Work Text:
December 2, 2016
Before three o’clock in the afternoon, Hajime would say his day was going strangely well. He’s finished all his homework for the week — managed to turn his internship into a promise of a full-time job (with flexible hours!) — stopped by the cafe Sawamura works at and gotten strawberry cheesecake bites on the house. He’s ready to say life is officially going his way despite the unfortunate events over the last seven months, but then he looks at his phone and said Unfortunate Event is calling him.
“Hi, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, saccharine like he is to strangers and enemies.
“Hey,” Hajime replies cautiously. “What’s up?”
“I need a favor,” Oikawa clears his throat, like he’s forcing the words out of his mouth, “and you’re the only one who can help me.”
Hajime sets down his fork — squints at the table like it’ll give him the answer he wants (the answer is: Oikawa’s insane). “I really don’t like the way that sounds.” Oikawa laughs, high and odd and fake in a way that Hajime can still catch.
“Well,” he says airily, “it’s December.”
“It… definitely is?” Hajime agrees hesitantly.
“And,” Oikawa continues, “I might have forgotten to tell my family that we are…” He pauses. “No longer together.”
“No,” Hajime says immediately. If he were smarter, maybe, or slightly more over Oikawa (whose stupid voice is currently making Hajime feel dizzy, like he’s in high school or something), he’d hang up right then. He’d save himself some trouble or at least a week’s worth of headaches. Instead, he stays on the line because he’s an idiot and he’s still in love.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, and everything feels familiar and warm for all the wrong reasons, “please, I can’t ruin their break; it’s — you know how much it means to them.”
“Just say you’re coming to my house for New Year’s,” Hajime replies, teeth gritted. “My mom knows.” The because I’m normal goes unspoken but he hopes Oikawa hears it anyway.
“I came over last year.” Oikawa sounds desperate. Hajime can feel himself buckling. “I’ll tell them after; I just — just for a week. I can’t make them sad during the holidays. You know I can’t.”
Hajime closes his eyes — allows himself to take exactly three deep breaths before he answers, “Fine.”
“Thank you,” Oikawa says, quiet and horribly sincere in the way that’s always punched Hajime right in the chest, hard enough that he feels like his rib cage has been shattered. “I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah.” Hajime stares at his strawberry cheesecake bites, ignoring the way Sawamura’s glaring at him like he’s going to be interrogated later. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll — we can talk about the details later; I have to go.”
“Okay,” Oikawa agrees. “I’ll call you later. Bye, Iwa-chan.”
“Bye,” Hajime echoes, but Oikawa’s already hung up, so he just glares at the table and wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.
:
“This is a dumb idea, right?” Hajime asks, pacing around his kitchen as Kuroo sits on the countertop and gazes at him like he’s found a particularly amusing toy. “We barely talk anymore.”
“Probably,” Kuroo agrees.
“So should I back out?” Hajime runs his hands through his hair. “I mean — why would he not tell his mom? We’ve known each other since forever; it’s not like it slipped his mind.”
“You guys see each other every two weeks,” Kuroo adds, “so it definitely hasn’t slipped his mind.” Hajime pointedly doesn’t think about how awkward it is hanging out with their mutual friends — how neither of them made friends they didn’t introduce to each other because they assumed there would never be a situation like this — how they were both incredibly stupid and naive and it’s been biting them in the ass for over half a year now.
“Hey,” Kuroo says, leaping off the counter and slapping Hajime on the back with way too much force. “Think of it as a bonding opportunity.”
“A bonding opportunity for crazy people,” Hajime mutters.
Kuroo shrugs. “Not like Oikawa’s ever been normal.”
“Still.” Hajime frowns at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. “This is weird even for him.”
“But you’re still gonna do it.”
Hajime opens and closes his mouth, desperately wishing he could say anything to wipe Kuroo’s stupidly smug look off his face. Instead, he just aggressively wipes down the countertop and echoes, “But I’m still gonna do it.”
When he looks up again, Kuroo seems strangely pensive. “Don’t hurt yourself, yeah? Be careful.”
Hajime smiles, feeling as if shards of glass are stuck in his mouth, forcing it open. “Can’t hurt myself if Oikawa does it first.”
December 16, 2016
Sitting across from Oikawa at a library table and talking about their fake relationship based upon their real ex-relationship is about as weird as Hajime expected.
“It’s really not gonna be that hard,” Oikawa says for the fourth time. “We’ve — it’s just like, an extension.”
“Sure,” Hajime replies for the fourth time. He clears his throat. “So what’ve you been up to?” Oikawa raises his eyebrows — purses his lips like he does when he’s trying not to smile.
“You know what I’ve been up to; we still meet up, like, every other week.”
