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Tooru "Toto" Oikawa and Hajime "Jimboy" Iwaizumi have been best friends since they were old enough to eat dirt—which they literally did, growing up together in the peacefully chaotic neighborhood of Pulung Maragul, Angeles City.
Jimboy was the one who taught Toto how to play pogs using bottle caps and old soda lids they found sa bakuran. He was also the one who convinced Toto na mag-patuli in Grade 4 (“Wala nang atrasan, toti,” he said, even though he was clearly shaking more). Toto didn’t want to do it, but if it had to happen, it had to be with Jimboy beside him. Truthfully, Jimboy was more scared, pero syempre, kailangan niyang magpaka-maangas.
As they grew older, their paths started to branch out. Toto entered AUF Integrated School, taking HUMSS and slowly climbing the ranks as one of the top students in their strand. Jimboy, meanwhile, went full-on Don Bosco Academy varsity boy, tackling both the STEM strand and the volleyball court with the same steady intensity he used to win pog battles.
Despite their different schools, they stayed close. Every Thursday morning, mag-uunahan sila out the gate to buy taho from Manong James. Toto would be walking Totie Marie, his dear aspin with attitude problems, while Jimboy jogged past with earbuds in and a towel slung over his shoulder. Sometimes, they wouldn’t even talk—just a nod, a smirk, and a shared silence that felt like comfort.
Both boys ended up applying to Holy Angel University. It wasn’t planned, not officially, but when their names showed up on the enrollment list, neither of them was surprised.
Hajime was quickly recognized as one of the most promising varsity players under the BSESS department, alongside fellow powerhouse Matsukawa Issei. Quiet, dependable, and ruthlessly efficient, Jimboy had become the kind of player coaches fought over during training camp.
Tooru, on the other hand, entered the BA Communication program as a scholar—and quickly made waves as the pride of the Comm org. His projects with Akaashi Keiji and Hanamaki Takahiro gained attention for their sharp scripts and perfectly timed drama. At first, he kept to himself, but it didn’t take long before the entire department dubbed him their Princess Diana—poised, beautiful, and a little bit mysterious.
Ironically, while Toto embraced the soft glamour of his new environment, Jimboy somehow gained a reputation as a “bad boy” just for being on varsity and having shoulders wide enough to carry half the gym.
It started with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who, out of sheer boredom and too much time in the org room, decided to spice up HAU’s University Days.
> "Wouldn’t it be hilarious,” Matsukawa said, sipping his 99-peso caramel macchiato from Drop The Beans , “if we just... put Iwa and Toto’s names in the marriage booth?”
> Hanamaki grinned. “It’s for charity naman diba, gora na.”
So they did. They dropped both names into the forms. No warning. No shame.
That Thursday, Tooru found himself locked inside a jailbooth, seated cross-legged with his now fully-melted Dubai ice cream puddling beside him on the table. Across from him sat Ushijima Wakatoshi, expression unreadable as always.
The announcement for the captured was: "ARESTADO KAYONG MGA MAG-EX AND WHYS, 10 MINUTES OR BAYAD SA CHARITY"
> “Of all people,” Tooru muttered, head in hands. “Seriously?”
Ushijima said nothing.
Outside, Keiji paced nervously, phone to his ear. “Kuya,” he said, voice low but urgent. “Si Toto... na-jailbooth.”
> “Napano? I'm still in the locker room. Bayaran mo nalang fee, Kei.” came Hajime’s voice, calm but firm on the line.
> “Kuya wala na kami pera, we left our wallets sa car ni toto. Doon sa may nepo pa” Keiji Panicked
> “Wala naman nangyaring masama?" Iwaizumi asked warily.
> “Wala. Pero emotionally? Baka. He's locked with Wakatoshi eh.” he whispered before turning the microphone to Tooru "Jo, please" he pleaded to Hajime.
> There was a beat of silence.
> “Okay,” Hajime replied. “Papunta na ako.”
Jimboy arrived ten minutes later—still in his training jacket, barely catching his breath. Without a word, he handed the donation, got Tooru out, and started walking away, dragging his best friend by the wrist.
But before they could escape, Hanamaki screamed through a mic, voice echoing across APS the hall.
> “HINDI SILA PWEDE BASTA UMALIS!”
