if not from Tooru’s body weight alone.

But it was all for show. And far be it for Hajime to actually admit to anything Tooru accused him of, even if there was a grain of truth in his words. So instead, Hajime simply retorted, “I ain’t scared of nothing. I just don’t feel like climbing some dumb tree,” which made Tooru snicker.

“You’re totally scared.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Prove it then.”

And there they were. Those three words. Those three words that got Hajime into nearly as much trouble as they got Tooru into. Because, apparently, Hajime never could turn down a challenge either.

“All right, I will,” he declared, crossing his arms resolutely. “I’ll climb all the tallest mountains in the world. And you’d better be right there with me.”

Tooru gave a tiny, imperious sniff.

“Of course I will be! Just who do you think I am?”

“A dumbass.”

“Mean!”

When Hajime woke, it was to the the shrill beeping of his wrist watch’s alarm and the deep darkness of early morning.

He took a moment, still hazy from sleep, to reorient himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Slowly, his gaze adjusted to the darkness around him, until he finally recognized the tent-like material above him and remembered where he was; no longer on that small, unnamed mountain near his grandparents’ village, but around 6,000 meters above sea-level, and in position for a summit push on Huascarán Sur. Hajime let out a tired groan.

It was somewhere around five in the morning, if his watch was to be believed, and high time for him to get up and get started on the day. For once, however, Hajime was reluctant to leave his cocoon of warmth and continue climbing. He was still too caught in the memory he had been dreaming of.

It wasn’t often that Hajime revisited that particular memory, (fond as he was of it), but he was never surprised when he found it creeping back in from the corners of his mind, triggered by the now-familiar excitement of mountaineering.

Hotaka, Fuji, Imja Tse, Mera Peak; Hajime had scaled them all, all before the age of twenty-three. He’d climbed his way from the tiny mountains of his grandparents’ village, to the tallest peak in Japan, to even taller peaks across the Asian continent, all the way to the soon-to-be-conquered peak of Huascarán— with even taller peaks yet to be reached. And with his success here, he knew those taller peaks wouldn’t just be a dream any longer. He’d have enough experience under his belt after this climb to start trekking his way across the Himalayas, and eventually up to the summit of Everest. Maybe even to the summit of K2, if he was really daring.

And, of course, Hajime wouldn’t be there alone.

There was a rustle to his left, and Hajime rolled his head over to look at the sleeping figure beside him. His climbing partner, his best friend— the only person in the world that Hajime would trust his life to.

Tooru had kept his word from that first mountain of theirs and had been with Hajime through every climb, supporting him and watching his back, just as he did on the court. And like with volleyball, Tooru approached each climb with a sort of single-minded focus that he saved for every rival that stood in his way. Like every mountain was an opponent he needed to defeat, and every summit a championship win.

Just the day before, Tooru had led their climb over the glacier to the col at a pace that left Hajime gasping for breath. Tooru had barely seemed winded.

Now, Tooru was peaceful, still lost in the oblivion of sleep. As Hajime’s eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the garish orange that was his best friend’s sleeping bag, along with Tooru’s curled up figure within it. Only Tooru’s face was actually visible, and even that was covered halfway by the sleeping bag so that only the top of Tooru’s nose and his shut eyes could be seen between his bag and his balaclava. But Hajime could still tell that his friend’s face was completely relaxed— a rare occurrence that almost made Hajime hesitate in waking him up.

Almost.

“Hey. Oikawa,” he murmured, reaching over to shake his friend’s shoulder. The sudden influx of cold air made him shiver and pull his hand back into the warm safety of his own sleeping bag so he could pull his gloves on. Beside him, Tooru groaned, but otherwise didn’t stir. Hajime tried again. “Come on, Shittykawa. Get up.”

This time, the groan was louder, and it was punctuated by Tooru rolling himself to the side so his back was facing Hajime while he buried his face in the down stuffing of his sleeping bag.

Well fine. If Tooru was going to be difficult, then so be it.

Hajime reached down towards the bottom of his own sleeping bag, where he always stored his extra socks, gloves, and climbing jacket for the night, and started to get ready for the day. He pulled on the jacket over the various layers of microfleece he was already wearing, and then, after replacing his socks with a new, dry pair and lacing his boots up tight, he forced himself out of his sleeping bag and into the frigid air of the mountain morning.