“Yeah, but I never hear it from you anymore.” Oikawa grins, blushing and small. Hajime’s heart hurts just a little.
(Weird. This is weird.)
“I got a job.” Oikawa pours some more sugar in his coffee and stirs it, and Hajime pointedly doesn’t comment on his sweet tooth because he doesn’t know if they’re allowed to be like that anymore. “It’s not a dream position or anything, but it’s a good starting point. It’ll look good on my law school application. There’s this one guy I work with, though, and he always eats plain sugar cubes in the middle of meetings and I can hear him crunching and I want to ask if he’s a horse or something but I don’t want to burn bridges this early — ”
He clears his throat, looking away when Hajime snickers. “Anyway. I joined the recreational volleyball team with Refreshing-kun and the others, too. They wanted you on.”
“Yeah,” Hajime says, “um, my schedule’s a little tight.” He half-expects (wants?) Oikawa to call him on the lie, but Oikawa just hums and takes a sip of his coffee. “Should we — do we want to act like we’re on the rocks? If we’re gonna be breaking up like, three weeks after.”
“Did we act like we were on the rocks before we broke up? The first time, I mean.”
Hajime frowns. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“The answer is no, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa corrects, honeyed, and now this is feeling familiar. “Because I’m an excellent actor.” Hajime rolls his eyes.
“Okay, so we’re — what, completely in love? Adorable?”
“As close to adorable as you can get.” Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “I know that’s not too close, but — ”
“Shut up,” Hajime snaps, and Oikawa laughs and now this is definitely familiar and Hajime isn’t sure how to feel. (Could they have had this if Hajime hadn’t pulled away after they broke up? Would he have been ready to? It’s not worth worrying about now, he thinks, but he’s worrying anyway.)
“Terumi’s gonna figure you out,” he says after a moment. “She knows everything. And if she doesn’t Takeru will.”
“She doesn’t know everything.” Hajime stares at him. “She won’t. I’m — we’ll be fine, seriously. And if anything, she’s gonna figure you out.” Before Hajime can protest, Oikawa continues, “Remember when we snuck out second year and you couldn’t lie to her about it?”
“I was sixteen,” Hajime scoffs. “I can lie better now.” Oikawa shakes his head.
“You’re an honest man, Iwa-chan.” He points at him. “Too honest.”
“And you’re insufferable,” Hajime replies, and Oikawa beams, pleased. Everything’s too easy right now. It feels like he’s waiting for an anvil to drop.
“Okay, well,” Oikawa says after a moment, pulling out his phone, “I have to go. This was — this was nice. I’ll text you.”
“Yeah, sure.” Hajime scratches the back of his neck. “See you around, Oikawa.”
Oikawa throws him a small smile, tentative and warm. “Bye, Iwa-chan.”
December 27, 2016
“Come on, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says over the phone. “We can’t be late or Mom’s gonna kill me.”
“You told me 2:30.” Hajime chucks his toiletries into his bag, hoping he managed to avoid Kuroo’s toothbrush. “It’s not even 2:00.”
“It’s best to be punctual,” Oikawa chirps. “I’ll be there in exactly three minutes and if you’re not out, I’ll start screaming.” Hajime groans and hangs up. Kuroo perches atop the bed, swinging his legs while Hajime scrambles for clothes.
“You know it’s gonna be weird,” he says.
“We’ve already had this conversation.”
“Just reminding you.” He chews thoughtfully on a celery stick (Hajime doesn’t know how he got it. They haven’t bought celery in months). “If you need to leave, I can fake a medical emergency. Say the word and I’ll be in the hospital.”
“I’m not gonna ditch him during the holidays,” Hajime replies. “You know how weird they get.”
“You don’t owe him anything.” Kuroo still sounds lighthearted, but it’s strained. “Seriously, man. I don’t know if you should be jumping back in this fast.”
Hajime scowls at his suitcase. “It’s been seven months. I think it’s time to move on.”
“By pretending to still be with him,” Kuroo replies, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“We really don’t have to go over this again.” Hajime stands up, smoothing over the wrinkles in his shirt. “If it gets bad I’ll call you, I promise.” The phone rings again.
“I’m twenty seconds from screaming,” Oikawa says.
“I’ll be down in ten. Kuroo says hi, by the way,” Hajime adds, glaring at Kuroo when he frantically shakes his head.
“He does?” Oikawa sounds caught off guard. Hajime covers the mic and mouths what’s that about, and Kuroo shakes his head harder. “Tell him I say hi too, then. Also, it’s been ten seconds and I don’t think you’ve moved.”
“Bye, Oikawa.” Hajime hangs up and raises a brow at Kuroo, who shrugs. “We’re talking about this later.”
