Hajime didn't consider himself an arrogant person. He knew that, in most areas, he was completely average. He wasn't ugly by any means, but he didn't have Oikawa's natural charm or perfectly styled good looks. He was intelligent, but he wasn't as analytical as Oikawa. He was good at volleyball, but he didn't have the same drive that Oikawa did. Oikawa was the standard by which Hajime judged his life, and against that standard, Hajime was average. He was mostly content with this assessment. He didn't want hordes of fangirls or athletic scholarships to major universities. He was fine with his mediocre life, okay with being second best.
So he didn't think it was hubris or arrogance clouding his judgement when he made a very important realization. He didn't understand why, or how it had happened, but he was confident in one thing:
His best friend was in love with him.
It wasn't a sudden revelation. Sometime in middle school Hajime had noticed that no matter how many girls asked Oikawa to walk them home, he always ended up leaving with Hajime, even if Oikawa had to wait for him. Every confession given after practice around the corner of the gym was met with a gentle but certain rejection.
"Another one? Why don't you just choose one to go out with? The others will probably stop if they hear you have a girlfriend." Hajime said one day on the walk towards their houses, after yet another girl was left in tears.
Oikawa didn't respond immediately. When Hajime glanced over, Oikawa was looking at the ground, his expression hidden by the shadow the setting sun cast off his hair. His hand was clenched too tightly around the strap of his backpack. Hajime could see the tense line of his shoulder and started to wonder if he had said something wrong.
"Oikawa?" Hajime questioned after a moment, brows furrowing and lips tugging down into a frown. He reached out a hand and was about to grasp Oikawa's shoulder when the other boy suddenly looked up, a bright smile lighting his features.
"I'm saving myself for the best, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa trilled, side stepping Hajime's outstretched hand before changing the subject to some new movie coming out that he wanted to go see. Hajime wasn't convinced, but he played along, eventually shrugging it off and forgetting about it entirely.
In their first year of high school, Hajime started to wonder if Oikawa was even interested in girls. When Hanamaki and Matsukawa went on about what girls were the cutest, or which ones normally came to the volleyball games, Oikawa sometimes spaced out. Hanamaki and Matsukawa assumed this meant he had a crush and constantly badgered him for a name, but it never came. When they watched a show, Oikawa only talked about the actors. He never responded if someone asked what actresses or idols he found cute, or just gave a random name that Hajime was sure he had never heard pass Oikawa's lips before.
Over time Hajime noticed that, when the subject of girls was brought up, Oikawa didn't just stare into space-he stared at Hajime. If Hajime met his eye then Oikawa would smile and ask him some inane question to change the subject. When Hajime was asked what type of girl he liked, Oikawa's shoulders would tense and he would look down at his plate with an intensity unbefitting the blase cafeteria food.
One time, Hajime mentioned the name of a girl he thought was cute. It wasn't anything serious, and he wasn't planning on asking her out. It had just been the first name that came to mind when Hanamaki asked. But it still stung when Oikawa came up to him only a week later and introduced her as his girlfriend.
Hajime didn't talk to him for a couple weeks after that. Eventually Oikawa's pouting became more than just for show. Oikawa stopped pestering him on their way home and just walked beside him silently, head lowered and hands stuffed in his pockets. He started staying to practice even later than usual until he basically lived in the gym. Hajime stubbornly ignored these signs, unwilling to forgive his friend, even though he honestly wasn't even sure why he was so angry. It wasn't as though he really liked her. It was just that, out of all the girls Oikawa could have had (almost all of them, until they found out about his shitty personality), he had to choose the one girl that Hajime mentioned. It was a betrayal.
The girl broke up with Oikawa after a few weeks, saying that he cared more about volleyball than her. Hajime couldn't blame her. With how much time Oikawa had been spending on the court, he wondered if they had ever gone on a single date. Still, they didn't speak.
The stony silence between them was broken when Oikawa injured his knee. When Hajime showed up at the hospital and started yelling at Oikawa for his recklessness, for his idiocy, Oikawa smiled. He was out of commission for at least a few weeks and would probably have physical therapy for months. Hajime had expected tears, or at least frustrated anger. Instead, Oikawa gave him a tremulous smile and asked Hajime if he wanted to go see the latest Star Trek movie.
It was a bit chilly in March, but Oikawa had insisted on eating lunch outside. They were bundled up in their blazers and scarves, sitting underneath a sakura tree and talking about college when Oikawa suddenly fell silent. Hajime noticed how Oikawa's long fingers clutched at the hem of his cream colored vest, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. It took a few more minutes of silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves overhead, before Oikawa spoke.
