Chapter Text
In the following days Hajime reaches the firm and granitic conviction that he has imagined everything.
Oikawa approaches him in an absolutely normal way. Not only does he never talk about what did NOT happen in the locker room (neither the kiss nor the spider) but he relates to him without the slightest embarrassment, behaving as he has done every single day of his life. In the morning he waits for him on the corner to go to school together, he babbles and babbles about absolutely futile things as he always does, he struts with his admirers, he engages to exhaustion on the court tyrannizing the team with his usual shitty face.
If he then no longer stayed to train until late, thus preventing them from being alone in the locker room, it is absolutely a coincidence.
And most importantly, Hajime keeps reminding himself that Oikawa is straight.
The way in which he is always so brazenly gratified by all the attention he receives every day from his fanclub certainly leaves no room for any doubt about it.
And so, he is convinced that it really all happened in his head, his fujoshi mind – fudanshi, he knows, but by now he has grown fond of the term – has given birth to a truly realistic story. The wall between reality and imagination that had been gradually thinning in the previous days, has dissolved definitively, leading him to believe in his own fantasies as if they had really happened.
After all, to look closely, the situation 'alone in the locker room' is hackneyed, already used in dozens of stories he has read, but it always works. Not to mention the rescue, really a classic, the hero who saves his princess in danger (spider or dragon doesn't make much difference) and is rewarded with a long romantic kiss...
If he wasn't seriously concerned about his sanity, he would almost feel proud of himself for the exciting story he managed to deliver. Maybe he should publish it himself on the portal, he thinks, while a bitter smile stretches his lips in a grimace full of regret.
"What's the matter, Iwa-chan? Are you smiling alone or have you swallowed a gnat?"
"Mind your own business, Crappykawa."
Hajime continues to walk with his hands in his pockets without deigning to look at him.
"Hmm... You were still in your head, huh? You've been so absent lately, Iwa-chan... but do not forget that tomorrow I am waiting for you at my place to review science. You know I'm a disaster in human anatomy, I need your help before Monday's test since you're very good..." he chirps flapping his eyelashes and tilting his head in a flirtatious way.
The fact that Oikawa addresses him as he does with his countless fangirls really pisses him off.
But even more, he is really pissed off at the awareness of not being able to ignore his coaxing; because he knows by now that he will be forced to give in to the flattery of those eyes so warm and big (but have they always been so big?), to the irritating pout of that beautiful cheeky mouth which he would only like to silence by showering with kisses.
"Of course, because you have only one neuron in the shape of a volleyball..." he says instead, after swallowing the saliva that had collected in his mouth.
"So mean, Iwa-chan!"
Oikawa gives him one last tap with his shoulder before continuing along the sidewalk to his house.
"Idiot!" yells Hajime after him as he pulls out the keys and walks over to the door, and he can barely hear Oikawa down the street humming "Don't be late!"
Iwaizumi is not late, the next afternoon he shows up at Oikawa's house with books and notes, being careful to walk cautious on that patina of anxiety that is now slowly covering everything about Oikawa.
Because Hajime knows that it only takes a moment to slip and find himself with his ass on the ground.
But, in reality, his fears seem unfounded, the atmosphere is serene and relaxed, and Hajime realizes that he is fine with it too: being able to be with Oikawa only as a friend, studying together, laughing and joking as they have always done since they were children.
Because at the end of the day, as much as Hajime doesn't forgive him one, there are deep reasons why Tooru is his best friend.
And not just because they grew up together.
Or rather, perhaps it is thanks to this that Hajime is the only person who really knows him, who is able to see him for who he truly is; the only one capable of looking through all the masks behind which Tooru has always hidden over the years thinking he needed them, because simply being himself never seemed enough to him.
And he prefers to appear selfish, capricious, self-centered and manipulative, than to show his true self, fragile and insecure. He doesn't want the world to know how deeply sensitive he is, his big heart like a huge sounding board that expands emotions and returns them amplified. And if Tooru lives exalting himself for the positive ones, the negative ones are just as strong and devastating.
