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It’s barely been an hour since they went to bed, and Hajime has wound down enough to be comfortable.
Tooru’s been telling him about the new telescope at JAXA, snuggled in close and still trying to gesture as animatedly as he would if they were sitting up. After he almost hits Hajime in the face for the second time, Hajime pins his arms to his sides and pulls him close to prevent potential damage - but he’s smiling, small and fond, and he finds he doesn’t really care if Tooru hears. It’s familiar. Comforting. Warm.
Exactly the feeling he needs at the end of the day. (He doesn’t continue down that train of thought, doesn’t think of everything he wants and can’t have.)
Just as he’s about to drift off to sleep, Tooru clears his throat a bit and speaks up again.
“Hey, Iwa-chan?” His voice is slightly muffled with how he’s got his face buried in Hajime’s chest, hair tickling his chin. Hajime can’t help but smile some more, exhaling softly.
“…more space facts?” he asks, brushing his fingers over Tooru’s lower back. He shivers under the touch, leaning closer and humming softly.
“…no,” he says, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Just… I’m really glad that you’re here with me.”
Even though he says the words like he would anything else, mumbled against Hajime’s skin, quiet and warm, there’s an impact now that Hajime feels down to his bones, and impact that makes him instinctively curl around Tooru tighter, slipping his leg between Tooru’s knees and wrapping both arms around him.
Tooru makes the tiniest sound – it’s one of those moments where Hajime’s breath suddenly gets stuck in his throat, where he can’t keep pretending, for a second, that what he feels for his best friend is strictly platonic, or that the line they’re walking isn’t so blurry it might as well not exist at all.
He exhales, leans into the warmth and lets himself believe, just for a second, that Tooru might just lean up and kiss him.
He can imagine the feeling – Tooru’s lips have brushed his forehead, his collarbone, his shoulders as they slept, light and never truly on purpose. It’s such a small shift, in moments like these it feels like it’d be so easy.
He huffs out a laugh, bringing himself back, shutting it down. And then, because he can’t quite get rid of the sappy feeling in his chest, he says: “...where else would I be?”
Tooru snorts, a tiny, endearing sound that almost throws Hajime back into the train of thought he’s been pushing away.
“World’s your oyster, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles.
He’s right, of course - Hajime could be anywhere right now, if he wanted. His grades hadn’t been bad, he’d been able to choose from several universities and had passed the entrance exams with relative ease. Theoretically- theoretically, he could be anywhere.
He stares at the ceiling in the dark, their shared apartment mapping itself out in his mind’s eye.
The cluttered bookshelf in the living room, full of DVDs, old comics, and his small collection of Godzilla figurines.
The battered couch, ideal for falling asleep on during movie marathons; worn out but meticulously clean, because Tooru is particular about that.
The armchair by the largest window, where they sit when there’s thunderstorms; limbs tangled together, reading books or watching the rain with steaming cups of tea.
The photographs of the old team, and of their trip to Kyoto with Mattsun and Makki, stuck to the fridge with little star-shaped magnets. (And a selfie in which they both actually look happy, bathed in sunlight, filtered orange in the glow of Tooru’s old room in his parents’ house.)
The tiny planters Tooru’s been buying, filled with herbs and succulents, lining the kitchen windows.
Tooru’s glowing Star Wars posters and fairy lights, plastered across the large wardrobe in the second room, which contains a gigantic mess of their combined clothes - ownership is fluid and brief here, and Hajime can’t say he minds.
(Nor that he minds that the second bed has remained empty since their first night here, and that he’s grown used to Tooru’s soft breathing, his lips against Hajime’s skin and his warm weight pressed into his side.)
Places, Hajime realizes, that feel like home.
I’m glad you’re here with me.
He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. But it’s not like he can admit that just like that.
“I don’t care for seafood,” Hajime says instead - and it earns him another snort and a little laugh, just like he’d been hoping.
“Liar.”
Hajime detaches one of his arms from around Tooru so he can wave his hand in the air. “You know what I mean.”
Tooru chuckles, a little breathless, and pulls himself closer. “Do I?”
Hajime half-shrugs, jostling him a bit. “I see no reason for me to be anywhere else right now.”
It feels like Tooru stills for a moment, maybe taken aback - but the moment passes and he presses closer, and maybe Hajime’s imagined it. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“...I like the way things are,” Tooru says, voice a little more reserved than Hajime anticipated. Cautious. And then, even quieter: “I don’t want anything to change.”
