tooru – Page 4

“I wonder why I ever wanted a cat. With you, I don’t need one.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Tooru grins down to where his boyfriend glares up at him, brows furrowed into a dark line of confusion. Hajime has this habit of draping himself over Tooru’s stomach or legs while studying, and today isn’t any different. It’s become a reflex for Tooru to push his fingertips all over Hajime’s scalp, to gently pet his hair and rub careful circles onto his skin to release the tension of hour-long university days and training.

When Hajime keeps staring a him just like the cat that Tooru mentioned before – demanding and unblinking – Tooru laughs softly. “Well. You’re stubborn, unique, you sometimes pretend to just be here for the cuddles, your signs of affection are the weirdest I’ve ever come across. Especially when you just put food you’ve prepared onto the table before me and leave again.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hajime growls. His cheeks have taken an intriguing shade of crimson. Tooru can’t resist running his finger over them, and Hajime makes a gesture as if to bite him. “Stop it.”

“And you are cute,” Tooru says. His voice is still teasing, but there’s a tenderness swaying with it, calm and secure. “I know I had to earn your love, that you’re not like this with anyone else.”

Hajime has fallen silent. His cheek rests on Tooru’s thigh as he looks up at him, the furrow in his brows gone. “Hm. Okay.”

Tooru tries to add “also, you’re fluffy and do that cute squinty-thing when you try to show me that you’re hungry”, but Hajime shuts him up by stretching his body towards his face, giving a tiny kiss to his mouth. “Shut up, and keep scratchin’ my head.”

“I will be there with you until the end,” Hajime promises him when he slides a silver ring onto Tooru’s finger.

“Liar,” Tooru whispers when he touches Hajime’s cold lips one last time, “I thought you promised me until the end of us, not the end of you.”

It takes more than ten years and his last year in high school for Hajime to understand. When he passes by a group of girls, a whispered secret filters through their giggles like sunlight through an ocean of emerald-singing leaves.

“He’s so intimidating! I’m scared.” – “No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

On their way home, Hajime tells Tooru about the conversation. The late autumn wind has gotten sharp and cold, gold dancing along the horizon where the sun sinks into slumber above the smoke-filled town. Tooru’s hair glows like sweet caramel, and the arch of his fingertips dances in soft circles over Hajime’s wrist.

“Scary, they said?”

“Yeah.” Hajime presses closer to him, his arm sliding around Tooru’s waist, natural, year-long habit having grown into a beloved tradition.

“I see.” Tooru smiles, soft as the upcoming frost from the north. “I think they lied to you, Hajime. It’s not you that they’re scared of.”

A cold breeze whirls over the street. Hajime watches the darkness twitching around the corner of Tooru’s mouth. His body is pliant and his lips gasp when Tooru suddenly hauls him close, pressing a rough kiss onto him, into him, burning on his mouth and licking at his tongue and throat.

“I guess you’re right,” Hajime croaks when Tooru pulls back. “Of course I am!” Is all that Tooru chirps back, face alight and grinning like seconds before.

When Tooru falls asleep against his shoulder that night, Hajime carefully brushes his hair back and looks at his face. The realization comes slow, but somehow, it’s not a surprise. Tooru has always known whom he’s wanted, how, when and how badly.

Fear is a powerful thing, Hajime thinks, closing his eyes and listening to Tooru’s breath.

Or maybe it’s just that he loves so fiercely that the man who’s a beast to others becomes a saint to him.

“You know, there’s a saying about how you’re supposed to kiss someone when it’s midnight on New Year’s eve, because then your love will last forever.”

Hajime wonders why he’s even agreed to celebrate the new year with his own and Tooru’s family. It just ends in him having to put up with shit like this. For example, Tooru standing next to him in a wa coat and fluffy scarf, looking adorable and beautiful while the countdown is being chanted by their dads and their moms and siblings get the fireworks ready.

“Stop it already.” Hajime kicks against a pebble and buries both hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Tooru’s lips curve into a smile, but it looks false and bittersweet as the chocolate mousse they’ve had aftet dinner. “What, Hajime? Don’t you understand what I mean? That I just want a chance to-”

“Yeah, to kiss my sister, alright. I got that. Everyone fucking knows, stop dropping hints at me and coming over to see her all the time.” He’s not even mad anymore. Hajime doesn’t look at the sky, doesn’t care about the first fireworks flying already. He feels stupid, so dumb, how could he love someone like Tooru who keeps so many girls on each hand –

“You are terrible. Terribly, amazingly, impossibly dense.”