It was even colder than Hajime had thought, despite all of the layers he wore. Inhaling sharply, he flipped on the small headlamp at his side and made quick work of his packing, leaving only the gas canisters for the stove out in order to brew a breakfast stew for both him and Tooru. Then, as the stove warmed up and melted the snow that Hajime had scooped up, all that was left for Hajime to do was to get his best friend up and moving. Which was obviously a task easier said than done.

Thankfully, Hajime was well versed in the ways of Oikawa Tooru by now, and he’d had enough similar experiences with his best friend on previous trips to know exactly what he needed to do. Which was, of course, to plop himself down on top of Tooru and refuse to move until his best friend agreed to wake up.

There was a little ‘oof’ from Tooru as Hajime sat on top of him, and then a loud groan.

“Hajimeeeee,” Tooru whined. He wriggled beneath Hajime’s weight, shifting until Hajime was settled on his broad back instead of his chest, and nuzzled his face even further into the material of his sleeping bag. “Too early. Bit more. Need sleep.”

Behind the collar of his jacket, Hajime grinned down at his best friend, unsurprised. It was such typical Tooru.

“You need to wake up before I force you to,” he answered gruffly, and then flicked his friend’s cheek, just for good measure. Tooru’s nose scrunched up and he shifted around restlessly, as if trying to dislodge Hajime from where he had settled. A useless attempt, really, and they both knew it.

“Nope. Beauty sleep. Can’t become like you.”

“Oi,” Hajime retorted with a pinch to Tooru’s balaclava-covered ear. “Now you’ve just asked for it.” Receiving no response from his friend, Hajime moved from where he’d been sitting to instead kneel beside Tooru’s curled up form, his hands holding the sides of the orange sleeping bag purposefully. A wicked grin tugged at his lips, and he leaned towards Tooru for a moment to murmur, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” before pulling the zipper all the way down to expose his friend’s back to the cold air.

Tooru finally woke with a loud screech.

“Iwa-chan!”

Hajime snickered. “Rise and shine, princess,” he practically sang, his grin growing ever wider as Tooru attempted to bundle himself up in his sleeping bag and glare at Hajime at the same time. The overall effect resembled something like a grumpy, orange marshmallow, and Hajime just couldn’t take it seriously. “There’s hot water on the stove, and a nice, long climb waiting for us as soon as Your Highness is ready to go.”

Tooru groaned.

“You suck,” he groused. “You really, really do. I hate you so much.” His voice was still scratchy from sleep, and faint in a way that meant his consciousness was still teetering between sleep and awareness. His eyes were still half-closed, fluttering, and his head kept lolling forward as Tooru continued to grumble. (Cute, even if Hajime would never admit it out loud).

But even as he complained, Hajime noticed Tooru reach out to fish his thermal mug and dehydrated food pack from his backpack, and knew he could leave Tooru to finish getting ready in peace.

The sun was steadily climbing over the horizon by the time Hajime and Tooru were packed and ready to set out.

Or, well, mostly ready.

Hajime was ready.

Impatient, he glowered over at his best friend, who was crouched in the snow with all of his headgear pushed away and was attempting to somehow flatten the wild mess of his hair by running handfuls of snow over the strands. It was a bizarre routine that Tooru always went through on their summit day while Hajime was forced to wait off to the side, stamping his feet in the snow in an effort to keep warm, even though the snow did absolutely nothing to tame the wild bed head that Tooru always sported around this time of their climbs. It never did.

“There’s no one else climbing this mountain. Who are you even trying to impress?” he grumbled.

In all honesty, Tooru looked completely fine to him. Better than fine, even, because for once Oikawa’s appearance was entirely natural. There was no makeup, no hair products, no fake smiles for crowds of adoring fans: just Tooru in his turquoise coat, with unruly, snow-covered hair and two-day stubble all across his strong jaw. Plain and simple and beautiful.

Hajime cleared his throat sheepishly at the turn his thoughts had taken, feeling a flush start to crawl up his neck.

Tooru gave him an unreadable look.

“Just because I’ve been climbing a mountain for two days doesn’t mean I have to look the part, Iwa-chan,” Tooru finally said, brushing the snow from his gloves. His hair was next, brushing off the lingering flakes as he mumbled, just loud enough for Hajime to hear, “Not that Iwa-chan would know anything about it because he’s such a brute.”

His words were cut off as Hajime shoved a handful of snow in his best friend’s face.