> Issei joined in: “WELCOME TO THE FIRST UNPLANNED MARRIAGE BOOTH CEREMONY OF THE DAY!”
A curtain dropped. Confetti flew.
Kuroo Tetsurou, wearing a thrifted barong and a burger king crown, emerged from behind a foldable altar.
> “I now pronounce you—ready or not—Mr. and Mr. If-It’s-Meant-To-Be!”
> “HASHTAG #WillBiAngAtake!” someone from the org screamed.
Tooru blinked. Hajime rolled his eyes all while laughing “Tangina Matsuhana, pinalaki ba kayong bolang?”
Someone chanted, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Tooru threw his empty ice cream cup at Matsukawa’s head.
"Kiss mo your face!" Nakadilang sambit ni Tooru
It was supposed to be a joke.
A wild one. A charity stunt. A barkada dare.
But when Wakatoshi—still stiff in his AUF varsity jacket—walked by the marriage booth like fate just clocked in for duty, Tooru suddenly straightened up.
He caught a glimpse of Waka’s expression. Blank. Passive. Dismissive.
Like none of it—none of *him*—mattered anymore.
And something in Tooru snapped. Maybe pride. Maybe pain.
> “Fine,” he said, voice loud enough for the comm org to hear. “Let’s do it.”
> “Do what?” Hajime asked, brows rising.
> “Let’s get married.”
> “What?”
> “Right now.”
> “To me?”
> “Unless you’re backing out, Jimboy.”
Issei and Hanamaki screamed. Keiji whispered something between a prayer and a chismis under his breath. Kuroo adjusted his paper crown, ready to officiate like it was the Vatican.
Tooru reached out and took Hajime’s hand.
> “Help me sell this,” he muttered, eyes sharp but voice shaky.
Jimboy didn’t reply right away. He just looked at him, long and slow. Then nodded.
> “Okay.”
They stood there, side by side, while the room erupted into cheers. Kuroo announced vows made of TikTok quotes and volleyball metaphors. The mock ceremony ended with a poorly timed party popper and a Bluetooth speaker blasting “Kung Di Rin Lang Ikaw.”
And just like that—Tooru and Hajime were "married."
The plan was simple: pretend they were dating, just to get people off Tooru’s back—and maybe, just maybe, to show someone what they missed out on.
They set ground rules.
No hand-holding unless people were watching.
No real feelings. No backstory too detailed.
Text updates for fake arguments.
Weekly taho walks now rebranded as “morning dates.”
At first, it was all for show.
Posed selfies at Marquee Mall. Matching hoodies “for content.”
Lunch breaks spent “flirting” while Hajime actually just explained biomechanics and Tooru nodded dramatically.
But somewhere between Tooru saving a seat for Hajime at the back of the Comm org room, and Hajime showing up at Tooru’s room with Strawberry Mentos and White Rabbit when he had a breakdown, things started shifting.
Totie Marie refused to walk. The sky was gray, and Tooru had a fever. He didn’t message anyone—not even Keiji.
But by 6:40 a.m., someone knocked on his gate.
Hajime. Holding taho. With extra arnibal.
> “Di mo binuksan ‘yung phone mo,” he said flatly. “I got worried.”
Tooru blinked.
> “Akala ko fake lang ‘to,” he said, voice hoarse.
Hajime looked at him, then down at the taho. Then back at him.
> “Fake dapat,” he said. “Pero hindi mo sinabing bawal mag-alala.”
Tooru didn’t reply.
He just opened the gate wider.
Tooru started sitting courtside during Hajime’s games, even if he pretended to scroll his phone.
Hajime began showing up at Comm org events, acting bored while secretly memorizing Tooru’s debate speeches.
They’d walk home together like always—but now, their hands brushed more often. Their silences felt heavier. Softer. Full.
The line blurred.
Was this still pretend?
> “Hey, Haj,” Tooru said one evening, as they sat again on that familiar sidewalk beside Chicken Star.
> “Yeah?”
> “If this was all fake… bakit parang hindi na?”
Hajime didn’t answer at first. He just looked up at the stars, then turned to Tooru—serious, calm, unreadable.
> “Because it stopped being fake a long time ago,” he said quietly.
> “Siguro nga… if it’s meant to be, it will be.”
Tooru smiled.
Then leaned his head on Hajime’s shoulder.