@divinasolis said: tooru leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes constantly glaring up at the edges of his bangs he can glimpse at. a finger moves up to weave through it, then another, followed by a thumb, a ring finger, until his whole hand is fussing with his hair, unsettling the brown streaks that adorn it. “you know,” he begins, slow, careful. he shoots a look to the side, sees wakatoshi distracted with cooking. tooru fights off a frown with a dainty pursing of his lips. “my hair is so soft today.” it isn’t a lie, it isn’t direct; it is the perfect introduction to the blaring topic that demands to be mentioned, that requires attention, compliments, some sort of acknowledgement - he did cut off two centimeters after all. wakatoshi is bound to notice! isn’t he?
Wakatoshi is bound to notice.
... eventually.
Except...
... Wakatoshi is not good at multitasking.
It is an unfortunate truth that multitasking in itself is a myth. People are just more or less good at rapidly switching between tasks, and Ushijima... may be a bit slower than most in that process. To his credit, he likes to dedicate his full attention to whatever is the task at hand, to whatever requires his immediate and undivided focus, but somehow? Outside of the volleyball court, he has been told (repeatedly) (by multiple sources) (present company included) that he sometimes comes across as aloof and detached as a result.
Wakatoshi doesn’t mean to completely miss on the subtle signals Tooru is sending him, nor does he mean to ignore the change after a trip to the hairdresser...
... but he is cooking. Cooking requires his full attention to avoid injuries and burnt vegetables, and so -- he listens, distracted from the recipe’s instructions, but only looks at his partner with one or too beats of delay, and a puzzled look on aquiline features. “? ... is that so?”
... Tooru stares at him, expectantly (expecting what, Wakatoshi doesn’t know), for a second, two, five... and huffs and pouts without further explanation.
Tooru doesn’t add anything, and Ushijima gathers that he may have missed something here - but if Tooru doesn’t press the issue further, than it must mean it’s probably fine (it is not fine, as he shall soon find out). “Dinner is almost ready.” He dutifully informs him, turning the fish and vegetables over into the pan. No answer... except a puff and a huff.
... alright. Now is the time to start formulating concerns. Ushijima has learnt quite a few things about Oikawa Tooru over the years - what he looks like when he sulks is one of them. But why would Tooru sulk? With a perplexed frown digging between brows, Wakatoshi dutifully reviews every bit of conversation they have had since Tooru had come home today, prodding at memory and his own behaviours to try and understand what may have warranted his ire (all while setting up the table, bringing the food into the dining room - gears visibly, audibly churning in his volleyball of a brain).
Tooru sits at the dinner table, and Wakatoshi, out of habit / affection / way of apology (??) combs his fingers through his hair in passing, and...
Something feels different. My hair is so soft today, Tooru had said, and Wakatoshi hadn’t made anything of it because Tooru’s hair is always soft (a blessing to his calloused hands, a weakness he had never expected but embraces every time he kisses him, every time he wakes up on lazy sunday mornings with Tooru in his arms), but... “Your hair is soft.” He comments, as if stumbling accidentally upon some unexpected truth. Softer than usual, he should say - something is different and...
Finally, he notices. The way Tooru’s handsome face is framed ever so slightly differently, the way his fingers have slightly less length to comb through. It only took him thirty minutes to take note of what Tooru had been hinting at. “Oh. Did you get a haircut?” Finally!! Tooru’s face and eyes sceam in unison. Oops. His mistake. Carefully (decisively), Wakatoshi frames Tooru’s face between his hands to take a better look, olive eyes scanning for the change, taking each and every chance to appreciate the dear visage offered to him (... even pouty). “It looks good on you.” He offers as definitive conclusion - honest and frank, never one to offer undeserved compliments even to apologise. “I think almost anything would look good on you, but - I like it.” Honest and blunt truth only; punctuated by a kiss on his forehead - there is the apology. Maybe next time it will only take him ten minutes.
