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Oikawa Tooru is a wonderful boyfriend.
This is just an objective acknowledgement of fact.
Despite stupid jokes from Iwa-chan, Makki, and Mattsun about him being a playboy or whatever (they just say those things and spread rumors because they're jealous he's so popular), Tooru is in fact a deeply thoughtful, caring, and loving partner. And while it's true he has an illustrious reputation — Argentina's golden boy; the-one-who-got-away from Japan— the admiration of strangers has never tempted him to stray from the people he cares about, most of all, one person in particular.
Speaking of whom...
Tooru types out a message on his phone, adjusting a bit to get comfortable, although it's a futile effort. Even though business-class is actually very nice with Aerolíneas Argentinas, flying internationally will never not be a total pain. He winces as a crick in his ankle gives a little pop. There's only so much extra legroom can do with respect to muscle stiffness and cramping. Especially on hour ten of sixteen on the long flight from San Juan to Tokyo.
That's where in-flight wifi comes in handy, though. Getting through the rest of the flight is just a matter of effective distractions! Tooru finishes typing out his text and hits send.
Delivered 8:46AM
tobio-chan!! did u see that article about me that came out yesterday?
they did a poll on biggest heartthrobs in vb latin america
yours truly won ofc <333333
arent u lucky
Tooru even graciously links the article and sends it to Tobio, even though it's in Spanish. Even if Tobio can't read it, the proof is there in his dazzling portrait of the number one spot.
His phone dings.
Received 8:50AM
👍
Tooru clicks his tongue, fingers racing across the keyboard.
Delivered 8:50AM
oi. be more excited
ur boyfriend is a superstar
He patiently waits for Tobio to respond with more genuine enthusiasm about how wonderfully lucky he feels. The three typing bubbles flicker on and off next to Tobio's contact photo.
Received 8:51AM
ok. wat do u want 2 eat when u get here
Tooru's eye twitches.
If there are three constants in life, they are death, taxes, and Kageyama Tobio's completely horrible skills in texting.
He probably didn't even open the link, Tooru scowls. He's willing to bet money that even though it's not even 9PM in Tokyo right now, Tobio's probably curled up in bed already, just like the old man he is.
Delivered 8:54AM
buy me milk bread
and i want real tonkotsu ramen
also u type like a caveman.
Received 8:55AM
ok
Delivered 8:56AM
ur not cute at all
Received 8:57AM
ok
Delivered 8:57AM
>:(
Received 8:58AM
👍
"Brat," Tooru grumbles halfheartedly into his hand.
Still, knowing Tobio and despite his abysmal communication skills, the younger will get to the airport half an hour early, holding milk bread and waiting eagerly at baggage claim, head swiveling in every direction for a glimpse of Tooru walking through the door. He's always like a little puppy, all excitable and delighted to see him.
Tooru smiles.
Tobio's cute like that.
Wait, wasn't he supposed to be annoyed?
Yes, yes! Tooru nods to himself; it would have been nice if Tobio had reacted a bit, or at least pretended to — biggest heartthrob athlete in all of Latin America? That's huge!
Granted, Tooru can't be 100% sure Tobio understands the sheer scale of the South American continent. Geography was never the younger's strong suit.
Well... Maybe it's a good thing this kind of stuff never gets a reaction from Tobio.
Tooru sighs, getting comfortable again in his chair. Because— if Tobio got upset every time fans posted about Tooru or an article like this came out, it'd be hard to deal with. And truthfully, long-distance is already difficult enough as is.
Tooru frowns, staring out the window; the light blue of the endless sky unfurls, the blank canvas disrupted only by the faint scattering of clouds, tinged white-yellow by the morning sun. When he closes his eyes, the afterimage of a blue gradient feels imprinted in the back of his skull.
It's a lovely color, almost reminiscent of Argentina's flag; yet still, it's not quite as vibrant as the shade of royal azure that he's come to identify with the feeling of home.
He arrives in Tokyo six hours later, tired and cranky and hungry for real Japanese food and embarrassingly impatient to catch a glimpse of dark hair and slate-blue eyes at baggage claim. Thankfully, coming down the escalator to the arrivals section of the airport, the latter two demands prove relatively short-lived.
Because standing near the door — holding a loaf of milk bread, is —
Tobio.
Tooru bounds down the escalator, skipping steps as much as he can until runs up against a brick wall of people content to drag out the ride as long as possible and prevent others from getting through, goddamnit.
As soon as there's room to squeeze past them, even though it's rude, Tooru does, and does so quickly, rushing forward and shouting,
"Tobio-chan!"
Tobio's mouth quirks into a little smile, dark eyes lighting up with warmth. His lips part, moving and it's too far for him to hear and he's really never been skilled at reading lips— but without a doubt he knows this, knows Tobio's mouth, the way it curls over the phonetics of Tooru — and he could recognize it, could call it out for what it is with better certainty than any other word in their native Japanese.
Tobio's still saying his name.
When they finally close the distance and collide, fitting together like two puzzle pieces, Tooru hears it again, this time whispered close.
"Tooru." Tobio's breath tickles at the shell of his ear. "I missed you."
