Apr 25, 2022
"ever since the Olympics, the whole country has been talking about you, Oikawa!"
Colored by me.
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"ever since the Olympics, the whole country has been talking about you, Oikawa!"
Colored by me.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Kenjirou buries his face in his arms, groaning. A headache pulses behind his eyes, and if he has to keep looking at his computer screen, he’s going to throw it out the window.
“Rough day?”
Kenjirou turns his head to glare at Taichi, one eye still hidden in his arms.
“If I have to write about one more ‘positive patient interaction’ to prove I have a good bedside manner I’m going to kill you and then myself,” Kenjirou threatens.
“Scary,” Taichi says, not looking remotely scared. “Should I be concerned about how bad your bedside manner is?”
“It’s not bad,” Kenjirou snaps. Taichi raises one eyebrow. “It’s passable. I’m going for surgery anyway, just give me a scalpel and let me figure it out.”
“Come to the bar with me,” Taichi says. “I’ll make you a drink. Something strong.”
“I don’t want something strong from you,” Kenjirou complains. Taichi can make drinks that knock Kenjirou on his ass with one sip.
“Fine, I’ll make you something weak and fruity.” Taichi rolls his eyes.
“Just go flirt with your customers without me,” Kenjirou says. He’ll give himself ten more minute of moping around before he takes another crack at this essay to send to his advisor and hope he doesn’t get back a full page of revisions. Again.
“Look,” Taichi says, teasing glint gone from his eyes. “Jokes aside, you’re stuck in here doing work on a Saturday night, and I’m pretty sure you’re just swapping words out for synonyms at this point. You’re not being productive, and you have to have fun at some point.”
“I have fun,” Kenjirou protests, but even he can hear how weak it sounds. “I just have to make it through the next two years of med school hell, then-”
“Then you start your residency, and then you disappear into the adult world, and before you know it you’re a forty-year-old virgin moaning about how you wasted the bloom of your youth,” Taichi cuts him off. “Your homework will still be here when you get back, and you might have better luck with fresh eyes.”
Kenjirou stares up at Taichi for a long moment, childishly refusing to let his best friend win, but they’ve known each other for too long for it to really work, and Taichi just waits him out.
“Fine!” Kenjirou folds.
“There’s an outfit for you on your bed,” Taichi says, smug grin in place. “Try to look less like…that.”
He gestures to all of Kenjirou, and Kenjirou flips him off. He’s still in his pajamas, and his hair desperately needs another round with his straightener after the hours he’s spent running his hands through it.
Kenjirou expects to feel more gross and reluctant to go out, but after fixing his hair, pulling on skinny jeans and a shirt that shows off the muscle he still has left from volleyball, and adding a touch of cologne, he feels a lot more human. He’s even – just a little bit – excited to leave the apartment for something other than clinicals. He doesn’t tell Taichi any of this, of course, but Taichi probably knows anyway. They didn’t choose to live together only because they both moved to Tokyo at the same time.
“Is there a band playing tonight?” Kenjirou asks as they walk to the bar where Taichi works.
The live music can be pretty hit or miss. Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes it’s a high school cover band that hasn’t quite figured out instruments yet.
“Yep,” Taichi says. “I think you’ll like this one.”
“What kind of music do they play?” Kenjirou just hopes it’s not one of those pop cover bands again.
“Rock,” Taichi says. “You’ll appreciate the lead singer.”
It’s just vague enough that Kenjirou cuts suspicious eyes at Taichi, but nothing in his tone or body language suggests teasing, so Kenjirou lets it drop.
The band isn’t playing yet when they get to the bar, so Kenjirou parks himself at the end of the counter in the far corner of the room. It gives him a good vantage point so he can people watch, and if it gets slow enough Taichi can talk to him down here.
Taichi slides a glass of something red and bubbly in front of him, and Kenjirou takes a sip without bothering to ask what it is. It’s probably one of Taichi’s creations anyway. The sweetness and fizz nearly cover up the burn of the alcohol, so it’s not enough to get Kenjirou properly drunk. There’s a small, self-destructive part of him that wants to get drunk anyway, forget all of his problems by force, but Kenjirou ignores that.
The drummer and bassist for the band come on the small stage on the other side of the bar. They look around Kenjirou’s age, so he’ll probably be spared the high schoolers today. He observes as they adjust the mics and finish setting up their instruments, but his attention is broken when a crowd of college students enters the bar together, laughing and talking. Taichi starts getting drink orders, and Kenjirou gets so caught up watching him make the drinks that he doesn’t realize the whole band is now on stage.
“Hey everyone,” says a voice Kenjirou recognizes, and he chokes on his drink, coughing up the sip he just took. Wiping his mouth, eyes going wide, he turns back to the stage.
Semi stands at the front, guitar in his hands, as he finishes introducing the band. Kenjirou doesn’t catch much of what he says, largely just tracing his eyes up and down Semi’s body.
Semi looks good. The grungy style he had in high school that was a little too edgy to look cool has morphed just enough to fit perfectly on him as an adult. It works. He looks hot.
Kenjirou thinks he sees eyeliner around Semi’s eyes, and he’s losing the ability to focus on anything else.
And of course, Semi has a nice voice. Of course he does. It fits so nicely with a rock band.
“Need some water?” Kenjirou rips his eyes away from Semi to see Taichi handing him another drink. “You look thirsty.”
“Shut the fuck up, Taichi.” Kenjirou looks back at Semi, eyes drawn helplessly like a compass to true north.
“A lot more women in the bar tonight,” Taichi continues. “Semi-san sure has a lot of fans.”
“Shut the fuck up, Taichi,” Kenjirou growls.
Kenjirou hadn’t realized at the time that the special way he used to treat Semi in high school was actually a badly managed crush, mostly because that would have required acknowledging he only really likes boys, and he wasn’t ready to admit it. By the time he stopped lying to himself, Semi had already graduated and moved to Tokyo, and it wasn’t a relevant issue anymore.
It’s not like they haven’t spoken since high school, but it’s mostly been in the team’s group LINE chat, and Kenjirou doesn’t even have much time to keep up with that anymore. So while he hasn’t forgotten Semi, the principle of out of sight, out of mind is a powerful thing.
Maybe Kenjirou should leave. He’s very quickly remembering all the reasons he had such a crush on Semi, and he’s sure nothing good can come of reviving it when they’ve both moved on to different lives, but. But.
Semi is very attractive, and a very good singer, and Kenjirou actually does like his band’s music. He watches, transfixed, through the whole set, only coming back to himself after Semi thanks everyone for coming and makes his way over to the bar.
