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The flight reminded Tooru of the first time he had to leave Japan, of the desperation of leaving his people behind—his person behind. He hadn’t even claimed him as his yet, at the time. It was a mere thought that took him ages to come to terms with. What he considered a failure at being a mentor, despite his exterior behavior, mixed with the mental battle of coming to terms with his queerness. It’s safe to say it messed him up.
Like a caged animal struggling to come to terms with the shackles around his knees, Tooru tossed and turned, hurting the hand that reached out for comfort and guidance. It took him some time to see it for what it was, to be better, and to feel better.
They both did a lot of growing up while being apart from each other. They moved awkwardly like ghostly hands holding each other across the distance that kept building up. And as time passed, distance only turned colder, and seeing each other—although rarely, on the court—brought familiar warmth, brief touches, and imprints that never lasted long enough to reach the other. They were both bad at communicating, but Tooru admits to himself that he’s at fault. Ever since they were children, he encouraged them to build a barrier around each other, covered in thorns, which taught Tobio silence. Tooru was a familiar face, but he managed to make himself less known than a stranger in Tobio’s mind, and Tobio was always reserved when it came to strangers.
Watching the small clouds separately roam the sky, seemingly within reach if only he were let out, he wished for Tobio to be just as attainable once he reached his destination.
He wanted it to be a surprise, but he decided against it. It was their first anniversary, after all the painful tiptoeing they had gone through. So he told him about his planned vacation ahead of time, so they could enjoy it to the fullest, from the moment he stepped into the airport.
Tooru couldn’t let him know it was impulsive, though. What could he do, after all? They were video calling, with Tobio tossing the volleyball above his head and mindlessly talking about his day, when he suddenly stopped. Tooru decided to tease him, letting out a chuckle and saying, 'Earth to Tobio-chan, did your brain cells retire for the day?' But he was met with silence for what felt like an eternity before Tobio turned to stare at his phone—at Tooru. 'I wish you were here. I miss you.'
Tooru felt his confidence shatter at that moment, turning red like a tomato. But his heart hurt because Tobio, few of words, is usually honest. 'I will be there in a few days,' was what he said because he also missed him; he needed to be in the same space with him.
He liked the giddiness he was feeling, knowing that in a few minutes he would land and soon be in Tobio's space. He just wished they had done this earlier. They had wasted so much time trying to build a relationship with no backbone, barely even a situationship. But maybe that was necessary. They both needed to grow in different aspects, seeking professional help to better themselves; to be better around each other.
Time passed quickly as he closed his eyes. The next time he slept, it would be at home, even if he didn’t live there.
Tooru rushed through the airport, speeding through security, blinking too fast in the hope that Tobio would appear in front of him at any second—until he did.
Tooru was not a crybaby, despite the allegations of everyone in his friend group. But he could curse his tears for ruining the vision of his handsome boyfriend in front of him. He barely got him, and he was already disappearing behind a mountain of unshed tears. What Tooru wouldn’t deny, though, was being a loud crier. One hiccup was all it took for Tobio to notice him; God knows how sharp his senses are. But he was there, in front of him, in a matter of seconds. He didn’t say a word, just took in Tooru and all his tears.
They didn’t need words, just his hiccups, which only intensified as he was wrapped in a hug.
“Hi,” Tobio’s voice was raw and thick, as if he were holding in a long monologue to explore with himself later as if he were keeping secrets that threatened to spill—about love, growth, and solitude. Because Tobio was so similar to Tooru, despite denying it.
But Tobio had changed. This Tobio no longer shied away from showing affection. His grip on Tooru was firm, because, despite the changes, some of his fears remained, especially the fear of Tooru disappearing on him, of him not looking back.
He felt his tears being wiped away, and he could finally see Tobio’s face. “God—I hate how handsome you are. I have to share the attention now,” he blurted out, because his mouth has no filter, because Tooru, despite everything, has no romantic bone in his body when he’s awake.
But he was here, with Tobio, and that’s all that seemed to matter to the other. The same other who kept his hands on his face, comfortably moving his thumb. The same one who sighed, as he rested his forehead on his. “This is real, you’re here.” More told to himself than it was to the man in his grip.
Tooru couldn’t take it anymore, and he threw himself into the other's arms, again, squeezing him tightly. He was glad Tobio was the emotionally mature one at the moment. Being held and holding him broke something in him, all while putting him back together.
But debating who loved the other more was a harder note to reach. Like old poets speaking of love, Tobio spoke in gestures—cooking Tooru’s favourite meals, taking him to places barely mentioned once in conversation. Tobio has yet to say 'I love you,' but every bone in his body screams it.
And Tooru loved this. He was leaning into it.
And a warm welcome quickly blurred into warm nights and days.
Like a cloth with a tear, Tobio’s gestures, although full of goodwill, revealed cracks: changes going unnoticed, differences never faced. But Tooru found that they were both talking about it. They were both tired of needless fighting and saw where it led. Their hearts were healing from childhood mistakes, their mistakes. Their time together, after all this time, has allowed them the chance to get to know each other differently, to sew the tear and create a lasting pattern.
Tobio learned to express himself more openly, and he learned to listen.
Their hearts were full of each other.
Days went by too quickly for either of their liking. In the blink of an eye, it was their anniversary day, and they were cuddling in the living room, watching an alien movie, although Tooru did most of the narration. Tobio had a content smile on his face. If he could, Tobio would’ve melted into him in his arms. And for a while, Tooru wished he would. He fit there perfectly, he smelled nice, and Tooru was going to miss him once he had to go back.
And he didn’t want to leave him, again.
Sensing his tension, Tobio tilted his head to look at him. Tooru’s eyes couldn’t lie, and Tobio was too observant not to understand the reason behind the sudden mood switch. He rummaged in his pocket, looking for something, before pulling out a small jewellery box.
“I… I was thinking, when you mentioned you were going to visit, about what I could give you to take back.” Tobio seemed nervous but looked determined, like he was about to win a set. “We’re volleyball players, so any jewellery on our necks or arms is debilitating... Fingers too. So I thought if we were to share a set of earrings, we’d carry complementary pieces together.”
If Tooru could count how many times he had been brought to tears by the man in front of him, he’d already be at two—in less than a week. Maybe his friends were right after all.
"I..." he started, but the other cut him off.
"I love you.” He grinned, as a pout was apparent on Tooru’s face. “I couldn’t let you win this one,... and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. Thank you... Thank you for coming here. I’m happy to have you as my partner.'
Tooru might have already been sobbing, but Tobio had tears in his eyes too, so he counted that as a pity win.
"I love you too," said, leaning closer and adding softly, "Happy anniversary."
He was really happy that life had forced them to collide with each other more than once, until they fit together like clouds merging in the sky.
And if Tooru were asked about the reason behind his one earring, the paparazzi would have a field day…. because he wouldn’t shut up.