oikawa – Page 8

Quote:

Tooru cannot breathe. His throat roars. He swallows. The world halts, hisses.

He doesn’t know the girl that’s tied to a chair, but he would know the boy’s dark brown eyes in blindness and death. Hajime stares, rigid, and the fear shimmering in the blood dripping from his gagged mouth has Tooru jolt. He’s tied, too, on the ground, a bruise on his cheek. No. God, no. Not him.

Tooru’s father nods to one of his men. The guy takes out a knife. “I think a present will convince Iwaizumi-san to express his gratitude most generously. But which present… I’d say a finger or two. From the girl or boy, Tooru?”

“The girl.” He doesn’t hesitate. Hajime’s eyes widen, and he screams against the gag. Tooru flinches when one of the men knocks the end of his gun into his head, and Hajime goes silent.

Tooru’s father pats his shoulder when he passes by, stalking towards the girl who has started to sob into the cloth between her lips. “Take care of the son, will you? And – good choice. I’m certain that Iwaizumi-san will cooperate now.”

“Yes, father.” Tooru steps forward, kneels by Hajime’s side. It’s only when the girl starts to scream that Tooru leans in to brush his shaking fingers over Hajime’s forehead. He stays like this until the girl doesn’t cry anymore and his father tucks a small, bloody thing into a plastic bag.

Then, he whispers: “Forgive me.”

This is a scene from @moami ‘s drabble (you can find it here)

Just read it, I don’t have anything else to say.

Oh my gosh. Robin, you – you are just such a sweetheart. I spent the whole day trying to find the right words to thank you for this, but I did not come up with anything that fits right. Just know that this is absolutely beautiful. I made such an inhuman noise when I first discovered that you had tagged me in this gorgeous artwork. And gosh, the hours you must have put into this, I am just – just – so thankful and happy. The Iwaois look amazing in this, I can almost feel Hajime’s fear and Tooru’s pain through my screen.

It is lovely. I adore this. Thank you so much, my dear Robin! ♥♥

His name is Hajime, and he doesn’t know why there’s blood on his hands.

He wakes in darkness, face-down, wet grass tickling his naked skin. His body drips red, and when Hajime forces his muscles to push himself upright, he discovers the fire. The giant building complex before him crumbles apart underneath roaring flames, smoke hissing across the black night sky.

Hajime doesn’t know why there’s blood on his hands. He looks around, and doesn’t know where all of those dead bodies came from, either. They’re all wearing military uniforms, and only Hajime’s naked. Fear jolts through his head. He gets up and starts running, feeling his limbs and testing his skin. There’s not a single bruise on his own body. The blood isn’t his. Something black on his wrist catches his attention – a combination of letters and numbers. TELE-Ki-07.

He runs for what feels like hours. There’s a forest he crosses, away from the fire, across a metal fence that snaps in half before him. The fear inside his head screams, his blood surging. He doesn’t look back once.

He reaches the lights of a town when morning dawns. It’s dirty and loud and he hides before anyone can see him. There are no memories in his head but one – his name is Hajime. When sunlight spills over the horizon, he’s curled in an alley where his feet carried him, in front of a wooden door. He doesn’t move for a long time. The blood’s dried and breaks off his skin. He’s hungry and so, so scared.

Slow footsteps approach him when the sun’s high in the sky. He flinches, jumps to his feet, and the lid of a metal garbage bin flings at the man who stands before him. Hajime wants to warn him, yells something, but his throat just croaks. And then the lid stops. It hovers right before the man’s face, the edge pressed against his neck. The man smiles, and Hajime wonders why there are tears falling down his cheeks.

“You’re back. You got out.”

The lid combusts into dust. Hajime leans against the wall and expects his muscles to twitch, another strange thing to happen that he cannot control. But strangely, his body – relaxes. And then he tumbles forward, arms around the man’s neck, and it’s the scent of lavender and soap that makes him realize. He may not remember, but his body does.

The man kisses his hair and pulls him closer, and pushes a key into the wooden door. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, Hajime. You’re home now, and I’ll never let them hurt you again.”

And Hajime remembers, one word. “…Tooru.”

Tooru opens the door. Hajime clings to his neck, and follows inside.

“I didn’t lie. I did love you. I still do. But this is a job, and I have to. I have to.”

Hajime’s tears drip silently. Tooru stares at him, mouth so pretty when red-kissed, the gun resting against his bottom lip.

"You are the sweetest thing I’ll ever have to kill, Tooru.”

The injury had come to him at the worst possible time, and so Hajime had to watch Tooru and their team win Olympia in front of his tv instead of by his side.

None of them had cried when they’d kissed each other goodbye on the airport. His teammates had all hugged Hajime before, wishing him well, pity in their eyes about the injury that had messed up his foot. But oh, Tooru had pulled him so close that Hajime lost all the air in his lungs.

“I’ll count all the kisses you’re gonna owe me.” Tooru’s breath had been soft against his ear, voice heavy and silver with hidden tears. “One in the morning, one at night. One each time I cry, ten when I win, ten when we meet again.”

“You’ll get all of them when you win,” Hajime had said.
When. Not ‘if’. Some things are as certain as the sun rising in the morning.

The airplane’s half an hour late. Hajime stares at the hallway where people pour out into the airport, and there they are. There he is.

Tooru storms forward, eyes wide, the golden medal swinging around his neck over his open team jacket. He falls into Hajime’s arms, lips soft, salt-wet, begging and praying and whispering hello, it’s me, oh I missed you –

But Hajime gently pushes him away, reaches into his pocket. “You counted?” He asks. Tooru nods, opens his mouth.