“The usual?” Taichi asks, already reaching for a bottle of beer in the fridge behind him.
“Please,” Semi says, voice coming out rough.
Kenjirou immediately has several highly inappropriate thoughts about other activities that might wreck Semi’s voice like that.
Semi tilts his head and notices Kenjirou for the first time. His face lights up and sends Kenjirou’s heart racing.
“Hey,” Semi says. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“It was this or come home to find him in a food coma because he stress-ate all the chips,” Taichi says. Kenjirou glares at him.
“Med school training really is tough, huh?” Semi laughs. “So. What’d you think?”
It takes Kenjirou an embarrassingly long time to realize Semi is asking about the performance.
“Good,” Kenjirou says. “You were…I mean the band was…I liked it.”
He tries to telepathically beg Taichi to just kill him. Taichi either can’t hear or doesn’t listen.
“I’m glad,” Semi says, still smiling. Kenjirou sees a glint of silver between Semi’s teeth. He has a tongue piercing.
Kenjirou is going to die.
Before he can try to salvage his dignity and continue the conversation, they’re interrupted by an unfamiliar man slinging his arm around Semi’s shoulders.
“Hey man, nice performance as always,” the man says.
“Thanks,” Semi replies, leaning into the man. “See you Monday?”
“You know it.” The man claps Semi on the shoulder and leaves. It’s overtly friendly, but it makes an ugly thread of jealousy curl in Kenjirou’s stomach anyway.
“Friend of yours?” he asks.
“Ex,” Semi corrects.
“You’re sure friendly with him,” Kenjirou says before he can stop himself. It comes out harsh, and he didn’t even mean it like that.
“Some of us are adults and friends with our exes,” Semi says, sounding faintly amused instead of annoyed. He must have mellowed out since high school, because back then he would’ve exploded. “It wasn’t even a bad breakup. It just didn’t work out. We work together, and it turns out dating a coworker isn’t the best plan.”
“Can’t be friend with your exes if you don’t have exes,” Taichi says.
Kenjirou almost throws a drink at him. So he doesn’t date, so what? He’s busy, and it’s perfectly normal to not want to date.
“Yo, Eita, help us pack up,” one of Semi’s bandmates calls to him. Semi throws back the rest of his beer and hands the bottle off to Taichi with his thanks.
“I’m going home,” Kenjirou says.
He’s not entirely sure what he’s feeling after meeting Semi again. Distantly, he remembers Taichi telling him he’d like the lead singer. So Taichi set this up on purpose.
“My shift’s almost over, just wait and we can walk home together,” Taichi says.
“I’ll wait outside,” Kenjirou tells him. “I need some air.”
What he needs is a space where he’s allowed to smoke. It’s a terrible habit, he knows, even if it’s only occasionally. There was an entire lecture his first year of university just on the dangers of smoking. But he picked it up from his mom after he turned eighteen, and when he’s stressed, nothing helps quite like it.
He’s watching cars pass as he smokes when he feels someone standing at his shoulder.
“Those’ll kill you, you know,” Semi says.
He really is beautiful. His jawline is sharper than Kenjirou remembers, and his shaggy hair falls around his face in a way that accentuates his features. He has a few new piercings in his ears that Kenjirou didn’t notice earlier.
“So they tell me,” he replies. He’s calmed down enough that he can hold a conversation with Semi like a normal person.
“Your fancy med school hasn’t broken you of the habit?”
Semi reaches out and plucks the cigarette from Kenjirou’s fingers, raising it to his own lips. If Kenjirou was calm before, he definitely isn’t now. He can’t tear his eyes away from where Semi’s mouth molds around the cigarette, a childish part of his mind chanting indirect kiss.
Semi must see some of it in his face, because the teasing fades from his eyes. He lowers the cigarette and steps forward into Kenjirou’s space. Kenjirou doesn’t move, barely breathes, as Semi reaches his free hand out and hooks his thumb through Kenjirou’s belt loop.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” Kenjirou replies inanely. He doesn’t have to look up much to meet Semi’s eyes. Semi has never been that much taller than him.
Semi barely has to dip his head to meet Kenjirou’s lips.
Kenjirou doesn’t respond at first, somehow surprised despite how obviously Semi telegraphed the kiss. But before Semi can pull back, Kenjirou grabs the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric as he does his best to follow up. He’s only been kissed a few times before, but Semi is patient, and though Kenjirou can feel his heart roaring in his ears, the kiss itself is slow. When Semi does pull back, it takes a moment for Kenjirou to open his eyes, surfacing like he’s swimming through warm water.
“I really do have to go,” Semi says, regret obvious in his voice. “Wanna hang out sometime?”
“I’m pretty busy,” Kenjirou says on reflex. It’s what he always says to offers to hang out, partly because it’s true, but mostly because he’s never been the best at dealing with new people. Semi’s face falls in disappointment, though, so Kenjirou hastens to add, “But I’m usually free on Sundays.”
He’s not, not really – he uses them as a catchup day – but he doesn’t have specific obligations.
“I’ll text you,” Semi says. “Pay more attention to LINE.”
“I’m doing my best,” Kenjirou says.
Semi huffs a laugh, still close enough for Kenjirou to feel it, and hands his cigarette back, waving over his shoulder as he walks away. Kenjirou doesn’t put it back in his mouth, though, just watches as it burns down to the filter.
“Hey, ready to…whoa.” Kenjirou looks up at Taichi. “You good.”
Kenjirou nods mutely. Taichi looks concerned for all of another second before he must see the truth in the blush Kenjirou can still feel in his cheeks, and a shit-eating grin spreads across his face.
“Shut up,” Kenjirou snaps, turning to walk home.
“Get some.”
“Shut up!”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This is a gift for @iceandbrimstone for the HQ Writers Secret Santa. I hope you enjoy!
Based on the quote "When I first met you/I felt a contradiction in you. You're seeking something/but at the same time/you are running away for all you're worth" - Haruki Murakami.
Shirabu was punishing himself.
Eita couldn’t say he blamed him. The loss to Karasuno burned bitter in the back of his throat, in all of their throats. But Shirabu was taking it especially badly. As a fellow setter, Eita could empathize with the self-doubt, the way the plays he could’ve made would bounce around inside his head.
And he knew that the way Shirabu was throwing himself through a late night practice wasn’t going to help anything.
