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The last time Hajime had talked to Kageyama had been at his own high school graduation ceremony, and Kageyama had asked him a question, as simple and natural as breathing. “You love Oikawa-san, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” Hajime had replied. Lying was useless, unneeded. Kageyama’s blue eyes had traced along his face. He hadn’t smiled. “I see. I don’t understand, but I guess I don’t have to.” To that, Hajime had said no, and they’d said goodbye. 

It’s five years later and Hajime wants nothing more than to go home from university in this horrible blizzard, but a hand catches his shoulder. When he turns around, there’s Kageyama – but then again, it’s not. The loneliness is gone from his dark eyes, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. And maybe that’s because of the young man clinging to his arm, sunshine-bright hair, eyes wide and warm like sweet honey milk. 

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kageyama says, and Hajime hugs him simply because it feels right. They chat for a moment, the boyfriend – Hinata, right – making sure to distract Kageyama with touches all the while. And then, Kageyama says: 

“You still love him, don’t you?” 

Hajime says yes. “We live together, but it’s not like – “ 

Kageyama shakes his head, and even Hinata looks sad. “I thought you’d find out on your own one day. Iwaizumi-san, he – he’s always loved you.” The snow tastes bittersweet on Hajime’s cold lips. He swallows, shakes his head. 

“He does,” Hinata says softly. “Sometimes, he phones Tobio. Believe me when I say that he loves you. Y’know, Tobio’s almost as big of an idiot as him, they both thought they’re never good enough – ow!” Kageyama growls at him, smiles then.

But Hajime doesn’t hear them anymore. He runs, snowflakes catching in his hair, blue-white cold bleeding over his mouth as he pants heavily. Tooru’s at home when he arrives, his bag being thrown in the corner. He’s on the couch and looks up, smiling, then opening his mouth. “Haji – “ is all that he can say. 

“Eight years.” Hajime’s face is buried into Tooru’s shoulder, arm around his waist, his cold body strong against Tooru’s chest. “That’s for how long I’ve – God, why didn’t you say something, I thought – I wanted to, but Kageyama told me… ‘s it true? Talk to me. Tooru, talk to me, and don’t lie, don’t lie anymore.” 

Tooru doesn’t speak for a long time. Then, his fingers softly cup Hajime’s jaw, trembling, thumb brushing his lips. His eyes are a beautiful darkness, star-lit by a glint of swallowed sadness and something long, long hidden. 

“Twelve years.” The warmth of his mouth presses to Hajime’s lips. And Hajime chokes on the sob that roars in his lungs when Tooru whispers: “I was scared. You’re everything, and I was noth- “ 

Hajime shuts him up with a kiss, a desperate, wild thing lingering between their mouths, and Tooru curls against him like he’s that moon that’s only ever waited for its stars to finally frame the pale grace of its body, and light it up in white. 

hana-tox:

OKAY FIRST OF ALL please please please like/reblog this because that was where this originally came from, i just illustrated it.

also hi moami i am the anon who asked to illustrate your ficlet last week lel

tbh i could have finished this on time for your birthday but i had a lot of post-labs that i needed to work on sorry ;;

I remember that you sent me a few anonymous messages where you told me that you were going to draw a comic a drabble of mine. And now I see the result, and can confidently say that I was not prepared for this at all. 

This is absolutely mesmerizing. How you captured the vibrant colours of Hinata and Kageyama, how they are represented as opposite, warm and cold, blue and orange, will never cease to amaze me. And that you included my full drabble is almost breaking my heart in the best way possible. I honestly, truly love everything about this beautiful piece of art that you have gifted me with. 

Hinata’s expression and the glow in his eyes in the almost last panel are killing me. You drew him so full of hope and love, all that affection and warmth that he has for Kageyama – and you reflected the hope that I put in the end of my drabble perfectly with Kageyama’s softening eyes. 

Thank you. Thank you so, so much for this wonderful, perfect gift. ♥ ♥

The day that one of his classmates spits in front of his feet and snarls “you’re fucking disgusting at him” is the day that Iwaizumi learns an important lesson. He learns that being gay and holding hands is still a crime in the eyes of some stupid assholes, and that Tooru’s eyes can go dark as coal within moments. 

Iwaizumi learns that he’s not the one people should fear. Oh no – not him, but –

Because Tooru unlaces their fingers before he can say anything, and steps forward to the bully. He gently takes a grip at the guy’s collar, pulling him so close that their foreheads almost touch. 