More than once Hajime had to intervene to help him manage the emotional overload, to stop him in his self-destructive spirals, fortunately managing to catch him just in time, a moment before he plunged into the darkest despair.
Because Hajime has now understood that Tooru's worst enemy is Tooru himself, with his need to always push himself beyond the limit, obsessed with perfection at all costs. And he would love for Tooru to be able to see himself at least once with his own eyes, so perhaps he would understand what a complex, wonderful, fascinating person Oikawa Tooru is.
And he would do anything to continue to be part of his life, even if only as a friend; he is therefore willing to bury his feelings in the depths of his heart, hoping that sooner or later they will wither on their own.
"Thanks for your explanation, Iwa-chan, now I finally understand the difference between Microcirculation and Macrocirculation. But how do you take a person's heartbeat?"
"Are you serious? Really, I can't believe you don't know!"
"I swear, Iwa-chan! Usually it's the others who take it to me, I really never understood how they do it in such a short time..."
Hajime snorts blatantly, a trickle of sweat sliding down his back and sending an eerie shiver down his spine.
Everything had been fine up to that moment, he was almost relaxing, why did that idiot have to find yet another excuse to get his hands on him?
Tooru crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.
"Fine, don't you want to explain it to me? Okay, but know that, if I get a bad grade on the test, it's all your fault!"
And it is only because Hajime is a weak man, and he just can't resist that pout, that he sighs resignedly and takes Tooru's hand while with the other he searches for the beat: index, middle and ring fingers press gently on the vein until he can feel the regular beating of the heart under his fingertips.
"Here, place your fingers like this until you feel the heartbeat; then, you glance at your watch and count how many beats there are in 15 seconds. And then multiply by 4."
"Oops... was it that simple?" he chirps "And now, how many beats do I have?"
Hajime waits for his chronograph's second hand to switch to 12, then closes his eyes and starts counting. He knows that he has to focus on the pulse he feels under his fingertips and nothing else, that he has to ignore Oikawa's warm hand in his, that he must not pay attention to the sigh that comes trembling from Tooru's throat as if he had held his breath until that moment.
Hajime opens his eyes.
Oikawa is watching him attentively, the dying sunlight filtering through the curtains behind him and illuminating his hair with a coppery halo, overshadowing much of his face. The whites of his eyes almost seem to shine by contrast and... he must start counting again.
"So, Iwa-chan? More than 15 seconds have passed..."
Shit!
"68!" he shoots, and he doesn't think he was much wrong. Tooru's pulse is slow and regular, it is the heart of an athlete, it should not exceed 70 beats, not by much anyway.
"Come on, now I'll try..."
Oikawa takes Hajime's hand and with the other feels the pulse in search of the vein. And he really can't seem to find it because his fingers slowly glide over Hajime's skin without ever stopping.
Tooru's gaze carefully follows the movement of his own fingers that now run free for his forearm, while the hand that holds Hajime's seems to squeeze him a little too hard, as if he did not want to leave him the way to free itself from his grip with ease.
Hajime is confused, his senses in fibrillation. Maybe he should ask Tooru if he has trouble finding his heartbeat, but that caress is actually so pleasant that maybe he can wait a moment longer, just one...
Tooru's fingers slide higher and higher, into that portion of skin inside the elbow that is more sensitive and Hajime can't help but shiver, the instinct to close his eyes and let himself go to that touch so pleasant and at the same time electrifying, that it almost seems to take over.
An unprecedented battle breaks out in Hajime's head, reason and common sense that tell him to stop whatever is happening immediately. But on the other side of the scale there is that feeling that he has realized for such a short time, that need so visceral and already so great and powerful that he feels unable to escape that wonderful caress.
In fact, he wants more.
As if he had felt it, Tooru's fingers slide even higher, tracing the obvious curve of the bicep that the rolled sleeves of the shirt have left uncovered and clearly visible. Hajime's spine is crossed by an endless series of shivers, he seems to vibrate like the string of a guitar and it seems impossible to him that Oikawa has not yet noticed.
