Chapter Text
The crisp, morning air blew against the trees, tiny drops of dew shining on the grass beneath the students’ foots. The sound of light chatter, yawns in unison, filled the atmosphere. Buses were lined up in rows—engines idling and running. Iwaizumi rubbed the left corner of his eye, the bags under his eyes being as prominent as ever. He deadpanned out into the distance, standing out significantly from the buzzing energy around him.
He tapped his foot against the pavement, furrowing his thick brows as he checked the time on his watch. He hadn’t noticed any of his friends from the volleyball team arrive yet.
And, as if just like clockwork…
“You look ugly when you frown.” A familiar voice called out from behind him, flashing a cheeky smile shamelessly straight at his face.
“Doesn’t suit you all that well.”
“Piss off, Mattsun.” He groaned, pinching the temples of his face.
“We’re going hiking.” Iwaizumi blurted out, eyeing him up and down, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
“Yeah, thanks, captain obvious.”
“Why are you dressed like that? You trying to impress someone?” He tilted his head to the side, giving his best attempt to wiggle his eyebrows, regardless of his sleep deprivation.
Mattsun’s face dropped slightly—his ears had betrayed him otherwise. A light shade of pink had peeked out from his ears.
“Hey, hey!” Oikawa popped out from behind Mattsun, his jersey gleaming into the sun.
Tooru stood awkwardly momentarily, his hand tightly clenched onto his Converse backpack, which was practically overflowing and looked way too heavy for a day trip. His center part looked rather distinct, almost strategically styled, as always, getting the ladies left, right, and center.
“Wow, Mattsun, you look nice.” Hanamaki chimed in, breaking the silence, his elbows pointing out in a casual stance.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Figure that out yourself, genius.”
“Why am I getting harassed this early in the morning?” Mattsun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, offering an annoyed look in return.
“Yeah, quit it, guys,” Tooru bursted out into a series of giggles, wrapping his arm around Mattsun’s shoulder and bringing him closer—further away from Hajime.
“Pretty sure we have to hop on soon, too.” His eyes were averted towards the buses lined up.
Tooru continued to walk further into the distance, his hand still on Mattsun’s shoulder. He suddenly cast a quick glance in Hajime’s direction.
Weird, he thought.
————————
“So, guys, let’s play something.” Mattsun called out, pushing himself closer to the rest who were sat infront and next to them.
Kunimi was sat next to Hanamaki, and his earbuds were plugged in, watching a football match of his favorite team, most likely its highlights, and he looked as if he couldn’t be arsed. Hanamaki, on the other hand, looked as if his ears perked up at the mere idea of a game.
Hajime was fast asleep, practically in slumberland, drool running down the side of his mouth. Tooru positioned himself to take photos of his best friend knocked out, trying not to burst out into a fit of laughter, praying that the vehicle wouldn’t hit speed bumps any time soon.
His smirk grew larger and larger the more he kept his eyes on Hajime. What left him so exhausted? His usual snarky remarks were nowhere to be seen, nor heard, leaving Oikawa feeling a little left in the dust. Just dozing off, in his own little world, He thought.
“Is that a yes?” Mattsun groaned, waving his hands dramatically in the air.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go for it,” Tooru replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm, still focused on getting that picture of Hajime.
“Whatever. My player got injured anyway.”Hanamaki tried his best to sound indifferent, but the slight lift of the corners of his mouth betrayed him.
“Guys, wait, I need this picture, you don’t get it.”
“The picture can wait, Shittykawa!” Hanamaki groaned, gawking at his friend.
“Hey, only Iwa gets to call me that!”
“What game are we playing, anyway?” Tooru stuck his tongue out, folding his arms whilst still keeping an eye on Hajime.
“Truth or dare!” A series of collective sighs broke out, nearly awakening Hajime.
Hanamaki face-palmed, cringing intensely. Tooru did, too, but definitely more dramatically.
“In this day and age? What are you, twelve?” Kunimi let out a bitter chuckle.