Tooru can feel them squishing the milk bread but it's fine, because his arms are full of Tobio, who's warm and real and solid against him, who smells like the expensive soap Tooru left behind last time he came, like fabric softener and like the lingering scent of hot drip-coffee and that bakery on the corner of intersection adjacent to the Metropolitan Gymnasium that makes the best milk bread ever. And when Tooru draws back just to look Tobio in the eyes, there's his favorite shade of blue, peering right back.
I'm home.
"I missed you too."
After waiting for Tooru's luggage, grabbing it, and driving back to Tobio's apartment complex (the duration of which is spent enjoying delicious milk bread), Tooru finally gets to collapse into bed. Admittedly, he does pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow. But! He was subject to a grueling flight, so if anyone has the right to do so, it's him.
Tobio doesn't seem to mind all too much, tucking him in and turning the lights off. And when Tooru finally wakes up— groggy, half-dead, and unsure of what year it is— he stumbles out of the bedroom to find take-out containers of steaming hot tonkotsu ramen set up on the table.
Tobio's even— he's bought Tooru's favorite flavor of calpico (peach!) and set it out with a glass filled with ice cubes, and he's even asked for the soft-boiled egg in a separate container because he remembers Tooru doesn't like it when the yolk comes loose in and sits in the broth for too long because it gets all clumpy in the noodles, and—
"Why are you crying," Tobio asks, brow furrowed in confusion.
"I'm not! Just— it's just allergies!" Tooru rubs at his face. "Jeez, Tobio-chan! Dust every once in a while, this place is a mess!"
So...
Okay.
Tobio is also a very good boyfriend.
But! Back to the original point!
Tooru is the best boyfriend.
Who else would take a sixteen-hour plane ride from San Juan all the way to Tokyo on one of his very rare free weekends, just to come and watch his boyfriend play volleyball? And to support his boyfriend in a very important match against the Black Jackals, where Hinata Shouyou recently signed?
And who else would file his boyfriend's nails for him to help with pre-match maintenance? And make him pork curry for lunch despite suffering from major jet lag?
And most importantly...
Who else would cheer for the Schweiden Adlers to support their boyfriend, even if it meant also supporting the team with opposite hitter Ushijima Wakatoshi, the bane of all wonderful things in the universe?
No one else except Oikawa Tooru.
That's who.
As the referee awards a point to the Adlers, after Tobio's perfectly nasty set to Ushiwaka leads up to an earth-shattering, southpaw-spun monster of a kill —
— well, Tooru cheers, of course, but he directs all of the good energy and support toward Tobio.
None for Ushiwaka-chan.
In the end, despite Tooru's best efforts to cheer Tobio on, the Adlers lose to the Jackals, 3-1. Tooru watches from the audience as Tobio lines up with his teammates to shake hands with their opponents from under the net; and a small part of him twitches at the determined looks Tobio and Shouyou exchange.
Of course, logically, Tooru knows that the two are just friends, partners from high school (in a very platonic and rivalrous sense). Moreover they share the same two brain cells and concurrent interests, so it's very rational that Tobio and Shouyou speak their own language as two members of the same endangered species which regular humans are not capable of understanding.
Still, though.
Watching them promise each other to meet on the court again— and knowing that when Shouyou promises something of this kind, it'll happen, in the same year and same country, no less— well, it's a little difficult for Tooru to watch.
Tobio.
I'm the one you should keep your eye on.
Instead of voicing this, once he finally manages to steal Tobio away after the younger finishes signing autographs and talking with reports, Tooru huffs: "I told you that you weren't allowed to lose to anyone except for me. And what did you immediately do after that?"
Tobio rolls his eyes.
Impertinence..!
Tooru furrows his brow. "And to Shouyou and Miya Atsumu, no less!"
"We're gonna kick their asses next time," Tobio vows.
"You'd better. I didn't come all the way here to see you lose."
There's a little glint in Tobio's gaze, something familiar and just as comforting as when those pools of blue are gentle and placid. Tooru feels his lips tugging into a smirk.
Before he can open his mouth to add something even more teasing and most definitely loaded with a colorful variety of innuendos, an energetic voice is calling out to them, abruptly dragging them back to reality.
"Oi!"
Said voice is then accompanied by the man of the hour, rushing forward in a blur of spastic limbs and fiery red hair.
"Shouyou," Tooru greets. "Congrats on your first win on home soil."
"Thanks, Oikawa-san!" Shouyou chirps back, practically buzzing with glee. His expression becomes decisively more mischievous as he glances at Tobio. "Now it's 1,067-1,072, Bakayama!"
Tobio, to his credit, cuts right to the chase and swings at Shouyou.
"Hey, Tobio-kun! Don't be a sore loser!" Miya Atsumu calls, jogging over from the sidelines.
He's accompanied by Bokuto Koutarou in all his rambunctious glory, the latter somehow jumping up and down like a grasshopper despite having played a brutal four-set match.
"The entire circus's here," Tooru comments lightly. "Is everyone on the Jackals' really cut from the same cloth?"
Miya shoots him a daring look, chest puffing out haughtily. "The winnin' cloth, ya mean."
Tooru snorts, but before he can respond, Tobio grumbles, "No. The stinky one."
Shouyou squawks with indignation, and the two start tussling again.
Tobio... you're really cute, but you should leave the comebacks to me, Tooru muses.