“Don’t tell me the number”.

“What?” Something bright vanishes in Tooru’s eyes. He frowns, shifts. “Haji – “

A last deep breath. Hajime’s whole body trembles when he pulls the black velvet box out of his pocket and opens it. “You don’t have to count. I give you all my kisses for the rest of my life. If – if you will.”

And then, Tooru is crying. He sobs out loud, stumbles to his knees together with Hajime and whimpers like a child when the silver ring fits onto his finger, and Hajime’s lips touch his own in a soft reverence that says: welcome home.

part I and part II

“It’s been twenty hours, Tooru.”

Hajime’s body is ice-cold in his arms, jaw slack, throat bled dry and smeared with red. Tooru’s fingers shake when he carefully brushes dark hair out of Hajime’s closed eyes. “He’s going to be okay,” he says. “I said I’ll carry him. He – he’s not a monster, please, don’t – Suga, no!”

Sugawara’s gun presses against Hajime’s temple, and Tooru howls. “No!” His wild scream drowns out Daichi’s shouts. He rams his fist against the gun, slides his hands around Hajime’s temples, presses their foreheads together as a horrible wail rises in his chest. “Don’t, don’t do that, he’s going to be okay, we’ll find a cure. Daichi, please. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Daichi says. “But we can’t let him turn. He’s infected.” He doesn’t hold Suga back.
Tooru’s vision melts into tears. “We can save him. Th-there’s hope. He’s not dead,” he whispers, soft.

“Not yet.” Suga is crying, silent, his voice calm. “Let him go. Get off of him, now, or I swear I’ll drag you away myself and tie you down.”

Tooru’s scream dies in his throat when the body underneath him moves. Oh.

“..fuck,” Daichi says, somewhere far away. A strong hand hauls the weapon out of Suga’s hand, and an iron-firm arm wraps around Tooru’s waist.

“H… Hajime?” Tooru stares down at the man who’s forehead is pressed against his own. There’s a jolt through the ribcage underneath him.

And Hajime opens his eyes.

arierruu:

“Don’t touch him.”

Based on this zombie AU by the wonderful @moami!

This art killed me, oh my god. They are perfect. Just – just. I love how you put such a determination in Tooru’s face, how they look so exhausted and broken but Tooru clings to Hajime, still. The background is GORGEOUS – the dirty town, the sky with light peeking through, I am absolutely in love with this. Thank you so much, I don’t even know what words are right now. Thank you. ♥

“Why don’t you love me?” Tooru asks.

"I do,“ Hajime says. "But nobody’s ever enough to make you stay."

You are, Tooru thinks. You would be enough.

He doesn’t say it. His throat is tight. His skin burns from all those people he’s touched, who didn’t mean anything, and he cannot speak.

Hajime waits, and waits, and waits.

When Tooru finally finds the right words in his heart, Hajime is gone.

greenhousenurseart:

“I won’t leave him behind.”

Inspired by this drabble written by @moami

I yelled when this appeared in my activity. God… you captured the drabble so beautifully that I needed a moment to swallow down the lump in my throat. The sadness you let radiate from Tooru is so real! And his expression… I think my heart broke a bit. You’re a wonderful artist, and wow, your doing amazing work with a pencil. I stared at this for far too long.

I’m so happy and thankful you drew this. Thank you so, so much. It is a beautiful piece. ♡♥

“So, would you care to explain where that bleeding nose came from?”

“If you’re asking like that, no, actually.”

“Hajime, this looks broken. What happened to you?! … let me look at your wrist. Oh my god, what is that? I didn’t know skin could turn that colour.”

“No. It’s nothing, really. Tooru – no – relax, I’m fine!”

“You’re not. God, what – why? You never pick fights, not since middle school.”

“I had to punch him. That guy in class, that asshole, he called you a slut.”

“…so?”

“You – I had to defend you! You’re not a slut, you never were! It’s not forbidden to enjoy sex, alright, and you’re my boyfriend now and I’m gonna fuckin’ stand up for you, Tooru, will you get that into your stubborn head one day?!”

“That’s got to be the sweetest thing you ever said to me, but I’m still taking you to the hospital. …and I love you, too.”

“Ugh, shut up. Just value yourself a bit more. You’re – you’re more than – you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Hajime.”

“…it’s alright. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine when you are. Now let’s go.”

part I here.

“I won’t leave him behind.”

“Tooru,” Daichi says, soft. His hand brushes Tooru’s shoulder, fingers then clenching tight, rough. “He’s dead. We can’t – “

“Don’t touch him.” And Tooru’s eyes are liquid fire when he stares back at Daichi, arms trembling around that beloved body, blood from the cut throat spilling over his skin. “I’ll carry him,” Tooru whispers. He licks his lips, looks down at Hajime, smiling as he brushes hair off his cheek.

“We can find a cure. I’ll carry him. You don’t have to do anything. Don’t have to get in contact with his – his b-blood. I’ll do it alone.”

When night falls five hours later and they finally find a hideout, Tooru pulls the cold shape of Hajime between his arms and legs. Daichi and Suga watch him sleep, face buried against Hajime’s slit neck, mouth breathing quietly. Hajime’s blood has dried and crumbles from his skin. It’s black as ink, rotting, dying.

“He’s gonna turn into one of those things.” Suga’s knuckles are white around the gun he’s hiding in his belt.
“I know,” Daichi says, and closes his eyes. “And he knows, too.”