Caught off guard, Tooru spluttered and fell back in the snow, long limbs waving comically in search of something to grasp. He hit the white powder with a soft thump and undignified squawk. And Hajime, being witness to this rare moment of embarrassment, couldn’t help but laugh as he gazed down at Tooru, now sprawled spread-eagle on the ground and covered in a fresh layer of snow.

“Serves you right, Shittykawa,” Hajime choked out. He wrapped his arms around his ribs as he continued to laugh, barely even noticing the deep pout that appeared on Tooru’s face.

“So rude!” Tooru snapped, cheeks puffed out like some sort of snow covered hamster. Endearingly ridiculous. Letting out a little huff, he shook the snow from his head and tried to stand up, only to fall right back on his face, his crampons having gotten caught in some ice. At this, Hajime laughed even harder. Tooru pushed himself up and whined, “Iwa-chaaaaaaan.”

Hajime shook his head, laughter dying away into a broad grin. “You’re such a wreck,” he said as he made his way to Tooru. The snow crunched satisfyingly under his crampons with every step. Leaning down, he gently brushed the lingering flakes from Tooru’s hair and shoulders. “I don’t even know why I invite you on these trips.”

“As if you have anyone else to invite,” Tooru retorted with a smug grin.

Hajime roughly pulled Tooru’s balaclava into place and then cuffed the back of Tooru’s head, eliciting a tiny yelp from the other male. But he didn’t argue with what Tooru said.

It was true in a way, what Tooru said. Hajime wasn’t friendless by any sense, but there wasn’t anyone else that Hajime would want to bring along with him. First, because no one else he knew was as interested or as skilled in climbing mountains as Tooru was. But also because no one could compare to the affinity of trust between himself and Tooru.

No one else knew him quite like Tooru did. And Hajime wouldn’t dare to trust his life into the hands of anyone else. He didn’t want to even consider it.

Quietly, he pulled Tooru to his feet and steadied him with gentle hands, which made Tooru chuckle.

“Iwa-chan, are you my mom?” he asked. That earned him another cuff to the back of his head.

“Shut up, idiot.”

“So brutal.”

Hajime glowered at his friend, who simply bloomed under the attention as he donned his helmet and pulled his backpack on.

Scoffing, Hajime turned away to adjust his own pack and check his own equipment. It was about time to get going. Hajime was already anticipating the brutal climb, the feeling of ice and snow beneath his limbs, the triumph of reaching the peak. Excitement thrummed through his veins at the very thought of it. But there was something off.

Tooru was too quiet behind him.

Usually, summit day left Tooru jittery and impatient, but today he seemed calm. Almost silent. Like he had disappeared from the mountain altogether.

It was odd.

There was a soft crunch of Tooru shifting his weight. Hajime glanced over his shoulder to find Tooru standing with his back to Hajime, looking towards the peak of the south face; their goal. There was an unsettling, foreboding aura about him. One that Hajime hadn’t encountered since the night before their final high school match. And that set him on edge.

“Hey, Hajime,” Tooru started, voice soft and serious, “do we really need to summit? Haven’t we come far enough?”

Hajime frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

This wasn’t like Tooru.

Tooru was the reckless one of the two of them. He was the adventurer. He took the risks that Hajime’s more cautious mind shied away from, until Hajime was forced to intervene before the idiot managed to break his neck. So this anxiety of Tooru’s, this quiet fear, rankled something deep inside of Hajime.

“I’m fine. I just… I have this feeling about today,” Tooru murmured. There was a heavy pause between them, and then Tooru shook his head. He glanced back at Hajime with a smile pulled tight across his face. “Nevermind. It’s nothing. Forget what I said.”

“Tooru-”

“We should get going. Long trek ahead of us, right?” Tooru asked before Hajime could raise any objections. Not that Tooru would have listened anyways.

Despite whatever foreboding Tooru seemed to feel, his mind had been made up. Hajime could see it in the stubborn set of his wide shoulders and the grim flatness of his forced smile. In the brief pause, he had become determined to see this through, and nothing Hajime said would talk him out of it.

The only thing Hajime could do was stick by Tooru’s side and make sure nothing bad happened. Just as he usually did.

At least they were near the summit, Hajime reasoned. As long as they made it up there without issue, then all would be well.

