Archive of Our Own ^beta

The city air carries the song well, but Hajime doesn't pay attention to the commercials. It's just for some idol even his mom's a slight fan of, cooing over his good looks and rich voice. It's just another chilly day in a stifling, people-filled environment, feet moving automatically as he steps one after the other on the heels of the person in front of him. He tucks his chin into the scarf he'd gotten last year for Christmas and sticks his hands in his pockets, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk as warm bodies mill about him like he's nothing but a pole.

Just another thoughtless day.

The mundane life which he'd built around himself, tall grey buildings the walls which kept him secure, didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. He puffs out a breath and watches it dissipate, reminded briefly of a bright childhood playing in the snow. Building forts and families. An igloo for two. Falling asleep despite the chill and waking up frozen, the worried calls and heated scoldings driving away the cold. The hot cocoa had helped, too. Hajime breathes out again, sees his past in the white vapor, and looks up at the sky, ignoring the commotion just ahead.

He looks forward just in time to be slammed into by a man, brown eyes widened as he pants out an apology and dives past, bumping into others on the way. Hajime pivots and watches the other's jagged path, knowing he shouldn't think a thing of it. That he should just walk to his job and leave it be. Two burlier guys sweep through the crowd ahead of him and that solidifies it.

Hajime turns to follow the frightened man from before, fists in his pockets and a curse slipping from his lips.

The man's caught at a streetlight, leaning from one leg to the next as he tries to will it to change in his favor, and Hajime only barely hears a complaint from beside him as he reaches out to grab the black jacket, shoving through the suddenly moving crowd, brushing the back of it with his fingertips.

"Hey--"

But they're lost in a game of tag again, chestnut locks bouncing away and Hajime clenches his fist shut in frustration as he catches up. The crowd's easy to disperse as some go left and right, some continuing with them, and his hand closes on the other's arm this time. The man jerks, the flicker of fear melting into bemusement. Hajime knows he must look like a total weirdo, catching his breath and grabbing him like this.

"You--" Takes a deep gulp of air, pushes the other towards the side so they're out of the way and is surprised by how little resistance he gets. "You're being chased, right?"

The stranger's eyes widen, inhaling sharply, and after a moment his lips twitch up. "Out of the hundreds, maybe thousands of people I passed today, you're the first one to ask. Yes, I am."

"Why?"

He doesn't get an answer, just gets jerked forward--

and he's kissing a complete stranger. The man's tongue swipes between his slacken lips and sucks on the bottom, hands drifting around his neck and locking behind it. Hajime doesn't know what to do, settles for putting his own on the other's waist, realizes he's making out with a complete stranger and convinces himself that his drumming pulse is because of the run. It becomes less believable when his partner whines and hooks an ankle around his leg, pulling him closer; breaks apart to breathe, both winded and flushed, the puffed air in the two inches between them mingling. Hajime gets a good look at the stranger and realizes he's pretty handsome, even if his studying isn't being returned. The eyes are focused on something to his right, and the man sighs in relief, the bright grin on his face sending Hajime's heart on another race through the city streets.

"Thanks. You're a great block for unwanted attention," he whispers loudly, licking his lips as an afterthought. "And not a bad kisser. Sorry about that."

"Uh," is what Hajime ends up replying, because his clockwork life has just had a wrench tossed into it.

The stranger pushes him back gently, reclining against the wall, and Hajime wonders why the charming quirk of his brow seems familiar. "I'm Tooru. Nice t'meet you. You asked why I was being chased, right? Long story short, I'm... kind of a wanted man," he drawls out, an apologetic smile flashing his way.

A... wanted man? Wanted how? They didn't look like police - more like yakuza - but... wanted.

"Wanted?"

"Mmhmm! So, since you're already involved, mind helping me out a little more? I have a hotel I'm staying and I'd like to pick up a few things from there before they search it for me." Tooru slides against the wall and pushes off it beside him, skipping and looking back to make sure he's being followed. Hajime feels his feet tug forward and realizes that he's going to be skipping work today in order to help a 'wanted man'.

Nondescript black jacket, similarly colored scarf, jeans, sneakers. Hajime thinks he might look better in warmer colors. Light browns and creams. Tooru glances back again, this time to smile at him, and he still swears he's seen this face before. But where?

"So, what's your name? Pretty rude not to introduce yourself."

"I'm not sure if I should now, you being a wanted man and all." That earns him a laugh, short and jarringly friendly despite his status. Hajime figures Tooru's a first name, wonders if the last's out of the question to ask about, and sticks his hands back into his pockets. "Hajime. You can call me Hajime."

Why not. They seem around the same age and Tooru puts him in an odd state of ease. He's been trying to be friendlier to strangers too, since it seems like everyone's life is pretty hard here. And being wanted is at the top of that.

"Hajime," like he's tasting it, repeats it enough times to make 'embarrassment' a permanent state of being, swirls it around like wine in a glass and sighs. "That's a nice name."

Hajime mutters his thanks and follows quietly, ten degrees too hot for a crowded area. The hotel has revolving doors and looks too fancy for a wanted man, but hey. You never know. Tooru presses his finger to his lips, silent laughter warming his eyes, and walks in like he very well owns the place. Hajime doesn't know what else to do but trails after, jerked into the same walking pace after a moment.

The elevator is just them, riding one of the higher floors, and Tooru's fixing his hair boredly in the metal reflection. There's a lot he wants to ask. Why was a wanted man staying in such a high class place? What was he wanted for? Was he single--

The groan and following thud make Tooru ask him if everything's alright, concern disappearing the moment it's affirmed that yes, he's fine, he just remembered something, and Hajime lets the cool metal of the lift ease his suffering a little. This'd be a good as time as any to ask a question, eyes flicking to see they've got ten to go. He opens his mouth and they start to slow to a stop, Tooru brushing beside him and turned towards the wall with his phone out, pretending to check it as a couple steps in and presses for a floor a few higher than their own destination. Newlyweds, judging by their adoring expressions and how closely tucked together they were.

(‘Why don't you date around? I'm sure that'll help things. You're probably just lonely,’ his mom sounds fuzzy and tired over the phone, and his stomach drops.

'Maybe,' he replies and rests against the paper-thin wall of his apartment, head banging hard enough to get a knock back. ‘I'll bring someone home for Christmas.’

‘I'll be so happy to meet her, Hajime. Thank you.’)

Hajime looks away.

Tooru leans close enough to kiss, lips curling and showing pearly whites as he whispers conspiratorially about their two companions and how they're probably going up for an orgy. Without a second thought Hajime steps on the very handsome asshole's foot, grinning at the bitten back yelp and hurt look.

Like the elevator had been, the floor's empty except for them, and the doors are wide but evenly spread apart. Hajime feels too drab to be standing in the white halls with his grey suit, carpet red and soft beneath his shoes, and despite wearing cooler colors Tooru seems obviously at home here in his casual gait and cheerful hum.

"Stay out here and keep an eye out for me, alright? I'll only be a few."

And so Hajime stays, back resting against the wall and staring at the elevator. He hears singing from inside, low tones that tighten in his chest and pours warmth across his body, and he is in firm denial there's ever such a thing of fate or - even more ridiculous - falling in love at first sight. It's a song he recognizes from on the radio, a beat tapped across his desk as he uses music for background noise. His fingers dance on his thigh and he doesn't realize he's humming the melody until Tooru steps out with a grin, suitcase rolling behind him.

"It's a catchy song, right? One of my personal favorites. It's just so fun to sing." Hajime grunts to acknowledge it and glances at the suitcase, raising his brow. The other looks back at it and waves his hand. "Oh, just some of my belongings. I'm not planning on staying here until I'm in the clear."

Right, wanted man. "What're you wanted for?"

"Being too beautiful." An automatic, and blatant, lie, coupled with the shrug of his shoulder and a wink. Hajime can feel the creases on his forehead beginning to sink in and he raises his hand to rub them away. Tooru strides forward before he can ask again, holding open the elevator door for him with his foot.

"Where are you planning on staying?"

Tooru's quiet, lips pressed tight together, and Hajime watches his reflection on the closed metal doors as they steadily make progress downward. "Dunno. I just kind of wanted to get away. I don't exactly have friends in this part of Japan... Oh, except you now, Hajime."

... They were friends? All he'd done was--

"You kissed me," Hajime splutters out finally, the resting period enough for him to get back to the fact. Tooru's eyes widen a little, but they crinkle pleasantly at the edges when he grins and slouches against the elevator.

"I said you were a good blocker, didn't I? I'm taller than you, but your body's..." The warmth returns, pouring over him like the eyes checking him out, and he straightens up a little uncomfortably. Tooru's gaze locks with his, half-lidded and coy, amused tone reminiscent of a girl he knew in high school who was beautiful and flaunted it - much to the disdain of some of the other girls. "Well, I wouldn't mind using the same trick twice."

Hajime rolls his eyes, turning his head away completely and jumping slightly when fingers brush against his shoulder.

"Thanks for hiding me, by the way, those guys are seriously annoying." The playfulness is gone, but it's still light, and he jerks back when he realizes how close that grateful smile is when he looks over. The fingers are a heavy weight on his shoulder. A lull that reminds Hajime that, yes, Tooru is pretty handsome, and he didn't mind the kiss too much.

"... Yeah, no problem," he mutters as he steps away.

They should part at the hotel's entrance. Hajime knows full well he should go to work, act like this never happened, return to his mundane life, but there's an edge to Tooru's fidgeting that makes it really hard not to sigh and take his wrist.

"... My place's shit, but I'd feel guilty if I just left you like this. You can stay with me for a few days until you get your plan worked out or whatever." Only a few days, he insists to himself. Tooru pulls him to a stop and Hajime can't regret his offer just yet, not when the other's got a soft, surprised look on his face. His cheeks are dusted pink and he seems to struggle with something for a moment before his lips stretch into a smile.

"Thank you, Hajime. You're a really nice person."

It's the way he says it, mumbled and warm, that makes Hajime thankful the other can't feel his pulse. He rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head. "I'm just being decent. Anyone'd do the same. Come on."

Five flights up, elevator broken and both of them forced to sneak up the stairwell because Hajime's not supposed to be back until half past eight today. Tooru complains about having to walk. But that's expected, honestly, his own feet had been expecting a day of sitting in an office, not running down a block and walking two more against the restless morning crowd. He thinks of a hot bath, putting his feet up on the lumpy couch he has, laying back to watch this or that, and wonders how his temporary roommate'll fit into all of this.

Tooru's exhaustion vanishes the moment Hajime unlocks the door and pushes it open, whistling lowly. "Wow, I didn't expect something like this from someone so clean cut and handsome. I don't suppose you get visitors often?"

"If you don't like it, you can sleep outside," but it's half-hearted because they've already settled on duties between them (Hajime handles everything dealing with the outside and cooking, Tooru'll take care of finances while he stays and promises that he's good at talking on the phone and the rest of the homecare) and he might as well be permanent, Hajime guesses. Tooru hums and rounds the couch, laying across it with a displeased look that makes him laugh and motion to a door. "Your room's being used as a storage right now, but there's a bed. I'll clean everything up so you can... sleep there."

"Mm, thank you, Hajime. Really. I only want a break, so I won't stay too long, but can I ask that no matter what you don't question me while I'm here? And if I turn up again, just accept me back in."