“You should go,” Kuroo says cheerfully, shoving Hajime out of his room. “Call me if it gets weird, which it will.”
“Shut up,” Hajime calls as he hurries down the stairs. Oikawa’s parked outside in his stupid neon orange minivan half-asleep with his feet on the steering wheel and Hajime thinks he’s chosen the most insane person possible to spend the next week with, but he’s in too deep now to back out. “You’re not driving.”
“Come on — ”
“You’re gonna fall asleep and kill us both.”
“I was busy yesterday,” Oikawa replies around a yawn. “I’ll be awake in five minutes.” Hajime opens the door from the driver’s side and pulls Oikawa out, ignoring his complaints.
“When you pass out,” he says as he eases himself into the driver’s seat, “I’ll say I told you so.”
“Well, I won’t fall asleep, so.” Oikawa folds his arms petulantly and stares out the window. After three minutes of driving in silence, he clears his throat. “Can I ask something?” Hajime glances at him for a moment before shifting his eyes back to the road.
“Sure.”
“Kuroo didn’t say hi, did he?”
Hajime sighs. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?” he asks. Oikawa taps his fingers against the dashboard to a skittering, nervous sort of rhythm Hajime thinks he’s heard somewhere before.
“Not really,” he begins. “It’s just like… since — the whole thing between us, he’s been distant. Which I get. Because you’re roommates and all.” Before Hajime can say something (or maybe not, because he’s not sure what he’d say if he could), Oikawa continues, “I know Yahaba’s been the same with you.”
It’s not the same, Hajime almost says. I’ve known Yahaba for six years. Instead, he nods. “Yeah. I get it.”
Oikawa smiles but it’s wobbly around the edges. Hajime turns on the radio and switches it to a top 40 station, reminding himself that he has to get comfortable with awkward silences around Oikawa, that they can’t fill the space with small talk like he does with his other friends or meaningless insults like they used to with each other.
By the time he finds something to say, he turns to see Oikawa asleep, head lolling back and mouth slightly open. He looks peaceful like this — younger, less worried about school or volleyball or whatever else goes on in his head.
He’s cute. He’s been cute since he was a kid but now thinking it feels more forbidden than when Hajime had first formed a crush.
Hajime closes his eyes for just a moment, allowing himself to clear his head as he brakes at a stop sign. This vacation, he thinks, is probably going to be a nightmare.
:
“Hajime?” Oikawa’s mother calls as they pull in. “It’s been so long! Have you been eating enough? You look so skinny now; are you working too hard? Did Tooru rub off on you —”
“Mom.” Oikawa clambers out the passenger side, tripping over some gravel and glaring when Hajime laughs. “What about me?”
His mother pinches his cheek. “You call every week. I haven’t heard from Hajime in forever.”
“Yeah, well,” Hajime says, forcing a smile, “I’ve been busy.” His mother purses her lips before settling on a smile of her own.
“Just make sure not to get too busy, okay? Come in; it’s cold.”
As soon as he enters he’s ambushed by Terumi, who’s wearing a hand-knit neon green sweater and holding one out to him (he’s not going to wear it, probably. Maybe. He’ll end up wearing it in two hours). “Where have you been?” she asks. “Is Oikawa keeping you in a cellar or something? If you didn’t come over for the holidays I would’ve filed a missing person’s report.”
“I’ve been busy,” Hajime repeats, and he thinks he’s going to be repeating this all week. Takeru waves at him from behind Terumi, and Hajime waves back. “You’ve gotten tall.” Takeru wrinkles his nose.
“You sound like Tooru.”
“Do you want me to call you small instead?”
Takeru pauses, thinking about it. “No, tall is fine.” Hajime ruffles his hair and he groans dramatically. Terumi sighs.
“Go to the kitchen and help with the cookies.”
“I didn’t even say anything and you’re kicking me out,” Takeru grumbles, stomping off to the kitchen without saying hello to a very affronted-looking Oikawa.
“Almost a teenager, huh?” Hajime asks. Terumi rolls her eyes.
“He’s starting to remind me of you, honestly.”
“What, not me?” Oikawa asks.
“No,” Terumi says, flatly. “If he was anything like you I’d have given up by now.” Oikawa makes an enraged sort of squeaking sound.
“I was a great kid. Right, Mom?”
“Most of the time,” his mother agrees, exchanging glances with Hajime, who grins. “Go set up your room; by the time you come back down, we can have dinner.”
When they get to Oikawa’s room, Oikawa lets the smile fall off his face, rubbing his eyes. “It has so much less personality without me,” he murmurs, staring at the bare walls, the plain sheets, a room permanently in waiting.
“You say that every year.”