“You need to stop,” Eita said. He’d been watching Shirabu go at it for over an hour, when he’d wandered over to the gym expecting a quiet place to think and instead been met with the sight of a furious setter going at serve after serve. He’d barely acknowledged Eita when he came in, but Eita knew Shirabu knew he was there.
“I have to do something.”
“This isn’t going to help.”
Shirabu smacked the ball in his hands over the net with a scream, not even bothering to try for a jump serve.
There it was again. That contradiction that Eita had sensed in him from the minute he’d introduced himself to the team in his first year with his particular brand of rudeness that masqueraded as politeness. Shirabu had made no secret of the fact that he wouldn’t be playing volleyball after high school, pushed people away if they got too close, and in general projected an air of trying his damn best to run away from everyone.
But Eita had never seen anyone try as hard as Shirabu did. He worked harder than anyone else in practice, reviewed tapes and tailored his strategy to them. It had been the one thing that had lessened the sting of losing his place on the first string; at least he’d lost to someone who had worked harder than him from the beginning.
Even if Eita had been angry, he had to give Shirabu his respect.
“You should go get some sleep,” Eita told him, walking to where he stood on the court. Shirabu faced him, eyes red rimmed and exhausted but no less defiant than they’d always been. That was where the contradiction had always been the most obvious – no one who didn’t care had eyes with that kind of fire in them.
“I don’t want to.”
“Too bad,” Eita said, brushing Shirabu’s hair out of where it was starting to stick to his cheeks and blocking his eyes. “Beating yourself up doesn’t help anyone.”
Shirabu didn’t say anything, and Eita couldn’t say he blamed him.
“I could’ve tossed to someone else,” Shirabu said. “Ushijima-san was exhausted, someone else might have been able to get through.”
“You can’t change it now,” Eita said. “Dwelling on it is just gonna drive you crazy.”
Their faces had drifted closer together, the hushed room around them driving their voices to lower volumes until they were leaning in to hear each other’s whispers. Eita could see the faint freckles on Shirabu’s nose, the grey tones in his eyes, the way his sweaty hair was starting to curl.
It wasn’t like Eita hadn’t noticed his attraction to Shirabu before now. He was incredibly bisexual, and Shirabu was pretty. Eita had always enjoyed a challenge, and Shirabu was that in spades. Still, he didn’t usually have to see it this close up.
“Shirabu…” he started, but Shirabu was already whirling away.
“I’m going to bed,” he said, voice not quite the prim reprimand it used to be. “Good night, Semi-san.”
***
Apparently it had affected Eita more than he’d realized, because he’d spent his entire graduation ceremony thinking about it. It was almost fitting that when they were released, certificates in hand, the first person Eita saw was Shirabu, looking a little out of place even among the other team members that were there to congratulate the third years. Eita made a beeline to him, a little away from everyone else.
Shirabu nodded to himself, apparently ready to say whatever he had to say. Eita was fully prepared for Shirabu to unload every grievance he’d had for two years. He wouldn’t even begrudge him, as long as he got to throw a few back.
“Well, I can’t say it’s been a pleasure working with you, but I wish you well, Semi-san,” Shirabu said, hands tucked demurely in his pockets, the picture of aloof pseudo-politeness that he’d always been. It was something that Eita had never been able to stand about him, perfect boy façade that hid that contradiction that Eita had been able to sense since the very beginning.
But it was different this time. Eita could see through the cracks in that façade for what felt like the first time. He was leaving Shiratorizawa, and it had never felt like a better time to pry them wide open. Besides, he finally felt like he understood the contradiction that was Shirabu Kenjirou.
“What are you always running from?”
Shirabu looked like he wanted to run right now, but he had too much pride to do so.
“I’m not running from anything, Semi-san,” he said, in a tone that didn’t quite measure up to his normal just-this-side-of-rude sass.
“Yes you are,” Eita argued. “You have been since I met you, and probably before that too. You can’t tell me you don’t care about anyone here. I’ve never seen anyone try as hard as you do, in everything you do, for a sport you claim to be done with as soon as you leave high school. You care about volleyball, and you care about this team. But you push everyone away as soon as they get close.”
Shirabu didn’t say anything. He looked unsettled, the way he had that night on the court when Eita had been close enough to touch more than his physical body.
“What are you running from?” Eita asked again, softer. This time, with the absence of an audience that actually believed him, Shirabu deflated, fight leaving the tense set of his shoulders.
“I’m not supposed to love volleyball,” he said, in a voice like broken glass. “I’m not supposed to want to hold onto it with the tips of my fingers. I’m not supposed to care about the people on some stupid high school sports teams, no matter how many championships we won. I’m not supposed to like…”
Shirabu trailed off, but Eita understood enough to finish for him.
“Boys?” he asked, more gently than he’d ever treated Shirabu before. Shirabu looked a combination of terrified that Eita had figured it out and resigned to his fate.
“I hope I can trust you not to spread that around,” Shirabu sighed. “I still have expectations to meet, after all.”
“Fuck them.” Shirabu looked shocked – which was a little hypocritical for someone who swore like a sailor when he was pissed – but Eita didn’t give him a chance to recover. “No, I’m serious. Fuck them. Fuck whatever expectations are on you. If you want to play volleyball, then play volleyball. You’ve already proven that you’re good enough. If you want to care about this stupid high school sports team, then stop pushing them away. If you want to kiss a boy, just fucking do it.”
Shirabu’s mouth opened and closed almost comically. Eita had seen his face run the gamut of emotions, but he’d never seen this one before. Part shock, part vulnerability, part something that not even Eita could identify, even after coming to understand Shirabu better.
“You don’t have to figure everything out right now,” Eita told him. “You have time. And if you want my help, you know how to find me on LINE. I’m still going to be Sendai. If you want, I can be here for you.”
“If I hadn’t panicked in the gym that one time, would you have kissed me?” Shirabu asked.
“Would you have wanted me to?”
Shirabu looked as frustrated as Eita had ever seen him, which said a lot.
“Before I go, there is something I need to give you,” Eita said. “I know we don’t have the right kind of uniforms for this, but you’ve given me more hell over the past two years than anyone else. If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”
Shirabu took the button Eita held out for him, looking a little numb as he did so.
“I don’t need an answer right now,” Eita said. “Take all the time you need to figure yourself out. You know how to find me.”
Eita tried to turn away, leave Shirabu to his own thoughts, but before he knew what was happening, Shirabu’s face was in front of his and their lips were pressed together.
Eita barely had any time to try and respond to the kiss before Shirabu pulled back, blushing furiously.
