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Iwaizumi Hajime is strong.
I mean, that much is pretty much obvious to everyone. He works hard to keep himself physically fit - he’s a firefighter, after all, and a good one at that. He even gets Tooru on his kicks of eating good, clean food and might have even worked in a gym date or two.
And okay, yeah, Tooru absolutely loves the fact that Hajime can lift him up and hold him against the wall and just pound him- Okay, yeah, that is hot as hell, but it's not the strength that Tooru loves. It’s not the strength that he continues to love, every day, with a burning passion.
No, rather, his strength is in the way that he completely breaks down all of Tooru’s walls, refusing to believe that happy facade that works on everybody else. Any time he sees that stupid fake smile he’ll get rid of it as quickly as possible with a kiss or a soft flick to the forehead.
His strength is in the way that he keeps Tooru from falling apart, and allows Tooru to do the same for him.
Hajime comes home one evening much later than intended after a bad fire. It starts out as a small fire in an apartment but it turns for the worst quickly. Bad contractors using poor material - they’re getting better at shaking out those types of people, but some still fall through the cracks. The poor homeowners don’t know the difference until it’s too late.
He’s exhausted and emotionally drained after a twelve-hour shift. The smell of smoke clings to all of his clothes; he feels as though it might be seeped into his skin after being exposed to it for so long.
He feels like he could collapse and sleep for days . Things aren’t usually this exhausting, but another fireman got injured and they were working overtime. Add that in with the fact he hasn’t been sleeping well with Tooru out of town for work and that he didn’t have a break to eat, and, well, he’s really fucking ready to go home.
His keys jingle and he nearly drops them trying to find his house key. He sighs; his head hurts, he just wants to be inside already.
He gets the right key, and goes to unlock the door-
The door bursts open and a weight hits him like a ton of bricks.
“Hajime!”
He stumbles, nearly falling over at the sudden weight on his chest. His senses are instantly overwhelmed by the sudden warmth, the comfortable, heavy weight and the scent of honey... He realizes, after a moment, that it’s Tooru.
“Tooru?” He whispers, under his breath. He’s almost afraid to ask, fearing that once he does, everything will disappear.
“ Hajime ,” he mumbles against his chest. His arms circle Hajime’s waist, holding him tight. “Hajime, you’re here .”
So he holds him close, nodding. He stands, shakily, while Tooru clings to him and sobs, whispers of I love you and I saw it on the news and I tried to call you, I was so so so worried .
Somehow he finds the strength to hold him strong. Hajime brushes their lips together and wipes away wet tears, answering with I love you and I’m here and it’s okay and I’m real .
He lets Tooru get it all out. He holds him while he sobs heavily, until the shaking has subsided. Until he can pull away, eyes full of tears and smile.
Because he’s lucky. So, so damn lucky. He sweeps in, pressing their lips together in a loving kiss, tears streaming down his face.
And he isn’t the only one crying by this point.
Hajime accepts him for who he is. Crying, sniveling mess and all. Tooru doesn’t have to hide how he feels - and damn it if that isn’t the most freeing feeling.
He isn’t judged, or ridiculed. Yeah, there’s some people who didn’t believe their relationship would last, back when they got together in high school-
You’re too soft , they would tell Tooru, and he’s too aggressive .
Fuck all of them.
Fuck them because they didn’t know. They didn’t understand Tooru and Hajime then, and they wouldn’t understand them now.
They didn’t understand the way that Hajime always makes sure Tooru doesn’t practice too hard. He always checks in on him, giving him ice for his knee, and making sure he’s wearing his brace.
They didn’t understand the way that they felt just being together. It doesn’t matter if they’re just strewn across their living room eating takeout fried noodles - Tooru always feels light and happy, and Hajime returns his soft smiles.
Their parents always joke that they are like two halves made whole once united.
They don’t realize how true that statement is until they’re two adults pledging their lives to each other.
Hajime’s strength is in the way he brings Tooru back down to Earth. The way he sees him for who he is and accepts him readily. His strength is in the way that he refuses to let Tooru think he has to change. Even when it’s shit he doesn’t understand.
Despite all of his complaints of the bathroom cabinet always being such a mess and how long Tooru takes to get ready every day, he still pays attention to the little things he does.
That next morning after crying himself to sleep curled up in bed, Tooru wakes up to Hajime pulling away from him, slipping out of their bedroom.
He wants to call him back, wants to pull him in, but he’s too exhausted. The crying has his eyes all red and swollen - he sighs, blinking open blearily, swallowing to clear out his throat.
But Hajime always comes back, and he does. He comes back and coaxes Tooru into his lap. He obliges, sliding in close and resting his back against Hajime’s chest. He closes his eyes, breathing slowly, until he feels Hajime’s hands on his face.
First, he rubs his thumbs across his jawline, then up his cheekbones. The skin there is sensitive and Tooru flinches; he wants to open his eyes, but before he can Hajime runs his fingers just below his eyes.
It’s gentle, soft, and - cool?
“Hajime?” He mumbles. Hajime just rubs more of the cool cream on his face, this time under the other eye and shushes him.
They don’t need to talk; words are not important anymore. Tooru knows Hajime watches, and listens - he knows that Hajime knows all too well which lotion in the bathroom he uses when his eyes swell from allergies.
God, he loves him. He loves him so fucking much.
He doesn’t complain when Tooru needs to feel him, needs to see that he’s real and they’re together, cancelling all his shoots for the next week and not being able to be far apart. He pulls Tooru into his chest for cuddles, not minding when Tooru slides in as close as possible to steal his warmth.
It's in his strength to continue doing what he loves despite how hard it is. Despite the fact that he needs Tooru just as much to pick him up and make sure he eats, to hold him when it’s all too much and he can’t handle it anymore . He lets himself be weak, curling up next to his husband and letting Tooru run his fingers through his hair, and kissing his forehead. It’s a give and take, after all; a push and pull.
This is the strength that he loves.
The strength in his fingertips that caress his cheeks, drawing his face in close; the strength in his lips pressed flush against him, wet and warm and steady.
The strength in his voice that whispers I’m here. The reminder that he is not alone.
Tooru knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he will love him with every fiber of his being for the rest of his life.