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“Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“Say that word.”
Oikawa pauses, running back through his conversation, trying to figure it out. “Soulmates?” he muses aloud, and this time, Kageyama flinches visibly. “Why can’t I say soulmates?”
“Because,” is all he says. He sits uncomfortably at the table, his legs folded beneath him, like this is his first time in Oikawa’s bedroom. Oikawa would try to make amends, make him more comfortable and less awkward, but it makes him laugh a bit.
“Tobio-chan?” Oikawa flips over on the bed, propping his head up on a hand. “If something’s bothering you, you ought to tell me.”
Kageyama chews his lip, looking unconvinced. Oikawa sits up, crossing his legs under him. He can wait. It's not like anyone's ever given Kageyama any awards for his patience.
“Tobio-chan,” he says again, his voice quiet and questioning.
“What if we’re not?” The words come out of him in a rush and Oikawa hides his fleeting smile of victory.
“What do you mean?”
“What if we’re not...not soulmates.” He says the word quietly, his voice faltering.
“Oh.” The meaning dawns on him, and Oikawa’s voice grows quiet too, thoughtful as he considers the possibility. If they're not soulmates. If they're not meant to grow old together. If they're not meant to spend their lives together. “Well…” he begins slowly,after a silent minute, “it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Wh-why wouldn’t it matter?” Kageyama is incredulous, half-rising to his feet.
“Why? Isn’t it better?” Oikawa lies back down. “We’ll live forever then. You’ll get a whole eternity with me, Tobio. Or do you not want that?”
Kageyama stares at him and Oikawa stares back. He’s delighted to watch the blush spread across his boyfriend’s face, starting at his cheeks like he can’t seem to find his breath.
It's premature, he knows. He ought to be the responsible one. Kageyama's only two years younger, but that could be an eon. Two years where they'll be separated, two years where he'll be waiting, alone. Or maybe it's just premature in the sense that he doesn't even know which college to choose yet, much less if he's ready to dedicate his entire life to a single person. But why not? Oikawa reaches out, his fingers tracing the tapering line of Kageyama’s neck. “I want it. I hope you want it too.”
*****
“Tobio, don’t miss me too much.”
*click*
“I won’t.”
*click*
“Are you sure?”
*click*
“I won’t. In two years I'm going to catch up to you and become the best setter in the nation.”
*click* * click*
“Mhmm, mhmm. I look forward to it.” Oikawa is quiet a moment, studying the other boy, still a few inches shorter thank goodness. He's growing though, and Oikawa's read somewhere that boys stop growing by the time they're twenty. He's still young though, refusing to look Tooru in the eye; must be crying, he decides, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend’s teary face. One of the last bits of his Tobio-chan he’ll see in a while, he needs to make it count.
*click*
“Will you quit taking pictures?” Kageyama snaps, lunging for Oikawa’s phone.
Oikawa only holds the phone out of Kageyama’s grasp, seizing his chance when he jumps just a bit too close, shutting up Kageyama’s annoyed growls with a kiss.
“You—”
“Me,” Oikawa says agreeably.
Kageyama presses the back of his hand against his lips, and his voice is horrified whisper. “What are you doing?” he hisses.
“Well, were you going to do it if I didn’t?”
“Of course not! We’re in public!” Kageyama fumes, and Oikawa laughs lightly, pressing his phone against his lips.
“So call the police and arrest me,” he says, and be beams at the blush that spreads across Kageyama’s face, the stubborn look in his eye that says he liked it.
*****
He knows.
They both do, the moment they see each other across the crowd.
Oikawa watches Kageyama’s brow furrow, watches his hand start to fall, watches the smile slip off his face. He watches Kageyama’s footsteps slow, until they’re stuck, standing on opposite sides of the ticket gate, one with a face that won’t age.
The other with a face that is.
"Tobio-chan...?" Oikawa says, and he knows too.
Kageyama's found his soulmate and it isn't him.
*****
“Oikawa-san! Oikawa-san!”
He turns, expression growing sharp when he realizes who’s calling him. “Chibi-chan,” he says, less like a greeting than it ought to be. “Stalking me or something? That can be badly misconstrued, you know.” He swallows his sigh, pulling his headphones down to rest them around his neck. Then he sizes the boy up, his brow raising. “Have you grown?”
Hinata blinks, then has the gall to look embarrassed. “Y-you think so? I wasn’t sure but I thought maybe I’ve been growing a little—”
His pleasure is too much. Oikawa’s fist clenches in his pocket. “Congratulations then. Invite me to the wedding?”
“A-actually,” he fidgets. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“How can I help?”
“I wanted to…” he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck and scuffing his shoe against the ground.
“Wanted to...?” Oikawa asks. He’s not running an advice column here.
The boy squeezes his face up and forces the words out. “Talk to you about Kageyama.”
And then Oikawa knows. Hinata looks young, but not that young. He looks twenty. He looks exactly as old as he really is.
Too loud, Oikawa thinks. Too bright.
Too tall.
Too soon.
“Do you know...do you know if Kageyama’s found his soulmate? He’s...he’s aging, I think. And I just...I’m not sure.”