"Hey, hey," Bokuto chimes, ignoring Tobio and Shouyou's flailing limbs. "We wanted to know if you guys wanted to come out for drinks with us?"
"Drinks?"
"Yeah," Miya nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. "There's a good bar downtown. Kinda close to Tobio-kun's apartment."
Tooru raises a brow. "Interesting... How do you know this?"
Shouyou cackles from the ground, where Tobio's got him caught in a headlock. "Oikawa-san's jealous!"
"I am not," Tooru corrects quickly, "I'm just inquiring! For the sake of information."
"Mhm," Miya hums, hardly convinced. "Well, 'fer 'yer information, Tobio-kun had the Olympic team over a couple times. He's real hospitable."
"They invited themselves over," Tobio corrects neutrally, all while pinning Shouyou down to the ground. Nonplussed, he pulls the redhead's arm behind his back with the utmost expertise and adds, "Miya-san passed out in the living room after drinking too many shots. It was a real hassle."
"Don't tell 'em that, Tobio-kun!" Miya sputters, at the same time that Shouyou garbles, "Uncle! Uncle!"
Fortunately Tobio accepts the redhead's surrender, and the two idiots collect themselves and rise to their feet.
"So," Bokuto grins. "Drinks?"
Tooru considers this offer. To be honest, he'd really like to spend quality time with Tobio— not that volleyball and being around other players isn't always fun, but he's come all this way from San Juan, and he's only got a little bit more time to spend in Japan. And although it might be entertaining to watch Miya Atsumu embarrass himself in public, this would probably get dull pretty fast.
He ventures a glance toward Tobio, hoping the younger's thinking the same thing, but—
Shit.
There's a little gleam in Tobio's eyes, subtle, but undeniable. It's that twinge of excitement that means he's looking forward to this.
And... he probably is. After playing in a heated match against his long-term rival, and a host of other talented players, Tobio's probably looking forward to catching up with them.
Ugh...
Again, Oikawa Tooru is the best boyfriend in the world.
"Well, Tobio-chan, I guess it might be nice to catch up with Japan's pro players?" Tooru tilts his head and smiles. "You'll do me the favor of introducing me to everyone there?"
Tobio nods rapidly. "Of course!"
"So obedient," Shouyou snickers impishly (clearly he never learns his lesson where it comes to antagonizing Tobio).
Miya grins, cooing. "Can you say whipped?"
Lest Tobio lunge at Miya and Shouyou again and keep them here any longer than they need to be, Tooru throws an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder and begins corralling him toward the exit.
"Text us the name of the place!" He calls over his shoulder.
Shouyou and Bokuto wave emphatically, and Miya just sends them a knowing smirk.
It turns out that this seemingly innocuous invitation was actually a carefully coordinated trap.
A trap for what, you may ask?
A trap for Tooru.
Tobio is involved too, but he is not the true victim of this scheme.
No, not by any means.
Do not be fooled by Bokuto and Shouyou's masks of innocence.
They are just as devious as Miya Atsumu, if not more.
They take their time cleaning up and making their way over to the bar the Jackals have picked for drinks. Like Miya said, the place is close to Tobio's apartment, which on the one hand is convenient if they decide to dip out early, and on the other hand is still a source of annoyance because no matter what the occasion was, it's a bit irritating to think the entire men's Olympic volleyball team has been partying it up in Tobio's flat while Tooru was stuck in San Juan alone.
Ahem.
Not that Tooru's bothered by this. It's just— it's the principle!
The point being, they arrive at the bar and are escorted to the mass of tables where the Jackals and some other fellow athletes await, rather close to the meeting time. After being teased about arriving early ("Always a goody two-shoes, 'aint ya, Tobio-kun~"), Tooru and Tobio squeeze into one side of a booth table, with Shouyou, Miya, and Bokuto on the other side.
It is really not enough space for this many pro athletes.
Tooru tries to focus on this fact, as well as the refreshing taste of a cold beer, rather than the goody two-shoes comment from earlier.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask this," Bokuto brings up abruptly, after chugging what appears to be his third drink of the night (which is concerning in and of itself), "But when did this happen?"
This apparently being, Tooru and Tobio, based on the emphatic gesturing of the wing-spiker.
"A long time ago," Tobio answers. "Seven years."
"Seven?!"
"Eight in a couple months," Tooru adds matter-of-factly.
"Holy crap," Miya whistles. "'Yer relationship's older than some of our teammates' kids!"
Shouyou, who is well-acquainted with the details of their relationship, is occupying himself by scarfing down a platter of appetizers in an impressively rapid fashion.
Bokuto gives them a starry-eyed look. "Tell us how it happened!"
Tobio blinks. "How what happened?"
"How'd the two of ya get together," Miya clarifies, eyes flickering between Tooru and Tobio over the rim of his beer. "Like... which one of ya confessed first?"
"Oh. I did," Tobio answers, without a lick of shame. "I liked Tooru for a very long time."
"That true?"
Tooru smiles lightly, nodding. "Of course."
Admitting the truth to himself is out of the question; doing so to a group of friendly acquaintances is unthinkable.
"Tell us!" Bokuto cheers.
Then Bokuto begins hollering — and, he really is such a charismatic little simpleton, Tooru thinks with vague impressment — because the rest of the table begins to join in on his insistence, everyone looking with expectant eyes in their direction.