He snagged the bottom of Tooru’s jacket as the taller male brushed past him, strong grip keeping Tooru from going any further as Hajime declared, “I’ll take lead for a while,” and stepped into the path in front of Tooru, where he could cut safe passage through the ice and snow.

Just a bit more, and all would be well.

If Hajime thought about it, every peak he had ever climbed was essentially the same.

There was a familiarity in the climb, in the crunch of snow and bite of frigid wind that came with every summit, and it was relaxing to fall back into the sensation as he scaled up the south face. He focused on each step, finding his rhythm, feeling the sweat of exertion form under his three layers of clothing, and reveling in the feeling of life pumping through him.

Tooru, following behind, also seemed to unwind as they climbed higher. The tight smile he had shown before the summit push had softened into something more genuine, full of an ecstasy that Hajime rarely saw away from the mountains and volleyball courts. By the time they had reached the halfway point of their summit push, he had even started cracking jokes again, mostly at Hajime’s expense.

But Hajime didn’t mind. It was enough that his best friend seemed to be in good spirits again, instead of the dark aura he’d previously been carrying. It was as if that moment by the campsite had never happened, and Hajime started to wonder whether there was even anything to worry about in the first place.

And then there was that one other thing that the previous summits had shared as well. The thing that made Hajime stop just feet from the peak while Tooru rushed on ahead.

His best friend reached the top with a loud whoop and tore off his helmet, goggles, and balaclava. Then, like a child, Tooru threw his arms out and spun in a little circle, pure laughter falling freely from his lips. His entire being was practically glowing from exhilaration, and when he finally came to a stop, cheeks flushed and hair ruffled in the wind, he beamed back at Hajime so brightly that Hajime nearly felt his own heart stop.

Beautiful, Hajime thought. (And even his own thoughts sounded breathless.)

He sucked in a sharp breath when Tooru looked to the side, sunlight illuminating the angles of Tooru’s face, from sharp jawline to strong chin to his elegant, straight nose. His hair shone brown and red and gold, breathtaking even in its sweaty disarray. Under the sunlight, his wide eyes sparkled as he surveyed the mountain range all around them.

This was the Tooru that Hajime preferred to see, all childish excitement and triumphant smiles, without any ulterior motives. This was the Tooru that Hajime would do anything to keep around. And Hajime was under no illusion as to why that was.

He knew, better than anyone— better than even Tooru himself— that Tooru always looked his best whenever he stood at the top of the world. And Hajime was deeply, terribly, irrevocably in love with him.

“Are you just going to stand there all day, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asked, warm with amusement. He looked back at Hajime with a smirk. “I know I’m gorgeous, but staring at me isn’t going to help you reach the summit.”

“I’m technically already on the summit, dumbass,” he retorted without missing a beat. His voice was steady and apathetic, a mask perfected from years of practice. Silently, he thanked god for the wind nipping at his cheeks, which made it impossible for Tooru to distinguish his embarrassed flush from the red patches of cold-bitten skin on his face. “Was just waiting to see if you’d end up falling off the mountain this time. That spinning thing of yours is ridiculous.”

“It’s called ‘enjoying the moment,’ Iwa-chan.”

Hajime snorted, but trekked over to join his friend at the top of the mountain anyways.

Tooru grinned at him and turned to gaze over the scenery once more. He was quiet, as he usually was whenever they summited, and completely serene in the face of the magnificence all around them. Hajime joined him in his silent awe.

Off in the distance, he could see the snow-capped peaks of the Cordillera Blanca; some which he had climbed, though many he had not. He could pick out the tips of Huandoy Este, Alpamayo, and Pucajirca from the line, and he marveled at how small they now seemed in comparison to Huascarán, though they had once appeared to him as giants not too long ago. Clouds rolled lazily around the summits and through the valleys in a sea of white, with the peaks all poking through in a long line of choppy, rocky waves. All around, the mountains continued for as far as the eye could see, stretching on into the horizon, as if the range simply continued round the globe to rejoin with the mountain under his very feet.

Hajime took in a deep breath.

He felt so small, surrounded by so many giants. These peaks were ancient. They had seen things, they knew things, far more than Hajime ever expected to learn. Compared to them, Hajime and Tooru were completely insignificant. Their presence here was only a tiny blip in the centuries of experiences this mountain had, and it would remain that way for the rest of eternity.

But Hajime knew he’d remember this summit for as long as he lived.

