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If there was ever one thing from this class that would haunt Hajime for the rest of his life it was the fact that he was never going to be able to properly recreate the color of Akaashi Keiji’s eyes. He might be able to capture the sparkle of wit in that exasperated expression or the play of light and laughter and occasional mischief in his otherwise carefully constructed blank look. But the color - the way the sunlight seemed to turn the green of his eyes to emeralds and the blues into sapphires and that touch of grey into moonstone - and that flicker of life, that spark of something more, would forever be just out of reach.
Not for lack of trying.
In the few weeks that he’s been in this class he’s filled at least half a sketchbook and countless margins of notes from other classes with the lines of Akaashi’s face.
The arch of his brow when he hears something he’s not expecting.
The wrinkle in his nose when his sketch isn’t turning out the way he wants it to.
The edge of his lip when he catches it between his teeth. The curve of his cheek, the shadow of his lashes, the angle of his chin. They all fill the edges of Hajime’s notes, scraps of receipts, blank pages carefully spaced between other works in his sketchbooks.
Hajime’s pretty sure he’s dreamt about the way Akaashi’s eyes sparkle and gleam somewhat dangerously in the light.
All of this means it seems only fitting that when the teacher starts to tell them about one of their end of year portfolio assignments being a portrait of a classmate that those shining jewels of eyes meet Hajime’s and Akaashi tilts his head invitingly, giving at least one of Hajime’s dreams a glimmer of hope of becoming reality.
To say that Iwaizumi Hajime had captured Keiji’s attention would be like saying that Keiji liked food or that Bokuto liked owl puns; which was basically to say that it was rather obvious and almost more of a fact of life than anything else. Especially given the way that Keiji’s sketchbooks were filled with images of Iwaizumi’s hands: sketches of his fingers splayed against a desk or wrapped tight around the strap of his bag, doodles of the way his middle finger on his left hand was just a bit crooked near the last joint, bold lines covering the page the same way bold scabs covered Iwaizumi’s palms one week.
But for all his bold lines and confident sketches he was never going to be able to capture the kindness of those hands; the gentle way they helped scoop up scattered papers from the floor for a classmate or the kindness of the gesture of holding open a door for someone with an armload of books. He could come close, could get the simple mechanics, make them look as realistic as his own fingers holding the pen. But that last touch of kindness and compassion and life that Iwaizumi held in his hands was just out of Keiji’s reach.
Which is why he was looking forward to getting to work with Iwaizumi on this portfolio piece. He thought that just maybe spending more time with Iwaizumi could inspire him, give him that last little spark that he needed to show Iwaizumi’s hands on paper the same way he saw them in his mind.
He had somehow forgotten the fact that this would mean that Iwaizumi would be drawing him as well. That he would see the careful, delicate lines that marked Iwaizumi’s work being used to create his own likeness. That he would have Iwaizumi’s gaze focused on him. That every twitch and flutter and nervous tic of his would be seen.
And that he would most likely wind up without a shirt on for this assignment.
With Iwaizumi’s eyes on him.
For, potentially, hours.
“Great plan, Keiji,” he muttered to himself as he pulled his shirt of and folded it neatly. “Really thought this one through.”
It’s not like he had a crush on Iwaizumi or anything. Not really anyway. He just really liked the way Iwaizumi’s hands looked and liked that he seemed like a genuinely nice person and he was always a good sport when they occasionally played volleyball together with the little on campus group that got together. Keiji didn’t make friends all that easily but Iwaizumi seemed like someone he could be good friends with, if given the chance.
But that chance would never come if Keiji didn’t stop letting his mind run into a million stupid directions, some of which would make even Bokuto laugh.
Iwaizumi cleared his throat and startled Keiji back to reality. “I have to admit. I’ve been kind of hoping for this for awhile now.”
“Hoping to see me without a shirt? You see me without one all the time when we change for games. We see everyone without shirts on then.” Keiji knew he was at the edge of rambling himself into embarrassment but he couldn’t stop himself. It was just something he did sometimes when he was nervous. Some people fidgeted or sweated a lot when they were nervous; Keiji rambled. It had happened before games with their volleyball group on occasion as well and before he had to present things in classes.
Iwaizumi had never seemed to mind, or really even notice, before so there was no reason for Keiji to be even more nervous.
But Keiji had also never been in a room alone with Iwaizumi mentally preparing himself to be stared at for hours while almost naked either.
It was a rather daunting thing and he had no previous experience to prepare himself for it. The only thing he could do was hold onto the fact that the sooner he got this over with the sooner he’d be filling his own sketchbook with Iwaizumi.
Everything had been going fine, perfectly one hundred percent fine, as the lead of Hajime’s pencil filled the paper with delicate lines and his hand moved with purpose, eyes barely leaving the smooth expanse of Akaashi’s skin; almost reverently tracing the planes of his chest, the dip and ridge of his collarbone, the graceful ripple of his throat when he swallowed, the flutter of his lashes when his eyes skipped away from Hajime’s gaze to land - briefly, longingly - on his own drawing materials spread out just a few feet away on a nearby desk.
Then Hajime’s hand faltered and his lines turned hesitant because he remembered the important part of their deal: they were going to be each other’s model for this assignment and all he could imagine right now was Akaashi’s eyes roving his body and the broad, bold, sure strokes of his lines filling page after page of his sketchbook with nothing but pieces of Hajime’s likeness.
“Iwaizumi,” Akaashi asked, careful not to move more than necessary and ruin his pose, “is everything alright?”
Suddenly Hajime wondered how he even thought that only a few hours would ever be enough time to watch Akaashi and truly capture his likeness - and how he ever convinced himself that he would be able to sit, unflinchingly, for hours with Akaashi’s sharp gaze focused in on him.
Because, in all honesty, the moment he let himself remember that this was someone he knew, not just a nameless body sitting up front for anatomy practice, he started remembering all sorts of other things. Things like how Akaashi’s lips curled into a sly smile when he fooled an opponent during a volleyball game and how his eyes lit up when he got a composition just right and how the bold lines and bright colors he used in his art seemed to be at odds with his soft voice and passive expression.
He also remembered that Akaashi was nearly naked just a few feet away and he swallowed hard and adjusted his glasses nervously.