"The people have spoken," Miya nods approvingly. "Enlighten us?"
Tooru glances at Tobio, who shrugs.
Tooru sighs.
"Okay. Well..."
Seven Years Prior
December 2012
Miyagi Prefecture,
Sendai Station
"Sorry, Tooru. Takeru's feeling sick, so I'm going to drop him off at home before I head out."
"Ah. Okay." Tooru sighs a little, adjusting his hold on his cell phone so he can comfortably pull up the collar of his sweater to better protect his neck from the cold. "Do you know when you'll get here?"
"It shouldn't be too long? Maybe an extra ten minutes. But you can wait inside a cafe if it gets too cold, right?"
"It's fine, nee-chan," Tooru responds. "If it's just another ten minutes, then I might as well stay outside."
"Okay. I'm sorry again."
"Don't worry about it," he assures his sister. "Thanks for taking time off to pick me up. I know you're busy."
"Of course. I'll let you know when I'm on the way, okay?"
"Sounds good. See you soon."
The line clicks off, and Tooru slides his phone back into the pocket of his coat, shivering. Just his luck...
He takes a quick look over the station, noting the nearby shops and restaurants with muted interest. Nothing really stands out enough to do any window shopping. And twenty minutes isn't enough time to get something to eat or grab a coffee, judging by how busy the nearby cafe looks...
Why is it so busy on a day like this, Tooru laments, eyeing the cheerful faces laughing over hot coffees and scones through the window. Don't you guys have anything better to do?
A niggling voice in the back of his mind taunts, You're one to talk. Don't even have club activities to distract you anymore...
"Ugh," Tooru grumbles under his breath, a little puff of white mist escaping his mouth. He chases away that stupid pessimistic voice before it can do any further damage. It's far too cold right now to devote energy to depressing thoughts.
Maybe a warm drink will take his mind off things...?
He walks over to the station entrance where the vending machines are, mulling over his choices; only he stops a few feet away when he notices there's someone else heading in that direction, too.
And not just anyone.
Tooru blanches.
"Tobio-chan?"
The boy turns abruptly with all the grace of a chicken wearing a bag on its head. His blue eyes widen, staring owlishly at Tooru, lighting up with recognition and a smidge of wariness. "Oikawa-san!"
Tooru bites back a grimace.
Tobio is really the last person he wants to see right now. This little brat— just the sight of him and his stupid round head and big doe-eyes makes Tooru want to squish him down and pinch his cheeks.
Out of anger! Not anything else. And certainly not cuteness aggression, as Makki had once commented scathingly (for this dig Tooru had gone without speaking to the other for an entire week).
Of course the universe would send him a giant fuck you after his candid attempts not to dwell on the end of his high school volleyball career, by dropping the cause of said end straight into his lap.
Not my lap, Tooru winces, shaking his head. It was— that's just a figure of speech!
"Uh... Oikawa-san? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he replies immediately, jolting back to reality. Then he almost audibly groans at Tobio, who— despite it being about zero-degrees Celsius— is only dressed in some thermal athletic wear and a winter jacket. Tooru feels a chill run over him.
"Oh. Okay." Tobio fidgets a little. "What are you doing here, Oikawa-san?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Tobio just nods, as if agreeing, Yes, I would like to know, please.
"I was visiting some relatives in Tokyo," Tooru offers at last. He subtly glances at Tobio, eyes catching at the sight of the cumbersomely large duffel hanging off his shoulder. "What are you doing here, Tobio-chan? Coming back from a sleepover with a friend?"
"No."
Tooru purses his lips. "Or a girlfriend?"
Tobio's brow furrows, lips twitching a bit with discomfort; Tooru holds his breath.
"No," Tobio finally answers. "I don't have a girlfriend."
Tooru feels a childish little surge of victory and maybe relief because, of course, Tobio-chan doesn't have a girlfriend to visit, that's absurd, the brat's too immature and socially awkward to get close to anyone, and maybe he's a little cute but certainly not enough to actually appeal to anyone who—
Tooru freezes.
Wait. Wait wait waitwait WAIT.
What the fuck?
Tobio tilts his head in confusion, oblivious to the source of Tooru's distress. "I just came back from the Youth Training Camp."
The panicked mess of thoughts earlier suddenly gives way to an ugly surge of unpleasantries. He quashes the emotion down and plasters a plastic smile onto his face. "Aw, really? What a hotshot you are, Tobio-chan. Did you have fun?"
"Well..." Tobio pauses, eyes raking over Tooru's face apprehensively. "It was fun meeting skilled players and learning from them?"
"Oh?" Tooru sniffs delicately, examining his fingernails as if he couldn't care less about Tobio-chan and his stupid training camp. "Like who?"
"Like... there was— a real Little Giant," Tobio offers. "And the top high school setter in Japan."
"The best high school setter, huh?"
"Yes. Miya Atsumu."
"Wow, I bet he was impressive. Wasn't he?"
Tobio gives him a cautious look, not unlike a stray cat to another encroaching on its territory. "Yes, he was."
"I'm sure. Well, congratulations, Tobio-chan," Tooru grits out. "I see how things are now, hm?"