That's. A tall and shady order. No questions? Just letting him back in? Hajime goes to lean on the back of the couch and Tooru looks up almost expectantly. Like he's going to say yes no matter what. Maybe he was the youngest son and was used to that. Well.

"We'll talk about that over food," Hajime replies and steps away, wondering what he's got left in his fridge anyway. His guest-roommate hums, sitting up and calling out.

"Those're the only conditions. Everything else is in your court, Iwaizumi Hajime-kun."

Dumb nameplates.

As promised, Hajime finds more money in his life through his finances being kept up and calls made. Tooru seems completely at ease with the landline tucked in his shoulder as he traces his finger across documents, ankles crossed and smiling when he catches Hajime staring. All of the clothing he'd brought from the hotel room was of a higher quality, low necklines and elbow-length sleeves, thin and a plethora of colors (from warm to coolers, the first he personally preferred to see), and a selection of pants which always seemed to fit snuggly against his body.

It was aggravatingly attractive.

The conditions of not being able to ask questions was worse though, and not even alcohol could make him spill his secrets. In fact, during the course of time, Hajime had apparently fallen asleep at the table in the middle of their conversation about whether Godzilla could take on the Supreme Mothership and Tooru had taken him to bed and tucked him in. How that guy didn't get a hangover that made him wish it was eternal night is beyond Hajime's train of thought, groaning against the piercing rays from his window and peeking open an eye when he hears the curtain being pushed over.

"Good morning~," Tooru whisper-sings lightly, scooting Hajime's legs over and sitting down. "Did you sleep well? Drunk dreams were always one of my favorite kinds, even if I'm actually not supposed to drink that often."

The naturally loud laugh does nothing to soothe his headache, and he reluctantly pushes himself into a sitting position to take the pills and cup of water offered. He downs the whole glass.

"I don't have dreams." Hajime pauses, blinking, and rubs his head. "I don't have that much of a future either," he adds as an afterthought. There's a pause between them, as if Tooru can't believe what he's hearing, and he shrugs in reply of the silence.

"Well, isn't that sad. Everyone should! Come on, there must be something you used to want to do or be." He tries to think of one, but his head's clouded. Shakes it to clear it and Tooru mistakes it as an answer. The other tuts, pressing his lips to Hajime's head and leaves tingling skin there as he gets up. "Think harder, alright? I made something simple for breakfast."

"Yeah, sure. I'll think on it."

But he's not thinking of anything but how nice it felt and where else he'd like to have Tooru's lips.

Breakfast really is simple, Hajime sees as he wobbles past to the bathroom. Just a bowl of steamed rice and miso soup. He's honestly surprised Tooru could get the shitty rice cooker to work, considering he's never been able to get it going until it wanted to go, but that guy has some kind of magical touch. Things even looked cleaner around here. Not that Hajime wasn't a neat person, but he'd just come home drained from work, eat an unsatisfying dinner and call it a day.

Tooru hadn't changed anything routine wise. It was just the company itself. The lights were on when he got home, there was someone to answer him when he stepped in, and no matter how annoying the other could be with his whining and complaints (all of which are baseless and just a cry for attention, Hajime learned quickly) the conversation was welcome in the once silent unit. It was nice.

"I wish I could do something nicer for you, Hajime, but I'm not all that good at cooking and I won't try to fool myself into trying."

"It's fine. Simple breakfasts are better after drinking." But Tooru just picks at his own, and glances up at Hajime. He returns the stare. "What?"

"Ah, well... I mentioned this was... just a break, right?"

... Oh. Right. This was temporary. Hajime nods, trying to ignore the way his stomach drops. His roommate plays with his bangs, frowning.

"Well... I figure I should go back now. Not that I don't like living with you, Hajime, I do! It's just..." He pushes his fingers through his hair, eyes staring down at the table. "I have people waiting on me. So I wanted to thank you somehow, the beer was a nice celebration, and this has been great and wonderful and--"

Tooru stops, lifts his head, and leans against his palm with a lazy smile that reminds Hajime that yes, he is definitely still interested in kissing Tooru again. "I'd love to stay again, if you'll have me."

"Anytime," he replies automatically, and scrambles for something else, "I mean, it's not like you have any friends in the city besides me."

Tooru busts out laughing, wiping his eye theatrically and Hajime feels warmth roll over him in waves, slow like honey and just as sweet. His roommate - his friend? - grins at him. "You're right, Hajime. I'll be sure to stop in again. Thanks."

The questions rise up again, itch at him so bad he'd like to dig them out with his fingernails.

"What do you do, anyway? That made you want to take a break."

The grin falters a little, hung up by strings, and Tooru rolls his shoulders as he eats. Hums. Answers, "Just something entirely too tiring, no matter how much I enjoy it. You'll see me around."

It leaves Hajime confused in the same way that the song had before, how Tooru looks familiar but he can't place anything to it, and it gnaws at him. He should know this. It feels like the other man's expecting him to know it, too, but it just won't come. Maybe it was the last of the hangover, maybe it was because he'd gotten so used to Tooru the Stranger that he hadn't thought too hard about it, maybe because it didn't really matter all that much to anyone but him. Tooru cleans up for the both of them, his fingers brushing gingerly against Hajime's shoulder just like the first time, the usual sway in his step is missing.

"I'm leaving in three hours," Hajime hears softly from the kitchen. "Let's watch a movie."

"Sure," he answers, and sets up one of their shared favorites from the pile they'd accumulated going through his storage room.

Not even Godzilla's triumph over his arch nemesis King Ghidorah could lighten the mood.

--

"Want me to walk you?"

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"Those guys aren't gonna be looking for you still?"

"Hajime, it's been two weeks. I'll be fine. Worrywart."

"I'm not a worrywart, I just know you can't do shit by yourself."

"That's a pretty harsh observation for someone you met recently."

"It's obvious."

...

"You're positive--"

"Yes, I am." Tooru pauses, turning his head away. The rolling suitcase feels heavy against his palm. Hajime's not helping either, fingers tapping against the doorway anxiously, and he sighs as he continues airily, trying to pretend there's not a bone in his body that cares about this goodbye. "I hate lengthy farewells, so it's better like this."

"... See you around, then," he gets in reply, and Tooru wonders if it would've been better just to leave while the other was asleep like he'd planned at first. He nods, thanks him again for his hospitality, and takes languid steps to the still broken elevator.

Haha. Maybe it'd be fixed by the time he came back.

Tooru steps onto the street and looks up, smile tightening at the advertisements mirroring his expression. Products and new songs, a concert showing tomorrow, not a word about his run off. Well, it wasn't the first time he'd escaped - but it was the first time he'd been able to stay someplace for longer than a few days. It'd made him feel normal, relaxed, refreshed. But the pressure starts to layer on him and pushes down his two weeks of memories as he slips out his phone and walks along, fingers going straight for his agent's number.

"He~llo, I'm back from being an unruly brat with no regards for anyone but myself. Do you mind sending a cab?" He tunes in and out of the voice on the other side, catching only the important parts - like questions, some of which he plans to answer and one definitely not at all - and gives the address of a bakery he'd gotten Hajime to go to the other day. It'd be nice to pick something up while he waits.

His agent, Sacchan as he's rudely nicknamed, begins to lecture again and Tooru moves the phone away, making an audible kissing noise before hanging up and turning off his phone. He takes one last look at the apartment that'd been his residence and feels heavier with every step that brings him away from it.

"You've cost us a lot of wasted time, Oikawa-kun." The idol hears faraway, his mind still thinking about how nice it'd be to be having lunch with Hajime right now instead of sitting in a stuffy private cab with his agent. The older man tuts and scrolls through his phone, tapping out replies to emails. "You don't hate it, do you? I thought you loved performing. You're good at it."

Tooru shrugs at the double meaning, the window cold against the back of his hand as he fogs the glass with his breath. "Even I want to take a break sometimes. It's hard being flawless."

Sacchan laughs loudly and pats his shoulder, brushing off any warmth with the phone still in his other hand. Tooru writes the kanji of Hajime's name into the white and smiles when he's scolded about messing with the glass. A single line and it holds no meaning to anyone but him.

"Where'd you run off to this time, anyway? We checked your usual spots."

"Oh, nowhere special. Fate found me and gave me a new beginning," he bites his cheek hard to keep from grinning too much, heart fluttering. "And before you worry, everything I took from the hotel's right in my bag, as usual."

"You know you can take time off without running off."

"And you can spend time with your lover without telling your wife you're on business meetings on my behalf, but it's not half as fun that way, is it?"

Sacchan scowls, but shuts up. Tooru presses his grin into his palm to keep from laughing.

The hotel room is large, luxurious, everything he's missed in his hearts of hearts... and locked behind him, with two threatening looking guards posted outside just in case he decided to run off again. Tooru trails his fingers across the sofa as he rounds it to sit, thinking about the lumpy waste of space back at Hajime's place. He leans back into its lush fabric, rolling his head from side to side, and sighs.

He hadn't even left a number to a private line or anything. Was he right for that? Or would it have been better to have some way to talk? The idol closes his eyes, slipping his phone out of his pocket and drumming his fingers against his thigh. He knew the landline by heart. He could call. He could say hello to the voice he'd said goodbye to not a few hours ago, to talk without a care, and maybe even arrange some surprise gifts or a visit.

... No. No, that's too much. Hajime should have an easy life. After all, Tooru had just so rudely come into it, eaten twice as much as he usually did (home cooked meals always had that effect on him), and stolen his good blankets for a month. The least he could do was leave him alone.

"I do like performing," he mutters to himself, thinking about the earlier conversation as he peeks open an eye and pops up his Twitter. He'd been active even while staying with Hajime, little updates here and there about how excited he was to be singing and what he'd been practicing, and he replies to some of his fans. "I just don't like being told that my life practically depends on it."

The swell of the crowd, the voices joining into his, the lights and explosives, the sweat, all of it were things he loved. Every eye in the audience on him. The songs he'd practiced for hours on end, all of which he'd written the lyrics himself. The clothes could be a bit out there sometimes, depending on the performance, but Tooru prided himself in his good body and beautiful face - so it didn't bother him so much. When he was on stage, he felt like he was putting out something genuine, but everything else... The schedules, the interviews, the products, the perceived image he had to keep up even on bad days--

It was such a big drain.

Which is why he'd begun running away, escaping off for a few days at a time to recuperate. Usually by himself too. Hajime - kind, warm, worrywart Hajime - had been a rare exception, one Tooru finds he doesn't mind the thought of returning to. Especially since he'd already gotten an OK for it from the man himself. Just... not so soon.

Would Hajime figure him out? Would it click one day when he looked up, or heard a song on the radio? Would he want to see him after that? Tooru'd only lied by omission after all, unsaid questions always rising from time to time. Maybe... Maybe Hajime'd come to one of his concerts, to be part of the crowd and atmosphere, but there'd be no way to tell.

Tooru cranes his neck back and stretches upwards, staring at the number he'd unconsciously tapped in and calling it, tucking the phone into his shoulder as he waits pensive with the dial tone.

No one picks up, of course, because Hajime's at work (a pencil pusher at that young age, who would've thought). A grin rises at the recorded message, Hajime's name spoken by the man himself, and he relaxes.