“You better answer my texts,” Shirabu said in a voice that was clearly meant to be deadly but in practice was about as threatening as a six week old kitten.
“Of course I will.”
“And come to our games.”
“As long as I’m not drowning in work.”
“And don’t go chasing after the first pretty girl you see in Sendai.”
“Have I somehow given you the impression that I’m unfaithful to my partners?”
Shirabu huffed.
“I’m not going to give you some bullshit confession,” he said.
“I think I’d be concerned if you tried,” Eita told him. Shirabu gave him an unimpressed look. “For what it’s worth, I like you too.”
For the first time, it didn’t feel like a contradiction between running like hell and fighting like hell was tearing Shirabu apart. He just felt like Shirabu Kenjirou – pretty boy, theoretical perfect child, permanent resident under Eita’s skin.
Eita wouldn’t have him any other way.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Guess who wrote Kagehina again after a thousand years because she loves her son and needed to give him a birthday fic? It me. Happy birthday Kags my boy.
Practice had been tough today.
It wasn’t surprising, really. They were gearing down from the recent intercollegiate volleyball tournament, but their coach wasn’t letting them slack off even with the winter break coming. It was the kind of practice Tobio loved, though. The burn in his muscles and the feeling of everyone keeping up with him was something he’d always craved, and something he hadn’t even realized he wanted until recently was a feeling of having to work hard to keep up with people better than him.
Even if he could barely stumble his way out of the gym afterwards, he loved the feeling of exhaustion in his muscles. It made him feel like he was getting stronger.
“Ah man, that was the worst!” Hinata complained next to him, stretching his arms above his head. He’d never really grown taller since high school, but he’d made up for it by bulking up in his shoulders and thighs. “Do you think coach is really trying to kill us so we can’t slack off over break?”
“That doesn’t make sense, dumbass,” Tobio said without heat. “If he kills us then there’s no point in worrying about us slacking off.”
“I still think he’d prefer a dead team to a slacking team,” Hinata countered, but he let the subject drop. They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks before he spoke up again. “Let me stay at your place.”
“What? Why?”
“Because my place is farther and my legs are killing me!” Hinata whined. “I had to do so many jumps today. I’m tired. You wouldn’t let your boyfriend walk all the way home when his legs are about to give out, would you? What if I collapse and a creepy man tries to touch me and I can’t run away?”
Tobio considered the earnest face Hinata was giving him. They knew where each other lived, but Tobio had only ever visited Hinata’s apartment, and then only because Hinata had offered it up as a place for a team bonding gathering – which was dumb, because his apartment was way too small for thirty adult men to fit in.
It wasn’t that Tobio didn’t want to spend time with his boyfriend. Quite the opposite. They just happened to almost never be at their apartments. When they weren’t at practice, they were scarfing down food they managed to find somewhere, or furiously trying to haul their ways through homework in the library, or in class. Really, the only thing Tobio did much of in his apartment was sleep, and he suspected it was the same for Hinata.
But he had yet to actually invite Hinata there, and until tonight, Hinata had never expressed any interest in coming. It shouldn’t have been weird, except that apparently it was more meaningful to invite one’s boyfriend to their apartment alone, and Tobio didn’t really understand why – except he kind of did, because he was bad at school and worse at social cues but he wasn’t completely stupid – but he did know that no matter how little he understood Hinata sometimes, things between them had never been weird and he didn’t want that to change ever.
“Kageyama,” Hinata whined. They were at the fork where they usually split up to go to their respective apartments.
“What?”
“Can I come over or not?”
“Fine,” Tobio said, trying to cover up a blush he knew was rising in his cheeks – don’t make it weird – as he remembered why it was supposed to be significant to invite his boyfriend over alone. “But I’m not cooking for you. I’m tired too.”
Tobio wasn’t exactly a master chef, but he’d found that he really liked food and really hated burnt food, so he’d found a couple of recipes he could handle making so he wouldn’t have to eat out all the time. Hinata, on the other hand, was a complete disaster in the kitchen. He’d set ramen on fire once. Tobio had taken one look at the bento he’d packed himself on the first day of practice and immediately extracted grocery money from Hinata in return for the extra bento he’d make every day for his idiot boyfriend. It was nothing fancy, even if it was a little extra work, but it was better than watching his favorite spiker poison himself because he couldn’t cook.
“We can grab konbini food on our way there, right?” Hinata asked. “Isn’t there one around here?”
There was. They each grabbed meals, Tobio losing track of Hinata as he seriously considered his options for dinner before finally making a decision and paying. Hinata was still somewhere in the store, so Tobio waited outside, bag dangling from his arm as he watched people stream past him on their way home.
He was about to lose his patience entirely when Hinata came running out, face a little red from exertion and two bags in his hands.
“How much food did you buy?” Tobio asked. While he was no stranger to konbini dinners, he did at least try to keep them to a minimum in an effort to be healthy.
“I’m hungry!” Hinata said. “And besides, I wanted something for later, too.”
Tobio shrugged. If Hinata wanted to be a dumbass, that was on him. They still had practice tomorrow.
They got to his apartment building, and Hinata sang the praises of his ground floor apartment entirely too loudly for the thin walls until Tobio yelled at him to keep it down. He unlocked his door to let them both in.
“Pardon the intrusion!” Hinata called cheerfully, slipping his shoes off.
“I’m literally the only one who lives here,” Tobio said. Not that his one room apartment would really fit anyone else. He was already worrying about how they would both fit when he didn’t have a spare futon – he was almost certain that Hinata kicked in his sleep.
“It’s manners, Kageyama!” Hinata huffed. “Can I put my stuff for later in your fridge?”
Tobio pointed him to the tiny fridge in the kitchen area, sitting down at the low table that took about half of the space, pulling out his food. They’d already showered at the gym, and all he really wanted to do now was eat and pass out.
Hinata had other ideas, though. For someone who was such a morning person, he sure seemed to be fine chattering away at nine o’clock at night while Tobio was drooping. And he was the one who’d been complaining about how tired he was.
Tobio tried to stay awake and pay attention to him, he really did, but his eyelids were drooping shut even as Hinata chattered on, oblivious.
He woke up with a jolt when someone shook his shoulder, jumping from where he’d been sleeping on the table. He looked wildly around until his eyes landed on Hinata, facing him with that huge grin of his.
“Happy birthday, Tobio!” he said, holding up a tiny konbini cake. Tobio looked at his alarm clock to see it was just past midnight, and oh. It was the 22nd today.
