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nicolasdean:

i read “Lavender”(iwaoi) [x] by the lovely moami and i really liked it alot!!! give it a read u guys!

…I haven’t yet figured out a way to make my mouth close so I could possibly stop screaming about this. Lavender is my first longer Iwaoi fic and I was so nervous about it. And now I receive this incredible gift from you.
I don’t know if I can express how much it means that my writing inspired you to draw this. That particular scene is so important to me – and you captured it BRILLIANTLY WELL.

I love everything about this. The smoke from the food that Hajime lovingly prepares, the softness that Tooru dares to show around him. And – the intimacy you managed to bring to life.

Thank you. I’m gonna go away now and cry for a few more years. This is beautiful. ♡♥

“Why am I never good enough?”

That’s what Oikawa says, mute tears on his red-cried cheeks, when Hajime first discovers the bruises all over his arms. Oikawa has always been a setter, Hajime thinks as he holds him in his arms, rocking both of them back and forth on the empty floor of the locker room. Setters don’t get bruised. It takes his brain a moment to figure it out; until Oikawa whispers something, not a name but something that’s supposed to be the second word a child speaks after “mama”. A word filled with trust and love and protection. When Oikawa whispers it, it’s thick and black and sharp as a knife in Hajime’s ears.

He’s never liked Oikawa’s father.

“Why? Why?!” Oikawa sobs into his shirt, hugging himself underneath Hajime’s grip. “Why am I never good enough for him?!”

‘You’ve always been more than good enough,’ Hajime thinks. ‘You’re gorgeous, brilliant, and sometimes I look at you for a bit too long and forget how I was alive without the sunlight of your eyes.’

What he says is: “Come live at my place. You’re seventeen. It’s only a year until you’re free.”

Oikawa stares at him. His eyes are wounded and deep, a lost child hovering between a myriad of worlds it doesn’t belong in.

“Are you serious?”

Hajime is. He’s so serious that he opens up his own world, small and unperfect as it is, and lets Oikawa flood all of his gold and silver into it.

In the end, Oikawa is enough, and sometimes even too much in a breathtaking, overwhelming way, when he sleeps with his head tucked under Hajime’s chin and a hand over his beating heart.

There’s only one rule. “Don’t mention it.” That’s what Oikawa whispered into Hajime’s trembling lips after he’d kissed him into the lockers of the changing room. Don’t mention it, that’s the rule Hajime hears as a painful echo inside his head when Oikawa laughs at a group of girl, waves, smile bright and warm like the mouth he kisses Hajime with and stole his heart out of his chest. 

But Hajime’s never been one for rules. “Why the fuck do you keep kissing me? Why shouldn’t I mention it?” He asks when Oikawa’s pressing him against the lockers once more, long fingers buried in Hajime’s hair, eyes alight with victory, possession, and something so dark that Hajime swallows, hard. 

Oikawa jolts as if he’s been hit and backs off. “Because I don’t wanna hear you say it.” His voice trembles, broken around its frail edges. Hajime’s had enough. He catches Oikawa’s wrist, pulling him close, but Oikawa tries to fight, presses both hands against Hajime’s chest – and then, a shimmer of wetness on his cheeks. 

“You don’t get it, do you.” He sounds so tiny, Hajime thinks, and that’s enough. His hands find the small of Oikawa’s back, fitting there like they’re earth and wind and belong together underneath the stars and all of the planets. 

“You don’t wanna hear me say what?” 

Oikawa looks at him. His eyes are drowned galaxies, bottom lip shivering. “I don’t wanna hear you say ‘stop it already’. Or ‘that’s disgusting’. Or – “ 

“You are so goddamn dense.” Hajime’s mouth is soft on Oikawa’s, melts against his skin, and Oikawa’s eyes go wide. Hajime sighs. His best friend’s always been insecure, underneath all that fire and smoke he radiates during a game. “Listen carefully.” And Hajime leans their foreheads together, breathing in Oikawa’s scent, thumb caressing his tear-damp cheek. “Kiss me. Kiss me all you want, whenever you want – but I’m going to be the only one, got it?” 

Oikawa’s grin returns, sharp and burning. “Is that your new rule?” He asks. Hajime replies with a kiss, and warm hands on Oikawa’s cheeks, wiping the tears away.