Iwaizumi can’t hear what Tooru says – but he sees the guy go red, then pale as death, and his body begins to quiver as if he’s seen a monster, a beast ready to devour him. The people behind him back a way. Silence falls over the classroom. Tooru’s mouth curls into a soft grin. Then he says, loud and cheerful:

“And if you ever so much as look at him again, I swear, darlin’, that I will make all those pretty things I just told you come true. Oh, and I am sure that a lot of people would love to hear the things that I know about you, your sweet little secrets… So – do you understand me, honey, or do I have to make myself any clearer?” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what Tooru has told the guy to make him run away afterwards, choking on tears and shaking from head to toe. But he has learned something very important. 

It’s not him that people should be afraid of. It’s that smile, the soft laughter hiding a tongue sharp enough to slice through flesh and bleed someone’s sanity dry. 

It’s Tooru. 

Tetsurou isn’t quite sure how he ended up in such a position, but then again it’s hard to think when he has a young god like Tooru in his lap and that soft, warm tongue licking into his mouth. Any coherent thought becomes impossible when rough hands drag down his spine, caressing his skin from tailbone to neck, a hot kiss pressed against his shoulder with a harsh drag of teeth. Hajime’s chuckle echoes deep into his bones, and when blunt nails send sparks flying through his nerves, Tooru shifts just a bit to moan softly into Tetsurou’s mouth, just as he’s pulling back from the kiss and whines. Hajime’s body is strong against his back. 

God, they are all he’s ever wanted. 

“We got you,” Hajime whispers against the shell of his ear, lips wet and burning on Tetsurou’s skin. His fingers keep dancing, worshipping every inch of him, just as Tooru wraps slender legs around Tetsurou’s waist and sucks a dark bruise below his jaw. “Relax,” his voice is playful, even softer than Hajime’s. “We’re not going anywhere, darlin’. We’ll be here all night.” 

No, Tetsurou doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve boyfriends like those two. But Hajime and Tooru have chosen him, all his bad things and dark walls and the fear that he’s been swallowing down before confessing that fuck, yes, he loves them more than he could ever put into words. He’s theirs now, and somehow, like a miracle he can’t explain, they are his as well. 

And then Tooru grins and lets himself fall back, pulling Tetsurou down on top of himself, his mouth catching the surprised gasp on Tetsurou’s lips with a searing hot kiss. ‘Gorgeous,’ Tetsurou thinks, and then a large hand slides down his back, the rough pad of Hajime’s thumb dragging along his shaking thighs, deliciously slow and teasing and perfect. “F-fuck, please – “ He’s never begged for anyone, but he does so for them, and his heart feels like it’ll melt when Tooru reaches for Hajime’s neck to pull him into a warm kiss, and then Hajime steals another one from Tetsurou’s mouth. 

“We’ll be good to you, darlin’, I promise you that.” Tooru’s voice is raw and thick against his ear, and just as Hajime breaks the kiss and Tetsurou tries to gasp for air, Hajime’s fingers slide deeper and press into him, careful, slick and gentle. “God – ah, can’t – ohh.” And he sinks down on Tooru, who runs shivering fingers through his hair and pets him, “yes, jus’ like that, we’ll take care of you,” as Hajime kisses his back and slides his fingers deeper into Tetsurou, sending liquid fire over his skin and right into his chest. 

Tetsurou doesn’t know how he deserves this. But when he wakes, later that night, Tooru’s curled against his waist and has Hajime’s arm slung around himself like a makeshift blanket – that’s when Tetsurou smiles, and thinks: Maybe he’s worth more than he’s always been told. At least, he can make them happy. He can love them, more than anything, and that could be enough. 

In class, they are a quiet mumble of “Iwaizumi” and a resigned sigh of “Oikawa” as one shuffles closer to make their knees touch underneath their tables. 

During practice, they are a cheerful “Iwa-chan” on bouncing feet and a soft, fond groan of “idiot” as a two hands slap together in the air, a new technique perfected.

On the court, they are a shout of “Iwa!” with slender fingers grazing a ball and a yell of “…kawa!” as a yell of victory unites their voices, a fierce hug and bright grins. 

At home, in the darkness of blankets and kisses, they are “Hajime” with hearts open and vulnerable, and “Tooru”, as lips graze against skin and fingers slide into one another to melt, join, unite.