"Yahoo~. I just wanted to call and tell you that I'm super duper safe, so you don't worry your head off. Oh, and don't call this number back." He hesitates, then rattles off his private number, heart beating wildly. "You can call or text that one though. But only after nine in the evening and before ten in the morning, okay? Miss you already~."

He smacks a kiss into the end of the message and hangs up, disbelief dousing the flames flickering in his chest. Hajime had his private number now. Would he call? Text? Do anything at all? A part of Tooru hopes that nothing's done, that they stay split for now, but it's completely washed away by a swell of happiness by the thought of having Hajime in his life even a bit more. He laughs loudly, falling sideways onto the couch, and props his legs up onto the arm as he puts Hajime's contact information into his private phone and stares at it, grinning so wide it hurts.

(It's not very surprising to him when he gets commented on his happiness before his next concert, asked if he'd found someone to date finally and if it was a fan. He hums thoughtfully, grins at the camera, and winks.

"Who can say? I love everyone lots and lots, I'm just happy to be able to perform for all of you! But as for my happiness... Well, let's just say that I feel like I've been given a new start."

The small audience that's allowed in for questions and the like laughs and sighs, from young girls to aged mothers, and Tooru beams at them. For the first time since he was introduced to the bright stage and the cameras that came with it, he feels comfortable and alive.)

--

For the first time since moving in, Hajime feels like the space he lives in is too big for one person, too empty, too quiet. The air is stale, the chilly wind freshening it up only a little before he closes the door with a small click. In the darkness of the living room he can see the red dot on his answering machine blinking, and he tosses his jacket onto the couch as he passes by it without a thought. Probably just some telemarketer or something. He loosens his tie, wondering what they... what he had stocked for dinner and decides that a soak'll do him some good. It'd give him a private space to think at the very least.

The water scalds his skin, leaves it red practically on contact. He sinks into it, wincing at the bite, and sighs. His eyes slide close as he listens for anything, any annoying (but admittedly enjoyable to hear) singing or feet hitting the ground too hard as they dance, but all he gets is a headache and an empty feeling in his chest. The unit is unbearably silent. It's almost painful to hear nothing, and Hajime makes small splashes to fill it.

It'd only been a month, but he really had gotten used to that guy.

Tooru may have eaten for two (home-cooked meals always got him like that, or so he'd claimed), stolen the good blankets for himself, used all the hot water, sang and danced around in the early mornings and throughout the day... A lot of things. But he'd brought a certain warmth and welcome feeling into the unit, making it feel more like a home than it ever had in the few years he'd had it. And without him, it just...

Hajime ducks his head under the water, ignoring the sting from the temperature, and exhales every drop of breath from his lungs in frustration, bubbles rising and popping irritably.

Ridiculous.

It's only when his fingers start to prune and the water starts to chill that Hajime finally gets out, drying himself off and getting dressed as noisily as possible to drive off the silence. He lets the answering machine go as he passes by to the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Yahoo~," he slams his head coming out of the fridge and the thumping pain is nothing compared to his heart as he hears the distinct voice of Tooru start up, light and childish as it always had been, "I just wanted to call and tell you that I'm super duper safe, so you don't worry your head off. Oh, and don't call this number back."

There's a pause and Hajime clenches the door so hard he can feel the plastic bite into him. Tooru's voice fills the apartment again, rattling off something he realizes is a number and only catches the last three on a pad before there's just words again.

"You can call or text that one though. But only after nine in the evening and before ten in the morning, okay? Miss you already~."

As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, there's an audible smack at the end like he kissed the phone and Hajime presses his hands to his face, dragging them down and willing the heat to go away. Dinner is forgotten, his stomach getting gold in this year's Olympics for its fantastic flips, and he spends more time than he'd be willing to admit sitting by the answering machine just listening to the recording. The number's written down and set aside, the name Tooru scratched just above.

How long should he wait to call? It was past nine now, but would it be too soon? 'I should at least make sure the number's right,' Hajime reasons as he reaches for his cell and clicks it in, though there was no way it wasn't right. He stares at it, finger wavering above the call button, and takes a deep breath.

It was just a call.

To make sure the number was right.

That's it. He'd call, say hey, and that's it.

His fingers rubs lines into his arm as he lifts the phone to his ear, the dial tone like a siren warning him to stop before it gets too far, but he doesn't even get the chance to rethink his course of action when the call gets picked up with a breathy "Hajime?"

His heart catches in his throat and he nods, ears burning at his mistake. "Yeah. Hey."

Tooru laughs from the other side, loud and full, and Hajime feels the day's exhaustion finally tick away.

"I didn't think I'd get to talk to you so soon! Well, I mean, I did call you and leave you a number for a reason, but... I thought you'd be too tired from work." There's no way he'd be too tired to talk to Tooru. No way. Not when he had this odd effect on him, something that melts it away and it's like he's soaking in the hot bath again - but this time it's actually working to relax him, loosen his muscles and a smile tugs at his lips as he leans forward on the back of the chair. "How was it? Work, I mean."

"Same as usual. Why did you give me your number, huh? You never let me have it while you were staying here." It's just curiosity, no ill meaning behind it, but there's a clear silence between them.

"... Well, it's not like you needed it, since I stayed inside all the time," he finally replies, the tension from an obviously unwanted (if simple) question unwinding. "And I figured my only friend in the city should have it now that we're apart. I don't know when I'll see you again afterall."

Hajime can feel the shrug that tries to brush away anything inherently embarrassing about the words, can see Tooru across from him averting his eyes and biting his bottom lip, and he tries to push down the warmth starting to rise through his body. It was just a month and Tooru's just that kind of person. Naturally double-meaning and without shame. There's nothing else to it.

"Anyway, to what do I owe the honor of your time, Hajime?"

"I just wanted to make sure I got the number right." Tooru ahhhs and Hajime drums his fingers against his arm. "... I probably shouldn't keep you on long--"

"No! No, please, go ahead, I'm so terribly bored. I can stay up for a while - even if I really shouldn't."

"If you shouldn't, then don't."

Tooru's chuckle is right in his ear and he feels his face burning at this point, slumping quietly into his arm as he tries to fight off the fuzzy feeling filling the emptiness of his chest. "Responsible as always, Hajime. Did you eat dinner?"

"... No, not yet."

There's tutting from the other end and Hajime rolls his eyes. "I didn't feel hungry when I got home so I figured I'd just make something later. And it's later now. So I'll eat when I get off the phone."

"Good. You shouldn't let your health decline just because I'm not there to remind you, Hajime."

He grunts in reply, standing and pulling the chair back into the kitchen where it belonged. "Like I need to hear that from you, dumbass. You're the one who can't do a thing by himself - and don't even start, we went over this earlier. You stayed with me for a month and even I could figure that out."

"Right, right, so you said... It's weird to think that we parted just today, huh? And we're already talking to each other like I'd never left."

... It's weird, but it's not bad. Mostly weird because Hajime hadn't really expected to ever see or hear from Tooru again despite what he said about coming back whenever. He exhales softly, crouching down to fish out that damnable, tricky rice cooker from the lower cabinet.

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind doing this every evening," he tries to sound casual and indifferent about it, like it's no big deal either way, even if his heart's putting on its own award winning drum solo. There's no reply and it drops. "If you want. It's not like I've got anything else to do that late at night."

"I'll call you next time," Tooru promises immediately. "I'm gonna be pretty out and about for the next few days, but I'll squeeze you into my busy-busy schedule."

Hajime grins wide, denying to himself that it's because of Tooru's reply and more that it's because the rice cooker's working for once. "Yeah, don't bother. I don't want a billion messages from you."

"I'll be sure to leave a billion and one, just for you."

He shakes his head, careful not to put in more than he has to, and sighs in mock-annoyance. "I'm not gonna get rid of you, huh."

"Do you want to be?" A teasing question, one that's obviously there to followed up with something else, but it snaps a realization in him that he's sure isn't allowed: That he wouldn't want to be rid of Tooru. It seemed really obvious now. "Because I have to warn you - I don't give up easily on my goals."

"-- I'm a goal?"

Hajime's glad he's not doing anything particular complex for dinner - it's too late for anything like that - because he's sure he would've messed it up just now. Tooru stays quiet too, giggling nervously, and he clears his throat. Was he embarrassed? Had he spoken without thinking? It made Hajime's face flare up what felt like the fifth time that day and he opens his mouth to speak--

"Uhm, kind of, I guess." He can imagine Tooru tucking his hair behind his ear (another nervous tell) and leans against the counter, interest piqued further. "I really did enjoy my time with you."

A door opens on the other line and the phone is obviously shoved away, maybe between sheets or the blanket or something, and Hajime strains to hear.. There's a mumbled voice and Tooru's tone sharpens.

"Ahh, I know, I know~! Don't worry so much, hm? I'll rest up nice and well for tomorrow morning. Honestly, you're the worst. Knock before you enter next time, Sacchan."

There's a quietness as the phone's possible pressed harder into whatever he's hidden it under, because everything is muffled and far away. Hajime leans from one foot to the other impatiently, grip on his phone tightening. What was going on? Someone checking in on him, obviously, but... The question of what question of what Tooru actually does for a living rises to his mind again. He puts the phone on speaker as he sets it aside, figuring from the silence that it might be taking a little longer than expected as he chops vegetables to add in.

Tooru's voice makes him jump a few minutes later, but it's quiet and tired. "Sorry, Hajime, but I have to cut our talk short. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, no problem..." Hajime frowns, mixing together the vegetables and rice. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Just one."

"Is everything alright?"

"... Mm, mmhmm. Everything's fine. Don't be such a worrywart, Hajime," he replies lightly. It sounds fake. "Sacchan's just something like my keeper is all. I have something important to do in the morning, so he wants me to go to sleep early. That's all."

It seemed a little long for just a discussion about that, but Hajime doesn't push it.

"Alright. I'll try to inspire some enthusiasm for the billion and one messages you're gonna be leaving me tomorrow."

It starts as a small chuckle and rolls into a bubbling laughter, one that gets him scolded by 'Sacchan' and shoots fireworks off in Hajime's heart. Tooru scoffs as soon as the door closes and he can feel the eye roll. "Okay, okay, I have to go now. Thanks for calling, Hajime. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah."

He rolls his shoulders, thankful that Tooru's mood seemed to have improved. The other yawns.

"Goodnight Hajime. Sweet dreams. Don't stay up too long, okay?"

Hajime nods, then grunts to show he heard. "Yeah, you too. Night."

The line doesn't go dead right then, just lingers for a moment like Tooru's trying to take in the last seconds of conversation. Hajime lets it too, just a little longer, before he hangs up himself and presses his hands into his eyes.

It's already too quiet.

--

Of course he's not here. Tooru scans the crowds as he steps onto stage, the roar of the audience swelling the loneliness out of his heart, and grins widely as he sweeps his arms outwards.

"Hiya everyone~! Are you ready to sing your hearts out?"

They answer with a mix of screams and cheers and the idol leans out, hand cupping his ear.

"Oh? I don't think I heard you!" He draws back, hands around his mouth now. "I said, are you ready?!"

The audience hollars again and Tooru waves his hands, stepping backwards towards the more open area. Alright, they're all hyped up. The music clicks on and he licks his lips, heart drumming loudly to the beat.