“Yeah, well,” Oikawa flops onto the bed, “it’s true every year.” He shifts so that he’s on his side, propping his head up on his elbow as he gazes right above Hajime’s head. “Is this weird for you?”
“Obviously,” Hajime huffs. He sits down next to Oikawa — silently thanks whatever benevolent god made Oikawa insane enough to demand a king size over and over until he bought one himself when he was sixteen — rests his hands on either side of him. “But it’s whatever. We’re friends, right? So… you know, it’s a favor.”
“Friends.” Oikawa blows a lock of hair off his forehead, wrinkling his nose when it settles on his eyes again. (It’s not cute if Hajime doesn’t think about it.) “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know if this is normal for friends, though.”
Hajime rolls his eyes. “You’ve never been normal.”
“You were sometimes,” Oikawa sighs. Hajime wants to say something just to break the silence but he doesn’t know what, so he just sits there and drums his fingers against the eerily soft comforter. “We should get to unpacking.”
“Yeah, sure.”
It’s weird, Hajime thinks, how even now, he’s the only person Oikawa’s truly honest with — the only person Oikawa will let himself be exhausted around, quiet and subdued. He wonders if it means anything. Instead of thinking about it, he sets his charger on the nightstand: white to Oikawa’s blue, Aoba Johsai colors. They’ve always been a matching set, and it’s starting to feel like after this they’ll be truly severed. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, now firmly cocooned in a blanket, “you look like you’re thinking. Does your brain hurt?”
“Shut up, Oikawa,” Hajime replies reflexively. Oikawa smiles for the first time since they entered the room. Hajime has to look away.
“It’s fun hanging out with you,” says Oikawa. The even now goes unsaid.
Hajime coughs. “You’re not that bad either, I guess.” I miss you, he thinks. He wonders if Oikawa gets it.
December 28, 2016
“Iwa-san,” Takeru yells. “Tooru won’t let go of me.” Hajime throws Terumi a pleading glance, but she just lifts her mug of coffee and takes a drawn out sip before looking away.
“You’re twenty-two years old,” Hajime grunts, pulling an irate Oikawa off of Takeru. “Too old to be arguing over Monopoly.”
“He’s cheating.” Oikawa points a finger at Takeru, close enough that if he leans forward he’ll poke his eye out. Hajime drags him farther back. “I know he is. He has closer access to the bank than I do and he doesn’t run out of money even though he should’ve been bankrupted like, three times by now — ”
“I’ll be the banker, then.” Hajime sits down between Takeru and Oikawa, and now their knees are touching and it’s only awkward if he makes it awkward. “Keep playing.”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines. “I want two hundred in compensation.”
“That’s so unfair,” Takeru blurts. “I didn’t even cheat; he’s just a sore loser.”
“You definitely cheated. I cheat all the time; I know a cheater when I see one.”
“Fifty in compensation,” Hajime interrupts. “Take it or leave it.” Oikawa sticks his tongue out as he grabs a bill from the bank. Hajime absentmindedly wonders what idiot part of his brain decided to be in love with this man and how he can turn it off.
After a long and exhausting game of Monopoly (Takeru still wins, and Oikawa still insists he’s cheating somehow), Hajime settles into painting with Takeru and Terumi. “He picked it up last year.” Terumi beams fondly at him. “He’s the best in his class so far.”
“Mom,” Takeru grumbles, picking up a brush and dipping it in a dark green, “don’t be embarrassing.”
“Ah, it’s just Hajime; he’s gonna be around forever anyway.”
Hajime glances at Oikawa, who’s gazing steadfastly at his laptop, and then back at Terumi, who’s grinning at her painting. His chest aches: a slow, steady throb, screaming against his ribcage.
“He might not be around forever,” Oikawa chirps. “I could always kill him.”
“You’d never get away with it.” Hajime paints a circle onto his canvas, white against red. “Makki would catch you within a week or something.”
“Really? I would place my bets on Kuroo.”
“No, he’d just assume I disappeared.” When Hajime looks up Oikawa’s grinning at him.
“Do you do that often, Iwa-chan?”
“Oh, you know.” Hajime shrugs, accidentally splattering paint on the corner of his canvas. It fits strangely well. “Just sometimes.” Takeru mimes retching.
“You guys are weird,” he says. Terumi nods. Oikawa just laughs, quiet but genuine, and suddenly Hajime thinks he might need to lie down for a few minutes or hours or years.
:
“Hajime,” Oikawa’s mother asks sweetly while he’s eating dinner, “can we talk in private for a second after you’re done?” Hajime chokes on his food and begins wheezing as Oikawa thumps his back repeatedly.
“Um,” he says once he’s managed to breathe normally again, “yeah, of course.”