Akaashi shifted minutely - he was doing his best to be a perfect model since he understood the frustrations of trying to get just the right pose drawn when the model kept fidgeting - and let out a nervous sounding laugh.
“I’ll be done with this first round of sketches in just a couple minutes.” Hajime cleared his throat. “Then you can, ah, get some clothes on.”
Akaashi laughed again, eyes darting towards his drawing materials then to Hajime for a moment before settling back on some point near the back of the room.
“I see.” Hajime could have sworn that was a pout in Akaashi’s voice and he looked up nervously to see if Akaashi was upset at him for some reason. “You know it’s not like I’m completely naked. You obviously were being a gentleman and not looking before I strategically draped this sheet over my lap. My Disney boxers are rather nice you know.”
No. Hajime did not know. He had been a gentleman and resisted the temptation to turn and stare as Akaashi stepped from the back of the room where he had changed and walked up to sit near the front, carefully draping a sheet across his lap and up to his shoulder.
But the thought of Akaashi in cartoon boxers of some kind just seemed so out of place in the picture he had of Akaashi in his mind that he couldn’t help the amused huff that he let out before he dropped his gaze back to his sketchbook.
“Oh you like that idea do you? I’ll have you know I have quite a collection of cartoon and holiday boxers.”
Their eyes met for a moment and Hajime froze: Akaashi was flirting with him. Right? Was this flirting? Maybe?
He knew Akaashi tended to ramble when he got nervous but this was something else.
Or at least he thought it was seeing as how Akaashi’s eyes suddenly went wide and a touch of blush colored his cheeks while Hajime felt himself start blushing as well.
“Anyway,” Akaashi was suddenly very interested in the far wall. “You said you’d be done soon and we can switch?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah no problem.”
Hajime’s biggest problem - contrary to what he had believed when he started this drawing project with Akaashi as his model - was not spending so much one on one time with Akaashi. That he was handling. There were moments when they fumbled and blushed around each other but for the most part they got along well enough and made decent small talk. They had made forays into more personal territory a few times which was mostly just barely more than small talk about their childhoods or the fact they both played volleyball in high school or brief mentions of other classes and whatnot. They did okay at that. That wasn’t Hajime’s problem.
Hajime’s problem was Bokuto Koutarou.
His problem wasn’t with Bokuto himself. Not exactly. His biggest problem was that until Bokuto started showing up a few nights a week to visit with Akaashi or walk home with him or whatever it was his excuse for the day was Hajime never realized how nervous he apparently made Akaashi. Because with Bokuto there Akaashi was calm. Calmer than he was in class. It was like Bokuto was some kind of magic balm to soothe Akaashi’s soul or something. Whereas any time Akaashi was alone with Hajime he’d chatter nervously and fidget with his supplies and flip through the pages of his sketchbook like he’d find all the answers to life in there.
Like that afternoon for example. Akaashi had been nervously chattering about a test coming up in one of his classes while Hajime had been cleaning up his supplies and trying not to stare too hard at the way the light coming in the classroom windows was making Akaashi’s skin glow and making his eyes change colors and then Bokuto had swept in and Akaashi visibly calmed. Hajime watched Akaashi’s face relax, watched as his gaze went from nervous to soft at the sound of Bokuto’s voice, watched his shoulders drop slightly and the grip on his bag loosen as Bokuto bounced into the room and pulled Akaashi into a tight hug.
But the thing is he couldn’t hate Bokuto. Even if, from all appearances, he was Akaashi’s boyfriend.
The first time Bokuto had burst into the room and pulled Akaashi into a hug that made Hajime’s joints twinge in sympathy Akaashi had stiffened up and darted his gaze from Hajime’s eyes to the floor and back again, like Hajime was going to be offended or upset by this display of affection. Then Akaashi had said something to draw Bokuto’s attention to Hajime and Bokuto’s eyes had lit up like he’d just met an old friend for the first time in ages.
Bokuto was excitable, occasionally moody, very competitive, rather sweet and kind, but Hajime just couldn’t bring himself to even dislike Bokuto.
Be jealous of him for being able to date Akaashi? Definitely. Be jealous of the fact that Akaashi was calm and snarky and witty around Bokuto and nervous as hell around Hajime himself? Sure.
Hate him for it? Not a chance. Bokuto was damn lucky.
It was clear Akaashi treasured Bokuto as well. He was calm around him, dropping the occasional scathing or witty comment into conversations with Bokuto, laughing softly at Bokuto’s responses. He chided Bokuto and fretted over him when he came in pouting or soaked to the bone.
And it was clear Bokuto was just as fond as Akaashi. He knew so much about him and was constantly talking to Hajime about things about Akaashi; his favorite kind of chips, how to cheer him up on a bad day, the kind of coffee and tea he drank, his favorite movies.
So, yes. Hajime was jealous of Bokuto and the fact that he could tell Hajime that Hajime needed to be careful if he ever shared food with Akaashi because he would eat ninety percent of it and wind up eating you out of house and home and then follow it up with a fond “But he’s kind of adorable when he does it so, you know, your call.”
Akaashi was adorable. Adorable, cute, handsome, breathtaking, witty, hilarious, wonderful. He was so many things but one thing he would never be able to be was Hajime’s boyfriend.
It was a point of pride for Keiji that he didn’t hate people unnecessarily.
There weren’t even a lot of people he really disliked. Mostly he was pretty neutral.
But for all of Keiji’s good intentions and decent personality traits he just could not find it in himself to like Oikawa Tooru. He wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to say he hated him. But some days it was close.
Because Keiji wasn’t always the nicest person when he was jealous. It was a flaw. One that he had attempted to - if not erase - at least tone down in the last few years.
But from the moment Oikawa had waltzed into the club room like he owned it he had been leaping onto Keiji’s nerves like they were part of a game of hopscotch.
He had only been half paying attention to the sound of the door opening as he put away some supplies in the back closet of the art room he and Iwaizumi had been using for that day’s project session, figuring it was either Bokuto coming to get him because he was too impatient to wait for Keiji at the park between their campuses or it was one of his classmates coming to use the room for the next couple hours. He turned around, mouth opening to tell Iwaizumi he would talk to him in class tomorrow, and immediately froze.