The group bursted out into laughter.
“Uh—I’m older than you, dickhead, treat your seniors with respect.” Mattsun wagged his finger in the air, standing upright in his seat, the seatbelt holding his back from slapping Kunimi right then and there.
“Hanamaki, you first,” Mattsun clapped his hands, his feet rocking back and forth in the air.
“Truth or dare?” He’s really serious about this game, Tooru thought.
“Iwa,” Tooru nudged his side, wanting to remain quiet, yet a part of him wanted to wake him right up.
He wanted to stare at him for longer, to bully him, of course, since that was definitely and totally the only rational reason why a guy would want to see another guy sleeping. (Heads up: it’s not.)
He couldn’t fight that urge.
“You jerk, what was that for?” Hajime groaned, holding onto his hair tightly, giving him a side-long stare in return.
“You were dozing off for way too long there. What, something keeping you up at night, huh?”
Tooru snickered, batting his lashes towards the man. Hajime’s expression faltered, crossing his arms hesitantly.
He tried his best to ignore the fact that they were not just incredibly lean, but incredibly toned, too. Definitely another completely valid reason to be staring at another man’s arms.
Hanamaki placed his phone back into his pocket.
“Truth.”
“What was your first impression on Oikawa and I?”
Hanamaki sat there for a minute, genuinely pondering over the question. Hajime quietly laughed at just how serious he looked. Hanamaki rubbed his chin, squinting his eyes at Tooru, which, in return, he gave him a wink.
“I guess, obviously, I thought Oikawa was pretty handsome.” Hanamaki blurted out, seemingly not embarrassed at all by how blunt that came out.
They were all guys. And it was entirely the truth that he was in fact charming.
“And good at being a setter, ugh, just how perfect can one person get?”
There were collective nods.
Not from Hajime, though. He stared out into the distance, looking at the passing cars. Tooru noticed this but refused to pester him. He probably just didn’t get enough sleep last night.
After all—it was nothing but the truth. Tooru Oikawa was nothing short of gorgeous. Considered to be the most best-looking in their year, an exception in every conversation. Whenever girls would talk about the most cutest guy, it would always start off like: “—aside from Oikawa-san”. Every Valentine’s Day, Tooru would have to open his locker just to be greeted by tons of chocolates and love-letters from students all across the school. Cameras couldn’t quite capture his looks. His hair was constantly perfect, his skin clearer than 20/20 vision, his features complimenting him perfectly—one could get the gist of it.
“Why, thank you,” He raised his hand onto his chest, bowing in his seat dramatically. He knew it, too. Hanamaki rolled his eyes in return, Tooru smirking at his own answer.
“And, for this one over here…”
”Thought he was a complete jackass.”
“That is so uncalled for!” Mattsun groaned, rubbing his temples.
“Quite the observation,” Hajime snickered.
“Shut up!” Mattsun looked dead in his eyes, wide-eyed. Mattsun grumbled in frustration, a crimson red creeping up his cheeks, pushing himself away from Hanamaki.
“Anyways,” Hanamaki cleared his throat, facing Tooru and Hajime’s direction.
“Iwaizumi, truth or dare?” He rested his chin on his palm, tilting his head in curiosity.
“Dude, seriously, me?” Iwaizumi suddenly jolted, his mouth slightly dropping. “Uh, truth, I guess.”
Tooru eyed him up and down once against, regardless of the fact they were seated right next to eachother.
Iwaizumi started praying to every God in the universe—praying that he would not get asked the uncomfortable question of who he liked. It was the most generic, yet interesting question that people’d ask. It’s probably going to be…
“Who was the hottest girl you’ve ever dated?”
….Uncalled for.
He blinked, the question settling in. His composure suddenly faltered, the confidence he’d been carrying slipping through the cracks. Hajime silently debated pretending he hadn’t heard it at all—that the low rumble of the bus engine had swallowed Oikawa’s words whole. It was a perfectly believable excuse. Perhaps if he stayed quiet long enough, maybe they would assume he’d missed it and move on.