Tobio blinks, wide-eyed. "See how what is?"
"That you're moving onto bigger and better things." Tooru smiles but with his teeth clenched together it looks like he's snarling, his tone acerbic. "Playing with elites, now. Too good to look up to your dear old Oikawa-senpai now that you've met Miya Atsumu?"
Tobio stares. His eyes, as always, are excessively open, honest, and blue.
Tooru breathes out sharply, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Forget it, Tobio."
"Forget it?"
"That's what I said. It was just a stupid joke."
Tobio's expression is somewhat crestfallen, and Tooru cringes at the streak of guilt that runs through him.
"Oh," Tobio breathes out. "Okay."
"Look, I..." Tooru clicks his tongue, averting his gaze from Tobio's kicked-puppy-expression. "Just— what do you want to drink?"
"What?"
"I won't ask a second time," Tooru warns. "Well?"
"I was going to get a hot chocolate."
Tooru yanks his wallet out of his pocket and puts his change into the machine, pressing the keys twice. He grabs the drinks and drops one into Tobio's hands, scowling at the younger's baffled expression.
"Oh, I... Thank you!"
"Whatever," Tooru mutters. "See you."
He shuffles off toward a nearby bench, content to leave things at that. Taking the first sip of his hot drink, he lets his shoulders unwind from their tense posture slowly. Only after a couple gulps does he rest the can over his lap.
"Tobio-chan. Why are you sitting with me."
"Uh..."
"I bought you a drink. Wasn't that enough to get you to leave me alone?"
Tobio sends him a grumpy but embarrassed look. "What? Am I not allowed to sit here?"
"No," Tooru gripes immediately. "I got here first."
"You're so immature."
"You're one to talk? Stop being a little pest."
"I am not a pest," Tobio objects, scowling deeply. "Why do you always try and cut me off like that?"
Tooru sends Tobio an affronted glare. "Excuse me?"
"Like— whenever we're talking. You always have to have the last word." Tobio glares at the can in his hands, his lips pulled into a taut line of frustration. "You always complain that I follow you around. But if you stopped and heard me out the first time, I wouldn't have to."
"Oh, is that it?" Tooru scoffs, turning to face the younger. "It's my fault that you don't know how to take a hint?"
"I do, but I just—"
"No, I don't think you do," Tooru interjects coolly. "Because if you did, you'd have left by now."
There's genuine hurt flashing in Tobio's eyes.
"You're really awful, Oikawa-san."
Tooru clenches his jaw.
"You're— you're always mean," Tobio murmurs. "And— and you always say nasty things, and as soon as I try to respond, you leave."
"You're not an angel either," Tooru says, but Tobio flashes him a cold look, and the sight of it stops him in his tracks.
"And no matter how many times I say it, that you're an incredible player, you always make it sound like I'm lying," Tobio grits out, eyes shut tightly. "For someone so self-obsessed, you really don't know how to take a compliment."
Tooru winces, worrying at his lower lip. "Okay, okay. I get it."
"No, you don't," Tobio retorts. "If you really did, you wouldn't make jokes like that— like the one you made earlier. Like I said, it's not— that's not funny, okay?"
Tooru stares.
Tobio slouches, fingers clutching his drink tightly. "Because... I'd never forget about you, Oikawa-san."
"... What?"
Tooru does a double take, searching Tobio's face for any tell because— talking back and learning to make jokes, all in one day? What are those Karasuno hoodlums teaching you?— but to his horror there's not a smidge of dishonesty to be found in the other's expression.
Tobio's dark, focused eyes, the furrow of his brow, the tense line of his mouth into a determined frown... All of it comes together in his stark sobriety, which, when paired with the persistent innocence of Tobio's features, have always made it too difficult to truly hate the little brat.
Tooru feels his face twist into something less cruel, something more uncertain. "Tobio, look, I—"
"That would never happen," Tobio cuts him off. His voice is firm, unshaken, and confident as he presses forward, getting closer into Tooru's personal space.
"Okay, Tobio-chan, I believe you," he stammers. "Just— just take it easy—!"
But the younger leans even closer, and there're just a few inches of space between them now.
"Do you know why, Oikawa-san?"
Tooru blanches. Even though he's still taller than Tobio, the fact that— it's like the younger is so close to him like this— almost feels like he's being cornered like a creature of prey.
"Because I've always had my eye on you, Oikawa-san," Tobio declares.
His gaze burns.
"And that won't change no matter who I meet."
It is silent.
Somewhere nearby, there's— a train pulling into the station.
The hiss of the doors opening is what finally brings Tooru back down to earth.
"Tobio-chan, I— what the hell?" Tooru gasps, sliding all the way back to the other side of the bench. When there's a considerable amount of space between them, he points his finger at the younger, spluttering out loudly, "You can't just say that!"
Tobio gives him a look that strikingly conveys, ????, without having to articulate it explicitly. "I mean it, though?"
Tooru's aware his mouth is hanging open from the hinges of his jaw now, eyes wide as saucers, probably flushed and bright red in the face. To his dismay and disbelief, that earlier, ugly feeling in his chest— the nasty tendrils of childish insecurity, self-doubt, and maybe reluctant upset at the idea of being left behind by Tobio— all of it seems to dissipate, replaced with a strangely warm, fuzzy sensation that's so alien and embarrassing he think he might be sick.