Oikawa Tooru was sprawled across the desk Iwaizumi was sitting at. Sprawled on top of Keiji’s pile of sketchbooks and batting his eyes at Iwaizumi in an almost sickeningly sweet manner. He knew it was Oikawa because Keiji, unlike half of his team and his former captain, actually read all of the articles in the volleyball magazines and not just the ones featuring Bokuto.
“Draw me like one of your French girls, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa drawled in a horrible accent and Keiji was sure in that moment that Oikawa did not realize that anyone else was in here but Iwaizumi. Especially since he was pouting unflatteringly at Iwaizumi and draped across the desk like a wet blanket.
“Excuse me,” Keiji said coolly as he stepped up to the desk, “you’re laying on my sketchbooks.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Iwaizumi startle and blush though he figured it was because Oikawa pinched Iwaizumi’s calf before gracefully rolling off the desk and and flopping onto Iwaizumi’s lap, stomach down. Then Oikawa hopped to his feet.
“Well, hello.” Oikawa grinned, eyes sliding down to Keiji’s feet and back up again as Oikawa propped his hip onto the desk. “Iwa-chan told me he was working on a project with a partner but he never said his partner was so much… his type.”
Iwaizumi blushed at the nickname and blushed more at the mention of his type and it was all Keiji could do not to melt at the adorableness of the sight. Or grab his sketchbook and beat Oikawa over the head with it.
He just needed to get his stuff and get the hell out of here to meet with Bokuto. He could let the sound of his hesitantly built crush crashing to the ground at his feet worry him later.
Instead he opened his mouth.
“Type?”
“Stunning beauty. Athletic.” He looked Keiji up and down again and he fought the urge to cross his arm over his stomach and cling to the strap of his messenger bag. “Lithe,” Oikawa practically purred as he leaned forward. Keiji willed his face to remain passive and his blush to stay down as much as possible. “Limber.”
He stared into Oikawa’s sparkling eyes for a few moments until Oikawa suddenly yelped and clutched at his shin.
“That was mean, Iwa-chan.”
“Shut up Oikawa. You’re making Akaashi uncomfortable.” Iwaizumi grumbled as he adjusted his glasses and glared at Oikawa. His eyes slid to Keiji for a moment and Keiji almost panicked; Iwaizumi looked so frustrated and upset that Keiji was sure he somehow knew about Keiji’s crush on him. Which was just the thing Keiji needed to top off this apparently wonderful afternoon. Then Iwaizumi stood and grabbed his bag from the nearby desk, shoved his own sketchbook inside, and drug Oikawa to the door by his elbow. “Sorry about him. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
Keiji had one last look of a flushed Iwaizumi and an almost gleeful looking Oikawa before the door slid shut and he was left alone with his sketchbooks spread out on the desk. He sat in the chair Iwaizumi had been in just moments before and soaked up the warmth.
“You don’t understand, Bokuto.” Keiji told him and then curled up in Bokuto’s bed and buried his head under Bokuto’s pillow.
“Well of course not. You keep hiding your face before you finish any of your sentences.” Bokuto’s presence, settled cross legged on the bed beside him with his knee pressing into Keiji’s back, is a warm wall of security that, honestly, Keiji has no idea what he would do without. He never expected to make forge a friendship as quickly and as deeply as he did with Bokuto when he first met him. “Besides I thought you said you liked him?”
“I do,” Keiji snapped. He rolled over and scrambled onto his knees to grab Bokuto’s shirt sleeve and shake him gently. “I like him a lot. But he has a type.” He listed off what Oikawa had said, popping up his fingers until he waved four of them in front of Bokuto’s face. “Stunning beauty. Athletic. Lithe. Limber.”
“Those are all you.” Keiji blushed. “So what’s the problem.”
“They’re also Oikawa. You know Oikawa, right? Stupidly pretty. Volleyball player. Setter. He fits all those things. And he called Iwaizumi ‘Iwa-chan’ and he didn’t even blink at it. Obviously they’re close. If Oikawa’s his type and they’re that close they’re obviously dating.” Keiji groaned as he remembered the way Iwaizumi had looked at him before he and Oikawa left. That veiled frustration and irritation. “I think he knows I like him. Shit. I can’t face him tomorrow. I can’t.”
Bokuto stared at him for a moment, frowning as he rubbed a comforting hand through Keiji’s hair.
“Then he’s an asshole.”
Keiji sat up straight and pulled away. “What? No he’s not why do you say that?”
“You said he was flirting with you last week. If he’s flirting and has a boyfriend already he’s an asshole. If he knows your feelings for him and is flirting when he has a boyfriend he’s a disgusting asshole.” Bokuto hopped up from the bed and nodded decisively. “It’s decided. I gotta beat the shit out of him for hurting you.”
Keiji hopped off the bed as Bokuto dug out his shoes. “No. Just. Don’t worry about it?”
Bokuto gave him a look. “You know I can’t do that Akaashi,” he said softly. “I can’t let someone hurt my best friend that way and just not do anything.”
Keiji may not have been happy with the outcome at the moment but that didn’t mean he wanted Bokuto to punch Iwaizumi in the face.
“Just. Keep me company? Let me stay here tonight? I dunno. Give him dirty looks when you see him but just let me try to deal with it myself?”
Bokuto eyed him for a moment, slowly dropping his shoes back to the floor, and Keiji relaxed.
Then Bokuto grinned and spun to hoist Keiji over his shoulder and flop them both onto the bed with a shout.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew he hadn’t left Oikawa and Akaashi alone at all the few times Oikawa has stopped by when he’s been working with Akaashi, Hajime would assume Oikawa had said something to him. Because ever since Oikawa started showing up on occasion Akaashi had changed. Nothing major that Hajime could really put his finger on but Akaashi seemed distant and more closed off than he used to be - not that he had ever really been an open book but at least he used to laugh at Hajime’s stupid jokes and talk about stuff other than their portfolio projects and the weather.
Hajime jogged from the Languages building to the Arts building, not bothering to hurry through the rain too much because he already knew he’d be soaked before he got home that night since it wasn’t supposed to let up any time soon. He just hoped that if Oikawa was still planning on stopping by instead of just meeting Hajime at his dorm room the idiot had the sense to either bring an umbrella or wear his team jacket and a hat. The last thing he needed was to be stuck tending to a sick best friend. Especially since Oikawa was the worst patient ever. Hajime would rather be stuck back in high school helping take care of Kyoutani and Matsukawa at the same time than deal with a snotty, fevered Oikawa.