On stage, he felt the world watching. Looking at him. Expecting great things from him. Tooru loves that feeling. Loves it as much as he does singing and writing his own songs. It's just a pulling need, something that tugs him along and towards the future, and he takes a deep breathe as he sings the verses long and low, the crowd silenced by his voice. That captivity... The unified breathing, the hearts beating as one and, when he tells them to sing with him at one point of the show, the sound of the mixed voices - that is what Tooru loved, that is what he sang for, that center of attention and knowing others enjoyed his songs as much as he did.

The career of being an idol was perfect for him.

It was tiring, obviously, when he had days where he'd just like to escape the attention and be a nobody for a while but couldn't. The first few times he'd pulled the stunt of running off he'd been severely reprimanded and his agents even quit on him, but Sacchan hadn't. Yet. If there was something to be said about the stingy, passive-aggressive cheater, it was that he cared just enough to make Tooru a star and still let him do as he pleased as long as it didn't cause trouble for others. A few days off? Fine. Leaving a note talking about a week or more? Hadn't gone over so well. But the monthly vacations wouldn't become a usual occurrence anyway.

... Hopefully.

It's a pleasant exhaustion when Tooru steps off stage, the cheers of everyone still strong, the adrenaline idling out slowly as he hums and practically skips back to his private dressing room. It's late. But not late enough to call Hajime, though he'd definitely be home by now. Shrugging off his assemble for tonight's concert - whites and blues and a hat to boot, an excellent prop with its glittering band to match the strands down his jacket and pants - the idol slips into something lazier and fiddles with his phone, staring at Hajime's number before sliding off his contact list and playing a cutesy dating game.

A good thing too, because Sacchan comes in clapping and totally ruining the mood Tooru had going on with his prickly date. "Wonderful as always, Oikawa-kun. Your fans want an encore. And to see you, of course, for autographs and the like."

"You always have a way of ruining good moods, Sacchan," Tooru mutters and puts forth his best grin, spinning in his seat leisurely. "Of course~. I just want to make a call really really fast, and then I'll be right out."

Sacchan eyes the phone in his hand and shakes his head. "If it's who you were talking to before, forget them. Your fans are waiting."

Tooru pushes his lips together, narrowing his eyes slightly as annoyance edges into his voice. "And they can wait another five minutes, can't they? I'm tired from performing. I want a little time to myself."

"Who were you talking to anyway, Oikawa-kun? You sounded too familiar with them."

"As I said last night," his voice light but strained, "it's none of your business. I'm fine now, so let's go see my adoring fans."

Sacchan lets him past, gaze following the brisk gait out. The idol forces the frustration and impatience out of his system - just as he's always done, when it comes to the fans who've done nothing but support him - and brightens up, teeth showing as he strolls towards the backstage with nothing but good will in his thoughts. It's not their fault his agent's annoying and nosy. It's not their fault that he doesn't get a minute to himself, that's just how his life has become. The only thing Tooru could ever fault them for being there for him every step of the way, for helping him rise to the stage he deserves to be on, for supporting him from day one.

He almost hates them. Almost.

It rolls in his stomach and he takes their questions, their requests, smiles and lets them take pictures with him. Hajime's on his mind as he goes through the familiar motions, wondering what they could talk about tonight.

He fidgets and plays with everything in the limousine, rolls down the window and lets Sacchan complain about the cold air whooshing in. It's messing up his perfectly styled hair, but who cares. It feels nice. The wind takes away his breath and he sucks in every chilled bit, chest hurting and noses stinging, and blows out against it. Tooru can feel Sacchan staring at him and he turns to look with a frown.

"What's wrong, Sacchan? Afraid the cold'll make your lizard body shut down?"

"You'll get sick if you're not careful. That voice of yours is your life."

Tooru sighs and rolls up the window, pressing his cheek against the cold glass as he watches everything blur past. He knows, he knows. It just sucks that it seems more important than himself. The hotel rolls into view and he knows he looks ten times more excited than he has in the past ten minutes, not even waiting to be let out of the car and winking at his agent as he escapes without a lecture.

The elevator is empty enough that he dials Hajime's number right there, heart thundering in his chest when it picks up at the second ring and there it is, that low, tired voice politely greeting him. Tooru bites the inside of his cheek as he grins, fingers fluttering against the horizontal bar beside him as he watches the numbers tick up.

"Hi, Hajime," like he hasn't been thinking about this since the concert ended, "you sound so tired! Was work alright?"

The change seems immediate. The tiredness lingers at the edge of his voice, but the fact that it seems a little more energized thrills Tooru in ways that it shouldn't. "-- Yeah, it was. I didn't expect you to call so early."

"I couldn't wait." It's a shameless admittance and his reflection is beaming, brushing at his bangs. "Is that alright? Should I call back later?"

"It's fine," and it sounds a little quick, enough to make his heart thump wildly, and the next assurance is slower. "It's fine."

Tooru's reflection shows his reddened cheeks before he even registers the heat, and he chuckles deeply as he turns and pushes his hand through his hair. "I'm glad to hear that, Hajime, I've been dying to talk to you since I was finished with my business."

The business they don't talk about. He hears the question in the silence between them, hesitant and on the tip of Hajime's tongue, and moves on. "Hajime, are you doing anything for Christmas? Any plans with a sweet young lady?"

"... I'm going home to stay with family," he replies offhandedly, a little distracted like it's not his favorite idea in the world but it's what he's going to do. Was there trouble back home? Tooru hum in response, curiosity building when Hajime returns the question instead of continuing.

... He should have a concert around Christmas, maybe. Those are wild. And sure to draw a crowd. The elevator dings his stop and he steps off, striding briskly to the door as he tucks his phone into his shoulder and unlocks the door.

"I don't really have plans, I guess. I thought I'd just spend it alone."

There's a lull in the conversation then, probably from surprise, and Tooru feels a quiet longing to be asked over. The wistfulness stays long after the topic switches - Hajime blowing some steam off over co-workers, Tooru listening (strewn across his bed, a grin stretching across his face with each word, warmth flooding his chest and filling every part of him) with smart remarks that make the other line bark laughter, the sound of dinner being prepared in the back.

Christmas doesn't come up again for a while, but when it does Tooru’s all too happy to act like the proposal of him coming with Hajime was a surprise.

--

‘Maybe it'd been a mistake to force my way into this,’ Tooru thinks as he glances aside at Hajime, ‘but at least I might not be recognized. It's been years since I lived there.’

It'd been a surprise to learn that they had lived in the same area when they were kids, though the idol had ended up moving before he left primary into the city where he grew up. He and Hajime could've played together. Thoughts of snowflakes dusting their hair and clothes like they did on the walk to the station fills his mind, lights twinkling in the growing darkness of the world around them, a shoddily built igloo for two... Cinnamon mixed into their hot chocolate, marshmallows melting fast as a young woman stirs it for him, a pair of boys bundled up in a shared blanket watching television while outside bears an overcast sky, white flakes drifting down. It's nice, it's warm, it's something Tooru missed out on for the most part after he moved, the city too crowded and dirtied for that sort of innocent fun.

Hajime doesn't speak. He's too busy looking out the window, eyes distant as they watch the flurry outside. Tooru watches him, curls his fingers against his legs and casually leans against the other, snorting when Hajime jumps a little.

"You shouldn't think so much, Hajime. What are you so worried about?" It's clear to Tooru that that's the case, that his friend is simply thinking too much about something he shouldn't, but Hajime only shakes his head and his fists tighten.

"I'm not worrying, and it's nothing really. I just haven't been home in years."

"So you're probably wondering how much it's changed, then?" There's a hint of laughter in his curiosity, stretching gently against the rigid Hajime with a content sigh. "Well, I'm the one who hasn't been around in a decade and a half, it feels, so... I think my older sister might've moved back here with her husband and kid."

"-- You have a sister?"

"Mmhmm. Did I never say? I have a nephew from her named Takeru. I haven't seen him since he was any higher than my knee... They came to visit me that year." Tooru really chuckles this time, shaking his head. "She complained about the noise and asked how I could stand being around it, since I'd hated thunder when I was younger."

Hajime hmms and leans back against him, warmth coating Tooru's cheeks and slinking down his neck at the contact. It was fine most of the time. He could pretend he didn't like the other the way he did, because they'd been strangers at the beginning of the month and three weeks living in the same space and a week of calls couldn't just add up to how close they were and how much closer he wanted to be, but sometimes it got to him and his heart fluttered, his fingers tapping an old melody on his lap. His throat tightens and boy, if he just turned his head he could just kiss the handsome man beside him. It's probably just a physical attraction, like Sacchan had mocked once. Being an idol didn't give him time for regular relationships, especially since Tooru was so dedicated to being the best like he was, so it was possible.

"What's your family like, Hajime?"

"A bunch of worrywarts." Tooru gets out half his sentence (Ahh, so that's where you get it from--) before Hajime jabs his elbow into his stomach, biting back a grin at the choked noise. "My mom especially. If she asks you any questions, don't joke around."

"-- Why's that?"

Hajime presses his lips together, facing the snow laden country outside. "She's just nosy is all."

And that's that. Tooru stays quiet for an entire ten minutes before he pokes at his companion's hand, slipping his own into it and squeezing. Hajime looks over, probably questioning or surprised, but returns it all the same.

"I haven't had a homely Christmas celebration in a while, Hajime, with nosy mothers and the like. I might say something I shouldn't. What's our story?" Mostly he just wants the other to stop worrying so much about it, and it'd probably help to have similar ones anyway. Hajime breathes out and maybe he doesn't realize he's doing it, but the thumb rubbing against the back of Tooru's hand feels so nice he indulges himself quietly.

"We don't need anything elaborate," he replies after a moment. "Co-workers. You work under me and bother me a lot."

Tooru snorts, a grin stretching across his face as he eyes the other's cheeks, voice lowering to almost a conspiratory whisper. "Oh, I'd love to work under you, Hajime."

The cheeks color just like he thought they would, his heart dancing at the sight, and he winces at the moderate pinch he gets. Good thing they’re not alone. It would’ve earned him something a little tougher.

"Is a boring office job really what you want to do?"

Considering Hajime still doesn't know what he really does - either a magnificent gift from the universe or he really doesn't care for the media - Tooru has to think a little. Sitting in a desk for seven hours, or be able to be up on stage, the cheer of the crowd like an ocean with how they give him energy and then leave him drained. There's no doubt that he prefers the latter, but... if he had the first, then maybe he and Hajime could actually spend time together.

"... No, but I wouldn't mind it too much if it meant I could spend more time with you," Tooru says and shifts to rest more against the other. He doesn't need to look at Hajime to know that there's a question in the air - What do you do, huh? - and he's strictly avoiding it. "Office jobs sound boring as hell. What made you get into it, Hajime? Stability? The pay? Miniskirt Fridays?"

"So that's the kind of boss you'd be." The idol gasps, mock-hurt at the accusation. Hajime's voice has a smile in it and honestly? That's all Tooru wants and needs, casually sliding his fingers into his companion's and escaping immediate notice. A step forward. "Stability. It's an okay job. Boring, but it pays."

"What did you want to do, Hajime?"