"No, you don't! At least— you don't mean it the way that you made it sound just now!"
Tobio frowns. "How did I make it sound?"
"You made it sound like you're not talking about volleyball anymore!" Tooru sputters, gesturing almost spastically with his hands to try and get his point across. "How can you be so dense? What's wrong with you?"
Tobio raises one brow.
Tooru knows he looks crazy right now, but he inches forward, pointing his finger directly in Tobio's face.
"If you say something like that to someone else, someone who doesn't know you're an idiot— they're gonna take it the wrong way!"
Tobio stares, almost cross-eyed, at the finger pointed in front of his nose. "... What way?"
"Like you—," Tooru chokes because he's going to have to spell it out directly, Tobio is really that hopeless.
"Like you're confessing to me," Tooru grits out. "Confessing feelings."
Tobio stares, and stares, and stares.
The hissing of doors shutting on the train echoes across the platform.
Then, the sound of departure.
"But, Oikawa-san..." Tobio pushes Tooru's finger away. "I do have feelings for you."
Tooru gapes, utterly dumbfounded.
"I thought you knew it already," Tobio says quietly. "And I thought... that was why you made that joke earlier."
Then, even though the air is frigid, Tobio's hands slide out of his pockets, skin red and nipped by the cold as he squeezes at his hands. For how intensely Tooru's focusing on those long, slender fingers, refusing to meet Tobio's eyes— he notices that Tobio's trembling.
"No," Tooru chokes out. "I didn't know."
Tobio ducks his head. Downcast, his bangs fall and curtain his cerulean eyes. His voice is even softer now, yet still resolute. "I've never stopped watching you, Oikawa-san."
There is a long, stretching silence, which seems to blanket itself over both space and time, muffling the thrumming of shuttles across train tracks and the meaningless sounds of distant conversation.
Tobio slowly straightens, eyes rising from his feet to lock onto Tooru's.
After several seconds of silence pass between them, Tobio averts his gaze and stands up, pulling his bag back over his shoulder. "... I should go."
"Tobio..." Tooru croaks, fingers twitching in his lap as if grasping for an anchor.
"I'm sorry to have sprung that on you. And I apologize if it made you uncomfortable." Tobio nods, gazing somewhere far off in the distance. "Well... thanks for the drink."
And the younger's starting off toward the exit, leaving Tooru behind once again.
When Tooru's hand darts through the cold air to yank Tobio back— both of them stagger— the pursuer equally as shocked as the pursued.
"O-Oikawa-san..?"
"Where do you think you're going," Tooru grits out through quivering lips, cheeks flushed fiery red.
Their eyes meet, brown on blue.
"Listen here, Tobio," Tooru says slowly. "I'm only going to say this once... So remember it. Okay?"
Tobio's eyes widen, vibrant hues of earnest blue shining with anticipation and hope.
Tooru takes a deep breath. "I..."
(Although Tooru keeps this fact to himself, this is probably the first moment where, in his mind, the regal blue of Tobio's reverent gaze becomes synonymous with the concept of home).
Tooru finishes recounting the story with only a slight sense of mortification, which is in some sense ameliorated (and other ways made worse) by the disbelieving stares of everyone at the table.
The first to recover is Miya, who dons a crooked grin and leans back in his chair. "Damn! Glad I could help ya guys out."
"Excuse me?" Tooru raises a brow. "How were you at all relevant to that story?"
"It was my name that did'ja in, wasn't it?" Miya boasts. "What was it? Er... Forgot yer old Oikawa-senpai, 'cause of Miya Atsumu?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Tobio snorts, rolling his eyes. "You weren't that important."
Yet it's hardly heard over the raucous guffawing of the Jackals, the sound of which makes Miya's chest puff out with pride.
"But I still contributed!"
"I'm the one who did all the work," Tobio deadpans.
"Can you really call it work?" Tooru teases, poking Tobio in the cheek with his free hand. "All you did was embarrass yourself in front of me."
"It couldn't have been that embarrassing," Shouyou chirps. Despite all that sunshine-y innocence, Tooru knows, Shouyou is a little monster. The redhead confirms this fact by continuing gleefully, "Cause you said yes, Oikawa-san!"
Shouyou points at Tooru's arm, which is wrapped snugly around Tobio's shoulders, and gives Tobio a thumbs-up.
Tooru huffs. "I see where your loyalties lie now, Shouyou. I'll remember this."
"Plus, Oikawa-san was pretty embarrassing back then, too," Shouyou adds, brushing the threat off. "So they match, y'know?"
"I was not embarrassing. I have never been embarrassing in my entire life."
"I think Iwaizumi-san would disagree," Tobio offers unhelpfully.
"Be quiet, you."
"Nah. You were really embarrassing," Shouyou nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Like, remember in high school? When you had a big crush on Tobio."
Tooru blinks.
Then his eyes widen.
Shouyou. Don't you fucking dare.
Miya smiles deviously. "Oh? Please share with the class, Shouyou-kun."
"No, you really don't have to," Tooru splutters hurriedly.
"Well, it was super obvious, like..." Completely ignoring him, Shouyou begins vibrating in his seat, fueled by his teammate's support. "Oh, like when we played the practice match in first year against Seijoh. Oikawa-san arranged the whole thing! And he made Tobio play setter!"
