Tag: haikyuu!!

He’s losing himself. Hajime sees it immediately. Knows him inside where it gets dark and ugly, has memorized the mile-high walls that crown his king. 

He stands by Tooru’s side, a bit behind him. Is silent for a bit. Watches the game, too, but mostly he looks at the boy who cried salty frustration into his shoulder and his bed last night.

Tooru has his knees by his chest. His eyes, never soft when they’re away from togetherness, glint behind the new glasses. Hajime remembers buying them, searching the perfect frame, setting them on Tooru’s nose over parted, still red-shining-from-kisses lips. How do you know, Tooru had said without a smile, Hajime how do you know my lenses, that’s insane.

Loving him is insane, Hajime thinks back at the memory. Down below, the game heats up. Pure, horrible insanity.

He jumps over the seats. They banter, insult a bit, Tooru puts his legs down. Hajime keeps a seat between them and this time really tries to watch the game. 

“You don’t have to wear them,” he says after two more points fall.

Tooru turns to him. “What?”

“The glasses. You, I mean. You don’t have to wear them if you – they’re too aristocratic anyways. But you like that kind of stupid shit, so I thought…”

“Oh. No, it’s okay.”

Hajime exhales, slow. “You sure?”

He had asked the same thing last night. Funny how life goes. He drops his head back, eyes going shut, touches his mouth once more. The kiss he’d given Tooru (not stolen, nobody robs Tooru of anything, it’s all granted or gifted) burns there like a secret little fire. You sure, he’d whispered when his nose nuzzled against the one he’d first touched when he’d been three days old. About this? About me and the future and what we could be?

“Hajime, honestly,” Tooru laughs and reaches, ruffles his hair with fingers that are rough and cracked and just a bit soft where they become his wrist. “I’m always sure about the stuff you do.”

“I can’t do this.” Kageyama digs his nails into the palms of his hands until the skin goes pale. Hajime has to pry his grip apart before he really hurts himself. It’s been years, but he can’t stop feeling responsible. And proud, too, always that.

“Look.” Hajime puts both of Kageyama’s hands into one of his, runs a hand through his hair, patient until Kageyama manages to glance at him.

Right, Hajime thinks when he has to tilt his chin up, taller than me. “You’ll do fine,” he says out loud. “Don’t be afraid. He won’t reject you.”

“But what if he does? What if he doesn’t like me after all this time?”

Hajime sighs and wonders why he can feel a familiar hint of fondness in his chest. “If an ordinary guy like me can confess to a brilliant madman and stay his boyfriend for five years and counting, then a genius like you can ask Hinata out already.”

Kageyama swallows hard. He nods.

A week later, a text arrives on Hajime’s phone. It says: One day and counting.

bubblline:

a certain birthday child asked for iwaoi and who am I to deny this request

Happy Birthday @moami for a great and happy new year in your life

This is so beautiful, Annie! Just like your art always is. They’re wonderful, look at those happy faces and all the fluff. (Didn’t expect anything less romantic from you – rot me with that sweetness.) And of course you know that I adore winter and need cold things. Brilliant! Thank you so, so much, you are a great friend.

Looking at the issue from all sides, Kuroo is about five percent disappointed in himself. If one examines the whole situation, that is far more than expected. The rest of his brain capacity is taken up by overheated whirring and wildly spinning coils at the moment, so he refuses to be blamed for his lack of investment in scolding himself.

“Kuro,” Kenma says. He’s still sitting there on Kuroo’s bed, one hand in his hair to push it up the side of his head, thumb gently nudging his earlobe forward.

Kuroo swallows.

“Are you deaf?”

He’s not, but it’s damn near close. Stupid heartbeat so loud in his ears. “No. I, uhm. It’s.” Be cool, fuck, remember how to do that still? “When did you get it?”

“Yesterday. It barely hurt.” Kenma doesn’t even flinch when Kuroo reaches to touch, but his lip twitches a bit. “Careful though.”

“‘Course.” So this is his life now, Kuroo thinks while he runs his fingertip over the silver stud resting in the flesh of Kenma’s ear. “Other side too?”

“Would look stupid otherwise.” A yawn. Kenma rubs a hand over his eyes, then winds away from Kuroo’s touch and drapes himself over his lap. The familiar shiver of warmth down his spine is one of the few things Kuroo knows better than his own face. Together with Kenma’s, his hands, the feeling of ground below his feet and, well, okay, that mouth against his own.