“Huh?”

But Hajime can’t shoot the insult on his tongue at Tooru. Because the fireworks go off his a satisfying hiss, roaring up into the night sky and exploding into gold and crimson and gleaming purple on ink-black velvet. Because their families yell and hug each other, because Hajime’s mom winks at him, because –

– this wonderful, infuriating boy is kissing Hajime on his lips, cold on warm, trembling and shy and perfect. Because Tooru doesn’t pull away afterwards to laugh it off but instead looks at Hajime with fireworks-reflecting eyes and stars in his hair, licking his lips and giggling a nervous:

“I kinda really don’t want to kiss your sister. ‘Cause, you know. There’s this boy that I like, and… it’d be pretty cool if we could try and last for-”

“-ever. Shut up.”

Hajime pulls Tooru’s soft, cold face into the trembling frame of his hands and kisses all bittersweet chocolate off his mouth, until the sky fades from black to pink and red and morning.

The sharp ring of his phone has Tooru jolt awake with a gasp. He sits upright in bed, heart chasing behind the fading remnants of a nightmare, and his pulse thunders underneath the flow of his blood. The display of his phone is alight in neon blue when Tooru grabs it and falls back into his sheets. There is only one message. It’s just a few words, but they’re enough to have Tooru’s mind go still and ice-cold.

They didn’t take it well. I’m coming over.

Minutes later, his phone rings again. Incoming call. Tooru waits five seconds, and the alarm dies out. It’s their signal, and god, hearing it in a situation like that hurts so fucking much. Tooru pushes his blankets back and uses the light of his display to sneak out of his room. The stairs don’t make a sound below his feet. There’s a shadow waiting behind the front door, silent, motionless.

Tooru opens. “I’m sorry,” he says, “come in. Tell me what happened.”

But Hajime’s eyes are tired and crimson-swollen, his lips parading a shameful hint of blood from teeth digging into them. “No. Don’t wanna talk about this shit anymore.” He brushes a hand through his hair, glancing up at Tooru. “Can I stay tonight?”

Tooru’s answer is to cradle Hajime’s cheeks between his warm hands, trembling and scared, and to kiss his lips as if this was their last night on earth.

It still takes an entire night of weaving their bodies into a skin-tight hug, one that holds together souls and minds, for Hajime to say another word about it. The morning sun rises when he rests his soft lips against Tooru’s forehead and whispers: “I don’t care if they hate me. I’m so sick of hiding that I love you. They gotta live with it, because – because I can’t and won’t stop loving you.”

“We’ll find a way.” Tooru’s voice is quiet and calm, but his fingers shake where they rest on Hajime’s heart. “And if it means you staying here until we graduate, we’ll do that.”

They both know that it won’t be that easy. Hajime buries his face into Tooru’s warm shoulder and doesn’t say anything. But the smile that Tooru’s mother gives them when they come downstairs the next morning, hand in hand – well. Maybe it’s a start. Maybe it’s something like hope.

Tooru lies as naturally as he breathes. Years ago, when they were still children and far too naive and innocent, Hajime used to get upset about it. He remembers screaming and stomping his foot when Tooru said something untrue, and he knows that Tooru yelled something back that has stayed in Hajime’s mind, burnt into the core of his soul.

“I just lie ‘cause I want you to be happy.”

It hasn’t changed.

“I’m fine, Hajime.” Tooru smiles as if he’s just won the lottery, all white teeth and sweat on his forehead from hard training. Hajime’s hands wrap the bandage around his knee in practiced motions. “Of course,” he replies.

“I don’t need your help. Honestly, I don’t need this from you. You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile or something, it’s not like I’m going to break.”

“Done.” Hajime shuts him up with a soft press of their lips. They rarely kiss during training, so Tooru’s breath comes to a sharp halt. His eyes are molten amber when Hajime pulls back, fingers touching Tooru’s warm cheek.

“I know you don’t need me,” Hajime says. His lies are bad, obvious, as if a bird was trying to use its wings for swimming. But Tooru still leans against the warm touch of Hajime’s hand and nods. “Yeah. I don’t. Let’s go and play.”

Tooru’s lies are perfect, except for Hajime. However intricate and delicately planned the castle of Tooru’s illusion may ever be, however hard he tries – Hajime finds a gap to push his hand through, and rest it onto Tooru’s heart. Maybe Tooru will never speak the truth.