“Why can’t I be there?” Oikawa asks, a little frantic. Hajime elbows him and Oikawa’s mother stares for a long, odd moment.
“Would you like to talk in private after I’m done with Hajime, Tooru?”
Oikawa picks at his food. “No,” he grumbles, and Terumi snickers.
When Hajime finds himself alone with Oikawa’s mother, helping her do the dishes and avoiding eye contact, he wonders how they got caught out this early: he thinks they’ve been acting fairly normal, all things considered. They haven’t kissed but they’d never been that kind of affectionate in public, content with subtle touches and leaning into each other like they had since well before they started dating.
“You look nervous,” Oikawa’s mother says. “When did I get so scary?”
“You’re not.” Hajime dries off a dish and places it in a drawer. “I’m just tired.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth and squeezes his cheek.
“You and Tooru, always doing too much,” she murmurs. “He hasn’t mentioned you in awhile, by the way. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. Usually you’re all he ever talks about.” She sighs. “And he always seems so sad, now.”
Hajime carefully wipes down another dish. “We’ve just been really busy, I promise.” He looks out to the living room, where Oikawa’s gesturing exaggeratedly to the amusement of Takeru. “He’s been getting better now that he’s here, I think.”
She smiles. “I think so too.” She stares at him, ruffling his hair for a moment before she says, “You two have always taken care of each other. Just… remember to keep doing that even if you’re grown up, okay?”
“I know,” Hajime replies. He looks down at his reflection in a plate, distorted and wiggling. “I will.”
December 29, 2016
“Hajime,” Terumi calls. “Could you help Tooru clean up the living room? He dumped a thousand piece puzzle on the floor.”
“I didn’t dump it,” Oikawa corrects. “It just fell while I was trying to get it out. I’m normal.”
“Debatable,” says Hajime before sucking in a breath through his teeth when he sees what’s meant to be a waterfall spread across the carpet. Oikawa looks up at him and smiles.
“Iwa-chan.” He spreads his arms and drops several pieces, swearing under his breath as he picks them up. “My savior.”
Hajime tries very hard not to blush. “Why are you holding all those pieces? Put them in the box.”
Oikawa sticks his tongue out even as he pulls the box closer to him. “So bossy.” Terumi laughs, stepping back out of the room and ignoring Hajime when he gives her the finger.
“Finish fast,” she calls, and then she’s gone and it’s just Oikawa and Hajime again.
They spend a few minutes cleaning in silence — they’ve spent most of their time here like this, alternating between friendly and frigid (it’s still disconcerting when they’re alone and Oikawa leans against him like he used to). Hajime thinks after all this they have a shot at being normal friends again.
(Of course, there’s the minor issue that he’s still incredibly in love with Oikawa. But he can ignore that. He’d ignored it for years before he confessed, after all; it’s just going to be harder now that he knows what he’s missing out on.)
When he looks up from the floor, he’s faced with Oikawa staring at him, worrying at his bottom lip instead of helping with the pieces. He wants to scold him but he can’t bring himself to, transfixed with the slope of his nose, the look in his eyes, his hair, morning-messy.
Oikawa’s close — they’ve been close ever since they got to his house, but now it’s different. It feels heavy, somehow, like just by being a few inches away Oikawa’s pushing down, down, down on Hajime’s heart until it splatters everywhere.
The last time they were this close (I can’t fucking do this anymore, Oikawa had said, and his voice had cracked when he’d added, not when you’ve obviously never loved me like I loved you), they’d both been crying.
The last time they were this close, Hajime had said he’d finally have some peace if he never saw Oikawa again.
Now they’re here again, but they’re — whatever this is. Oikawa’s breath hitches like it did the first time Hajime kissed him back in high school, like it did whenever he surprised him with something romantic, like he hasn’t heard in seven months. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as they both lean in (he’s beautiful, Hajime thinks, probably for the billionth time, ethereal, a marble statue come to life) —
— and then he jerks back like someone’s splashed ice water on him. “Um,” he says, with his stupid high-pitched nervous giggle. “We should get back to cleaning.”
“Do you still love me?” Hajime blurts. He knows he’s made a mistake as soon as he says it. Oikawa’s expression cools into the gentle neutrality he’s faced Hajime with at every mutual gathering they attend, but there’s a fire under his skin now, lighting his ears and cheeks and neck an angry red.
“I’ve always loved you,” he replies. “Since before I knew what love was — I never stopped. If you think that’s why we broke up, then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”
I know, Hajime wants to say. I’m sorry.
“Oh,” he says instead, and they go back to picking up puzzle pieces.
May 2, 2016
“I really should get home,” says Hajime for the fortieth time, typing in the data from today. His supervisor squints at him.