Hinata links his hands behind his back in his sheepish, and Oikawa would have thought that was cute in any other situation but this one. Not this one. A bitter taste fills his mouth. Don’t say that word, he remembers.
“Sorry,” he says, and he wonders if his voice sounds stiff. He pulls his headphones back on, and he wonders if his hands shake too obviously. He needs to get home, he thinks. He needs to remember how to breathe. “Maybe you should ask him about that sort of thing.”
*****
“I spoke to your chibi today,” is the first thing he says. “He was waiting for me after work.”
“My…? Hinata? He spoke to you?” Kageyama sounds surprised and Oikawa forces himself not to read into that. “What for?”
“How long have you been aging, Tobio?”
“H-how long?”
“Do you think the chibi looks taller?”
“I...I don’t know?”
“When did you two first meet?”
“Oikawa-san, what are you—”
“How old are you now, Tobio?”
“Oikawa-san?”
“How old?”
Kageyama is quiet a long moment. Oikawa knows. He mouths the words as he hears them. “Twenty two.”
He takes a breath, pressing his lips together so his sigh doesn’t come out. So his tears don’t well up. “How old do you look, Tobio?”
“Eighteen.”
The answer is immediate.
Too fast to be the truth.
Too obvious to be believed.
But he chooses to believe it anyway. There’s a part of him relieved at that awful lie. Comforted by it. A petty part of him that wishes that if he hasn’t aged, perhaps Kageyama hasn’t either.
“Oikawa -san,” Kageyama speaks softly into the silence. “We’re going to live forever, remember?”
Oikawa rests his head in his hands. Eighteen year-old hands. He closes his eyes, trying to imagine that the next time he opens them, things will be different. “Of course, Tobio-chan,” he says.
*****
“Oikawa-san, you didn’t need to pick me up.” Kageyama is the first to speak and Oikawa isn’t sure if he’s relieved or afraid.
This isn’t supposed to happen, he thinks to himself. What did he do wrong? Where did he mess up? What did he do to deserve this?
“I can’t wait to see you, Oikawa-san,” he had said on the phone last night. As if there was something to see.
“Of course I did,” he grins. “You’d get lost in a supermarket if I took my eyes off you.”
“I wouldn’t,” Kageyama refutes, but he smiles at the corners of his lips.
The words come to the tip of his tongue. Is that a gray hair? Have you always been this tall? Have you always looked so mature? You’ve grown. You’re taller. You’re leaving me, you’re leaving me, you’re leaving me—
“I missed you,” Kageyama says, and Oikawa feels his heart begin to break.
Don’t hear it, don’t hear it, he prays, forcing a laugh that’s too loud in an attempt to cover up the cracking. “Oh really? How much?”
Kageyama is quiet. In that second, Oikawa knows; he heard it. But then Kageyama closes the gap between them, wraps Oikawa up in his arms, squeezing hard enough to leave Oikawa breathless, his lungs struggling for air between the tightness in his throat.
“This much,” Kageyama says, and he kisses Oikawa in the middle of a crowded train station without warning, his arms holding Oikawa up as his legs start to give out.
He stumbles when he’s released, trying to gather himself up, feeling like a fool. “Y-you—”
“Finally grew taller than you,” Kageyama finishes, and his crooked, shy smile is enough to make Oikawa’s knees go weak all over again.
“That’s what I was going to say,” he lies.
*****
"You're sure about this?" Kageyama asks, and Oikawa rolls his eyes.
"Are you?"
"Of course," he responds quickly. "But just...are you?"
"Tobio-chan, if you don't take this key from me right this instant I'm going to revoke the offer entirely—"
"I'll take it," he interrupts, and he holds both hands out for it, holding his breath as Oikawa drops the key into his hand.
"No girls over—"
"—why would I—"
"—and you do laundry—"
"Of course..?"
"—and take care of me if I'm sick—"
"I'd do that anyway."
"Can you cook? Maybe you should cook—"
"—Oikawa-san—"
"If you can't, then pick up food for me to eat—"
"—Oika—"
"I like Chinese food. Can you bring me Chinese food?"
"—Oikawa-san—"
"Yes, Tobio? Spit it out already."
"No, nothing. I just, I'll do it, you know."
"Do what?"
"Anything you ask."
"Oh. Really?"
"Of course."
"Huh. That's strange." Oikawa pauses, tapping a finger against his lips.
"What is?"
"You."
"Why?" Kageyama stops, expression offended. "If you don't want me to do it then I won't—"
Oikawa laughs, sliding their hands together, pretending he doesn't notice the way Kageyama stiffens up at his touch, the way he always does, like he doesn't know what to do with himself from this much contact. Oikawa has a sadistic side, perhaps. He hides his smile, pushing himself on his toes momentarily to peck his lips against the boy's cheek, interrupting the complaint about public displays of affection before it can start, "You're quite whipped, aren't you, Tobio-chan?"
*****
“What if I dyed my hair?”
Kageyama puts down his magazine, turning his head on Oikawa’s lap to better see. “To what?”
“I dunno. Something darker, maybe. Is black depressing on me?”
“Anything looks good on you.”