Hajime doesn’t care. He reads Tooru’s wishes from the light in his eyes, and that amber-gold has never betrayed him once. They will be fine.

“I feel like I’ve been your boyfriend forever.”

Maybe Hajime intended for his words to sound romantic, but in Tooru’s head they ring all possible alarm bells. He jolts up from where he’s been resting his head on Hajime’s stomach, lazily eating some chocolate and wearing the most hideous aliens-and-Christmas sweater ever.

Hajime gives him an amused grin. “What? You alright there? I just said that it feels like we’ve been together for like, an eternity.”

“Are you bored with me?” This isn’t a joke, not to Tooru. He bites his lip, licking off the rest of sugar and whole milk chocolate, staring at his boyfriend. The snow outside falls in silence. Christmas is tomorrow, and they enjoy the last calm hours before both of their families come over and bring boasting life into the flat.

Hajime watches Tooru’s concerned face for a second.
“Well? Are you? You sound like you’re fed up.” Tooru begins to fidget. He reaches for Hajime’s cheeks, tea-cup-warmed fingers tracing his lover’s jaw. The worried line of his brows soften. “I love you, you kno-”

“I know! God, that’s not. Okay. Listen.” Hajime sighs, lips curling into a grin. “This is going to be embarrassing. Don’t interrupt me.”

And Tooru listens, mouth slightly open, as his boyfriend sits up and kisses his forehead. “I just meant that I feel like I know what an eternity with you feels like already. We’ve been doing this relationship-thing for some time. And… I think… that a ‘forever’ with you sounds like the best future I could wish for.”

Tooru is glad that their families are only coming over tomorrow. That way, he can spend his entire evening curled on Hajime’s lap, hands cradling his face like he’s a star fallen from the sky, and Tooru’s lips pressing snow-soft kisses onto his mouth with a whisper of “yes, yes, I want us to be forever”.

Tooru honestly never expected the day to come. He’s just never taken Hajime for someone who’s even interested in something like romance, or actual love. So he’s more than just a little surprised when Hajime enters the classroom, flops down on the chair next to him and says: “I have a date after school.”

“Oh,” Tooru says. His chest hurts all of a sudden. “That’s nice.”

“Are you happy for me?” Hajime watches him, arms crossed, something like a smirk playing on his lips. He’s probably really happy, Tooru thinks. And I’m a terrible person for wanting to know why a stupid, annoying girl is better than me.

“Yes,” is what he presses out, forced, but with a smile that flashes over his lips last-second. “Of course I am! Heh, you managed to find a cute one, didn’t you?”

“You could say that.” Hajime’s grin widens. He turns towards the blackboard and doesn’t say anything else as their teacher enters the classroom. Tooru feels like crying. He’s so stupid. He’s had his chance. Outside, snow starts to fall.

Training goes so-so that day. He’s not having one of his better days, and the team notices. Nobody calls him out on it. Hajime plays like a young god (but doesn’t he always, Tooru catches himself swooning), and he still wears that goddamn beautiful smile when they’re already in the changing room.

Tooru only notices that he’s alone with Hajime when he’s finished dressing. He turns around and Hajime stands there, opening the door to the snow-dotted sky, grey and white fluff. “C’mon,” he says. “We need to get going.”

“Right. Your date.” Tooru hates how small his voice is, how vulnerable. He clings to the strap of his bag and stares at the ground while walking past Hajime.

A warm, rough hand slips into his own. Hajime curls his thumb around Tooru’s freezing wrist and gently strokes along his skin. The touch sends sparks down his spine, but he doesn’t understand, why – why –

“Let’s go. I don’t wanna spend our first date out in the cold.” The clumsy kiss that is pressed to Tooru’s cheek moments later touches the corner of his mouth, and Tooru feels like he could fly. Hajime’s voice has gone scratchy. “’Cause, you know. I got a date with someone really cute. His name’s Tooru.”

“You’re – t-terrible.” And now there are tears on his cheeks, wet and stupid and Hajime kisses them off, a tremble in his lips that tells a story about being nervous and afraid and gathering all courage that he has and god, Tooru loves him. “I know,” Hajime smiles. “Let’s go.” – “Y-yeah. Okay.”

Tooru follows, his fingers warm and safe in Hajime’s grip.

Iwaoichristmasweek’15. Day 2: Mistletoe.