“I forgot,” he said, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“You forgot your own birthday?” Hinata shrieked, entirely too loud for midnight. Tobio shrugged. He’d never really celebrated it. It was just another day, really. “After I went to all the trouble of getting you a cake, too!”
Tobio put two and two together and realized what had taken Hinata so long at the konbini.
“You got this earlier?” he asked. Hinata nodded, putting it on the table.
“You better not say I should’ve gotten you a better cake,” he threatened. “All the bakeries would have been closed at that time of night, anyway.”
Tobio wasn’t a huge fan of sweets, but he didn’t dislike them either. He used the chopsticks that he’d never put away from dinner to pick up a small piece of the vanilla cake.
“Thank you,” he said, because he didn’t really know what else to say with the warm feeling bubbling in his chest.
“I hope you like it, because that’s all you’re getting,” Hinata said. “The rest of my money has to go to next month’s rent.”
“We should just get a place together,” Tobio said absently, still focused on eating the cake.
“What?”
“It would be cheaper that way,” Tobio continued, before his brain caught up with him. “And uh…um.”
“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Hinata asked. “Hey, do you think together we could afford a place with a separate bedroom and kitchen? Because more room would be nice.”
“You mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“You want to move in together?”
“Why not?” Hinata asked, though his face was nearly as red as his hair. “We’ve been together for almost a year. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
And yeah, it kind of did. Together, they could get a bigger place, and maybe even a place closer to their university. And they could spend more time together, which Tobio would always be happy about.
“We should talk about this when it isn’t almost one in the morning,” Hinata yawned. “Eat your cake so we can go to bed.”
“You could’ve given this to me earlier,” Tobio said. “Or tomorrow. It didn’t have to be this late.”
“I wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday,” Hinata said. He crawled into Tobio’s futon, making himself comfortable. “It had to be now.”
Tobio shrugged. He really didn’t get why it was so important, but Hinata seemed happy, and he felt happy too.
He stood to put the dishes in the sink, feeling wobbly from exhaustion and a long day of practice. He wobbled back to collapse on the futon next to Hinata. Reaching up, he flicked the light off. Surprisingly enough, they fit reasonably well together on the futon. It wouldn’t be comfortable long term, but for one night it wasn’t bad.
“Should get a spare futon,” Hinata mumbled.
“Is there any point if we’re moving in together soon?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Shut up and go to sleep, dumbass.”
“Happy birthday, you idiot.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Happy Kagehina Day!
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s obvious, stupid,” Kageyama said. “The curtains are blue because that’s the color they chose to dye them.”
Hinata looked over the worksheet they were supposed to be filling out for their shared literature class.
“I don’t,” he sighed, “I don’t think that’s right.”
“Of course it’s right.” Kageyama looked offended. “Why else would the curtains be blue?”
“I don’t know!” Hinata snapped, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “I just know that can’t be the right answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re even worse at literature than I am.”
“Oi!”
“They wouldn’t be asking this question if the answer was so obvious!” Hinata yelled. They were on their feet now, and Hinata took the time to be proud that he’d grown enough that he could get in Kageyama’s face when he stood on his toes. And that Kageyama was too dumb to realize that he could just stand on his toes too and put them back to square one. “If you could answer the question before reading the story, there would be no point in it!”
“What else is it supposed to be?” Kageyama shouted back. “It’s not like they showed us the decision to make blue curtains. How are we supposed to know what they were thinking?”
“I don’t know!”
They stared at each other in silence, unsure of whether they were about to start throwing things or crying. Well. Hinata would be crying, probably. Kageyama might just sit in a corner and stop breathing.
“I’m calling Yacchan,” Hinata said after a few minutes of unbroken staring – both of their eyes were watering from the staring contest they’d started. “She’ll know what to do.”
Yachi was maybe the smartest person he knew, apart from Tsukishima maybe, but Tsukishima was too dumb to realize that Yamaguchi had been trying to court him since high school, and Yachi had at least managed to ask Shimizu-senpai out. Even Hinata had managed to get together with Kageyama. Tsukishima really was dumb about some things. So Yachi was officially the smartest person he knew.
She was at their door in twenty minutes, backpack almost pulling her down with how heavy it was and a bag of meat buns in her hands.
“You brought us snacks?” Hinata cheered, jumping up to rush her at the door. She squeaked, nearly going down before Kageyama caught her.
“You dumbass, let her take her shoes off first,” Kageyama scolded him. Hinata was never going to be less amused by the protective way Kageyama treated Yachi, a bit like a doting older brother.
“Just for that, Kageyama gets the first one,” Yachi said, giving Hinata a Look, but he knew she wasn’t really mad. “You two get the whole bag when we finish this worksheet.”
“We’ll make you dinner in thanks!” Hinata promised her. Yachi got a funny look on her face.
“Who’s cooking?”
“Me,” Kageyama said, to Yachi’s evident relief. “You don’t have to worry about being poisoned.”
“I’m not that bad!” Hinata protested. Kageyama and Yachi didn’t look impressed. Hinata distinctly heard Kageyama mutter something about burnt rice.
“Here, Kageyama-kun, eat this and be quiet,” Yachi said, though not unkindly. “Hinata, let’s see what we can do.”
What they could do, apparently, was drive themselves both nearly to tears, but the worksheet was done. Hinata reached wearily for a meat bun, feeling drained.
“Alright, Kageyama-kun, let’s do yours now,” Yachi said. She sounded like she might start crying. It was really good that Kageyama had learned to not shout at her after all these years. He’d never done it intending to be mean, but Yachi just couldn’t handle it, no matter how he meant it.
It seemed like they were working through faster than he had, but then, Kageyama had filled out more of the worksheet than him, and for pure comprehension questions, he was probably right. Hinata chewed his meat bun thoughtfully, watching the light play over Kageyama’s face. He really was pretty when he wasn’t shouting at anyone – and also when he was, but Hinata was probably the only one weird enough to think that. Thinking was a good look on him.
Kageyama looked ready to descend into the earth when they were done, and Yachi had given up supporting her own body entirely, curling into a pillow.
“So…food?” Hinata asked hopefully. Kageyama just groaned. “As I thought, Tiredyama can’t do it! I’ll have to cook us dinner.”
“Don’t you dare,” Kageyama growled. “Get away from my kitchen.”
“It’s my kitchen too!”
“Not since you set it on fire.”
“It was an accident.”
“That didn’t make it less on fire.”