There's no reply and Tooru wonders if it's too much of a prying question - though it doesn't sound like it would be, considering Hajime has nothing to hide (to his knowledge). He sits up and leans against the armrest behind him, studying the other. Hajime's eyes are far away, reflecting the snowy landscape outside the train's window, face propped up by a hand. His other, while still in Tooru's grasp, is loose and stilled. Experimentally, he gives it a squeeze, curiosity rising when there's nothing in return. Tooru lets it go on for another minute, then starts to speak up. "Haji--"

"Movies. Not being in them, but making them."

That's kind of surprising to hear at first, but when Tooru remembers the collection they'd spent a month watching through it settles into quiet realization. Yeah, that makes sense. Nothing he would've starred in, probably, if he ever accepted offers to be in them (they're too stressful on top of his idol career already - when it slowed, maybe, because acting was always something he liked). Hajime returns the question, and Tooru speaks without thinking.

"I'm working my dream job, actually." The first thing he's ever said about what his work, and Hajime peers at him with obvious, dangerous interest. The seat in front of Tooru is smooth and grey, prickled pleather, a safe place to stare, and he's quick to continue. "But when I was younger, I dreamed of going up to the stars. Like an astronaut. I learned later on that a lot of what we saw was already dead and gone, or dying, but my fondest memory of the town we apparently lived in together was this one time when I climbed a tree in the middle of the night and was too scared to get down. It started raining too."

He laughs a little, wistful and sentimental for days gone past, before finishing his story. "I was sick the first week of school because of that."

"... I see," and he chances a glance over, a thoughtful look on Hajime's face before it scrunches slightly. "I think I actually heard about some stupid kid getting caught in the rain like that, though it's been years."

"I'm not surprised. I've always been the talk of the town, you could say," and never know how true the phrase could be. "Have you always wanted to do movies?"

"It's a pipe dream. I don't have the time or money to gamble on it."

"That's not what I asked, Hajime."

It's really tiring to have to repeat himself, honestly, so Tooru stays quiet until Hajime presses his back to the window and locks eyes back, clearly not wanting to have a discussion about a topic that sounds like it hasn't been brought up in years. He's aware he had a chiding tone, though a little more serious than his usual spiel, but what's always remained true in his music and in his ideals is that dreams are important. They keep you going. Giving up on them completely is unacceptable - you can put them on hold, but that's all they should be until they can be reached. Hajime licks his lips and breaks first, eyes closed as he sighs, exasperated.

"Yes, I have, but I don't see why you're pressing so much about it."

"What if you had help? Would you go back into that if you could?" They're odd questions on the surface, throwing Hajime off, and Tooru presses on. "Well? I'd love to see - or even act - in a movie that you made, Hajime, I want to know the style you'd work with."

"... I used to love tokusatsu movies."

Thinking about it, he's not surprised.

"So something like that? Hm~. That's so like Hajime... I'll look forward to it."

"I told you - it's just a dream." Hajime turns back to face the window, clearly annoyed, and Tooru drops it for now.

But he really would like to see it.

--

Bringing Tooru home was a mistake. He'd been so happy to see the other again - not that he'd ever admit it out loud - that he'd damn near well hugged the stupid guy, but thankfully Hajime's self control had always been through the roof. They're standing outside his parent's modest one story house as he works up the courage to knock, giving Tooru a horrified look when the other just rings the bell with a hum.

His mom opens the door and stares at the two, surprise etched into her features, and Hajime can't meet her eyes. Tooru does, however, pulling out a charming smile he's gotten to know so well and holds out his hand.

"Iwaizumi-san! It's a pleasure to meet you, even though it's the holidays and you weren't expecting an extra guest... I'm Tooru." 'Please remember the story,' Hajime prays quietly, 'Actually, no, please follow the story.' Because Tooru remembers it - he had the other repeat it until they had a spat about Hajime worrying too much - it's all a matter of him keeping up the act. "Your son and I are co-workers in the city."

Hajime exhales silently as his mom smiles and takes Tooru's hand - charmed, but looking somewhat confused, like she's trying to place his face past the scarves and redness. "It's nice to meet you too, Tooru-kun. I'm very happy Hajime made a friend while he was away, though I wish he'd mentioned it to me earlier."

And that Tooru had been a girl instead, like you'd promised, the look she gives him says. Hajime enters last, the house exactly as he left it, moving past Tooru as he studies everything like it'd tell him something new about his friend.

"Can I help you somehow, Mom?"

"Kitchen. We’ll show Tooru-kun what a nice lunch is like."

So they leave Tooru with hot chocolate and a movie - which he grins thankfully for, teasing Hajime slightly about the content of the film - and spend the next few hours in the kitchen, the warmth of home returning bit by bit as she holds off her interrogation.

"How did you really meet Tooru-kun, Hajime?" There it is, the question that stills his hands from cooking. He knows that if he looks over at his mom she'll still be doing as she was, glancing over at him with the look that says she knows something he doesn't, and he struggles not to feel like a kid again.

... But he doesn't lie. He breathes out, staring down at the vegetables he knows Tooru won't eat until last because they're going to be cooked, and chops them into smaller bits. "He was running away from someone and I helped him out. I let him stay with me for a few weeks since he didn't have anywhere else to go, and we just kept in contact."

"Earlier this month?"

"Late last."

She hums, but Hajime's still on guard. This wasn't over.

"... I wish you had called more, Hajime," there it is, the holiday guilt, "We miss you a lot--"

"You miss me. Dad was happy when I left to work in the city. He'll probably come in wondering why I'm still not there and wasting time with the holidays."

"You know that isn't true."

"It is, Mom." His grip on the knife is tight, the kitchen silent, and he hears the movie playing quietly from the living room. There's not a sound otherwise. Hajime forces himself to relax, never liking the hurt look on his mother's face, and sets the knife down. They're all cut anyway. "... I'm going to entertain our guest."

"Bring out the kotatsu too. Tooru-kun doesn't seem like the kind of person to handle the chill well."

He's not, but Hajime won't confirm her thoughts. He's still peeved about their conversation long after he's brought the kotatsu out and he's sitting on Tooru's left, elbows bumping together as they work through oranges to snack on.

"Your mom seems really nice," Tooru chances, and continues when he's only given a grunt in reply. "I wish my family still lived around here. It would've been nice to spend Christmas with them for once..."

That piques his interest, though it's clearly a slip up from the frown on Tooru's face. "You don't usually?"

"... No, not really. I'm busier than normal around this time of year," he replies tersely, focusing completely on the orange. Hajime peels his own, deliberately slow, but there's nothing else after that and the bowl is empty when his guest reaches for another. Said man offers to get more and Hajime only shakes his head at the too jovial hum.

Poor guy has no idea what he's getting himself into.

An hour later, Tooru returns with more oranges and the look of a broken man, huffing at Hajime's laughter and very pointedly ignoring it.

"Your mother is charming," he mumbles, ears red, and that only makes him laugh harder. "Much more than you are, Hajime, that's for sure."

"Yeah, alright, thanks. I'll be sure to tell her you said so. What'd she ask?"

And it seems death is trying to grab a cold hand around his neck, because Tooru's face lights up and he grins, "If we were together~."

It takes a glass of water, but Hajime's stopped choking long enough to let out a raspy What in reply. The other shrugs, playing with one of the peeled oranges as he eats it, and looks at him from under his bangs.

"I'm only joking, Hajime. I didn't realize you'd have such a bad reaction to it." In fact, Tooru seems a little subdued now, though he couldn't name why.

So he puts it out of his mind.

--

It's when Hajime's younger sister comes home that everything falls apart. She's cute, missing out on the thick eyebrows Tooru's come to love (and kind of want to kiss, to be honest), a full head shorter than her big bro and a second year in high school. The moment she see him she stops mid-sentence, hazel eyes widening and a sharp inhale. He realizes what's going to happen and beats her to the punch, sweeping forward to take her hand with a strained smile.

"Ah~. Hajime, I didn't realize you had a younger sister... And you thought I was keeping things from you. I'm Tooru. What's your name, little miss?"

As if on cue her cheeks heat up and she looks so much like Hajime as she ducks her head, the tips of her tan ears darkening against the pixie cut she’s sporting. "I-It's Sayuri. Iwaizumi Sayuri."

"A befitting name for such a young but beautiful blossom like yourself, Yuri-chan. Can I call you that?" Perfectly charming, much to the clear annoyance of Hajime when she nods and rushes past him to her room.

Tooru smiles and straightens up, turning to the other man with a tilt of his head. "Is there something the matter, Hajime?"

"Don't flirt with my sister or my mom."

"Then," his heart quickens a bit and he steps closer, lowering his voice and taking a chance, "can I flirt with you, Hajime?"

There's no reply at first, just a spluttered redness working across Hajime's cheeks, and Tooru knows his face is a little warm too as he dances out of reach with a laugh.

"I don't suppose you have a guest bed I'm staying in, Hajime? Or are we sharing yours?" The implication is there loud and clear - it's so fun to tease his friend, even if it means letting down his guard a little and showing his hand - and Hajime rubs his face with an aggravated sigh.

"You're staying with me. I'll take the futon."

Tooru figures it'd be like that, but he still feels a little disappointed. He nods and goes to scope out Hajime's room anyway, to familiarize himself with it... and to see what he could find out through the knick knacks and leftover pieces of evidence crucial to the case of Iwaizumi Hajime.

“Are you--” He jerks his head back at the door, eyes wide as he drops some tattered college book back onto the impeccable desk, and Sayuri takes a deep breath, lowering her voice. “Are you Oikawa-san? The idol?”

It’s so cute that she’s so excited, from her bitten lip to the gentle crinkle of paper. Tooru smiles softly and sighs, leaning against the wood. No point in hiding from a fan. Especially one that’s clutching what looks like one of the magazines he’s on the cover of in her hand. “Yes, but your big brother doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Nope. He’s never really minded trendy things like that, has he?” She shakes her head and looks back out, shutting the door behind her when he motions her closer. He picks up the book again and pulls out the desk chair, sitting down languidly as he flips through the pages. “Thought not. Well, that’s just how he is. Ask all your questions, Yuri-chan, I’ll answer them~.”

“How did a boring guy like him meet you? Definitely not through work, right?”

“Bingo. I was running away from some unsavory folk my manager sent after me and he saved me.” Sayuri doesn’t look surprised at all, and Tooru’s grin creeps up again. So Hajime’s always been this way. He studies her closer this time, notes the similarities between her and her brother, but all in all she takes after her mother more. The quiet curiosity in her eyes is just the same though. Tooru feels affection fill his chest and he looks down at the book, wondering what kind of path Hajime wanted to take before money was a concern. “... Did Hajime finish college, Yuri-chan?”

“He went to work right out of school.” Sayuri takes a seat on her brother’s bed and lays the magazine beside her, kicking her feet slightly. “Those were gifts from our grandparents before he told them... They were really mad about it, but he told me they’d get over it. I think he was really stressed and went to the city to escape.”

Well, it definitely was an escape in some way. He hums, leaning back in the chair. “I hope I helped him out then. I stayed with him for a month and we’ve been talking on and off on the phone until we met at the station earlier today... He didn’t seem unhappy with his life, but I think he could do more with it than just spend it at a desk pushing other people’s bills to them. It was more like he was...” The silence hangs for a moment and Tooru frowns a bit, brows furrowing. “It was more like he was just going with the current.”