Hajime feels the shift in mood like the sun moving behind a cloud, even in their darkened room. He tugs at the back of Tooru’s shirt, fingers betraying his nerves.
“What’s changing?” he asks. “We’re still here.”
Tooru laughs, trying to sound light. It’s almost… bitter.
“Well… yeah. Now. But- what happens after we finish studying?”
Hajime blinks at the ceiling. “...why are you thinking so far ahead?”
Tooru shrugs, then shakes his head again. “I don’t know. Just… I really like the way things are now. There’s… it’s like you said - there’s no reason for us to be anywhere else. This… this works. And- and I think, for me… it will keep working. I don’t need anything else.”
Hajime’s brain seems to have slowed down, because the words register but he’s having a hard time processing. He keep his eyes trained on the ceiling, hoping his heartbeat won’t betray him, and Tooru ploughs on, spilling words like ripping off a band-aid.
“But I know you’re gonna want a family, right? Get your own place, find a nice girl- I just. I don’t know.”
Hajime is tempted to go the easy way - the way he’d always pick, when they stray close to the invisible line. Ignorance. You know you’ll always be important to me, Oikawa. No one can replace you. Not ever. You don’t need to worry about that.
“...hm,” he says instead, and his fingers tighten over the fabric of Tooru’s shirt. “We’ll see.”
Tooru stops - and then he actually pulls back, startled. “You’ve always wanted kids though?!”
Hajime shrugs a little. “Maybe. It depends? You need the right person to raise kids with.”
Tooru considers him for a moment before he nods seriously, and settles himself back onto Hajime’s chest. “Exactly! But you wouldn’t end up with just any girl, anyway. You’re gonna find the perfect mother for your children. You… you have to trust someone a lot, for that.”
Hajime hums - but his mind is already detaching, spinning an unbidden scenario that he needs to forget about, right now, fast-
An idea springs to life in his head, and he lets out a bark-like laugh before he can stop himself. Tooru flinches, and Hajime runs his hand over his back in apology.
“What was that about?”
“...sorry, sorry, I just-”
He shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t-
“I was just thinking. If we were to raise a child, they’d be the most spoiled kid anyone has ever seen.”
This time, Tooru definitely stills, long enough for Hajime to be sure he’s not imagining it.
Suddenly terrified of the silence, Hajime keeps talking; “...I just thought - you’d spoil the hell out of your kid. You’d be so devoted and involved - maybe even a little too much. And the kid, they’d adore you for all the attention, and then they’d learn that puppy-dog pout of yours and I wouldn’t be able to refuse them anymore either - they’d take over the world at some point, with us wrapped around their finger.”
Tooru is still silent, and Hajime waits, careful not to hold his breath, until-
“...I sure as hell wouldn’t raise a quitter.”
Hajime can hear his grin, and relief floods through him in an all-encompassing wave. Oh, thank god.
“No, you wouldn’t. Definitely not. ...you’d raise a pro volleyball player if you could.”
Tooru actually scoffs at that, pulling back enough to give Hajime a reproachful glare in the dark. “Iwa-chan! I wouldn’t force our kid to play volleyball - only if they want to!”
“Of course not. But you’d sure as hell try to get them excited for it.” A brief pause, and he’s sure Tooru is pouting when he adds: “...so would I, though.”
He can practically hear the grin tearing across Tooru’s face. “Ha!”
Hajime shrugs, reeling Tooru in again and pulling him back against his chest. “...how could you expect anything less?”
“That’s true. And Iwa-chan’s such a nerd. ...you’d definitely buy the kid a godzilla onesie.”
“Oh, like you wouldn’t look for ones with aliens and spaceships on them?” Hajime shoots back. “Besides - you’d love the godzilla onesie!”
“Never said I wouldn’t.”
“Now who’s the nerd?”
“Excuse you, I will not let our child grow up without the classics!”
Hajime laughs - and somehow, reality comes crashing back in. What are we doing?
“...our hypothetical child would be a gigantic mess of influences.”
Tooru mellows down, too, laughter fading away. He hesitates, like there’s something he wants to say but he isn’t sure how.
Hajime slows his breathing, once again hyper-aware of the silence.