Hinata pouted. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He just got distracted and the pan caught fire. And he’d tried to pour water on it, because water was supposed to put out fire. He wasn’t ready for the fire to shoot to the ceiling. It was lucky that his screams had brought Kageyama running, and Kageyama had – for some reason – known to cover the pan with a lid. The scorch marks had already formed on the walls, though. They were never getting their security deposit back.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Curry.”
“You make curry too much.”
“I like curry.”
Yachi laughed softly, breaking them out of their bickering.
“It’s nice to see the two of you getting along,” she said in answer to their questioning looks. “You two always look like you’re having so much fun.”
“Of course,” Hinata said, and then just to make Kageyama’s ears go red, added, “That’s why we’re dating.”
“Shut up, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbled, but he looked pleased.
And the food was good, because Kageyama wasn’t a master chef, but he did know how to make curry. Hinata grumbled a bit at losing to him, but at least he could bake. The microwave oven had never caught fire for him.
Yachi left, and the both of them collapsed on the couch. Hinata squirmed until he was tucked between Kageyama and the back of the couch. Kageyama didn’t move to help him, but he also didn’t throw him off. He even wrapped a tired arm around Hinata’s squirmy body.
“We can’t rely on Yacchan forever,” Hinata pointed out. Kageyama shrugged.
“Neither of us is majoring in literature,” he said. “We just have to pass this class.”
“I never would have guessed that the curtains were blue because she was sad.”
“I think the curtains were just fucking blue.”
Gradients
Pairing: Semishira
Rating: Gen
Tags: princess mononoke au, getting together
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This was my piece for the HQ Ghibli zine. While the zine is no longer happening, I still want to share this with you, because I worked really hard on it and I’m really proud of it. I was paired with @ivytea as an artist, and you should definitely check them out as well.
The forest was still around Eita, though he could hear the sounds of life echoing all the same. No creatures were visible, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
He felt eyes on him, and smirked.
“I know you’re there,” he called. He didn’t have to wait long before a boy and two wolves came into sight.
“Why are you here again?” Shirabu asked. He looked annoyed.
“You’d get lonely if I never visited you,” Eita teased.
“No I wouldn’t,” Shirabu argued. “I have Kawanishi and Goshiki.”
He gestured to the wolf pups beside him. Kawanishi didn’t so much as acknowledge being called out, but Goshiki gave a friendly yip. Eita smiled. He could always count on Goshiki to be welcoming.
“You’re not going to leave any time soon, are you?” Shirabu asked, sounding resigned.
“I already walked all this way,” Eita agreed. “It would be a waste to just go back now.”
“Fine.” Shirabu tossed his head. “Come on then. We might as well sit.”
It was more than Eita would have gotten when he first started visiting Shirabu, but then again, they were kind of friends now. Shirabu certainly tolerated his presence a lot more than he had in the beginning, and that was probably the closest to friendship the other boy had ever come. He sat in the springy moss around the water, smelling the crisp green scent as some of it crushed under him. Shirabu sat next to him.
“Did you bring me anything?” Shirabu asked.
“I thought you hated humans,” Eita replied, because he still felt like teasing him. “Why would you want anything from that village?”
Shirabu didn’t look impressed.
“Fine, here,” Eita sighed, throwing a package to him. “I made you cookies.”
Shirabu tore into the package. He had a weakness for sweets that he couldn’t satisfy in the forest, no matter how well it could meet all of his other needs.
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to at least go to the village,” Eita said. “The people there won’t try to hurt you, and it might be good for you. You might make a friend. You might even get a girlfriend.”
“Go die.”
“Who would bring you cookies if I did that?”
Shirabu fell silent, but Eita could tell he wasn’t actually upset. If anything, he was trying to control his mouth to keep it from turning up at the corners. If he was actually mad, Kawanishi and Goshiki would have growled in warning long ago.
No matter how much Shirabu insisted that he hated humans and was happier out here alone with the wolves, Eita knew better. If Shirabu really hated humans or didn’t want him around, Eita was all too easy to avoid. He always found Shirabu quickly, though, as if the other boy was waiting for him without trying to seem like he was waiting for him.
Eita tilted his head back, letting the patch of sunlight that filtered through the leaves fall onto his face. He was coming to love the forest almost as much as he loved his new home at the ironworks.
***
“Just let me meet him,” Tendou insisted. Eita sighed, rolling his eyes. Tendou was his best friend, and Eita was always up for getting into trouble with him, but he would definitely scare Shirabu off. They’d had this argument before, with the same results.
“He barely lets me near him, and you want me to introduce him to a stranger?” Eita asked. Tendou shrugged.
“You’re trying to get him comfortable with the idea of humans, aren’t you?” Tendou reasoned. “He has to meet someone other than you sometime.”
“I know, but…” Eita trailed off. “I understand why he’s so stubborn. His family abandoned him, and then he had to watch humans kill his friends. He has every right to be angry.”
“But you shouldn’t let him stay angry forever,” Tendou argued. “The lady is trying really hard to make things right. She can’t fix things if he won’t even talk to her.”
“Semi-san?” a quiet female voice interrupted. Tendou and Eita turned to see Lady Kiyoko standing hesitantly behind them. “Can I ask you a question about the wolf prince?”
“What about him?” Eita asked warily. He’d seen the good Lady Kiyoko was trying to do in this town, but he couldn’t forget watching her harm Shirabu or kill the deer god. She was trying, but she hadn’t earned his forgiveness yet.
“You visit him, don’t you?” She was much more hesitant than she’d been when he’d first arrived.
“I do.”
“Will you tell him I’m sorry?” she asked. “For everything? And that he’s always welcome here, whenever he wants?”
Eita considered her. She’d been putting in a lot of effort to fix the problems with the original ironworks, starting with fixing the relationships between humans and gods. She really was trying to make it a partnership rather than having humans take everything for themselves. It hadn’t gone perfectly, but they were getting better.
“I’ll tell him,” he promised. “I can’t promise he’ll accept, or that he’ll come here, but I’ll tell him.”
She nodded, grateful.
“You should still let me meet him,” Tendou cut in. “At least bring up the idea and let him decide. I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”
“Because I definitely think your best behavior is going to make a difference,” Eita muttered. “I’ll ask him. It’s his choice, though.”
***
“No.”
“That’s it? Just ‘no’? You’re not even going to consider it?”
“I already told you I hate humans,” Shirabu snapped. “I don’t want to go to the village, and I don’t want to meet your friend. They’re all humans.”
“And so am I!” Eita’s voice grew louder in frustration. Shirabu had every right to be angry, but it was unfair that he wouldn’t even think about it.
Shirabu’s face softened.