"Because we were rivals!" Tooru protests, his voice almost cracking at the end of the sentence. He makes an indignant noise before finding his words, sputtering, "Don't make it sound weird like that!"
"No, Oikawa-san made it a big condition. He was all like..." Shouyou's voice pitches two octaves higher, becoming obnoxiously nasal. "We only want to play Karasuno if Tobio-chan plays."
Shouyou punctuates this by batting his eyes emphatically, which of course sends the entire table into an uproar of choking laughter.
"Real subtle, Tooru-kun!"
"You be quiet!" Tooru yelps at Miya. Then he points at Shouyou; the little bastard's wearing a smug look, clearly proud of himself.
"It was a calculated decision!" Tooru insists. "For strategic purposes!"
Shouyou ignores this, yelping, "Oh, oh yeah! And get this!" He jumps up a little, smiling with demonic glee, and everyone seated hushes to listen with rapt attention.
"After it ended, Oikawa-san was waiting at the gate! And he told us, I'm gonna pulverize my adorable little Tobio-chan in an official match!"
The effect is immediate, everyone practically crying from laughter.
"Lies!" Tooru shouts. "All of it!"
"Nuh-uh, that's what happened!" Shouyou starts looking around to his teammates, all imploring and innocent. "I swear it!"
A round of murmured agreements across the table. Shouyou gives Tooru a triumphant look.
"Tobio-chan, tell Shouyou!" Tooru demands, patting Tobio on the bicep. "Tell him he's wrong! You know the truth!"
Tobio frowns, a disgruntled look on his face, lips pursing into that cute little pout of his, all uselessly endearing and childish even though he's way too old for it to be as adorable as it is and now Tooru wants to kiss him even though this is really not the time for that.
"Why're you so tsundere, Oikawa-san," Shouyou snickers. "You guys are like, married anyway."
"It's the principle," Tooru replies, even though he doesn't really know what said principle is.
Fortunately, no one asks.
Unfortunately, this is because everyone is too busy laughing.
"You know, I could just call Suga-san to back me up," Shouyou realizes out loud. "He remembers!"
Tooru blanches. "Do not call Refreshing-kun!"
But Shouyou's already got his cell pressed to his face, trying to wiggle out of the booth to run outdoors. Being small does have some advantages, Tooru realizes, as the shrimpy redhead manages to squeeze out of the barricade of athletes, zipping out the entry way and yelling to Sugawara who's no doubt picked up the phone.
Once again, Oikawa Tooru is a wonderful boyfriend. Possibly the best ever in the world.
Because he puts up with the shenanigans of Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou, Bokuto Koutarou, and the rest of the little MSBY hoodlums for several more hours just so Tobio can enjoy their company (why he does eludes Tooru, but Tobio's never had the best taste in companions. Other than him, of course).
Tooru didn't have that much to drink, so he's feeling level-headed. The same can't be said about Tobio, however, who's stumbling haplessly over the perfectly flat sidewalk, even as they're walking at what feels like a snail's pace.
"Tobio-chan, get it together," Tooru snorts, carefully ducking a bit so he can pull his boyfriend's arm over his shoulder. Now that he can support the younger's weight, he carefully begins stepping forward, encouraging Tobio to follow his lead. "If you pass out I'm not going to be able to carry you. You're too heavy."
"M'not gonna pass out," Tobio mumbles. "Just sleepy."
"Oi," Tooru grunts, patting Tobio's cheek with his free hand. "No sleeping either."
Fortunately, despite being an obnoxious little brat almost 99% of the time, Tobio chooses now to exhibit appropriate obedience. He blinks at Tooru blearily, before shuffling forward.
Tobio's apartment is just a few blocks away; this fact is encouraging enough that Tooru is willing to endure lugging the world's clumsiest professional athlete around like a deadweight sack of potatoes.
"Oikaa-saa..."
Tooru exhales a little laugh through his nose. "Oikawa-san? Who's that?"
Tobio makes a sleepy noise. "Thas' you..."
"Oikawa-san is my father," Tooru drawls cheekily. "Come on now, Tobio-chan. Don't regress back to old habits."
Completely ignoring Tooru, Tobio mutters, "Oikaa-san... is it true..?"
Tooru raises a brow, even though any facial expressions or non-verbal social communication is totally lost on Tobio by this point. "Is what true?"
"Y'know. What... What Shouyou said."
Tooru's breath catches.
"He said that... you liked me. Way back when..."
Tooru nervously wets his lips, a shaky laugh escaping him. "Ah, that— don't be silly, Tobio-chan. He was just joking around."
Tobio makes a petulant noise, his mouth curling into a little pout.
It should not be cute at all, especially not on a twenty-three year old man who is built like a weapon of mass destruction and is currently shit-faced.
But it is.
It's so fucking cute Tooru wants to scream into his hands.
But doing so would require dropping said twenty-three year old man onto the sidewalk, so he stamps down the urge and just scoffs.
"You're so not cute, Tobio-chan," Tooru complains nasally. "Come on. Keep moving."
Tobio drags his feet, planting them firmly down on the asphalt. Tooru stops, a heavy sigh escaping him.