“Do you…” Tooru stops, fingers brushing Hajime’s side as he searches for words. “...d’you think they’d be happy?”
The world stops spinning for a second, and everything freezes, just long enough for Hajime’s heart to flip inside his chest.
“...with us as their parents?”
Tooru buries his face in Hajime’s chest. “Yeah.”
Hajime allows himself a few seconds to contemplate. There’s a clear answer, he’s just not sure he can give it, or what it will lead to.
“I think… I think they would.”
It’s like the tension drops a little, then, and Tooru tightens his grip briefly, squeezing himself as close as he can possibly get. Hajime returns the gesture, on instinct and because he wants to, wants to pull him close and show him, somehow, how much he means to him.
And then, barely audible, Tooru whispers: “...would you?”
Would you be happy, raising children with me?
This time, the answer slips past his lips before he can give himself time to consider, because it’s so glaringly obvious.
“Yeah.”
Tooru braces himself up on his elbows, tearing himself away so he can stare down at Hajime.
“...you mean it?”
Hajime thinks of the armchair, of Tooru’s weight pressed firmly against him, a book open in his lap. He thinks of the way the light catches in Tooru’s eyes sometimes and makes them look golden. He thinks of Tooru’s laugh, of the feeling of his arms wrapped around his shoulders, of the smell of home and freshly cooked food and laundry detergent.
You said it yourself, idiot. Raising a kid, that takes trust. That takes a strong, durable bond.
“...I think I’d like that.”
And then, to shut down his own dreaming, to shut down the thoughts that are threatening to spill over: “...I’m not ready for kids, though. I feel like I’m flailing enough on my own right now, really.”
Tooru laughs lightly. “Yeah, I get that.”
He lowers himself back down, fitting back into Hajime’s arms with his head resting over his heart. The atmosphere shifts again, back to something lighter, easier.
“...t’s just like you though,” Hajime says, running his fingers idly up Tooru’s arm. “Thinking ahead that far.”
Tooru half-shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Hey. Just… enjoy yourself a little. Young and unburdened, or whatever.”
“Ha. Unburdened.”
Hajime pokes him just below his ribs. “Or whatever people are saying we should be, these days.”
He can practically hear Tooru rolling his eyes. “No one’s ever unburdened.”
And suddenly, he wants to argue. Not because Tooru is wrong, but because Hajime feels that with the right people beside him ( person, his mind argues), “unburdened” comes pretty close.
“...depends on what you make of things,” is what he ends up saying.
Tooru seems to hesitate for a moment, like he’s itching to move but not sure if he should. Finally, he seems to overcome whatever’s stopping him, because he lets out a sigh and buries his face in Hajime’s shoulder again, arms coming up and tightening around him.
“Can I just stay here forever?”
Hajime recognizes the feeling Tooru exudes, pouty and sort of sad, and responds by bringing his hand up, fingers threading through Tooru’s hair. “...can’t play volleyball in here.”
“Don’t care,” Tooru mumbles, and now Hajime knows he’s being petulant.
“Come on. You’d get restless in under a day.”
“No,” Tooru argues - and the next part he mumbles into Hajime’s skin, so he barely catches the words, “...cause you’re here.”
He frowns, not sure what to make of that, heartbeat suddenly picking up. It’s nothing. He means nothing by it.
“You’ll get bored with me soon enough,” he says, though he dislikes the words the moment they leave his lips. Tell me I’m wrong. Say no, say no-
“Never,” Tooru says, and there’s not a trace of teasing in his voice.
I’m really glad you’re here with me.
I don’t want anything to change.
Can I just stay here forever?
“...you’re awfully complacent,” Hajime says, careful to keep his tone neutral. “What about you, don’t you want… a family? A place of your own?”
He’s not sure why he asks, because he dreads the answer. What does “forever” even mean? How far ahead is he going to allow himself to look? Is it inevitable that they separate, and what would his world look like without Tooru?
It’s not a train of thought he wants to pursue, not in the slightest. It’s too close, too real to every fear he’s desperately pushing away. Hajime thinks of Tooru’s laughter, of his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, of lazy mornings with coffee and pancakes, and of late nights with whiskey and movies. Of waking up to drool on his shoulder and Tooru’s relaxed features close enough to leave him breathless, of coming home to his excited “welcome back, Iwa-chan, I’ve been waiting for you!” - of all the things he wishes he could hold and keep forever.
