as the saying goes; iwaoi, g
He’s staring. He’s staring at Tooru—at all the little changes about him that hadn’t translated through video chat. The little sun-bleached highlights in his hair (shorter now, but still as soft as Hajime remembers). His uneven tan, and the undeniable confidence in his posture. Under the cozy sweater he’s wearing, Hajime knows he’s in better shape than ever. He knows because it’s Hajime’s sweater and he helped Tooru put it on this morning, after a night spent making love to each other.
Hajime’s staring, and he can’t bring himself to care. Tooru deserves to be appreciated. Everything about him shines—he’s mesmerizing.
“Are you possibly giving me googly eyes, Iwa-chan?” Tooru gently nudges his calf under the kotatsu, an impish smile on his face.
“Yeah, I am,” Hajime admits.
Tooru splutters out a conflicted rendition of “Iwa-chan!”, red blooming on his cheeks. “You’re—you’re supposed to deny it! I can’t when you— just like that…!”
Hajime laughs. “Why deny it? We’re way past that phase in our relationship. I want to look at you. I want to tell you that I can’t take my eyes off you.”
Tooru’s face goes even redder. “Iwa-chan…”
“You’ll be back in Argentina in a week. I’m not wasting a single minute looking anywhere else but you, Tooru.”
Tooru gives him a smoldering look that goes entirely under Hajime’s skin. His eyes—his eyes. They glow, gold shimmering below the rich brown of his irises, warming his entire expression. He swallows, hands gripping the edge of the kotatsu, and then he ducks down, out of sight. Making himself impossibly small, he manages to crawl under the kotatsu with just enough wiggle room for his upper body to make it out on the other side. His hair is completely messed up now, but he gives Hajime a triumphant smile, pulling himself up by Hajime’s shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Hajime asks, making just enough space for Tooru to be comfortable in his lap.
“Giving you a better view?” Tooru bites his lip. “Well, and this.”
Tooru tilts his head up to brush a soft, lingering kiss against Hajime’s lips. Even with the chasteness of it, Hajime shivers, reflexively chasing after Tooru’s lips. He keeps him close, his hand curling around the side of his neck, and steals another kiss, entirely unsatisfied. With Tooru, it’s never enough. Even if he weren’t returning to Argentina after the holidays, it wouldn’t be enough.
When Tooru pulls back slowly, he leaves four whispered words against Hajime’s lips.
This isn’t the first time Tooru has told him, not by a long shot, but something about the way he says it this time hits him with a new kind of significance. Tooru has always been the playful type, always teasing, always laughing a little when he tells Hajime he loves him. Hajime knows without a doubt that he always means it, but this … this is different. He’s completely serious now. He doesn’t hide.
Just like Hajime no longer saves his lingering glances for when Tooru isn’t looking, Tooru tells him exactly what he means, how he means it.
Hajime’s heart swells. He didn’t think it possible, after years and years of being friends, partners and then partners, but despite the long, long months they spent on different sides of the world, they’ve grown even closer.
Unable (and unwilling) to resist the urge, Hajime brings Tooru close again, losing himself in those glowing eyes.
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