“You know, if you want to go into research you’re gonna have to get used to long hours. All the other students I’ve had have managed to work around it. And it’s not like you’re bored right now, are you?”
Hajime sighs. “No, but I — ”
There’s no way he’s going to be able to get out early for a date night, he realizes. There’s no way that’s important enough for him if a family emergency got him exactly five hours off.
“Could I text someone really quickly, then?” he asks. His supervisor nods and he pulls out his phone.
Might not be able to make it back on time tonight, he texts. Reschedule?
This is the fifth time we’ve rescheduled, Tooru texts back. Hajime’s phone begins to ring. Instead of answering he puts it back in his bag and keeps working because maybe if he keeps going for long enough he’ll forget about it.
By the time he gets to their apartment, it’s nearly midnight. He stumbles into their bedroom, rubbing his eyes for ten seconds before his vision clears and he sees Tooru on his phone, playing some match three game Hajime’s never completely understood. He looks up. “Nice of you to show up.”
Hajime puts his hand over his mouth to prevent a yawn. “Come on. You know I wanted to make it back earlier.”
“When you want something really bad,” says Tooru, setting his phone down and turning on the light, “you at least try to get it.” He stands up. “I wouldn’t even be mad if this weren’t the fifth time — you know that, because I wasn’t mad the other four fucking times.” His mouth is set in a thin, straight line. Hajime can’t remember the last time he’s looked like this.
Hajime should apologize. He knows that he should, but he’s tired and frustrated so instead he says, “I can’t control my hours. It’s research; I need it to get into grad school. I thought you of all people would get that, since I’m always working around your hours. Or is the problem that I’m not there all the time, Tooru? Is it that I can’t just be your lapdog or something? Is that it?”
Tooru looks like he’s been slapped. “That’s not — are you kidding me? I want to spend time with you and you think that’s making you a lapdog?”
“I mean, since I’m the one who’s always giving up hours when you can do whatever you want — ”
“You know that’s not true. When I had my internship we still had fucking date night, Hajime, because that’s one free hour out of an entire week and you can’t even give me that much.” His voice is hoarse, like it was the first time he’d ever failed an exam, like it was after they lost their last high school tournament all those years ago. Hajime’s never had this kind of resignation directed at him. He doesn’t know what to do with it.
“This is really important to me,” he says. He feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside, muscles decomposing until only his stupid heart and stupid brain are left.
“Yeah, well,” Tooru’s inches away, now, and so quiet Hajime can still barely hear him, “I guess I just thought I was too.” He sighs. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I can’t,” Tooru repeats, “do this anymore. Not when you’ve obviously never loved me like I loved you.”
“You know what?” Hajime collapses onto the bed, running a hand through his hair and finally letting his eyes fall shut. “Fine. Go. I’m starting to think the only way I’ll have some peace is if I never see you again.”
Hajime doesn’t look up when the door slams. Instead, he picks up his phone — deletes the voicemails Tooru left while he was at work — calls Kuroo. “Hey,” he says, and he sounds exhausted even to himself. “I fucked up.”
December 29, 2016
“Hey,” Hajime hisses into his phone, standing over the bathroom sink and looking at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes are red. He hasn’t cried yet, so he’s not sure why. “I fucked up.”
“I’m not gonna say I told you so,” says Kuroo airily, “but I did tell you so.”
“Shut up.” His reflection is starting to look possessed. He thinks he’s been staring for too long. “I asked him if he still loved me.”
It’s silent on the other end for a good five seconds before Kuroo sighs, long and low. “You’re an idiot.”
“No shit.”
“No, like,” Hajime can hear Kuroo laughing, and he’s going to kill him when he gets home, “obviously he’s still completely in love with you, dude. Like, you could’ve asked Kenma and he would’ve given you the same answer.”
“Okay, yeah, I get it.” He rubs his eyes. “But now it’s awkward and we were getting back to normal, so — ”
“Is it really possible to get back to normal?” Kuroo interrupts. “You’re in a fake relationship with your ex. This was all temporary anyway.”
Hajime bites the inside of his cheek. “It sort of felt like we were gonna be friendly after this. Or something.”
“You’re not gonna get there without an actual conversation.” Kuroo pauses like he’s waiting for Hajime to say something, and when there’s no answer, he sighs. “I don’t know how Oikawa put up with you for so long. Go talk to him and text me after you’re done or something. If it goes nuclear I’ll pick you up.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean maybe; this is the only option or everyone’s gonna find you out. Come on — ”
Hajime hangs up before Kuroo can start ranting in earnest. When he gets out of the bathroom, Oikawa’s staring at him. He waves. Oikawa squints at him before waving back, slowly.
“We should talk,” says Hajime.