He waits (patient, of course, always for him) until Kenma has arranged himself. His strategy seems to be going for cuddling tonight, Kuroo deduces from the rough nudge against his fingers, Kenma’s forehead prodding until Kuroo threads a hand into the peach soft hair of his neck.

“Why now?” They only have a few nights. Then, it’s university for him again, and that last year for Kenma.

“Dunno,” Kenma mumbles into his leg.

“Liar.”

“Mhm.”

“Tell me. Please?” They all think that Kenma’s the one to get what he wants, no matter how ridiculous. It’s like that most of the time, but oh, not always. Kuroo leans down, kisses the hair that smells dark-sweet of sweat, this afternoon’s pie, grass and lemonade from earlier, their sheets and skin rubbing on another until it’s pink.

Kenma is quiet for a while. His fingers play with the hem of Kuroo’s pajama, tickles along the hair on his knee. The moon’s all the light for them.

A breath exhales against his leg. “I can’t get real piercings yet. I have to wait until school is over and I’m at university. It’s all I have until then. Not enough, but… but I’ll take it. I can wait.” He looks up at Kuroo, pale in the night with old kisses glinting dark over his neck and red on his mouth, a curved smile. “Can you?”

Kuroo wants to love him until they wither away.

“Yeah. ‘course.”

All of Hajime’s firsts have been taken by Tooru, and it’s annoying. Whenever something new sprouts in Hajime’s surroundings, fresh hesitation on its leaves, Tooru picks it up and plants it in a pot. He does always end up giving it to Hajime, fine, but it’s really about the principle of the issue.

(All pots are on his mental windowsill, blooming. Colourful.)

So after their first kiss, when Hajime’s seventeen and never Tooru’s first at anything, he can’t help but say something. “That was,” Hajime stutters. Tooru still has a hand in his hair, halfway leaning over his lap, Hajime on his bed and backed against the wall. (Because he surely would have fallen if Tooru had kissed him standing. His mouth tingles. He loves, loves, loves.)

“Yes?” Tooru wants to know. His lips shouldn’t still be pale. Should be spelling Hajime’s name in red.

He clears his throat, shrugs, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Just don’t think that it’ll get better than this. You probably know a way though, you always do. And I suppose you’ve done it all as well.”

Tooru stays silent for a stunning moment.

“Right,” Hajime says. “Forget it. Wanna kiss again?”

“There is a way.” A warm hand slides around Hajime’s neck, and Tooru climbs his lap, bony knees by Hajime’s ribs, jittery adventure alight in his smile. “Never did it, though. It’s all new for both of us after this.”

Hajime wants to reply. He doesn’t get to, which is – which is, oh, it’s okay. Oh, his heartbeat thunders at the press of Tooru’s mouth. I want, his breath hitches when a shy tongue slides against his own, melts Tooru’s taste into the heat of his mouth and pushes inside.

“Again,” he growls when Tooru gasps for air, and then swallows the muffled laugh of his (boyfriend? forever? everything) between slowly blushing lips and newborn licks that sends shudders down their spines.

Tooru has no chance. He closes the door behind himself and is one second into the flat, kicking off his shoes with the feeble hope of somehow making it upstairs. Should’ve known better. As soon as he bends down to tear his sneaker off, laces still tied because hurry, hurry, someone comes out of the kitchen.

“Sweetheart,” his mother says. She smiles. There’s an apron around her hips, the house phone peeking out of a pocket.

“Hey,” Tooru says, stretching the y-sound like a rubber band. “I’m home. Really tired, coach extended the spiking practice again – ”

“We’re having dinner,” his father calls from inside the kitchen. Tooru risks a look inside. The table is all set up with the best cutlery that his mother usually uses when grandma is coming over and has to be impressed with an immaculate house and manners so precise that Tooru feels like royalty for days after. The only other time that his mother makes that kind of effort is when there’ll be a family talk.

Tooru considers panicking, but then decides against it. He’s already in this situation and if this is about what he thinks it’s about, then he can’t escape anyways and getting it over with could make a lot of things easier.

He drops his sports bag and obediently walks into the kitchen.

The smile on his mother’s lips turns into a grin. “Fantastic.” Oh god. Tooru swallows. He sits down next to his father, hands in his lap, and then his glance catches on the big pot in the middle of the table. His favourite stew is simmering lazily, and next to it sits a bowl with milk bread for dessert.