“You’re special,” he said. “You’re not like the rest of them.”
“Of course I’m like the rest of them,” Eita argued. “Humans aren’t all the same. Lady Kiyoko is really trying to make everything better, and Tendou is really nice, even if he looks a little scary. They’re not going to hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want to do. At least talk to them once.”
Shirabu stared into the water, considering. He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he sighed.
“Will you be there the whole time?” he asked. Eita nodded. “I’ll meet them. Just once. And I’m not going into the ironworks. They can come outside to talk to me.”
“That can be arranged,” Eita promised.
Lady Kiyoko was easy enough to persuade to meet Shirabu outside the walls, and Tendou was chomping at the bit to meet the wolf prince in person.
Eita led Shirabu there, even though he knew Shirabu knew the way. He stayed close to the other boy as they walked out of the forest, Shirabu’s head held high.
Shirabu grabbed for his hand as they approached Lady Kiyoko and Tendou, and Eita let him, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. Shirabu took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Wolf prince,” Lady Kiyoko said, one good arm held out and open to show she held no weapon. “I want to offer my apologies for the pain I’ve caused you. You are always welcome here in our village, and I hope to earn your forgiveness someday.”
Eita nudged Shirabu to prompt him to respond.
“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “I’ll remember that I’m welcome here.”
Tendou stepped forward, and Eita tensed. Tendou was his best friend, and Eita loved him, but he could be a little overwhelming, and Shirabu already looked like he wanted to bolt. He looked over Shirabu carefully, mouth turned up in its perpetual grin.
“You really run with the wolves, don’t you,” he said, more statement than question. Shirabu nodded. “Nobody here will give you any trouble anymore. You could outrun them all even if they tried.”
Shirabu looked surprised, but pleased. Eita sighed in relief. Not only had Tendou not made it worse, he’d actually made it better.
“Will you visit again?” Tendou asked. “Eita makes chocolate chip cookies like you wouldn’t believe, and they’re better straight out of the oven.”
Shirabu considered carefully.
“I’ll come back,” he said slowly. Tendou nodded, and they all considered the meeting over. Eita walked Shirabu back to the forest.
“I’m proud of you,” Eita told him. “You handled that well.”
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“Humans aren’t all the same,” Shirabu admitted. “They weren’t what I expected.”
“So you think you’ll come back?”
“Apparently you make cookies to die for, and they’re better straight out of the oven.”
Eita smirked, and he could see the smile Shirabu was trying to hide. The light was fading, and he should go back before it got too dark, but he didn’t want to let go of Shirabu’s hand.
“Kenjirou,” Shirabu said quietly.
“What?”
“That’s my name. Kenjirou,” he said. “Shirabu is what the wolves called me, but Kenjirou was the name I was born with.”
“You never mentioned that before.”
“I didn’t trust you enough before.”
“You mean you hadn’t forgiven me for being human yet.”
Shirabu - Kenjirou - shrugged.
“Does that mean you’ve forgiven me now?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Kenjirou admitted. “You never did anything to hurt me, and...being human isn’t a crime. I...I’m sorry for...everything, I guess.”
“I understand why you were so angry,” Eita said. “There’s nothing for me to forgive, either.”
“Will you keep visiting me?” Kenjirou asked. “Even if I can’t come to the village yet?”
Eita considered for a moment, then leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. Kenjirou squeaked in surprise, glaring at him out of habit.
“You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me,” Eita said. “Besides, I like it out here. It’s peaceful. Animals don’t rush around all day like humans do.”
Kenjirou looked away, but he still held on to Eita’s hand.
“Thank you,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Eita teased him.
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Go die.”
“But then who would bake you cookies?” Eita sing songed. It was already becoming an old argument, one he’d be happy to continue having. “You’d get lonely if I stopped visiting you.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Kenjirou insisted, mouth quirking up as he spoke his part. “I have Kawanishi and Goshiki.”
“Yeah, but you’d miss me anyway,” Eita said, leaning in close. Kenjirou had plenty of time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t, so Eita kept leaning in until he could press their lips together. Kenjirou still didn’t pull away, not until Eita did.
Kenjirou would never live in the village, but that was okay. Eita would keep visiting him, and keep showing him that humans weren’t his enemies. He would continue helping Kenjirou and the people of the village learn to forgive each other and heal, and it was something he would be glad to do.
He leaned in once again to kiss his wolf prince.
How They Love Him
Pairing: MatsuHanaIwaOi
Rating: Gen
Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, depression, anxiety, fluff
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So the Collective did a secret santa, and I got @i-preen-for-oikawa who asked for Hanamaki-has-depression-and-anxiety-fluff for MatsuHanaIwaOi. Merry Christmas babe!
Hajime is warmth. Hajime is the steady, soothing pulse of the heart, sending life through the body. Hajime is the one pulling Hiro into blanket burritos when the wind starts to bite into him as the seasons turn – they both run cold.
Hajime is the one who puts a hot meal in front of him when the day was too long and his thoughts are too loud. He sits Hiro down and tucks him under the kotatsu, stopping his shaking from the winter cold outside, and prompts him to eat when he stops and stares at the wall to listen to the bees buzzing around in his own mind.
“Hiro,” Hajime says firmly, tapping his hand where he’s let it come to rest on the table, chopsticks held limply between his fingers. It’s a reminder that he needs to eat before he can wallow in the anxieties of the day. He obligingly digs back into his bowl of rice before everything starts to get cold.
Hajime wraps him in blankets and plops him down on the couch to watch some senseless movie. Neither of them are really following the action. The only thing they register is the flashing primary colors and happy music to the cartoon. Instead, they focus in on the body heat leeching from each other and making their shared blanket nest warmer.
Hiro finally has the freedom to wallow in the anxieties of the day, but he finds he doesn’t really want to. Hajime is too warm to let the cold pricks of anxiety stay too long. The warmth makes him slow and sleepy, and his mind slows down accordingly. He finds himself drifting off on Hajime’s shoulder instead.
“Long day?” Hajime asks, finally, because he knows Hiro is calm enough to talk about it now.
“Mm,” Hiro hums. “I had to give a presentation at a meeting today.”
Hajime nods and sighs. He knows how the anxiety eats at Hiro, no matter how he tries to hide it.
“Did the presentation go well?”
“I think so,” Hiro murmurs. “No one saw me throw up before I had to go in, and I didn’t really stutter or rock or anything.”