“Do you still remember our first kiss?” Tooru asks and his fingers brush gently over Hajime’s ankle. “I do. I’d never forget.”

Hajime wouldn’t forget either, but he takes his time to reply. The ladder he’s standing on is far less stable than Tooru had assured him, and it keeps swaying dangerously while Hajime attempts to push the green bundle of leaves onto its designated hook over the door.

“Careful,” Tooru says. Hajime can’t see his face (that damn mistletoe just won’t – got it!), but he hears the grin in his boyfriend’s voice. “Stop fuckin’ around and hold the damn ladder.” – “Aww, you know I’d never let you fall, Haji.”

Hajime checks whether the decoration is safely stuck, and then he climbs down the ladder. “You’re such a sap,” he mumbles, letting Tooru pull him by the sleeve of his breathtakingly ugly christmas sweater. “And yeah, of course I remember.”

“Good,” Tooru sing-songs. He kicks the ladder aside, not even flinching when it falls over, and one jolt of his hand later, Hajime is flung into his boyfriend’s arms with an elegant swirl. “Tell me, then. How’d it go again?”

Hajime can’t help but smile. Tooru wants to celebrate the first Christmas in their own cozy flat by reminiscing? It’s cute. He doesn’t say it out loud, of course. Instead, Hajime reaches to slide his fingers into Tooru’s soft hair, pulls him down to rest their foreheads together, and whispers: “Last day of our final training camp. We were out at night, it was forbidden, but you didn’t care. You dragged me to sit on the roof of the hostel and we watched the stars. You said something about aliens, of course you did, and…”

Warm lips press gently against his own. Hajime closes his eyes, smile curving against Tooru’s mouth. They kiss underneath the mistletoe, fingers in each other’s hair and breath melting together, until the door bell rings. “The others are,” Hajime mumbles, and Tooru whispers: “Yeah.” He pulls back, grinning, cheeks as red as the baubles of their small Christmas tree.

“And because you kept staring at my lips, I couldn’t resist. I’d wanted to kiss you for so long. It was kind of strange – no matter what I said, you never looked at the stars I pointed out. You just looked at me.”

‘That’ll never change,’ Hajime thinks, and quickly turns around. “Let them in already. I want to celebrate.” He still hears Tooru’s laughter even as he hurries into the kitchen, and touches his lips with a smile.

Iwaoichristmasweek’15. Day 1: Snowmen.

Tooru is on his third energy drink when a quiet howl resounds outside his bedroom window. It’s been snowing all night, a shimmer of white resting on top of the roofs and chimneys of his hometown. The clock on his nightstand whispers 03:00am in neon digits. Tooru isn’t in a hurry when he rises from the bed, emptying his energy drink in one last gulp, and lazily walking over to the window. He keeps the blanket wrapped around himself; it has gotten ice-cold, even though it’s barely two weeks before Christmas.

When Tooru pulls the handle and opens his bedroom window, another howl echoes through the garden below.

“You’re gonna wake the neighbours! Shhhh!” Tooru lifts a finger to his lips, leaning slightly over the sill to frown at the dark figure that sits in the snow.

Hajime’s storm-grey fur is dappled with snowflakes. He looks a bit like an inverse appaloosa, Tooru thinks and grins. But when the large wolf cowers down to aim for a jump, Tooru hastily waves both hands.

“No, no! You’re not getting back in yet! I can’t risk you thrashing the entire room when you turn back human. My parents are gonna go insane, and they won’t believe that it was me sleepwalking and destroying all my furniture again.”

The wolf’s ears drop slightly. Tooru sighs. “I think it’s just another hour or so. Sorry. Hang on.” Then, the animal tilts his head, and jumps up. Tooru quirks a brow. “What are you doing? Don’t make any noise – Hajime? Huh?”

And minutes later, Tooru has to cup a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t laugh.

In the garden, his silly werewolf of a boyfriend has pushed up a pile of snow with his nose. The snow-sprinkled tail hangs low and tense in concentration as Hajime buries almost his entire face in the snow and presses it together into something that looks like – oh. Tooru smiles. He’s such a sap.

“Idiot,” he whispers, and blows a kiss into the garden. “Hurry up. I want to kiss you again.” The wolf shows his teeth and huffs. Tooru can already see his fur going thinner, the facial features changing. It won’t be long. He can’t wait.

In the morning, when Hajime is back in Tooru’s bed and warming up his cold now-human feet, the snow-sculpted heart in the garden is still there.