The halfhearted sentiment of fond exasperation quickly dissipates, however, at the sight of Tobio's upset expression.
"... Tobio?"
The younger scowls, dodging Tooru's concerned hands.
"Tobio, what's wrong?"
"You're wrong," Tobio sniffles. His eyes are dangerously glassy, his cheeks flushed red from more than just his alcohol intake. "You... You didn't like me back then after all."
A twinge of guilt shoots through him.
"Don't be silly, Tobio, of course I did," Tooru says quickly. He hoists the younger's arm further up his shoulder to stabilize them both. "Otherwise I wouldn't have said yes when you confessed."
"But... Hmmm..." Tobio trails off into incoherent murmuring.
"What is it?"
Tobio sniffs again. "I always... worried that maybe... you just went along with it. Since you felt bad."
Tooru's eyes widen. "What?"
"I said, I worried tha..."
"I heard you, Tobio, I just— how could you think that?"
Tobio's head hangs either from dejection or maybe insobriety. This is hardly the place to have such a conversation, and— they're only a block away now from the apartment.
Tooru sucks in a deep breath and carefully maneuvers himself forward in front of the younger while still supporting them both.
"Oikaa-san..?"
"Get on," Tooru grumbles. "Just— hold on. Okay?"
Tobio makes a confused noise but fortunately obeys, leaning over and draping his arms around Tooru's neck. It takes a second for Tooru to figure out the placement of weight but he manages to hoist himself up, arms wrapped around Tobio's legs.
Fuck, for such a little twerp, he's really heavy...!
Tooru, boyfriend of the year, the decade, the millennium, powers through the arduous trek to the apartment lobby carrying all 181.2 pounds of precious cargo (i.e. Tobio-chan) on his back. Once inside he switches over to supporting the younger's weight again, guiding him into the elevator, up to the penthouse suite, and then unlocking the door and shuffling forward to plop his boyfriend onto the couch.
"Holy shit," he exhales, wiping sweat from his forehead. Forget conditioning. Maybe he can just make piggyback rides the basis for building quad strength.
Tobio makes a sullen noise at being discarded on the cushions, clearly ungrateful for Tooru's heroic efforts.
Tooru takes a seat on the couch, repositioning Tobio's legs to rest on his lap.
"All right. Now we can talk."
If Tobio's even able to hold a conversation like this...
Tobio squints through bleary eyes at Tooru, his pupils dilated so much so that the dark blue of his irises is nearly inseparable from inky darkness. There's that childish little pout again.
"Look, Tobio-chan. About what you said earlier. I— shouldn't it be obvious by now?"
Tobio frowns, upper lip protruding even further. "But... you never say what you mean."
"Of course I liked you back then," Tooru manages. He can feel himself flushing, and the fact that he is at the age of twenty-five is so unbecoming that he sincerely hopes he won't remember this tomorrow morning, even though he's not drunk enough that this would be remotely possible. "I wouldn't have just gone along with it and accepted your confession if I didn't."
Tobio makes an unconvinced noise.
As bratty as ever, Tooru huffs. "Do you really think I would have agreed to a long-distance relationship for seven years just because I felt bad for a little twerp who confessed his feelings to me?"
"Mm... No, but I..."
Tooru purses his lips and reaches forward to brush some dark hair from Tobio's eyes. "But?"
"But, I..." Tobio grunts. "I jus' worry... you'll get tired 'f me..."
Tooru stills.
"What..?" He cups Tobio's face in his hands, directing the younger to look at him. "How could you think that?"
Tobio frowns, his eyes glassy. "'Cuz... you're so far. And maybe... you'll find someone better over there."
Tooru falters, his breath seizing up in the back of his throat. His fingers chase their way forward to caress Tobio's cheeks, his eyes probing into dark blue irises.
And he musters up a painful degree of honesty that goes against every fiber of his being and against every tenet of his worthless, worthless pride.
"There is no one better for me, Tobio," Tooru says firmly. "I've always had my eye on you. And that won't change, no matter where I go, no matter who I meet."
Earnest tears well up in Tobio's eyes, clinging to his dark lashes; and the younger makes a small, breathy noise behind pursed lips before collapsing into Tooru's waiting arms.
"There, there," Tooru murmurs, gently carding his fingers through Tobio's soft hair. "Why're you crying? You're such a baby."
"B-Because..." Tobio hiccups, and then garbles something unintelligible into Tooru's shirt.
"You should only be crying if they're tears of happiness," Tooru chastises, his cheeks reddening and warm. "Because your beloved Oikawa-san embarrassed himself, just for your sake."
Tobio peers up at him, flushed and tear-streaked.
Tooru swallows down a surge of unbecoming affection, sighing patronizingly. "You're not cute at all, Tobio."
"Who cares," Tobio grumbles, blinking away his tears. "I don't wanna be cute."
"Well, good!" Tooru sniffs. "'Cause you're not!"
And just to get his point across, Tooru squishes Tobio's not-at-all-cute face between his hands, and peppers the younger's cheeks with kisses.
Not kisses of adoration or affection or anything like that.
Kisses of pity.
Because— Tobio is just so un-cute, that it really is a shame.
Well... Rome was not built in a day.
Tooru will work on being more honest, one step at a time.