That attempt came to no avail.
“Uh, gross,” He ruffled his spiky hair.
“Can I just do dare?” He shot back a side-long stare, trying to ignore Tooru’s eyes practically boring into his, like he was shooting lasers straight at him.
“Fine, fine, dare, then.” Kunimi chimed in, suddenly looking as if he was about to vibrate out of anticipation.
“I dare you to hold the hand of the person you find most attractive for the entire bus ride.”
Loud snickers and overlapping voices filled the air, the boys further back immediately nosing around into what was going on.
“There’s no way I’m doing that.”
“You are so doing that, bro,” Mattsun smirked, his voice climbed an octave despite his desperate effort to stay calm.
“Yeah, Iwa, don’t tell us you’re going to hold hands with Mattsun,” Tooru grinned, One eyebrow arched in quiet amusement. He titled his head back on the seat, still eyeing Hajime.
“The hell am I catching strays for?”
Mattsun called out.
Realistically, Hajime didn’t actually have to do it. It wasn’t like his life was on the line, or there was money in return. It was just some stupid game that some stupid high-schoolers decided to play during their stupid field trip. But, he didn’t want to ruin the mood, make things awkward. He swallowed his saliva, not wanting to look like a complete wimp for not doing a simple round of truth or dare. It takes so, so much courage for him to even reach his hand out to the person in question. All of those volleyball training sessions, competitions, prepped him for moments like these. But, they never taught him how to hold hands with someone without looking completely, absurdly, awkward. His eyes darted between his friends.
“Fine, fine,” He held his hands up in surrender.
But, again, they’re all guys. They’re teenage guys. Why would they make it seem weird? In fact, Hajime was probably the one making it seem off. Holding hands isn’t a big deal, he thought, especially with someone of the same gender.
Here goes nothing.
He reached his hand out to Tooru, refusing to look at him.
“Happy, now? You idiots,” He muttered, feeling a pair of eyes darting straight into him.
Kunimi cooed, clenching his fists in a tiny victory pose. Hanamaki and Mattsun exchanged entertained glances before turning their full attention to the spectacle unfolding in front of them.
They erupted in laughter.
Iwazumi’s hand twitched slightly in his, his hands getting increasingly clammy. Tooru, too, had been unusually quiet for the entire bus ride. He realized he hadn’t said a single word since his made the move, prompting him to look in his direction.
Oh.
Oh, God.
It’s an expression that looks so incredibly wrong on him, yet so perfect at the same time, and Hajime suddenly feels a pang of pride. His usual laid-back facial expression faltered into that of a complete, utter blushing mess. Tooru knew he was attractive, saw it coming, but his reaction was nothing short of picture-worthy.
He exchanged the glance, before he buried his face in his sleeve for a split second before straightening up like nothing had happened.
“Hey, come on, we all saw it coming!” Tooru scoffed, turning away before anyone could notice the grin tugging at his lips.
“It is me, after all,” He coughed into his fist, using it as an excuse to hide the smile threatening to escape.
It was nothing new. They’d hugged before, fist-bumped, arm-wrestled, soothed each-other in their worst moments, but there was something so intimate, so daring, about the whole act. In front of everyone. For their friends to see, in full display, full swing. He was his best friend. His partner.
So, what’s with that damn face?
“Aw, someone’s in looove!” A voice called out from the seats in front of them, presumably some nosy classmate.
No, hell no.
No. No, he absolutely isn’t. He is not in love with the gorgeous figure next to him that is Tooru Oikawa, with his ridiculously stupidly pretty brunet hair, not with the warmth of his shoulder brushing against his own, not the way he trusted his tosses without ever looking, and his god-awful sense of humor that never failed to drag helpless laughter out of him—
He comes to an abrupt, sudden halt.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no.
I’m holding hands with Oikawa, Iwazumi thinks as he tries his best to fight off the giggles surrounding his very conscience, and I’m in love with him.
I’m screwed.