Where else would I be?
“...I’ve got one,” Tooru says, quiet and suddenly less certain. “...if nothing changes.”
It takes trust.
Maybe it takes a leap of faith, too.
“You mean- with me?”
Tooru lets out a dry laugh. “...no, with the other person I’m living with.” He squeezes Hajime’s waist. “Yeah, with you.”
“...oh.”
Tooru nuzzles in closer, taking not being pushed away as a good sign. “...said I’d be okay with nothing changing. I meant it.”
Hajime is reminded, suddenly, of volleyball. Of taking the first step, of running and jumping - leaping - in anticipation of a toss.
A toss that’s certain to always come his way if he indicates that he’s free. If he jumps, Tooru will get the ball to him.
He’s the one who has to slam it down. Make the point. Seal it.
“...maybe… maybe there’s something that could change, though.”
Tooru has gone scarily still.
“...you know. If- if we stay together.”
He’s not sure if he’s making it better or worse. The silence is deafening. It’s like the second before the point of impact, the heartbeat before his palm connects with the ball. Almost. Almost.
“...if- I trust that you’re serious. And… and that you really want this. Then…”
Why are words so hard, suddenly?
In the final moment, everything depends on him. Trust. Can I just stay here forever?
“...then maybe- maybe we can make sure that… we don’t have to worry about the future anymore. About… you know. Some girl who might come along and change everything.”
Tooru’s breathing has slowed, as if he’s making conscious efforts to stay calm.
“...I wouldn’t choose her,” Hajime whispers, fighting the shaking, this is it, “...if I had you.”
“Hajime,” Tooru breathes, fingers gripping tightly into his shirt, voice cracking over the name, “Hajime… is this a confession?”
Hajime shifts ever so slightly, one hand still tangled up in Tooru’s hair and one wrapped around his waist. “...if you want it to be.”
Tooru pushes back, abruptly, braced up on his arms and glaring down at him with eyes that Hajime can now see are brimming with tears.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he says. “What do you mean?”
Hajime scans his face, finds himself getting caught up in the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the slant of his nose, heavily accentuated by the darkness around them. He has to stop himself from reaching out to wipe away the first tear that threatens to fall.
“...it means that I’m here,” he says finally, “and I’m… I’m asking you to choose me.”
Tooru’s voice has gone breathless. “...choose you how?”
Hajime exhales. Change is at his fingertips, he just needs to grasp it. Take it. Hit it.
“To be beside you. I know- I know we’re best friends, we’re partners, we’re… childhood friends. I’m… I’m asking you to add one more thing. You could- I know you could have anyone you wanted, Oikawa. You never have to be alone if you don’t want to be. I… want you to choose me.”
It’s not enough, not quite, not yet. Hajime finds Tooru’s gaze and holds it.
“As… as your future,” he says. “As the person you come home to, the person you wait up for. As the person you trust enough to- to raise kids with. The person… the person you fall in love with.”
The ball slams down on the other side of the court, before anyone can react.
A tear has started trickling down Tooru’s face. It catches on his chin, not heavy enough to fall - and then it’s joined by a second, and a third, and the drop detaches, dripping onto Hajime’s cheek. Hajime’s heart is racing because he’s crying, he’s crying, what does that mean, how can he help, what does he need-
“I c-can’t do that,” Tooru says, and his voice is so broken, Hajime feels it tear his heart to shreds; his expression is so torn, raw and vulnerable and-
“...b-because I already fell for you, Iwa-chan - I f-fell for you years ago.”
Hajime almost chokes on his tongue.
“Wh-”
And then a smile breaks across Tooru’s face, ear to ear, like he can’t help it - it’s just happening, beyond his control or influence, and he’s still crying and it’s dark as hell but oh, oh, Hajime swears he’s never looked more beautiful.
He gets caught up in that smile, in the way it reaches all the way up to his eyes, the way it lights up his face. Tooru is serious. He means it.
“...oh.”
His hands are still sort of... on Tooru’s hips. He’s pretty sure he can’t move.
Tooru lets out a little half-laugh, and a couple more tears fall onto the pillow by Hajime’s face.
“Iwa-chan.”
It’s too much at once. So many things are shifting inside Hajime’s mind, cogs clicking into place, memories of moments missed and misinterpreted, I fell for you years ago-
“...you mean it?”