He’d remember the sun beaming down on him from the clear blue sky above, and the white peaks stretching towards him from down below. And he’d remember the warmth and security of the man standing at his side, always just a breath away, sharing in this moment with him.

“Looks like a storm’s coming,” Tooru whispered beside him, as if afraid to break the peaceful trance that the summit had cast over them.

Hajime looked in the direction his friend was facing and frowned. Clouds of grey were swirling up in the east, crawling along the line of mountains towards where he and Tooru stood. A snowstorm, by the looks of it. And only an hour or two away.

Anxiety fluttered deep within his stomach.

“We should head back,” Hajime said.

Tooru simply nodded in agreement.

The storm hit them before they could make it back to the safety of the campsite.

Hajime struggled to see through the barrage of wind and ice in his face to Tooru, who was cutting a path back down the summit for them. The teal of Tooru’s jacket was all that Hajime could distinguish within the white out of the storm. Everything else was lost. All of the surrounding mountains, the valley below, the path they had taken up to the summit earlier— all lost in the clouds, even with his headlamp turned on at full power. Hajime wasn’t even sure if they were headed in the right direction anymore; only that they needed to get down.

The wind howled violently all around him, growing colder and colder as the storm grew stronger. He stumbled a bit from the wind’s force, and the tug on the connecting rope from his fumble was enough to make Tooru pause and turn back to him. Hajime couldn’t even make out his face. Just the black of his goggles and the teal edge of his jacket pulled snug around his head.

“I’m fine!” Hajime yelled. His voice barely seemed to go anywhere, carried away by the wind. He threw in a thumbs up for Tooru’s sake as he added, “Keep going!”

Tooru seemed to stare at him a moment longer. Then he gave a thumbs up in return and returned to breaking his path, slow and careful.

Hajime followed unhappily behind.

He hated fighting through snowstorms. The low visibility always set him on edge, and the force it took to push through the wind and snow always stole his energy right from him. He wished they could stop and bivvy in for the night. At that point, a snow cave would have been a dream come true. But Hajime knew that, if they were where they were supposed to be, there was no ground safe enough to bunker down on. The path was too riddled by crevasses, and they were too near the avalanche zone. Or so Hajime guessed.

They could only continue on until they were sure they were back on the glacier’s edge, where they had camped the night before.

He hunched in on himself and pushed onward, keeping his eyes trained on the teal blob that was Tooru’s back. The wind blew snow all around him and into his path, forcing him to rebreak the route Tooru had already worked through. It was slow, grueling work. His muscles strained against the press of snow, step after achingly slow step, until all he wanted to do was just collapse on the ground and never get back up.

He was so tired. And the storm only seemed to be getting worse.

Ahead of him, the blue blob that was Tooru dipped suddenly to the side, and Hajime’s heart jumped. The storm was too dense for him to make out what had happened. A stumble? A crevasse? Hajime had no way of knowing, and so he held his breath until he saw the figure straighten up again and continue moving as if nothing had happened. Only then did he let himself exhale and relax.

Too soon.

Only a few steps forward, Tooru’s figure dipped again. There was a yell, faint in the wind, and then Tooru disappeared.

Hajime panicked. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened, where his friend had gone. And then he was being swept off his feet and pulled rapidly down the slope of the mountain, dragged along by the weight at the end of the connecting rope.

He slid down the mountain, over snow and sharp ice, at an alarming speed. Instinctively, his hand swung one of his ice picks against the ground, searching for something, anything, that could stop his momentum. It only scraped against the fine powder of fresh snow, too flimsy to offer him any help. The slope became steeper, and as he hurtled down he noted a wall of ice growing larger and larger, and then the black, gaping abyss of a crevasse right at its foot.

Hajime flipped onto his stomach. His ice pick continued to scrape through the snow without much luck. Keeping it in place, he then swung his second ice pick down with all his might, trying this time to find purchase. It scrapped against ice but didn’t catch. He lifted the pick again. The abyss was right at his feet, toes sliding over the edge, as he swung the pick back down. This time, it caught, and it took everything Hajime had to keep a hold on it as his body swung over the edge and then stopped completely. He had caught himself just in time.

He could feel the weight swinging at the other end of the rope that meant he had caught Tooru as well. Though whether Tooru was still alive or not was another matter entirely.

Almost fearfully, he glanced down, relief exploding in his chest when he saw the small, white puffs of air that meant his best friend was still alive and breathing.