“That’s sweet, but this is a serious conversation I’m trying to have here.”
“Then should I dye mine too?” He starts to sit up, but Oikawa pushes him back down with a hand, so he can run his fingers through Kageyama’s already dark hair. No gray strands.
Yet, he reminds himself, but almost hypocritically, with time, it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t notice. Kageyama looks like he’s in his late twenties, and Oikawa still looks eighteen, but they’ve hidden the mirrors in the house. It’s just Oikawa, pretending not to notice his boyfriend is changing before his eyes, pretending he’s not grasping at everything that makes it feel like time isn’t passing.
“Oikawa?” Kageyama asks, concern on his brow.
“I was trying to imagine you with blond hair,” Oikawa makes up a lie on the spot and Kageyama buys into it.
The cracks in his heart are healing, he tells himself.
“Would it look good?”
“Oh.” Oikawa considers it for the first time. “Hm. Maybe it would. Something edgy. Maybe trim your hair too.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Wait, you’re getting—”
“I’ll go and buy hair dye. They sell it at the store, right?”
“Tobio—!”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Tobio—”
“What?” He pauses at the door, keys jingling in his hands, jacket already half-on.
Oikawa rises from the couch, standing there in clothes a size too big for him, big enough to fit on Kageyama’s broad shoulders. He’s always been slender, and he wraps his arms around his waist, hugging himself. Sometimes, around Kageyama, he feels like he’s shrinking. Like he’s going in reverse, not just stuck in time.
“Nothing,” he says after a pause, and Kageyama smiles at him from the door.
“I’ll be right back.”
*****
“It looks…”
“Awful,” Kageyama says.
“Yep, pretty much.” Oikawa searches through a mound of boxes, glancing at labels and tossing others aside. “You bought like twenty colors and not one brown?”
“Well you already have brown hair so—”
“Oh, Tobio-chan.” He clicks his tongue. “Well I guess I can try to get used to this.”
“I don’t think I can do that…” Kageyama mumbles, rolling blonde-edged strand between his fingers.
“It’s cool,” Oikawa lies. “Very...jock-ish.”
“I don’t want to be jock-ish.”
“Your chibi-chan will like it.” The silence that follows is stiff and as soon as the words left his lips, he knew it was a mistake, but he’s too stubborn to take it back. “Let’s clean up before something stains,” he says airily, tossing things in the trash can, and licking his thumb as he rubs at a dark spot on the sink counter.
*****
“I’m not going to break,” he whispers. His teeth nibble Kageyama’s throat, his voice rasping. “I can’t.”
Kageyama’s expression darkens, with lust or anger Oikawa can’t tell.
He doesn’t care, he thinks, and he wraps his arms harder around Kageyama’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Love me,” he demands, and his voice breaks when Kageyama kisses his throat, bites his shoulder, presses fingers hard enough into Oikawa’s skin to leave broken marks beneath his skin.
“Always,” Kageyama whispers.
“Forever,” he promises.
“I love you,” he says.
Until the day you die, Oikawa finishes.
*****
“...kawa. Oikawa.”
He wakes to a gentle hand on his shoulder, to sun spilling over the bed. Late day sun, dusky and cool, but glowing like it’s warm. Oikawa blinks sleepily, his body heavy, still feeling every mark.
“I got you something. Look.” His voice is soft, warm with some feeling Oikawa’s too sleepy to place.
But he obeys, looking at his hand. It takes him a moment to place what’s new.
When he does, he sits straight up. “Tobio-chan—”
“It’s a bit small, but—”
“Tobio, this—”
“Will you marr—”
“Tobio-chan, it’s the wrong hand.”
“What?”
“It’s the left hand.” He wiggles his empty ring finger to show. “You put it on the wrong hand.”
“Oh.”
Ten years later and Kageyama’s blushes still start like fire on his cheeks. Oikawa laughs to himself, wriggling the ring off his right hand finger and sliding it onto the proper finger. “See? Left hand.”
“I didn’t—”
“Perfect fit. Okay, ask again.”
“Ask?”
“Ask.”
“Oh. Oh.” Kageyama has to gather himself, his momentum obviously lost. “Oikawa-san. Oikawa. Tooru.” He winces, and Oikawa grins. “It won’t be forever, I know. And maybe you’ll find someone else. But for now. I want to be with you.”
“Even though I look like this?”
He glares at nothing, his expression stubborn. “I don’t care.” He glances up at Oikawa. “Do you?”
Oikawa wonders if that’s something he’ll learn too. If he’ll learn how to be mature like that. How to make sacrifices like that.
When you grow up, you’re supposed to learn grace. You’re supposed to make sacrifices for those you love. Sometimes when old things crack, you seal them with gold and you make them more beautiful than they were before.
“Not at all,” he lies, and Kageyama’s smile breaks his heart.
Kageyama squeezes Oikawa’s hands and the gold ring on his finger bites into his skin. But he doesn’t mind, and he squeezes Kageyama’s hand back, and he thinks it’s too hard to let go of a love like this. He’s eighteen, forever, he’s allowed to be childish.
His heart has cracked so many times, soon he’ll be all gold.