It’s a stupid question, but Hajime needs to hear it again, needs to be sure, because it feels too real, too good to be true-
Tooru is nodding, smiling, and it’s filled with years of emotions pushed back, with the pain of denial, the fear of rejection - there’s so much unrest in that single expression, and all of it is cancelled out right then by incredulous happiness.
“It w-was always you,” he says.
Hajime lets out a breath that rattles more than he would like, trying to wrap his head around this, trying to fit it into the world from before that suddenly feels too small.
“A-aren’t you gonna kiss me, Iwa-chan?”
Hajime blinks, unsure if he’s heard correctly - but Tooru is still going, ever the nervous talker, “I mean - you don’t have to, but if… if this is who we want to be, I just - I’m telling you it’s okay, I want you to, I mean-”
“I love you.”
Tooru stops, his eyes going wide, and Hajime bites his lip. “...fuck, just- shit, Tooru, I love you so much-”
He’s cut off when Tooru drops himself back on top of him, knocking all the air out of his lungs. Hajime gasps, arms folding up around him immediately, but before he can even hope to get his voice back, Tooru is sobbing in his ear, “Iwa- I-Iwa- y-you can’t just s-say that- I’m- I love you s-so much, too - a-always h-have-”
He might be hyperventilating, and his words are practically impossible to understand because he’s crying so hard, but Hajime decides right then that he’s never heard anything better in his entire life. He squeezes Tooru close, finally, finally sure that he knows, Tooru knows what Hajime means by it, how important he really is, how loved-
Words don’t feel like enough. He turns his head, buries his face in Tooru’s hair and presses his lips against his temple. Tooru chuckles weakly, and Hajime feels a stupid, too-wide smile stretching across his own face.
“...didn’t mean kiss me like that,” Tooru mumbles, doing his best to try and sound pouty but failing spectacularly because he’s still sort of crying.
The prospect of actually kissing Tooru seemed so utopian and far-fetched just ten minutes ago (and yet so close, so incredibly, tauntingly close) - Hajime can feel his head starting to spin, but he pushes past it, nudges Tooru with his nose, tries to coax him into turning his head.
“...let me, then,” he mutters back, kissing at the side of his face, elation bubbling up all around him. This is real. This is REAL.
Tooru blushes scarlet, judging by the heat Hajime can feel on his skin, and he shakes his head, burying himself further into Hajime’s shoulder, his own lips brushing Hajime’s neck.
“...I c-can’t breathe,” he says, muffled and tiny, “I really w-want to but I- I can’t- n-not now-”
“Okay,” Hajime says immediately, “Oika- Tooru, it’s okay, I promise-”
“I’m sorry,” Tooru says, cutting him off, “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry-”
“Hey.” Hajime hugs him close, threading his fingers up into his hair. “Tooru. Breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”
But Tooru is shaking his head, fingers curling into fists, “I’m sorry-”
“Tooru. Listen. I’ve- I’ve been in love with you since high school. I’m not going to run away because you’re overwhelmed. Breathe, please.”
Tooru is shaking slightly, but he does as Hajime says, takes a second, holds his breath before he releases it and inhales slowly, doing his best to match Hajime’s own breathing.
The first one comes out shaky, the next one too - but then it starts working. Hajime trails his hand over Tooru’s back and he keens under the touch, letting out the softest sound, and the shaking stops.
“...s-sorry,” Tooru says again, but it’s no longer panicked. Hajime gently nudges his head with his own.
“S’alright.”
“...a-are you sure?”
“I promise.”
The worry rising in Hajime’s chest starts to fade as Tooru relaxes again, melting against him, tension easing from his shoulders.
“...t-tomorrow,” Tooru says, like a vow, like a promise. “T-tomorrow. I want to.”
Hajime nods. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
Tooru snuggles close, just like always, and Hajime closes any possible gaps in return, pulling him in, holding on.
“I love you,” Tooru says, and Hajime’s heart lurches in his chest. “I l-love you, Hajime.”
Hajime finds himself staring at the ceiling again, heart thrumming with the promise of tomorrow, with the adrenaline of a leap of faith, with the knowledge that everything he thought would never be his is right here now, wrapped tightly in his arms.
He hums, pressing a light kiss to Tooru’s hair and letting his lips linger. “Tomorrow it is.”