Oikawa smiles like he’s looking for an escape. “Maybe later, Iwa-chan,” he chirps, and then he yells, “Takeru! I’m coming to help with dinner!”
When they come together for dinner the only noise at the table is the clattering of chopsticks against bowls. “So,” Terumi says after an awkward six and a half minutes, “what have you guys been up to?”
“I helped with dinner,” Oikawa says cheerfully.
“I did most of it.” Takeru pushes his food around. “He just annoyed me, mostly.” Oikawa leans forward and flicks his forehead, and Takeru kicks him under the table.
“What about you, Hajime?” Terumi asks. Oikawa glances at Hajime and then away.
“Um.” Hajime takes a bite of his food. “Not much. Just cleaned.”
“Those puzzle pieces,” Terumi groans. “For a volleyball player, Tooru’s hand-eye coordination sucks.” Oikawa glowers at her.
“It was on the edge of the table. You would’ve knocked it over sooner.”
“I wouldn’t have knocked it over at all,” Terumi says, and they continue arguing until everyone’s done with their food.
Oikawa follows Hajime into their room, pausing when he realizes they’re alone. “Maybe I’ll take the couch tonight.” Hajime shakes his head. Oikawa sighs. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
They’re distanced, now: Oikawa’s perched on his bed like he’s ready to jump off and Hajime’s sitting at the desk across the room. It feels oddly unfamiliar even though they’ve been like this for months. Hajime thinks he made a mistake when he let himself hope for more.
“Listen,” says Oikawa, screwing his eyes shut, “we don’t have to be friends after this. I just — can we just make it through the rest of this week? And then we can go back to — you know, how we were before — and I’ll tell my mom we broke up after a couple months and we can move on.”
Hajime pauses. “Actually,” he says, carefully, “I don’t want to go back to how we were before.”
Oikawa’s eyes are wide. “You don’t want to talk at all?”
“No, are you stupid? I want to be friends.” Hajime moves so that he’s on the bed, close enough so that if he reaches out he and Oikawa can touch. “That thing you said — I know that’s not why we broke up. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Oikawa exhales. “Do you feel the same?” he asks, quiet.
“You know I do.” Hajime thinks this is the sort of moment that’ll be ruined if he moves, shattering whatever’s keeping them gazing at each other, so he doesn’t. “I always have.”
“Yeah.” Oikawa furrows his brows. “I know. But still, it’s — like, was it worth breaking up, then? If we — if our issues weren’t permanent?”
“I mean,” says Hajime, “I don’t think we could’ve stayed together after that. But I don’t — how are you doing, now? With your job?” This conversation is getting close to something Hajime hasn’t thought of having in months. He doesn’t know how to keep steering it that way.
“The hours aren’t bad. And I’m better at keeping track of everything. Making time for other stuff.” Oikawa clears his throat. “And you… your job isn’t as weird with timing as before, right?”
Hajime looks up at the ceiling, remembering years of staring at projected constellations and wondering how he was so ready to let all of that go. “Yeah. And I think I’ve gotten better with balancing everything, too. Learned from you.”
Oikawa’s beaming now, full-fledged and bright and warm enough to make Hajime feel as if he’s on fire. “Maybe you’ll have to prove it to me sometime.”
“Maybe I will.”
They still sleep on opposite sides of the bed, curled so that they’re facing away from each other. This time, though, Hajime listens to Oikawa’s slow, steady breathing, letting it lull him to sleep like it has for years.
December 30, 2016
Hajime wakes up with Oikawa’s head on his chest and limbs wrapped securely around him like a koala deprived of affection. He briefly considers waking him up, but settles for staring at the ceiling and wondering where they’re going to go from here. Part of him wants to call Kuroo but the other part thinks Kuroo’s probably going to have an aneurysm if Hajime bothers him with his romantic issues one more time, so he just cards his hand through Oikawa’s hair like he did when they were kids and waits until he’s tired enough to fall back asleep.
When he wakes up again, Oikawa’s no longer in the bed. He left a note on the dresser, though — if our convo last night was a dream pinch me if not continue like normal xoxo — scrawled in messy, slanted handwriting with a tiny cartoon smiley face alongside it. Hajime grins at it like an idiot before getting up.
“Mom, Tooru’s ruining breakfast,” Takeru yells. As soon as Hajime reaches the kitchen Oikawa grabs him and positions him like a human shield. “He burned eggs.”
Hajime turns around and stares — and now he and Oikawa are nose to nose (eyes to nose, technically, but Hajime’s not letting their barely-a-height-difference ruin this), close enough to kiss if they wanted to. He steps back.
“Like, boiled eggs?” he asks Takeru, who nods, looking horrified.