“I’m proud of you,” Hajime says, tugging Hiro in for a tighter hug. Hiro relaxes into it, letting Hajime soothe him. The day was long, but it’s not so bad when he has Hajime to come home to. His mind has a harder time bringing him down when Hajime is too warm for the thoughts to pierce too deep.
***
Tooru is soft. He’s gained weight since high school, and what used to be flat planes and sharp angles are now soft curves.
Tooru is the voice that whispers “It’s okay” when Hiro wakes up too tired to even contemplate getting out of bed. He just tucks the blankets tighter around Hiro and sits up, reaching for his phone.
“Hello, is this Honda-san?” Tooru asks, voice already bright and cheerful. “Excellent. This is Oikawa. I’m afraid Makki can’t come in for work today.”
A brief pause and a rumble of electronic voice that Hiro couldn’t work out even if he’d had the energy to listen.
“He’s got a raging fever, and really shouldn’t get out of bed,” Tooru explains calmly, false smile that reveals nothing in place. “He might collapse if he came to work, and then where would we be? I’d have to come get him, and we’d get to this point anyway. He’ll catch up his work tomorrow!”
Even years out of high school, soft edges haven’t changed the fact that Tooru is a force to be reckoned with. He leaves Hiro for just a moment, coming back with an energy gel. He coaxes Hiro to drink it, trying to give him at least a little nutrition. He’s learned over the years that trying to get anything more substantial down Hiro’s throat on a bad day like today is an exercise in futility.
“I’m sorry,” Hiro whispers, now that he has the energy to get the words out. He hates the bad days, hates feeling like a burden. There must be a thousand things Tooru would rather be doing, and yet…
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Tooru assures him quietly, sliding back under the blankets and burrowing into him, stomach and hips and thighs squishing. “It’s not like I have to go in on a weekend anyway. This is all I was going to do with my day in the first place.”
Hiro drops an arm over Tooru’s waist – heavy, so heavy – and sighs into Tooru’s shoulder.
“Are you going to just let me sleep?” he asks.
“Mostly,” Tooru agrees. “Until I wake you up to eat, anyway. You’ll only get more tired if I let you skip all your meals, and then you’ll really be sick. We can’t have that, can we?”
Hiro grumbled, but he felt a little less Tired and a little more just plain tired.
“Thanks, Tooru.”
He falls asleep to Tooru’s soft breathe blowing across his hair.
***
Issei is a sense of purpose. Issei is the one who drags him out for a run on days when Hiro wants to pretend he needs softness and instead needs a kick in the ass. Issei is the one who shows him ridiculous prank videos and memes and says “We should do that to Hajime and Tooru.”
It’s one of those days, a bad day but not a Bad Day, and Hiro is lying in bed, staring at the wall. This should be what he wants, and yet, the anxiety crawls under his skin, begging him to move, although he doesn’t know where.
“Hiro,” Issei says, walking into the room. Hiro hums to let him know he’s listening. “Get up. We have to move fast if this is going to work.”
“If what’s going to work?” Hiro asks, letting Issei tug him into a sitting position and then to standing.
“My elaborate prank on Tooru and Hajime, of course,” Issei says, pulling Hiro out of the room. Hiro tries to drag his feet, but really, he’s curious. Issei’s pranks tend to be just the right blend of clever and stupid to bring out all his laughter, and he could use a good laugh today.
“What did you do?” Hiro asks, dropping his voice to a whisper as he hears voices coming from the living room.
“Nothing yet,” Issei whispers back. “Tooru’s been working in the living room all day, and I haven’t had a chance to get it set up. I need you to get him out of there, just for a few minutes.”
“Is the kitchen far enough?”
“Perfect.”
Hiro stands up and leans on the frame of the door to their living room.
“Tooru?”
Tooru looks up, pushing his glasses back up his nose and stopping whatever dictation he was doing.
“Can you make me ramen?”
“It’s three in the afternoon,” Tooru says, though Hiro knows it won’t take much to convince him.
“Please? I’m hungry,” Hiro says, letting just the right amount of whine sneak into his voice. Let it not be said that Tooru taught him nothing.
“Alright,” Tooru agrees. “I was just about done, anyway. Want to watch a movie after we’re done? Iwa-chan called and said he would be home a little early today.”
“I’d like that.”
Tooru gives him an affectionate kiss and sets him to chopping vegetables, putting a pot on the stove to heat up the broth. It’s quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind of quiet. It’s nice, chopping vegetables as he listens to Tooru hum under his breath, wondering what exactly Issei is doing that he needed Tooru out of the room.
“I’m home,” he hears Hajime call from the door.
“Welcome home,” he calls in unison with Tooru. Hajime pokes his head into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re cooking?”
“Makki was hungry,” Tooru explains. The high school nicknames had never really gone away, although they were all older now. “Want to watch a movie? I’m basically done.”
“Sure,” Hajime replies, moving towards the living room. “Oh, Issei, you’re already here.”
“Yep,” Hiro hears Issei drawl. “Care to give your favorite boyfriend a welcome home kiss?”
“You’re all my favorite boyfriends,” Hajime grumbles, but Hiro suspects Issei gets his welcome home kiss anyway.
“Okay, done!” Tooru says, pushing a bowl into Hiro’s hands. “Let’s go watch Pacific Rim.”
Hiro shrugs. It’s the one movie all four of them can consistently agree on, so they watch it a lot. He settles down on the couch between Hajime and Issei while Tooru goes to put the movie in. He sits back, letting the movie start.
Only it’s not what he was expecting.
The theme for some children’s show blares out of their television, and Hiro can’t help but giggle at the shocked look on Tooru’s face. Issei is somehow holding it together, but Hiro can feel his sides shaking.
“No no no, what?” Tooru ejects the DVD, reaching for one of his Star Wars DVDs instead. It only plays a different cartoon instead of the epic space adventure. “Mattsun! Makki! What did you two do?”
Hiro bursts out laughing in earnest, doubling over and holding his sides. He feels Issei lose his composure next to him, breaking into laughs as well.
“You two are so mean,” Tooru complains, but he’s starting to smile. He can’t resist when both of them are laughing so hard.
***
Hiro wakes up warm, truly warm, for the first time in a long time. All three of his boyfriends are curled around him on the bed. For once, none of them had to stay out late or leave home early, and they get to spend the morning together in bed. Issei is firm against his back, Tooru soft against his front, and Hajime’s hand reaching across Tooru for his is warm.
They all support him through the depression and anxiety in different ways, but he couldn’t survive without each of them. He loves them, and he knows they love him. He drifts back to sleep in the comfort of their embrace.