He paused outside the classroom door to shake the worst of the water from himself - once again grateful that he only needed his glasses for things like reading and sketching and not everything - and froze with his hand in his wet hair.
Akaashi was standing near the windows on the far wall watching the rain. He had obviously made it inside just before Hajime - his trip over from the Maths department was much shorter than Hajime’s trip from the Languages building - because droplets of water still clung to his slightly curled hair and his rosy cheeks had a sheen that made Hajime think of fairy dust and mischievous pixies.
Then Akaashi shook his head and ran his hand through his hair and Hajime backed away from the door for a moment.
Akaashi was in Bokuto’s jacket.
It was definitely Bokuto’s jacket. It was his school’s volleyball team’s colors. It had his name on the back of it.
Boyfriend jacket.
Hajime’s brain practically screamed it at him as he rubbed at his cold nose with his damp sleeve.
Boyfriend jacket.
That would explain the slightly cool shoulder he’d been getting from Akaashi. It would explain the way Bokuto had taken to simply staring at Hajime when he stopped by - more frequently than before - to meet Akaashi. They had realized Hajime had a crush on Akaashi and were showing off their relationship in an attempt to stop Hajime before he did something embarrassing, like confess.
Hajime squared his shoulders and headed inside. He still had a project to finish for his portfolio and it was nobody’s fault but his own that he had fallen a little in love with his subject.
“So,” Oikawa drawled as he splashed happily though the rain. He was decked out in rain gear - from a rain hat all the way down to rain boots - bright enough to put their old Seijoh teal and white jackets to shame.
“So?”
“What’s bothering you?” Hajime glared at him but was sure it lost some of it’s heat when he was walking along with his shoulders scrunched up and looking like a wet dog. “No seriously,” Oikawa continued. “You haven’t called me a mean name or made fun of my rain coat or scolded me to be careful not to slip. Something’s bothering you.”
Sometimes Hajime hated that Oikawa knew him as well as he knew Oikawa. Sometimes he wished he could just sulk in peace.
“I mean you’re usually in a pretty good mood when you get to see the love of your life for a couple hours of intense staring and sketching.”
“He’s not the love of my life.”
“Iwa-chan. You go starry eyed when you think of him. Your drawings of him are like drawings of a marble statue goddess or something. You practically swooned when you saw him in that scoopneck sweater he wore last week.”
“I did not swoon.”
“You sighed like a maiden in a historically inaccurate romance.”
“That’s not swooning.”
“I am going to look up the exact definition of swooning and send it to you later.”
“Akaashi and Bokuto are dating,” Hajime announced. Both to just get it out in the open and to get Oikawa off the ridiculous topic of Hajime swooning - which he did not do.
Oikawa’s movements stuttered for a moment, one foot hanging in the air long enough for Hajime to watch water drip from the bottom of the boot. The he was in motion again, boot flying down hard enough to splash a puddle of water practically up to his thigh before he spun on his heel and grabbed Hajime’s shoulder.
“What?”
“They’re obviously dating. The last couple weeks Bokuto has been showing up all the time to meet Akaashi after we’re done and he glares at me all the time when he used to talk to me. Akaashi’s all closed off and only ever talks about the project or the weather.” Oikawa opened his mouth to protest something and Hajime dropped the final bomb. “Today he was wearing Bokuto’s volleyball jacket. He was wearing a boyfriend jacket, Oikawa. They are dating.”
Oikawa’s mouth snapped shut. They kept walking through the rain. Hajime shivered as drops of water slithered down his neck and along his spine.
“Well, shit,” Oikawa announced, eloquent as always.
His hand was still on Hajime’s shoulder when they made it back to Hajime’s dorm.
Hajime had originally planned on simply doing his best to draw away from Akaashi a little. It should be easy. Just show up to their drawing/modeling sessions, do their sketches, and then go on their merry ways. Not a lot of small talk. Not a lot of staring at the way Akaashi’s lashes darkened his cheeks when he looked down or the way he looked with a smudge of ink across the top of his cheek or how getting how he sounded when he sighed in frustration at his sketch stuck in Hajime’s head.
It worked fine the first day and he walked home through the rain, again, with an itch of irritation crawling under his skin. But he hadn’t lingered. Hadn’t said anything too friendly. Had kept himself at least an arm’s length away even when Akaashi had asked for his opinion on a page in his sketchbook.
The next day they were supposed to meet worked out wonderfully for him to draw away. Because he was stuck in his own bed and attempting to cough up his internal organs when he wasn’t busy trying to throw them up.
“You look horrendous,” Oikawa told him as he dropped off a bag of medicine and crackers and instant soup cups. “Like worse than you did after that three day movie marathon we did when we were twelve.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
Oikawa smiled at him and helped him change out of his sweaty pajamas and into blissfully cool clean ones without fuss. Then he forced some medicine down Hajime’s throat and handed him some crackers and a sports drink.
“I won’t be able to come over for a couple days. I have early and late practices tomorrow and then that exam is the next day.” Oikawa worried his lip between his teeth. “I mean I could probably come back after late practice and just study a bit here before heading back for my exam in the morning.”
“No.” The last thing Hajime needed was to watch Oikawa run himself ragged simply because Hajime got sick.
“I just don’t want you to die here alone.”
“I won’t die.”
“But you’ll be alone.”
“Unlike you I don’t need to be the center of attention twenty-four hours a day.”
Oikawa huffed and shoved a cracker into Hajime’s mouth. Despite the force of the action he managed to not make Hajime choke on it.
“That’s not the point. The point is you’re by yourself and sick. What if you need medicine? What if you get worse? It’s not like your mom is just downstairs or anything.”
“Nope. You’re right here.” Hajime stuck his tongue out and then started coughing.
“Just. Promise me you’ll have someone in the dorm stop by and check on you or a classmate or something. You’ll need someone to bring you notes and stuff anyway, right?”
Hajime nodded. More just to get Oikawa to be quiet and stop worrying than anything. His head was growing fuzzy again and the medicine was making him tired.
“Text me or something so I know you’re not dead okay? Otherwise I am coming back tomorrow night.”