And it's only when Tooru traps his lower lip between his teeth that Hajime realizes he has to do something.
He is really very close to losing control, the almost irresistible instinct to reach out and free that lip so fleshy and soft (he doesn't know how, but he is sure it is soft) and pass his thumb over it, and then suck it between his own lips.
And then he would really be irretrievably fucked.
The alarm begins to sound in his head, his instinct of self-preservation that forces him to stop that dangerous game before it is really too late.
"Y-you can’t take it there, the heartbeat..." stutters.
His voice comes out a little too hoarse and breathless, and he is sure that, if Oikawa really succeeds in what he is trying to do, he would count at least 150 beats per minute.
Tooru lifts his gaze from his bicep to Hajime's eyes and blinks a few times, as if he were waking up from a dream. His eyes are immense, warm and shiny, and for a moment Hajime feels swallowed up by those bright irises.
"I told you I'm not capable..." he whispers, and he really seems a little out of breath too "Maybe I could try on the neck, as I have seen done in the movies..."
The hand slides under Hajime's jaw, and it's so hot that Hajime is sure he's really closed his eyes for a moment this time.
Oikawa drags slow circles with his thumb, sliding first under the ear and then along the arch of the jaw to the chin, and then slowly descending to the collarbone. It's a delicate touch, almost a caress, and Hajime can't help but realize that he will never find the beat like this.
What the fuck is Tooru doing?
In an instant he feels himself falling back into the same confusion of a few evenings before in the gym, the feeling that he’s missing something because he is almost certain that it was Oikawa who started the kiss – if it had really happened, of course – just as it is still him who is sliding with those long and beautiful fingers on his skin, and is looking at him as if he wanted to devour him.
Oikawa's cell phone notification breaks the moment, and Hajime doesn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
"The pizza will be here in fifteen minutes, Iwa-chan. Let's put away the books and prepare the table."
And even if Tooru seems completely breathless, Hajime begins to think that maybe, maybe, it is no longer just a coincidence.
He gets up quickly and begins to set up the table but Oikawa stops him with a hand on his.
"Iwa-chan..."
His voice is low, his tone insecure, and Hajime is afraid of what he is about to say.
Because, really, the confusion in his brain is now total.
Tooru's signals have been so mixed in the last period and, above all, those fucking stories have turned him into a petulant little girl ready to sigh every time the boy of her dreams touches her.
"Do you want to watch a movie after dinner? And then you stay here to sleep..." Tooru asks, his breath broken and his immense, shiny eyes peering him into the half-light.
"O-okay." Hajime responds before he has even really realized what that proposal could mean after the tense moment they have just experienced.
And it is precisely in order to be able to return to play on a familiar ground that he forces himself to immediately utter the line that has always been repeated identically between them, for a few years now, since their parents began to leave them to sleep alone at each other's house.
"But I choose the film."
Tooru nods, and somehow looks calmer too, releasing the tension from his shoulders and tilting his head as he always did to utter the next line. Because they both know perfectly well that he will be able to manipulate Hajime to his liking to see what he wants anyway, but he likes to give him that illusion.
"Obviously..."
And then he smiles, and it's still that smile, warm and beautiful, that seems to light up the room again as if it were daytime. That same smile that an attentive fangirl managed to immortalize in a stolen shot and share with the rest of his admirers, but which – Hajime realizes for the first time – has always been aimed only at him!
That light in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks, the spontaneous and immediate way in which, since they were children, Tooru has always transmitted to Hajime his truest emotions, the most heartfelt ones. And it has always been for him, all for him! Hajime has never seen him smile like this with anyone else, as if that smile came from the deepest and brightest part of his being.
And he feels like a stupid fujoshi once again, in love and pathetic, but deep in his heart he knows that he will always be willing to do anything to keep seeing that smile for the rest of his life.
✎