“Okay,” Oikawa leans against the counter and knocks over a metal bowl, wincing when it hits the ground, “in my defense, I haven’t had eggs in a long time.”
“I always made — make your eggs for you,” Hajime realizes, glancing at Oikawa, who smiles helplessly. “Have you never made eggs?”
“I — I mean, I did just now.” Hajime walks over to the stove and peers at the charred remains of what could’ve been a perfectly serviceable breakfast.
“How did you do this,” he says flatly.
Oikawa scratches the back of his neck. “I think,” he says, proud, “this is kind of a feat. So in a way I’m gifted.”
“Mom,” Takeru bellows. “Tooru’s being annoying about ruining breakfast.”
“Hajime,” Terumi says groggily from the couch, “take care of it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hajime mutters, washing out the pot. When he looks up, Oikawa’s staring at him with the sort of fondness normally reserved for a plant he’s managed to keep alive. Hajime stares back. Takeru groans and grabs the eggs on his own.
“Hey,” Oikawa says, shuffling so that he’s within whispering distance.
“Hi,” Hajime replies. Oikawa lets a small smile bloom, painting his nose and cheeks and ears a soft pink. Hajime feels breathless.
“You didn’t pinch me.”
“There’s that lawyer’s observation.” Hajime looks at Takeru, who’s rolling his eyes as he watches the eggs boil, and then back at Oikawa, who’s wearing the most genuine smile Hajime’s seen from him in months.
“You know, I could still kill you.” Oikawa glances down at a kitchen drawer. “I have knives here and everything.”
“I don’t remember your flirting being this bad the first time,” says Hajime. Oikawa sticks his tongue out.
“Who says I’m flirting? I could be serious.”
“Wouldn’t that ruin your career or something?” Hajime walks with Oikawa to the dining table. Their hands are a millimeter away from touching. He wonders what’ll happen if he closes the gap.
“Only if I get caught,” says Oikawa wisely, stirring sugar in his tea. “Which I won’t because I’m smart.”
“I think a lot of smart murderers get caught.” Hajime grins when Oikawa laughs, and Terumi slides into the seat across from him.
“Isn’t it a little early to be talking about murdering your boyfriend?” she asks. Oikawa shakes his head, moving his hand so that it’s on top of Hajime’s, warm and calloused. Hajime thinks, for the first time in seven months, that things are really going to be okay.
December 31, 2016
“So, we’re not, like,” Oikawa says, laying on the bed and kicking his legs in the air, “together together yet, right?”
Hajime pauses, letting the word yet sink into his brain and spread until it’s ringing in his ears over and over, possibilities ricocheting through him. “I think maybe you should take the lead on this one, given — everything.”
Oikawa beams at him. “Good.” He rests his chin on his hands, thinking. “Our first date should be to go get ice cream. Neapolitan.”
“Why would I need neapolitan ice cream too, first of all,” says Hajime, “and second, it’s winter, dumbass.”
“Well,” Oikawa rolls over so that he’s staring at the ceiling, “if you don’t get neapolitan, you’re gonna get vanilla or something, which sucks. So I’m helping you expand your horizons or something.”
“I always eat your strawberry and vanilla anyway.” Oikawa points at him.
“But at least you’re getting strawberry. I’m helping diversify your diet, Iwa-chan.”
“This from the man who wouldn’t eat vegetables until he was nine.” Oikawa opens and closes his mouth, and when he can’t come up with a reply, Hajime grins, satisfied.
It’s ten minutes from the new year, now, and the living room is decorated with cheap plastic signs that say happy 2017! in neon colors. “We’re the only couple here,” says Oikawa once they settle together on the couch. “So if you don’t want to kiss, then I think it’ll be fine.”
Hajime shrugs. “I’ll let you take the lead on this one.”
Oikawa narrows his eyes. “Are you gonna do this all year?”
“Only until it gets old.”
“It’s already old,” Oikawa groans, letting his head fall onto Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime’s heart stutters a few times until it settles into a steady, quick rhythm. For some reason he feels more nervous now than the first time they kissed, back in third year.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says as his family begins counting down from ten, “I think we should kiss. To usher in the new year, you know? An omen of good luck, so to speak — ”
Hajime shuts him up by leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, firm and gentle. Oikawa touches his lips as they both lean back. His cheeks are stained a pretty red, patchy and spreading and warm. “Happy new year,” says Hajime. Oikawa laughs, soft and sudden.
“You’re so lame.”
“Coming from you.”
“I guess this means we’ll be together for the next year, huh?” Oikawa positions himself so that his head is under Hajime’s chin.
“Only a year?” asks Hajime. “I was hoping for more.” Oikawa smiles, bright, and Hajime thinks that he’s finally at home.
I love you, he thinks. He knows Oikawa gets it.