With that assurance, Hajime refocused on the two ice picks that had kept the two of them from falling to almost certain death. They were lodged securely in the ice above, to Hajime’s relief. However, Hajime knew his own arms wouldn’t be able to hold the weight of both himself and Tooru for much longer. He needed to get into a more stable position if either of them had any hope for survival.

But what could he do? The wall of ice that was in front of him curved too far away for Hajime to be able to dig his crampons in. And the other side of the crevasse wasn’t much better, even if he had had a way to get over there. He looked down for a second. Tooru had freed his face from his goggles and balaclava and was staring right back at him with wide eyes. He wondered briefly if Tooru might be able to swing towards the wall and then climb his way up. But then, glancing back at the ice picks in his hands, he wondered if he could even support Tooru’s weight if they followed through with that idea.

No. That would never work. The ice was too far away even for Tooru. They needed another plan.

“Hajime,” Tooru called, his voice small and tremulous amidst the icy walls. Glancing carefully over his shoulder, Hajime could just barely see Tooru hanging on the rope below him, a look of pure terror across his face. “Hajime. I think my leg is broken.”

A heavy ball of dread settled in the pit of Hajime’s stomach.

He swallowed thickly, fighting down the panic growing inside him. “It’s ok,” he answered as calmly as he could manage. This was no time for him to freak out. He needed to stay focused, to figure out a way to get through this whole mess. “We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. I’ll get us both home, I promise.”

Within the protection of the crevasse, his words could just barely be heard over the screams of the storm above. But even the noise of the storm couldn’t drown out the hints of doubt that filled Hajime’s words.

His arms were starting to shake from the effort of holding Tooru and himself up. Already it felt like his arms would be ripped away from his body at any second. He could feel his gloved fingers starting to slip from the handles, and he had to scramble for a better hold before he accidentally dropped the both of them into the black nothingness below. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his hands firmly around the ice picks and then looked back down at Tooru, who was watching him with tight-pressed lips and furrowed brows.

Again, Hajime reassured, “We’ll be fine.” He tightened his grip around the ice picks even more as his arms violently trembled. “Just watch. We’ll be laughing about this next week. And then we can start planning our first attempt at Everest. I was thinking we should try climbing that one peak in Antarctica at some point too. How cool would that be, right?”

He continued chatting lightheartedly about their next mountaineering adventures for several minutes, blatantly ignoring the situation at hand and all of its issues.

Tooru watched him with a blank expression across his face.

“Hajime, it’s alright,” Tooru finally said, cutting Hajime’s string of plans off. There was a note of resignation in his words, a sort of acceptance and understanding that sent ice stabbing straight through Hajime’s heart.

“No,” he protested.

He knew where Tooru was trying to take this, and he wasn’t going to allow it. Not if he could help it. Not while they still had a chance.

One of his hands slipped from the ice pick, and it was all he could do to regain his hold on it before the other hand slipped as well. Below him, Tooru let out a soft, broken laugh.

“Look at you. You can barely hang on as it is,” he exclaimed, eyes flickering to Hajime’s shaking arms. Even from a distance, Hajime could see the way his bottom lip trembled, and how unsteady his hands were as he wrapped them around the rope that kept him alive. There was fear plastered all over him for Hajime to see. Then, Tooru pleaded, “Don’t kill yourself because of me.”

“You really think I’d let that happen, Shittykawa?”

Hajime stared steadily down at his friend, eyes narrowed and lips pressed tightly together. The same way he looked whenever Tooru was being incredibly stupid. Tooru answered with a sad smile.

“No. I suppose not.”

He fell silent, and turned his face away from Hajime’s probing stare. His hands slid up and down the rope, fidgeting, as if he was unsure what he should do with them. A rare thing for Tooru, who almost always seemed to know just how to place his hands, even in the most stressful situations.

A setter’s intuition, Hajime supposed.

But now, Tooru hung there quietly, hands fluttering, nervous. His mouth opened, and then shut, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He was hesitant, Hajime realized. There seemed to be some sort of awareness within Tooru that he was afraid to voice. And, if he was being honest, Hajime was a little afraid to hear it as well.

Finally, Tooru cleared his throat. The small sound, and all it could mean, seemed almost deafening within the shelter of the crevasse.

“Say, Hajime,” Tooru began. His words were slow, unsure. “Do you remember what you promised me when we climbed our first mountain together? That one by your grandparents’ village?”