“Fine,” Hajime grunted out. Oikawa’s hand brushed against his forehead as he drifted to sleep with the thought of when exactly did Oikawa become so responsible floating through his mind.
Keiji was not worried. He may have been a little concerned. A little curious. But not worried. Because technically it was none of his business why Iwaizumi hadn’t shown up to their last project session. It’s not like they actually made concrete plans but they had both been coming three times a week to get different things done. They didn’t even always model for each other. Sometimes they just sat at opposite ends of the room and worked on their respective projects, occasionally glancing at the other person when they needed to remember a certain line or curve or shadow.
But really. It wasn’t Keiji’s concern. Sure he was curious when Iwaizumi didn’t show up. But it wasn’t as if it really inconvenienced Keiji all that much. Just because he also missed class the next day didn’t mean anything at all.
He wasn’t letting a ball of worry eat away at his gut when Iwaizumi was apparently missing their second normal meet up that week.
Keiji had his sketchbooks spread around him and his markers and pencils ready.
But all he could do was stare down at the blank page and realize how quiet it was in here with just him. How empty the room felt without the sound of Iwaizumi’s pencils scratching across a page. How lonely it seemed when he looked across the room and saw nothing but a row of empty stools and easels and tables.
The door opened and his head snapped up.
“Oh, sorry,” the girl in the doorway said softly. “I was expecting Oikawa to be around here. I have all the notes and stuff for Iwaizumi like he asked.” Her phone alerted her to a text and she dug it out to read it while Keiji tried to convince himself he wasn’t upset that Iwaizumi still wasn’t here and he wasn’t upset at all to hear Oikawa’s name. The girl sighed and tapped the notebook in her other hand against her chin. “Is there any chance you’re free for the next hour or so?”
Keiji stared up at the dorm in front of him and hated the fact that his pulse was racing a little despite the calm pace he had maintained all the way here.
This was not the way to get over Iwaizumi Hajime and his dumb smile and gruff exterior and kind gestures and stupid reading glasses.
But Keiji had never claimed to be strong willed when it came to matters of the heart.
He had no problem finding Iwaizumi’s dorm room but he hesitated to knock. Oikawa was expecting that girl to deliver the homework and notes that Keiji held in his hand. Iwaizumi was expecting Oikawa to deliver them. Iwaizumi was sick and probably wanted to have his boyfriend there to help him feel better. Not the guy in his class who had a ridiculously awkward and massive crush on him.
Keiji had just decided to ask another student in the dorm to drop of the notebook when the door swung open and Iwaizumi appeared.
“Wow,” Keiji breathed out when Iwaizumi swayed on his feet. “You look like death.”
Iwaizumi’s eyes widened just a little. Then he coughed out a laugh and stepped away from the door.
“Thanks. I feel like it too,” he rasped out as he stumbled back towards the bed. “Oikawa said someone would be coming by with notes for me. Didn’t expect it to be you.”
Keiji refused to hear anything other than gratitude in Iwaizumi’s voice. Just normal friendly gratitude between one student and another.
“Some mix up with schedules I guess? I was free so the girl who had the notes asked me to bring them.”
Keiji watched Iwaizumi fall into bed and snuggle himself under the covers. He did his best to convince himself that he didn’t want to join Iwaizumi - and failed miserably.
“I appreciate it.”
Iwaizumi’s phone vibrated on the desk and he sighed.
“Do you want me to grab that?”
“No.”
The phone vibrated again.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s just Oikawa. He’s being all mother hen on me.” Keiji nodded and reminded himself that Iwaizumi had a boyfriend so if he could just stop wanting to smooth the covers over Iwaizumi’s chest and kiss his forehead and curl up next to him and nap with him that would be awesome. “It’s understandable I suppose. First time either of us have been sick and not just a couple minutes away.” Iwaizumi flashed Keiji a grin that did nothing in terms of helping his crush go away even with Iwaizumi’s pale face and the bags under his eyes. “Childhood friends and all.”
Well shit. Childhood friends turned sweethearts.
Keiji didn’t stand a chance.
The phone vibrated again. And again. And then started vibrating with an incoming call.
“Are you really sure you shouldn’t answer?”
“Yeah. I’ll text him back in a bit.” Iwaizumi started coughing and Keiji grabbed a nearby sports drink to hand to him. “Thanks,” Iwaizumi managed after a minute.
Keiji was going to go. He needed to go. He needed to be away from Iwaizumi and the urge to take care of him that was crawling under Keiji’s skin and begging to be let out. But then Iwaizumi asked about what happened in the class he missed and Keiji couldn’t not answer him.
Two hours later Keiji had talked more to Iwaizumi than he had in the last week. Not just about classes. It was like the awkwardness of the last few weeks had never happened. They talked about childhood illnesses and injuries, childhood dreams, favorite colors and movies and foods.
Then Iwaizumi had finally asked for his phone to scroll through his messages. When Keiji got up to leave because the fond smile on his face was just too much to bear, Iwaizumi had looked up and frowned and Keiji had caved like a house of cards and smiled at him and simply said he was going to get some hot water for Iwaizumi’s instant soup and ramen cups. Keiji got the water, got their instant meals prepared, and they kept talking. He even managed to somehow let himself be talked into feeding Iwaizumi spoonfuls of soup even though he knew Iwaizumi was perfectly capable of feeding himself.
Eventually the sun was setting and he was watching as Iwaizumi finally slept - only because Keiji had convinced him to take his medicine and promised that he’d come back the next day if Iwaizumi wasn’t in class.
Keiji was so weak and so screwed.
“I just don’t get it Bokuto. I really don’t. When they’re together you’d think they were an old married couple. But then when I was there when he was sick it was like he didn’t even want Oikawa around. And then when we have class or meet for our projects he’s always watching me like he wants to say something but won’t and I just don’t get it.”
Bokuto rolled over and stared up at Akaashi from his spot on the floor.
“I can still go beat him up if you want.”
“I don’t want him beaten up. I just want to know if he’s flirting with me or not. And if he is does Oikawa know?” Keiji couldn’t believe that Oikawa knew and didn’t care. He seemed like the possessive type to Keiji. Or at least the type who wouldn’t want his partner flirting with other people.
“Why don’t you ask?” Bokuto spun the volleyball in his hand idly as he watched Keiji.