“Mom, am I adopted?”

His father snorts. “You definitely didn’t inherit our sharp perception. You did get your mother’s obsession over your hair though.”

“Very funny. You’re my son through and through, we’ve been over this. Our son, I mean. You’ve got your father’s calves. Careful.” His mother fills their bowls with stew and hands the rice to his father, and everything is quiet and peaceful with the clatter of spoons and forks full of rice. Tooru bears with it for exactly four minutes. Then he can’t take it anymore.

“Training wasn’t extended. I was at Hajime’s place – ”

His mother puts her spoon down. “You know that we love you, honey. We really do. So it’s important to us that Hajime and you are using condoms when you’re together.”

Tooru doesn’t put his spoon down. He drops it into his stew instead, splashing pieces of carrot and leek everywhere. His father sighs. “Watch it, will you. Your mother tried very hard with the stew and I made you a double batch of milk bread. The least you could do is promise us – ”

“Oh my god.”

“ – that you two are going to be safe – ”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“We’re worried about you, sweetheart. We want you to have fun and get as intimate with dear Hajime as you’d like – ”

“ – when the big first is going to happen and all the times after as well, of course, and if you have any kind of question… well, I’m not an expert on the whole male on male thing, but from father to son, I could – ”

“I’m a good person,” Tooru desperately whispers. “I did my homework all school year. I tutored Kindaichi for his math test. I made Hajime soup when he was sick.”

“ – and as long as our dear Hajime is always wearing a – well, not that I’m assuming that he’ll be the one to, you know, that’s not our business,” his mother contemplates and pushes another bite of stew between her lips.

“None of this is your business!” Tooru raises his hands and voice, throwing both into his parents’ faces. “How did you even know? I’ve been going to his place for years, and we’ve only been together for – I mean. We’re not…”

His father stops chewing. His brows sink low, forming a dark line over bright eyes. “Is he not serious about your relationship?” He looks at Tooru’s mother. “That’s not what Miko told you.”

Tooru can’t believe this. “You called his mother?” He puts his face into his hands. “This isn’t supposed to happen. I was going to come out at some point, introduce him – ”

“Nonsense.” His mother’s hand touches Tooru’s shoulder, squeezes it gently. “We knew about your feelings, sweetheart, you’re not that good at hiding things from us. From him, maybe, but not when you’re in your room and swooning your soul out after a phone call from him. Miko and your father and I knew it was bound to happen. I hope she’s making sure that Hajime knows about protection as well.” She giggles and softly tugs at Tooru’s ear. “And if you two ever need the house for yourselves over a weekend, when you’re both ready, just ask.”

Tooru’s entire face is burning. He opens his mouth to say something. His brain is short-circuiting pretty impressively though, and nothing makes its way out. His parents seem to understand and damn it, why do they have to be like this, of course he knows how to do all of this. (They’re annoying and embarrassing and any other reaction would have terrified him to the bone. He loves them, he loves them.)

“Uh. Thanks then. Can we never talk about sex again from now on?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Do you want some more stew?”

He does. He also calls Hajime after dinner. It turns out that Hajime’s had a similar conversation with his mother and sister and his voice hitches a little bit around the word condom when he confesses that his mother had bought him some. Tooru buries his face in the pillow, smiling from ear to ear. “They’re so embarrassing,” he says.

“Totally,” Hajime says, and then whispers: “We have time though. Right?”

“Yeah.” Tooru closes his eyes, touches his mouth where Hajime had kissed him goodbye earlier. “We do.”

The ring is silver. It sits on a bed of velvet, its counterpart plain and simple where the first wears a small bright diamond. It must have taken hours to choose.

Hajime cradles the box in his fingers. He’s trembling a little bit, has ran his hand through his hair so much that it sticks in all directions, fluffed excitement.

“Do you like it?”

Tooru blinks. The tears don’t come. He has none left. “Yes. Of course I do. It’s perfect.”

Hajime’s smile is radiant. “Good. God, that’s – thank you. I needed this.”

He nods, fakes the grin on his lips with ease. Has practiced it for this moment. “Everything will be fine. You’ll be okay.”

Before he leaves, Hajime hugs Tooru so tight that all air hisses out of Tooru’s lungs. He lets it be. “Are you happy?” The only question that matters.

Hajime pulls back and beams. “I will be when she says yes.”