That’s exactly what it was like, from the unintentional mess of a bachelor to the job he held. Neither here nor there. Just average. Unspectacular. Tooru chews the inside of his lip and leans against his hand, the chair squeaking slightly at the new weight.

‘What a shame,’ he thinks to himself, ‘there’s a million things that interest me about Hajime and he’s put him down to this average life simply because it’s easy.’

“Oikawa-san?”

His head snaps up somewhere between thinking of the movies Hajime could make and how much he wouldn’t mind being part of that average life, a smile already slipping in place at the concerned face that’s a little more open than her older brother’s. “-- Ah, yes, sorry. What else do you want to know, Yuri-chan? I’m only going to be around for the next two days, after all~.”

Once Sayuri’s left, satisfied with an autograph across one of his competitor’s faces, Tooru relaxes with linked fingers stretched over his head, hooking his ankles together, and sighs as they fall behind his head. That was a first. And she’d been so compliant with his only condition of a private show that she keep his identity secret from Hajime, too. Nice girl. Didn’t pry too much. She must’ve gotten her kindness from her older brother, though her smile’s a little different than his. Hajime’s reminds him more of someone that might’ve gotten into some harmless hijinks with his high school pals, just a quirk of his lip and a glint of mischief in his narrowed gaze shortly before to replied to whatever Tooru’d said. But his own smile falls and he chews on the inside of his mouth, wondering if it was just a dream to think that he could live with someone who had an average life like that.

Wouldn’t he just be a disruption?

It’d been a nice month. He can’t say that his business hadn’t been a constant worry buzzing in the back of his mind, that the thought of a phone call from Sacchan could ruin his vacation, but it was fun being able to let down some of his usual guard and laugh, get drunk, feel a restlessness in his bones as he watched the clock. He hadn’t taken care of a home like that since he got a contract and had others to do it for him, hadn’t made tea or practice cooking or-- or flirted, he realizes, in a while. And it’d all been so easy with Hajime. Tooru might’ve been a disturbance, but Hajime could’ve kicked him out any time.

His stomach rolls over and he presses his hands to his face, hiding his widening grin. Hajime’s too easy to like. He must’ve been a real hit with the ladies. Maybe he still is, and Tooru wonders if he even knows it. Maybe. But the status of his apartment says otherwise, and he breaks into a fit that leaves him breathless and the immediate concern of Hajime’s mother, who opens the door--

and the connection between him and the cover is apparent with her wide eyes and set mouth. Tooru breathes out, a nervous smile twitching up, and he motions to Hajime’s bed. Well. This isn’t how he wanted the visit to go, with everyone but Hajime finding out, and it just begs the question of why he still hasn’t come clean.

“I’ll explain, Iwaizumi-san, as long as you promise not to tell Hajime. I have to do that myself.”

--

Dinner is quiet. Hajime glances over his rice bowl at his father, then at Tooru. The exuberant guy didn’t seem to be dampened too badly by the heavy atmosphere and was trying to eat around the vegetables his mom hadn’t cut up small enough. He snorts softly and it catches Tooru’s attention, a little frown on his face.

What’s that for? His eyes read and Hajime grins a little, glancing at the vegetables. Tooru’s gaze shifts down and Hajime chokes on his beef at the pink speckling the puffed up cheeks.

Unfortunately, it also draws the attention of his family.

“What’s funny, Hajime?” If there was a word to describe his father’s voice, it’d be quiet. Not a soft kind of quiet, but one that sounds perpetually unimpressed. At least to him.

Hajime clears his throat and lets his heart settle out, fingers tightening on his chopsticks before he answers. “Nothing. I... just remembered that the idiot on my left doesn’t like vegetables that much.”

“Should you really be calling your guest that?”

The air tenses again and he swallows hard, opening his mouth--

“It’s fine, it’s fine~. I don’t mind at all. I don’t think Hajime’s ever said my name, actually... Or at least, not that often.” Tooru tilts his head to the side in thought and Hajime feels his breath leave him, unblinking as the other continues. “Eh... I get kind of embarrassed when someone calls me by my name anyway, and it’s kind of like an affectionate sort of thing between us~.”

“-- Don’t give people the wrong idea, moron, there’s nothing affectionate about it,” he tries to argue back, and his mom laughs. Slowly but surely the silence is being replaced with sound, the white noise clearing in his head and being replaced with regret when he realizes that he’s being so informal to someone who’s just supposed to be his subordinate turned kind of friend, cheeks heating up. Tooru grins at him and then at Sayuri across the table.

“Your big bro really has a hard time admitting his feelings, doesn’t he?”

“Always,” she replies a little too eagerly for his comfort. Sayuri and Tooru seemed to become pretty close in the hours Hajime was doing last minute errands, and he’s not really sure how okay he is with that. They were both handfuls enough alone, and together... It almost makes him shiver, but her growing smirk as she leans back in her chair seals it. “He had a lot of missed chances. Mom always said that he can see other people’s red threads over his own too, which doesn’t help him at aaaaall.”

Tooru laughs lightly, knocking his and Hajime’s knees together, and Hajime rolls his eyes. “You’re not any better, Sayuri, didn’t you get confessed to recently and accidentally turn the guy down?”

She flushes and kicks him from under the table, which only makes Tooru laugh harder. Hajime’s lips pull back into a grin that freezes for a brief moment when his friend turns to him with cheeks flushed in delight, eyes crinkling with the stretch of his smile, and Hajime’s throat goes dry.

As if he didn’t have a hard enough time before. He clears his throat and opens his mouth to move the topic along - for the sake of Sayuri, really, not just so Tooru would stop looking at him like that - and his mom beats him to the punch with a topic he really wish he could’ve avoided the days they were staying here.

“Hajime, have you met anyone nice in the city?” Dating wise, she means, and even his silent father seems to perk up at it, staring at him. Hajime wishes his next carrot would get stuck in his throat, but it doesn’t. Life’s against him.

“... Not really. I’ve been focusing on getting by.” It’s not a lie, but it doesn’t feel like the truth either. Not the whole truth. He doesn’t have to think long on it either; the moment his eyes slide from his mom’s to Tooru’s concerned expression the feeling washes over him again, a warmth that sends a shiver down his spine. A month and a half doesn’t constitute as enough time to want to go out - and having feelings for a guy’s still unacceptable, won’t bring a son to carry on the name - but Hajime thinks that there’ll be time for that in the future. It’s a peaceful thought. But it’s one he’ll keep to himself, eyes flicking down to his food. “It’s nothing like the part times I had here. There’s really no time for anything but hard work.”

He knows his father’ll approve of that. But when the man speaks up, Hajime’s surprise can’t be hidden. “Don’t work yourself to death, Hajime. You’re young. There’s time for work both now and later,” and he seems to hesitate a moment, but presses on. “But you can miss something if you focus too much on just that.”

It’s so surreal. It felt like he never did enough, yet here was his father telling him not to overwork himself and to have fun. The other man meets his wide eyes with an impassive look of his own, sipping his tea.

“You’re at the age where you should be thinking about it, Hajime. Your mother agrees.” He knows that, considering she brings it up whenever she can, but he’s still at a loss for words. His father nods to Tooru (who straightens a little at the sudden attention). “What about you, young man? Don’t you think so too?”

“That’s...” Tooru seems hesitant, which is unlike him enough to snap Hajime out of his trace. The brunet seems at a loss for a moment too. Did... he have someone he liked? It quiets Hajime’s heart with a thick blanket, more suffocating than warm, but it’s only natural. The topic hadn’t come up at all before, but it’s natural. There’s no reason to be disappointed. “That’s not my place to say, I think, Iwaizumi-san. Hajime is my superior, even if we’re friends too.”

He pauses, pushing around his food restlessly, and glances over at Hajime. “I think my parents would feel the same though, if I had the time to talk to them.”

“... Yeah, I got it,” Hajime finally replies, the turn of events still leaving him feeling a little numb. “I’ve been having fun too. With, uh, with Tooru and all.” He’s never really said Tooru’s name, thinking about it, always hey, you or something else, and it’s a little strange to be so familiar with someone that’s not his family. In the corner of his vision he can see pink on his friend’s cheeks and an odd fidgeting. What’s he getting restless over now? “He’s pretty flighty even during work,” and Tooru actually looks guilty for some reason, “so he kind of keeps things exciting.”

His father nods and gets more food for his plate, the quiet returning but not as stifling now. Hajime turns his attention to Tooru and tilts his head a little.

What’s up? He mouths, but Tooru shakes his head.

Nothing, is the reply, but there’s an unusual tightness that’s as clear as if he’d spoken it, and Tooru’s eyes return to his plate. Hajime can only see half of his mouth now, but he knows it’s just a repeat of the first word. It’s nothing.

Hajime misses his apartment already. Having a space away from Tooru was something he took for granted. Any nights he dreamt of sharing the same space should’ve been nightmares, because half past one the guy’s still turning on the futon restlessly. Hajime props himself up and looks down at him, relishing the satisfaction of startling Tooru. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah! Um, it’s nothing,” Hajime’s not sure he could ever hate two words so much. “I just have some things on my mind.”

He’d been restless the day before he had to leave too, Hajime remembers. Which is why they ended up drinking and watching movies together. In other words... “Is it about the job you’re still not telling me about?”

Tooru flinches a little and tucks into the blankets more, peering up at him with the most pathetic expression on his face. ‘He must be tired if he’s being open like that,’ even if it’s not fair to think. Tooru’s always been pretty open. It’s just that sometimes he shuts and won’t show anything. Hajime sighs and scoots closer to the edge, reaching out a hand and petting his friend’s soft head.

“Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I don’t care what you do. You’re still... you know. An idiot.”

“Wow, that’s cold.” But Tooru’s smiling a little more now. He hides it when he pulls further into his cocoon, words muffled. “... It’s... Well, it’s about earlier. I actually feel kind of bad about it, but... I am kind of flighty with my work.”

Whatever it is. So it hit close to home, huh.

“I don’t mean to be that way, but it gets to be too much sometimes and I just need a break. So I run off. Sometimes it’s just for a few hours, sometimes a few days, but with you, Hajime...” Tooru peeks out more and the moon doesn’t do him justice, the soft white light brightening his already pale skin and leaving dark shadows in its wake. He really is beautiful. A pain, but beautiful. “With you, I felt so at ease I wanted to stay there forever. It’s like I’ve known you for years.”

There’s a word at the edge of Hajime’s mind that describe that, but he can’t even think straight enough to pull it out. He just hums in reply and that seems to be enough to get Tooru going again, like a dam that’s been broken open.

“So... I was happy that I got to meet your family, too, and to learn a lot about you. I think you might be the only real friend I’ve ever had, Hajime, and all I’ve been is a bunch of trouble.” He has, but Hajime doesn’t speak up just yet. Tooru shakes his head and sits up, scooting to the edge of Hajime’s mattress and laying against it with a sigh. “And now, Hajime, I... I really, really want to tell you something, but I don’t know if I should.”

Not a matter of can or can’t. Hajime wonders if it’d be too familiar to touch him now and decides screw it, he knows how Tooru feels. From the knowing each other for years to wanting to say something but not knowing if he should. Tooru’s mouth parts in surprise as Hajime strokes his cheek gently, his own face struggling to stay cool.