“Have you ever had to ask someone you had a crush on if they were flirting with you? It’s hard enough just making idle conversation with him.” Keiji rolled onto his stomach and gestured for Bokuto to toss the ball to him. “I mean I can’t even say for sure that he treats me any differently than our other classmates. He’s polite and kind to me, sure. But he’s that way to everyone it seems. As embarrassing and frustrating as it is to have a crush on someone who is already in a relationship it would be worse to ask about their flirting only to find out they’re not flirting at all.”
Keiji nodded decisively and tossed the ball back to Bokuto. “I’ll just,” Keiji sighed, “I’ll just remind myself that he’s nice to everyone and that this dumb crush is just that: dumb.”
“That sounds like bullshit and excuses,” Bokuto told him as he shrugged, “but that’s your choice.”
“What am I supposed to do? Just walk up and say ‘Oh hi Iwaizumi I just wanted you to know I have a massive crush on you and want to hold your hand and wear your t-shirts to bed and I know you have a boyfriend already but I just had to tell you anyway’ and hope he doesn’t laugh at me or pity me?”
“Well I would start with something more along the lines of ‘So are you and Oikawa going out or what’ and see where that gets me.”
Keiji whined and rolled onto his back. When Bokuto was the voice of reason in a conversation he knew he was in trouble.
Though, if he was being honest with himself, he knew that somewhere around the time he started sketching Iwaizumi’s hands holding his own and started waking up from dreams that featured Iwaizumi’s warm laughter.
“I don’t know what I did,” Hajime announced as soon as Oikawa flounced into his dorm room, “but Akaashi has barely spoken to me all week and Bokuto has done nothing but glare at me every time he’s come by to pick Akaashi up after our meetings.” He waited for Oikawa to drop onto his bed and gesture before he continued. “I thought things had settled between us when he came by with my notes and stuff when I was sick-”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Oikawa interrupted, “I had to call in like eight favors to make that whole thing line up.”
Hajime had figured Oikawa was most of the reason for Akaashi’s visit. But since it had graced him with over four and a half hours of time spent with Akaashi without their sketchbooks in between them he had opted to see it as a gift and not mention how Oikawa had left him to die alone in his bed with nothing but Oikawa’s forty-seven messages and three voicemails for company had Akaashi not shown up.
“Anyway. I thought things were okay between us again. I’ve been trying to be friendly without going overboard. But apparently I fucked something up.” Hajime sat up suddenly and nearly knocked Oikawa off the end of his bed. “Shit do you think he figured it out and told Bokuto about my crush so now Bokuto’s pissed at me? That would explain the glares and the cold shoulder, right?”
Oikawa hummed and flipped through one of Hajime’s textbooks. “Possibly. Why haven’t you just asked him if they’re dating?”
“Because I can’t. Because he’ll want to know why and I’m not sure which possibility is worse: that they are dating and he finds out about my crush or they aren’t and he doesn’t like me in that way.” Hajime sighed and flopped back onto his bed, arm thrown across his face. “Besides it doesn’t matter anyway. This whole thing is stupid. Why would someone like Akaashi even be interested in me in the first place?”
Oikawa froze, magazine forgotten in his lap as he studied his friend.
“What do you mean by that?”
Hajime was too busy wallowing in his own misery to hear the razor sharp edge to Oikawa’s voice.
“I mean that Akaashi is gorgeous and smart and talented. Of course he’s already found someone that he wants to be in a relationship with. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t yet. I’m just a dumb jock. You know that. You’ve said it enough times.” He groaned and turned so he could bury his head in his pillow. “The whole thing was probably just a joke. They’re probably just having a grand time laughing at how much of an idiot I am to think that anyone like Akaashi would ever be interested in me.”
Hajime could feel Oikawa watching him. It was that heavy, calculating gaze that was usually directed towards opponents and taped matches, not his best friend.
Hajime thought about his drawing class with Akaashi the day before and the flat look in his eyes when Hajime had greeted him, thought about that same flat look being directed at him when he met Akaashi to work on their portfolio projects, and suddenly he felt so, so tired.
“Sorry, Oikawa. I know it’s kind of a long trip for you but I’m exhausted. I think I’m gonna try to get some rest before I go and face Akaashi later.”
“It’s alright Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s voice was soft and peaceful and Hajime sighed contently when Oikawa ran a hand through his short hair. If he hadn’t been so tired Hajime might have caught how that sharp edge of Oikawa’s voice had turned blunt and rough. “I understand. Just get some rest.”
He thought he heard Oikawa say something like “I’ll take care of everything,” but he was already too close to sleep to ask what Oikawa meant.
It was one thing for Tooru to call Iwaizumi a big dumb brute of a jock. But for someone to have crushed him enough that he actually thought that's what he was? That was not something Tooru was going to put up with.
Even if the person who did it was the one Iwaizumi had developed feelings for.
No one made his best friend feel like shit and got away with it. Not while Oikawa Tooru was around.
Akaashi Keiji was going to rue the day he met Iwaizumi. Tooru would make sure of it one way or another.
Before he could make Akaashi pay for turning Iwaizumi into a pile of goo in mourning for his love life he had to find Akaashi. He could technically call in some more favors - he was good about earning favors with a variety of people, you never knew who you’d need in the future - but first he figured he’d check the Arts building. Iwaizumi had mentioned that Akaashi was usually there before him when they’d meet up so Tooru’s best bet was to head there first. And if Akaashi wasn’t there? Well Tooru had nothing better to do today than face the person who crushed his best friend’s heart so he would happily wait for Akaashi to show up; it would give him time to decide how best to ruin Akaashi for hurting Iwaizumi this way.
He cut through the park near Iwaizumi’s campus, hellbent on destroying Akaashi Keiji. Be it in person - verbally and to his face - or behind his back - crushing his reputation into dust - he would make Akaashi pay.
He was in the middle of imagining the way he’d drag Akaashi down and rip into everything about him from his looks to his skills to his hobbies and verbally eviscerate him and practically stalking through the park with his head held high and eyes straight ahead when he collided with someone else and stumbled. If he hadn’t been so focused on avenging his friend he would have wondered when he started starring in a romantic comedy because the person he collided with let out a deep grunt as Tooru flailed and yelped and then there were strong arms around his waist as he was partially dipped backwards.