Hajime let out a slow breath.

“How could I forget?”

He had conjured up that memory just the night before. Though he had woken before his brain had reached the promise Tooru mentioned, Hajime could still recall it with perfect clarity. It was a promise he had shaped his entire life around. There was no way Hajime would ever forget it.

Tooru took a deep breath, and then asked, “Do you remember what I promised you?”

No.

“Don’t you dare,” Hajime snapped.

He knew what Tooru was getting at, and he wasn’t going to let Tooru go through with it. He refused. There just had to be another way, because Hajime was not going to allow this to happen. Not to Tooru.

He grunted and tried to pull himself up and over the edge of the cliff, to where his ice picks were lodged. But with all the extra weight, Hajime could only move a few inches before having to give up. His arms slumped back into their dangling position. Everything about them hurt. His biceps were burning, shoulders tense beyond reason, and his whole body was shaking from the sheer amount of determination it took to hang on.

The position of his arms was making it difficult to breathe. He could feel, with every minute that passed, his own breathing grow more shallow. They couldn’t stay like this for much longer, and Hajime knew it. Tooru knew it too.

“You can’t hold the both of us up. No matter how much you try,” he pointed out.

“Yes I can,” Hajime retorted. He shifted his grip with a loud grunt, and stared at the cliff edge with determination. “Just trust me.”

“Always, Hajime,” he answered with a laugh that almost sounded like a sob. Hajime snapped his head down towards Tooru, whose fond gaze was fixed directly back at him.

There were tears crawling down his cheeks, but he still smiled up at Hajime— purely, genuinely, the kind of smile that he reserved only for when they were alone together. Because Tooru trusted Hajime enough to let him see it. He trusted Hajime to have his back on the volleyball court, and to protect him from harm on the mountain, and to guard all of his emotions when he was broken down and vulnerable. He trusted Hajime when he trusted nobody else, showing Hajime every fear and insecurity he attempted to hide from the rest of the world. And the boundless affection poured into that one, teary smile made Hajime want to break down and sob.

“I need to tell you something, but I’m afraid it’s already too late,” Tooru admitted in the silence. The trembling of his body could be felt all the way through the rope that connected them. “I really should have told you this years ago.” Tooru laughed again, wetly, and wiped his eyes with the back of one of his gloves. “I have so many regrets, Hajime.”

“Then fix them once we get out of here.”

His voice was firm, not allowing for any argument.

He wasn’t going to let Tooru give up here.

“Hajime,” Tooru murmured. His smile faltered. Fresh tears streamed from his eyes. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I told you-” His words cut off as he saw Tooru pull out the pocket knife he always carried in case of emergencies and press it against the rope that connected the two of them. The realization of what Tooru was about to do hit him like an avalanche. “No!”

Tooru smiled up at him one more time.

“Thanks for keeping your promise, Iwa-chan.”

“Tooru!”

Too late.

There was a tension against the rope for just a second, and then all the extra weight disappeared. The rope flew up as the tension released, ends frayed from the cut Tooru had made, but Hajime could only watch in horror as his best friend’s form dropped down into the oblivion of the crevasse. The darkness swallowed him up, stealing him from sight, as if Oikawa Tooru had never even existed in the first place.

Hajime, still hanging from his ice picks, stared down into the abyss and screamed.

“Hey,” Tooru then began, tone suddenly serious. “Iwa-chan would never let me fall, right?”

Hajime stared apathetically up at his best friend. “Does pushing you down the mountain count as letting you fall?”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Pouting, Tooru crossed his arms and petulantly turned away. He gave a little sniff, dramatic as always. “Forget I even asked.”

Hajime sighed.

“Of course I won’t let you fall, you idiot. Why would you even need to ask?” Hajime finally said. He waited for Tooru to look back at him before adding, “Whether it’s from this tree or on top of the world, I’ll always be there to catch you.”

A flush quickly rose up in Tooru’s cheeks.

“Sometimes I wonder if Iwa-chan even knows what he’s saying,” he muttered with a soft giggle.

Hajime scowled. “Oi. Don’t make me take that promise back.”

“Ok, ok,” Tooru quickly appeased. He smiled down at Hajime, big and bright and pure. Happiness incarnate. “Then as long as I’m around, I won’t let Iwa-chan fall either!”

“Really? You promise?”

“I promise!”