“If you think you shouldn’t, then don’t. But if you want to, I don’t mind listening. About whatever it is,” he tacks on, hand pausing. Tooru’s lips press together tight and he pushes his face into the mattress, leaving Hajime with nothing but hair.

It’s quiet and Hajime thinks that maybe he’ll get an answer this time. That he’ll learn what Tooru does for a living, that Tooru might trust him with another secret, that the tense atmosphere isn’t for anything silly. That maybe...

“... Hajime, I...” The rest’s muffled into the sheets and Hajime can feel the heat from Tooru’s ears as he brushes through his hair. He gives the other a prod and gets a shake of the head in return. After another quiet moment Tooru breathes out like he’s been holding it for a while and props his head up, Hajime’s chest tightening at the soft eyes and warm smile. “... I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all. You’re a good person and a better friend. I’m sorry for talking so much.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t learn anything new anyway.” Hajime ruffles his hair and cracks a grin at the grumbling he gets in response, softening slightly as he watches Tooru. He might not know everything, might never know everything, but from what he’s learned about his friend in their short time together is that as much as Tooru doesn’t like worrying others he likes the attention that comes with it, is secretive but feels guilty about it, snorts when he laughs and hates it, can’t eat vegetables unless they’re cut small enough, gets cold easy, and has a magic touch to getting troublesome things to work. He knows that Tooru counts in beats when he’s nervous, that he has a good singing voice and loves to show it off, that he has regret about not seeing his family more often, and that he’s devoted to whatever it is he does. Not wanting to go back and still doing it takes a strong sense of dedication. Hajime can make a long list of what he knows about Tooru starting with his name but he can make a longer list of what he doesn’t know starting there too, and as curious as he is to learn all there is about his friend it’s fine if he doesn’t all at once. “I do wanna ask one question you’ve gotta answer though. It’s not about your job or anything this time.”

Tooru closes his eyes and rests against the bed, nodding his go ahead.

“How did you and Sayuri get so close so quickly?”

It’s just a simple question, but Tooru tenses under his touch. He relaxes slowly like a flower blooming in the sun, creases smoothing out and hand doing the same. “She’s a wonderful young lady, Hajime, you shouldn’t underestimate how sweet I am on girls.”

“She hates your type.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Well, then, maybe I’m just an exception.”

Annoyance crawls under Hajime’s skin and he pinches one of Tooru’s cheeks hard. “I said to answer truthfully, not dodge the question.”

“-- Fine, fine, just stooop, that huuurts.” He lets go and Tooru rubs his cheek with a small frown, sighing. “She... knows a secret about me. I didn’t tell her either. Yuri-chan’s a smart girl, she figured it out herself. And she really is a nice girl, I can tell she’s been raised as well as you have.”

... So it’s probably his job. How would Sayuri know? Hajime lays on his back and stares at the ceiling, glancing aside at Tooru’s expression, his lips tight and brows drawn together by guilt. “Don’t look like that. It’s fine. Not like you wanted to tell her or anything.”

After this long, it really doesn’t matter what Tooru does for a living. Secrecy’s just another part of their friendship and it’s nothing that’s gonna make it sink. As long as it’s nothing bad. Nothing that could hurt his family. The lines on Tooru’s face relax again and he slips back onto his futon.

“... Your job’s nothing dangerous, right?” He asks, thirteen past two, and Tooru laughs softly.

“Of course not, Hajime. I wouldn’t have come with you if it was. My job’s a lot of things - fun, exciting, exhausting - but nothing about it is dangerous. I promise.”

“Just making sure.”

It’d been pretty nerve-wracking to see someone being followed by two tough looking guys after all. Hajime rubs his face, breathes out softly, and turns to face Tooru’s direction. He looks a lot more peaceful now that he got all that off his chest. This had been the most he’d ever talked at length about his job too, and Hajime buries the flattered feeling in his chest away for another time. It’s good that Tooru’s finally opening up. They’re friends, after all.

But damn if it isn’t starting to bug him that Sayuri knows more about Tooru in a single day than Hajime ever learned in the month they stayed together. He knocks lightly on his sister’s door while his mom and Tooru are outside doing the last minute decorations and isn’t surprised to hear music blaring, a cat yowling along. A harder knock this time, but still nothing. He groans and opens the door, jerking back at the--

all too familiar song, bright voice carrying the melody, and Sayuri looks like a deer caught in headlights, pausing the track with a swift click. Hajime feels the same way.

“-- Close the door behind you!” She hisses and he does as commanded, leaning against the wood with crossed arms. It’s too quiet now and he stares down the stereo.

That had definitely been Tooru’s voice.

("It's a catchy song, right? One of my personal favorites. It's just so fun to sing.”)

Oh. Hajime exhales slowly and turns his gaze to Sayuri, who doesn’t break eye contact. She’s just as stubborn as he is... not that there’s anything to be stubborn about. Maybe she’s afraid that she keeping a secret from him. He scratches his head and commercials play through his mind, things that were good background noise but nothing else. Posters he never took a glance at plastered across the city walls, magazines he skipped by on the rack for his paper, the expensive looking clothing, the hotel Tooru claimed to stay at--

“I’m not mad,” he starts out and her fingers flex from their fisted state, relaxing. And just when he’d decided he didn’t care what Tooru was. Shit. Being a super popular idol was another thing entirely, and the conversation about dreams comes back up in his mind. So his had already come true.

‘Yeah. Must be nice being rich,’ he thinks a little bitterly before shaking it out of his head. That’s not the part Tooru liked. Probably. He didn’t mind the small apartment, after all. “You must’ve figured it out the moment you saw him, right?”

“He’s... a lot different off camera than he is on. But not in a bad way!” She amends, lowering the volume on her stereo before playing the CD again. Sayuri sits on the edge of her bed and swings her legs, watching him. “Is it true you saved him?”

“Uh--” The incident flares up anew and so does his face, but he reminds himself it wasn’t anything but a cover up before he loses his composure. Hajime rubs the back of his neck to will the warmth away and shrugs, wishing she’d either turn it up or off because hearing Tooru’s voice so low is making him regret finding out. “Yeah, kind of. He was just running from... I guess who’d be his bodyguards and I helped him out of a tight spot.”

“Huh. So you can be cool sometimes, worrywart.”

“I remember you calling me your cool big bro all the time, Sayu,” and he catches her pillow easy, dipping the bed as he sits beside her.

“So .” Her legs stop and she leans into his side, the question forming in his own mind already. “Are you gonna ask him about it?”

--

It’s been a long, long time since Tooru had ever felt so excited for Christmas. The last was his first celebration with the company, when his family had come to congratulate him and say hello. It’d been fun, there’d been drinks and a tree as tall as the ceiling, decorated to match the lights outside. Winter hadn’t brought any snow - but when did it in Tokyo? - but the cold air had been enough for Tooru, tucked by a window with his hot chocolate and watching the street outside.

And now, it was being celebrated with a family that wasn’t even his own. His smile wanes and he fingers his phone. Should he call? At least to wish them happy holidays? The cold air here is different than in Tokyo, speckled with snow as it sticks to the ground, and Tooru breathes clouds through it as he summons his courage. Alright.

“Hello?” His mom’s voice is familiar even through the phone and he cracks a grin, leaning against the snow covered wall between the Iwaizumi’s house and the street. Her tone grows more excited. “Tooru, is that you?”

“Bingo~.” Cheery and bright, and then softer. “Hi, Mom. Happy holidays.”

“You too, Tooru. What’s the occasion? You can’t have called just for-- Takeru, put that cookie back! It’s not time to eat dessert yet! Oh, I’m sorry, your sister and her family just came over a little while ago...” She laughs and scolds Takeru further off, the sounds of a party soft in the background. Tooru’s heart aches slightly and he glances back at the warm glow of the light inside, knowing they’re waiting for him to begin dinner. It stops when her voice returns stronger, concern lacing it. “Well? Did something happen?”

Now he feels guilty for only calling when he needed to. Tooru kicks some of the snow and shakes his head, knowing that she can’t see. “No... Well, nothing bad. I made a friend last month and I’m having Christmas at his house with his family back in the town we used to live in, so I thought I’d call.”

“Holiday guilt, hmmm?” She laughs softly, but Tooru knows it’s real. He smiles widely and crunches small bits of snow into little balls for snowmen. “Well, I’m glad you called - your sister’s got another on the way.”

“Really?! Tell her I said to slow down, I already feel old with Takeru growing up.”

Another giggle and he can hear her moving away from the party, probably to the kitchen. His suspicions are right as he hears the familiar chop of her knife on wood, a sound that brings back his childhood so vividly he can’t stop himself from chuckling. “You seem in a good mood, Tooru. What’s this friend of yours like? I’m glad he’s kind enough to invite you to join him and his family - it must be lonely, being a big idol and not having time to really relax.”

“It’s fine. I have a few friends among my rivals, but we aren’t too close.” He breathes out and smiles softly, rolling a new ball. “My friend’s name is Iwaizumi Hajime and I might be in love, Mom.”

It’s quiet on the line. She’s never approved, but she’s never been against it. Mostly because Tooru never let her be. The phone shifts and she’s probably holding it again over it being on her shoulder.

“Really? With this boy? And-- did you say Iwaizumi?”

“Yes to both. Why?”

“Well-- Iwaizumi’s a common name in Miyagi, but...” Mom always had a habit of pausing and chewing her lip, something Tooru knows he’s picked up himself. “When we still lived outside of Sendai, there was a couple down the road with that surname. They had a son about your age, but we moved before you two really got to know each other. I think... you must’ve been friends for a year before we left.”

... Oh. Tooru’s quiet, chewing his lip and staring down at the snowmen. His heart might be beating fast but there’s no urgency to it, it’s a content realization, and he just wonders if Iwaizumi-san knows too. “And the boy’s name?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s been decades, Tooru, let me see if your sister knows. She’s always been good with them. Izumi,” she calls, and a few seconds later he hears his sister’s voice in the background. The question’s asked and Tooru’s heart stops when the name’s spoken, soft to him.

So those memories were with Hajime. The igloo, the hot chocolate with cinnamon, and unbidden ones start to rise back to the surface. A festival with fish between them. The cicadas loud in the summer’s heat as they share a popsicle, chasing fireflies later with nets and jars. Carefully planting flowers in someone’s front yard - Tooru looks over at the far corner and can almost see himself there, crouched with a straw hat on to match the friend he’d had then, that brave and carefree boy he admired, and his chest tightens. A chanced meeting indeed.

“... It’s the same, I think,” he murmurs. “It’s the same boy. I don’t think he remembers though, it doesn’t seem like it at all.”

Though to be fair, he hadn’t either. His lips pull tight into a grin and he sweeps away the snow, his hard work, and moves to make a heart with his feet.

“Well, I’m glad you found him again, Tooru. You used to talk about this boy all the time when you were younger. I never really got to know his mother either... Or his father, though I think he was usually busy.”

It must’ve been like that. Tooru finishes his heart and goes to sit on the wall itself, carefully balancing the phone on his shoulder and he hmphs up and sighs. “Well, I guess my feeling of having known him before wasn’t off then. I don’t think I’ll tell him since it was so long ago, but that’s... actually really nice to learn. Thanks.”

“Of course,” she replies, and her voice lowers. “So? Tell me about him. The guy that’s stolen your heart.”