Tooru blinked the stars from his eyes and was about to grace his saviour with his best flirty thank you when he realized who it was: Bokuto Koutarou held Tooru in his arms and this sure as hell wasn’t a comedy anymore.
Tooru’s grin turned icy cold and he sunk his nails into Bokuto’s muscular arms.
“Do you swoop in to hold your boyfriend like this too? Or will anybody work for you guys to play with?”
Bokuto straightened and made sure Tooru was steady on his feet - and his heart did not do anything dumb like skip a beat - before dropping his hands to his sides - and Tooru did not miss that heat on his waist, nope not at all. Then he tilted his head to the side and frowned and Tooru absolutely did not find it adorable.
He was pissed. Just because he could find Bokuto aesthetically pleasing did not mean he was any less pissed off at him and Akaashi.
“Boyfriend?”
The look Bokuto was giving him was pure adorable confusion and that little voice inside Tooru’s head that rejoiced at being right about things started to perk up.
“Akaashi?” He asked coolly. “You know. Dark hair, dark lashes, athletic, almost as good looking as I am?” He let Bokuto’s eyes drift across his face and down to his shoulders before he continued. “Your boyfriend?”
“Best,” Bokuto replied, slowly dragging his eyes back to Tooru’s face.
“Excuse me?”
“Best. As in: best friend. Not boyfriend. He’s like my mom.” Oh. Tooru let his gaze drift down from Bokuto’s face, registering, for the first time, Bokuto’s bare arms and sweat soaked sleeveless tee and running shorts. This made things so much simpler. “Wait. Do you want me to date my mom Oikawa? That’s weird.”
Oikawa blinked. Hard. “What? No. You’re weird.”
“I’m adorable,” Bokuto stated.
“Weirdly adorable.”
“You think I’m adorable? I think you are too!”
“Wait. Back up a moment.” Tooru didn’t know if Bokuto was being charming on purpose or if it actually just came naturally to him. Either way he had to focus because his mind was already whirling with possibilities as he grinned at Bokuto. “Tell me something, Bokuto.” Tooru leaned in close like he was about to share a secret and was pleased when Bokuto did the same. “Is your best friend as hopelessly in love with my best friend as mine is with yours?”
Bokuto’s burst of laughter sounded like a hundred plans falling into perfect place to Tooru.
Keiji was a decent person. He was polite to most strangers. He waited patiently in lines. He kept in touch with his family. He wasn’t rude to cashiers.
He really wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this, to deserve seeing this unfold before his very eyes, but it was pissing him off to say the least.
Because, for one thing, Bokuto knew that Oikawa was Iwaizumi’s boyfriend. They had discussed this whole situation and Keiji’s ridiculous crush that very afternoon before Bokuto had left Keiji’s dorm and gone for a run. So, really, he should not be flirting with Oikawa right in front of Keiji. He shouldn’t be flirting with him at all. Bokuto was occasionally a little dense about things but he wasn’t downright cruel to other people. Even if he was furious at Iwaizumi on Keiji’s behalf he wouldn’t do anything like try to steal his boyfriend away. He would much rather just punch him a couple times and be done with it. Sneaky backstabbing was not the way Bokuto did things.
Keiji would think that it was just Bokuto being friendly with Oikawa - and he had yet to figure out just why the two of them were hanging out in the classroom with him instead of doing whatever it is they would normally be doing right now - but then Oikawa would laugh and lean in close in a way that was more than just friendly and Bokuto would touch Oikawa’s elbow or wrist and smile at him. Keiji knows Bokuto’s smiles. These are definitely flirty smiles.
And Oikawa… Well Oikawa was a natural born charmer and if Keiji didn’t dislike him so much at the moment he would love to get the chance to sketch Oikawa. Because his big, innocent brown eyes hid his intelligence and quick mind and his smile was sharper than razor wire and his hands were elegant and he carried himself with a grace and sureness that seemed to scream that he was hiding his real nature.
But Keiji was having trouble staying here in the same room as him right now so he could forget sketching him.
It was all he could do not to throw something at Oikawa’s pretty face.
“Oh, Kou-chan,” Oikawa crooned and patted Bokuto’s cheek. “You’re too adorable.”
Keiji huffed in irritation and glared down at the blank page of his sketchbook. Oikawa and Bokuto’s voices dropped down to whispers and he focused on not listening to them, hoping that Iwaizumi would show up soon if for no reason than so Keiji wouldn’t be forced to observe this annoying flirty betrayal anymore.
“Why are you so pissed at me?” Oikawa suddenly dropped into the chair next to Keiji and propped his chin in his hand.
The decent thing to do would be to either ignore Oikawa or give some light response about just being distracted with his projects.
Keiji was getting tired of being a decent person when all he wanted was to curl up in Iwaizumi’s lap and watch sunsets with him.
He opened his mouth to brush Oikawa off. What came out was an airy, “Why are you cheating on Iwaizumi?” instead.
Oikawa blinked at him.
“Why am I what now?”
Keiji was mortified. But he buried it and tilted his head to the side and gave Oikawa his sweetest, sharpest smile. “You heard me.”
Oikawa’s eyes narrowed and if Keiji was really as smart as everyone thought he’d probably just back down and forget everything. Forget this conversation, forget seeing the flirting, forget his irritation, forget Iwaizumi.
Forget Iwaizumi? Forget that kind smile and those gentle hands and his enchanting laughter? Forget how Iwaizumi had looked when he drifted off to sleep while he was sick? Forget the way he bit his lip when he concentrated? Forget the hundreds of tiny details that had already lodged themselves into Keiji’s memories?
Not a chance.
“You,” he repeated calmly, refusing to look away. “Heard me.”
The tension between them could be cut with a dull spoon it was so taut and part of Keiji wondered why Bokuto was being so quiet. Most of him was simply determined not to back down from Oikawa.
Finally Oikawa let out a harsh huff of air and shook his head.
“I’m not cheating on anyone. You can’t cheat on your best friend.” His eyes went a little distant. “Can you? Is there like a rule that says you can’t be friends with more than one person? I mean he’s my best friend forever so…”
“Yes you can cheat on him if you start flirting with other people while you’re still with him ,” Keiji hissed.
“With him?” Oikawa’s eyes flicked back into focus and Keiji felt like he had just walked straight into a trap. When Oikawa slowly smiled at him, one hundred percent satisfaction curling his lips, Keiji knew he had walked into one. “Are you jealous?”
Keiji finally dropped his eyes to his sketchbook and decided to not say anything. Not that - it appeared - that was going to save him now.
“Iwa-chan?” His eyes stayed on his sketchbook. “Really?” Maybe he would wake up and find out this whole conversation had been a dream. Keiji glanced over to see Bokuto simply watching them carefully and he had the distinct feeling that he had been set up somehow. “You like Iwa-chan?”
Keiji refused to say anything. Or move. Or look away from his sketchbook again.
Oikawa sighed.
“I would have thought you had better taste. I mean aesthetically speaking, yeah he’s nice to look at but, really Akaashi, his personality is shit. And honestly? Iwa-chan? Akaashi you’re so pretty. And smart. Why would you want a brute like him?”
Silence filled the air between them until Keiji finally caved, met Oikawa's eyes, and spoke.
“But you’re his boyfriend. Why are you saying this?”
“Best.” Oikawa looked at Bokuto who grinned at him, some private joke playing out between them. “As in best friend not boyfriend,” he clarified and Keiji froze. “And that’s exactly why I’m saying this stuff. As his best friend for life there’s no one to tell you better just how unrefined and brutish he is. I mean yeah he looks like a normal person now but you didn’t know him when he was nine and decided he was going to be Godzilla when he grew up.” Keiji blinked dumbly, unable to respond, but Oikawa didn’t seem to mind now that he was on a roll. “Or when he was twelve and decided he was still going to be Godzilla when he grew up. Sometimes I catch him staring intently at the Godzilla poster on his wall. I worry for him. You know I’m pretty sure I remember him proposing to me in his sleep when we were thirteen and telling me I would make a good bride of Godzilla.” Oikawa scoffed. “That asshole.”
Oikawa’s words suddenly hit him and it was like someone dumped kerosene on his face and lit it.
“You’re not dating him?”
Oikawa pouted. “He implied I would marry a lizard. No I’m not dating him.”
He should have been glad Oikawa wasn’t commenting on his blushing. But all he could do was stare at the wall behind Oikawa’s head without really seeing it, barely even registering Oikawa turning to Bokuto and continuing talking.
“A lizard, Kou-chan.”
Iwaizumi wasn’t dating Oikawa.
“Yeah but think about it. That’s awesome. Because of all the people Godzilla could just snatch up and take away he would choose you.” Iwaizumi had flirted with Keiji multiple times and he wasn’t dating Oikawa. “That makes you extra special and pretty and stuff.”
Oikawa sighed happily. Keiji ignored the tiny blush on Oikawa’s face.
“I mean,” Bokuto continued, “you’re both pretty. But not the same way. Akaashi’s like medieval lady in a fancy painting pretty and Oikawa’s more like modern supermodel pretty, ya know?”
Iwaizumi and Oikawa weren’t dating. That meant Keiji had a chance.
The door opened and Iwaizumi paused one step into the classroom, eyes darting from Bokuto, who looked smug, to Oikawa, who was flushed, to Keiji, who looked like his face was on fire as he stared into the distance.
“Okay,” Iwaizumi said slowly and looked between them all, chuckling nervously. “You both are blushing like Bokuto just asked you to be part of an orgy or something.” When no one responded he cleared his throat. “So, uh, what exactly did I miss?”
Oikawa stood up, startling Keiji, and spun on his heel towards the door.
“Just possibly your chance to be with the only person in existence who is even close to being more naturally beautiful than me. Please don’t screw it up again, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa stepped past Iwaizumi and then paused to lean back into the classroom. “Also you are a lizard obsessed brute and I am still offended by the idea that I would be Godzilla’s bride.”
Bokuto laughed and hopped up to follow Oikawa, pausing in the doorway to explain. “He means Akaashi. Akaashi is very beautiful. Akaashi totally has the hots for you if you haven’t realized it yet.”
Iwaizumi stepped inside automatically as the door closed behind him and stared at Keiji.
Keiji stared back.
“Uh, hi,” Iwaizumi said, cheeks flushing.
“Hi,” Keiji replied.
“So,” Iwaizumi laughed nervously again, “those are our best friends. Yay us.”
“Best,” Keiji repeated, finally catching an inkling of that inside joke. He’d have to ask Bokuto for the details later.
“What?”
“As in best friends, not boyfriends.” Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped up and met his and Keiji took a deep breath, steeling himself to ask what he had been wanting to ask for months now. “Iwaizumi would you like to go on a date sometime?”
Oikawa’s eyes linger on the far wall of his living room as he settles himself onto the couch opposite Akaashi with a smile.
“As entertaining as it was at first, I am glad you two got your heads out of your asses and got together.”
Akaashi tosses a piece of candy at Oikawa’s head.
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem.” They listen to their boyfriends bickering about what exactly consists of “proper movie marathon snacking” in the kitchen for a few moments until Oikawa drags his gaze away from the pictures on his wall and looks at Akaashi. “Though, seriously… Iwa-chan? Really?”
“Really,” Akaashi answers without hesitation. Bokuto and Iwaizumi come back into the living room play fighting and pushing each other through the doorway and Akaashi sighs a little at the sight of them: two grown men in character hoodies. “Even when he’s wearing his Godzilla hoodie.”
Oikawa takes in Bokuto’s owl hoodie - complete with feather patterned sleeves - and sighs in agreement.
Oikawa yelps when Bokuto suddenly picks him up then drops onto the couch in Oikawa’s now vacated space, settling Oikawa in his lap with a content hum. Iwaizumi grins in warning before he does the same thing to Akaashi.
Two sketches hang on the wall of Oikawa’s apartment with a photograph of Bokuto and Oikawa sitting on a park bench silhouetted against a sunset hung between them.
One sketch is of Akaashi mid-laugh, cheeks rounded, lips curved, eyes sparkling with amusement, nose scrunched, all soft lines and gentle edges and grey shadows drawn in Iwaizumi’s delicate monochrome style. The other is Iwazumi grinning with his cheek pressed against his curled fingers, eyes bright, lip curled, eyebrows raised almost mockingly, barely-there dimples and laugh lines and rosy, laughter flushed cheeks drawn in Akaashi’s bold colorful style.