“Tooru’s got a crush?” He hears in the back and groans softly; of course his sister would hear. “Put it on speaker, I wanna know too.”

“Can I, Tooru?”

“Yes, yes, you can. She’d take the phone anyway.” His mom laughs and the line gets louder, a soft clack as she sets the phone done. Tooru rubs his cheek and scowls at the snow melting from the heat, shivering slightly. How to begin... “He’s... wonderful. He helped me out in a tight spot,” because they don’t need to worry about his flightiness or how often he runs away, “and I stayed with him for a while. A month. He doesn’t know I’m an idol, and frankly I don’t think he cares about all of it, which is a relief.”

“So he treats you normally... That’s nice,” Izumi comments, and their mother laughs in agreement. “Do you have a picture, Tooru? I need to see if your taste is as bad as mine.”

Tooru snorts and looks through his gallery for a nice one. “I’ll never have as bad of taste as you do, sis. There. Handsome, isn’t he? Positively dreamy? Just the most delicious man you’ve ever laid your woefully married eyes on?”

“He’s okay.”

“Oh, no Izumi, Tooru’s right. He’s quite the looker.”

“Thank you, Mom. Good taste must’ve skipped her generation.” He hears Izumi scoff and knows she’s rolling her eyes, grinning to himself. The picture’s one Hajime hadn’t realized he took, when the man was focused on work he’d brought home, and he remembers that night being one of many where Tooru had coaxed Hajime away from the papers and to the lumpy couch to watch some movies. He smiles gently and sighs.

“Ah, the lovelorn sigh.” Izumi mimics it and Tooru’s face heats up again. “You really have it bad, Tooru~.”

“Well-- Maybe! I mean, I’ve only known him for like a month, and I’m very sure he likes me back, actually, so I’ve trying to be as obvious as I can with it, but he’s been so focused and worried about his family that it hasn’t gotten through... I think.” Maybe it has. He thinks about the small bits of affection sprinkled here and there, how Hajime had listened to his worries, how he’d never asked about his job like requested, and another sigh drifts out without his notice. Izumi’s laugh makes him slam his hand onto the brick and he winces, whining. “Siiis! It’s not funny, I don’t know what to dooo.”

“Then let me give you some advice, dear little brother of mine.” Their mom laughs at her haughty tone, but seems to be content with Izumi taking over. “Get him under a mistletoe and kiss him. You’ll know how he feels then, and he’ll know how you feel then too.”

Mistletoe. There’s not a sprig of it around the house, he knows, since Hajime had made sure of that the day they came in. 'Maybe Yuri-chan has some,' he thinks to himself, 'otherwise I’ll just have to make do with what I have.'

“Or you could go by the gift he gives you,” their mother chimes in. “Though that’s only if you know him well enough to judge his affection by that.”

By the gift, huh. Hajime’s the type of person who likes small things - both giving and receiving. Little gifts that shows your attentiveness. Tooru himself didn’t mind bigger things, but little things are fine too... That would be nice.

“Well, I’ll do both,” he decides outloud, sparking giggles from the two women. “But I’m holding up dinner, so I’ll call you when I get back to the city, okay?”

“Okay, Tooru. Keep safe and have a nice time with the Iwaizumi family.”

“Practice safe sex, Tooru~.” Izumi’s voice is a stage whisper and she yelps after a soft smack, their mother tutting lightly. Tooru smiles and tells her the same cheerfully, the splutter worth the tease.

After I love yous and I’m sorry for not calling sooner, I promise I’ll do it mores are exchanged he hangs up, surprised by how rejuvenated he feels after just talking to them for half an hour. He half-jumps off the wall and laughs as he stumbles, catching himself and jogging back to the front door. There’s sounds of people alive and warm and he catches Hajime’s laughter from beneath it all, welcoming himself back in with an apology and a wide grin and drops when his friend mouths we need to talk, silent in the noise between them.

It has him on edge the whole evening. He can’t remember a Christmas he’s felt so anxious, fidgeting and spacing out from time to time. Sayuri’s beside him this time and Tooru can’t look up across the table, half-listening to what’s being said. What did Hajime want to talk about? At this point, he wouldn’t mind telling what his job was, why he was running from those two guys, anything at all--  but it’s still nerve wracking to think about and he excuses himself when he’s done with just a round of the delicious dinner, paying a compliment to both Sayuri and her mother for the meal before he steps back outside, letting out his stream of worries in a long white trail.

The door opens behind him and he shifts to the side, already knowing it’s Hajime and not being the least startled when his friend speaks up. “You left in a hurry.”

“Oh, I was just feeling a little... suffocated, I guess,” it’s not a complete lie, even if the reason’s not the same. “I talked to my family earlier and it sounds like they’re having a blast. I feel a little guilty for not calling my mom more too.”

Hajime glances aside at him and puffs out some smoke of his own, kicking the snow quietly. “... Wanna go on a walk?”

Tooru looks back at the house and nods, following his friend’s crunching footsteps in the snow.

It’s the only sound between them as they walk down the street. He can imagine the snowball fights, the igloo, all of it, and he stifles his laughter with his hand, shaking his head at Hajime’s questioning look. It doesn’t matter now. It’s just a nice trivia bit.

“So,” Hajime huffs out, eyes to the ground as they head down the way to what Tooru remembers as a convenience store, still running if the nice sign is anything to go by. “You’re an idol.”

“So you found out... Yuri-chan?”

“Mmhmm.”

Tooru hums softly to that, looking up at the overcast clouds. “I am. I didn’t think it mattered if I told you or not, since you didn’t recognize me right off the bat, and I hate getting the reaction of ‘Who are you?’ when I tell people my name. Not that I get it that much anymore.”

Hajime chuckles. “Yeah, I would’ve. And it still doesn’t matter.”

“It really doesn’t?”

“I said before, right? It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re still a moron. You just happen to be a moron with a lot of money.” Tooru laughs, nerves sliding off his back and leaning down to roll up a snowball. Hajime eyes him warily and likes ready to nab his own, but the idol just shakes his head and tosses it up and down.

“I might be a moron with a lot of money, but I’m still a selfish coward who runs away when he wants. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Yeah. You’ve got people who’re depending on you, but acting like that’s only gonna hurt them.” Just like he’d thought. “And your fans, too. Sayuri’s only forgiven you since you came to visit us personally.”

Pfft. That’s true, too. Though he always tries to make sure to get it out before concerts, the most recent one had to be pushed back because of his unusually long stay with Hajime. “That doesn’t happen too often... It was only because I felt so at ease with you, Hajime. I wanted to stay like that forever.”

Even if he couldn’t, which is why he ended up going back. Hajime doesn’t say anything and Tooru chews on his lip. Was he mad? He didn’t seem mad.

“I mean, I know I can’t anyway... Which is why I was happy when you called me, Hajime. You were a little piece of normalcy in my life, someone who didn’t expect anything but what I’d already shown you, and...” He trails off, not really sure what else to say. That he’s thankful? That he wants it to continue? That he likes him? “And I want to keep being your friend.”

And maybe more, someday. There’s just not time for it in his line of work, it’d cause a hell of a scandal, and even if he doesn’t like Sacchan that much putting more work onto his agent’s not ideal in the least. Sacchan’s mean, but he lets Tooru do what he pleases and that’s a fine enough reason not to cause more trouble than necessary.

“Are we still friends now?” Tooru’s head snaps over at the question and he jerks at the sharp eyes on him. “Do you think we are, now that I know your secret?”

“... I don’t see why we wouldn’t be,” a little hurt, though he’s not sure why Hajime would ask. The other man nods and slaps his back, making Tooru stumble.

“So we can keep being friends, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Right. His cheeks heat up and he rubs the back of his neck, wishing he’d grabbed his scarf before he’d left. The cold’s gonna get to him. Thankfully, the convenience store is pleasantly warm and Tooru sighs in relief, ignoring Hajime’s snicker as he goes straight towards the sweets. When he returns with an armful of various things he looks at Hajime hopefully and gets an impassive stare in return.

“You can pay for yourself, hotshot,” he says as he turns away, cackling at Tooru’s whine. “What? Don’t you have any spare change?”

“Haaajiiimeeeee come ooooon. I’ll make it up to you? Do you want to go out for dinner?” The cashier makes an odd sound that’s visible on Hajime’s face, and Tooru just grins, voice lowering. “I’ll take you someplace nice, Hajime, so please?”

Hajime huffs and motions to the counter, ignoring Tooru’s happy hum and side-eyeing him when the total rings up. “Don’t cheap out.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

So they really were fine, even down to the slight teasing flirts. Tooru’s grin widens and he resists the urge to skip pretty damn well, his happiness only evident in his soft humming. Hajime looks pleased too considering the amount of money he just spent on a bunch of sweets, and Tooru moves closer when a gust of wind blows snowflakes into their faces, shivering.

It was a purposeful move, and he’s unsurprised - overjoyed, but unsurprised - when Hajime scolds him and wraps his scarf around both of them, Tooru’s laughter filling the air. It’s cozy. It’s warm. Hajime’s close enough to kiss and he wants to do just that, an ache that can’t be ignored, so the idol stops him and burns under the questioning glance, the scarf loosening slightly in his movements. His fingers tighten on Hajime’s arm and he looks down at their feet.

“Hajime.... About what I was gonna say last night.”

“You said it, didn’t you?”

“Not...” He breathes out, heart thumping loudly against his chest. “Not all of what I wanted to say. I am thankful for you, I’m more than happy for the time that we’ve spent together and I’d love to do it as often as I can...”

“So that’s fine.” Tooru jerks up, eyes wide and taking in the faint redness across his friend’s red cheeks. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from this. Who knows. “I said you’re welcome to stay anytime, right? Just... make sure you’re not causing anyone but me trouble, alright?”

It sounds like a confession to Tooru, but maybe he’s just hopeful. Even if it’s not, even if he’s just projecting his own feelings onto Hajime and hoping he’s not wrong, he knows he can count on Hajime. And that makes him smile softly, just above a whisper. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Hajime. You’re the only one I’d ever want to cause trouble for.”

“Thanks,” Hajime replies dryly, but his blush definitely isn’t just from the cold anymore. Tooru’s mouth quirks up and he hesitantly slides his hand down to grasp Hajime’s, fear creeping up when the other stiffens and washing away when the squeeze is returned briefly.

“... Pretty much everyone but your father knows now. If he’s anything like you, I don’t think he’ll mind that much.” Tooru’s counting the seconds their hands stay connected as they trudge along, stuck deep in Hajime’s coat pocket and not letting up. “Will he?”

“Nah. He’d probably give you business tips. And if you’ve told Mom, then he definitely knows. He just doesn’t care.” Hajime huffs laughter and Tooru’s grin widens at the sound. That’s a relief. The Iwaizumis are a good family. It makes him wish they’d known each other more long ago, not just that year, because if it meant having these sort of relationships sooner then he wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t end up being an idol.

... Well, he might’ve cared a little, but it’s still nice to imagine growing up with Hajime. The hand in his is warm with slightly shorter fingers, calloused from pens beneath the gloves, and he wonders what his friend was like through the years. Was he a ruffian? Was he always so kind? Did he and his dad have a falling out? There’s only so much he can guess now, so much he can ask about, but there’ll be time later. The hand gripping his assures him of that.