"Hey, Iwa-chan." Oikawa started, turning to finally meet Hajime's eye. His cheeks were red and his lips smooth and shiny with chapstick. Hajime tore his gaze away from them to meet Oikawa's with a neutral expression.
"Yeah?" He asked casually, one eyebrow raised slightly in question.
Oikawa didn't flinch as the next words left his mouth. If Hajime weren't so concerned with their meaning, he would have been rather impressed with Oikawa's bravery. Then again, it was always Oikawa that took the risk, always Oikawa that stepped forward. Hajime knew all too well that he was the coward between them.
"I'm gay."
The following silence was different from before. It hung in the air like glass, brittle and waiting to be shattered. Hajime felt his throat constricting as panic seized him. He swallowed thickly and hoped his voice didn't sound too strained. "Oh. Okay."
He wasn't ready for this. Hajime had known this day would come, eventually. He had known that he would have to decide what answer to give when Oikawa finally got the courage to confess. Honestly, with Oikawa's flair for dramatics, he had expected it on graduation day. This seemed almost anticlimactic compared to what Hajime's overactive imagination had come up with.
The problem was, Hajime didn't know how to answer. He didn't know how he felt. Sometime earlier in the year, when he had finally consciously accepted that his best friend was in love with him (or at least liked him), he had started trying to think of Oikawa that way.
He tried to imagine what it would be like to date Oikawa. Most things probably wouldn't change, he figured. They already spent most of their free time together and went out regularly. They wouldn't hold hands, at least not in public-that was overly sappy, and Hajime doubted either of them would be willing to broadcast their relationship to the world, at least in the beginning.
The colleges they were going to were close enough together that they were planning to share an apartment. Would they share a bed instead of sleeping separately? Would he wake up to Oikawa in his arms, hair tousled and eyes puffy with sleep?
If he hadn't gotten tired of Oikawa in the last decade together, he doubted it would ever happen. Maybe dating wouldn't be so bad.
Then, there were the more controversial thoughts, the ones that Hajime was plagued by late at night when sleep evaded him. Did Oikawa's lips taste like chapstick? Would they become red and swollen if Hajime kissed them? Oikawa had always had a lower body temperature than Hajime. What would it feel like to warm him up, skin to skin? Limbs tangled beneath the sheets, bodies pressed together intimately?
Somewhere around the culmination of the intimate act, Hajime's brain normally short circuited. He would bury his head in his pillow, ears flaming, and beg sleep to take him.
Hajime didn't know if he was straight or not. He'd had crushes on girls, but they weren't serious. He had kissed one girl at a sports club party at the end of last year. It was nice, but nothing special. He didn't think Oikawa knew about the kiss, and he deliberately never mentioned it.
Hajime didn't mind looking at naked men. He had perused some images online while trying to sort out his own feelings, and he wasn't repulsed by it. But he couldn't imagine himself in their place, either with a nameless stranger or with Oikawa.
Hajime had hoped that this discussion would happen after he had sorted out his feelings. With anyone else, Hajime would have rejected them immediately. If his feelings were this ambiguous then surely they weren't meant to be together, right? Shouldn't love be all butterflies and sweaty palms and desperate lips?
But Oikawa was different. He always had been. Hajime never wanted to ruin their friendship. The problem was, he didn't know what was worse-to reject his best friend and break his heart, or to accept when Hajime wasn't sure if he could ever fully reciprocate? This question had spun through his mind for months, and he still didn't have an answer.
"Okay?" Oikawa questioned, a slight crease forming between his brows as he chewed on his lower lip. Hajime wanted to reach out and run his thumb along it, to see if it was as soft as he imagined. "I kinda just told you my deepest secret here. Can I get a bit more than just an 'okay'?"
"I mean… It's fine. That's fine. I don't care what gender you like." Hajime said with a shrug that belied his racing heart. He rubbed the back of his neck with a frown as he tried to voice his thoughts. "You're still my friend. It doesn't change anything." You're still the most important person to me. He just didn't know yet if that could include the physical aspects that Oikawa would want if Hajime said yes.
Oikawa didn't seem relieved like Hajime had thought he would be. His lips pursed into a thin line before he bowed his head, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. Hajime saw a tremor run down his back and he didn't know if Oikawa was closer to laughing or crying. He reached out hesitantly-to card his hand through soft brown hair or to rub his back or to hug him, Hajime wasn't sure-but yet again, Oikawa moved before he could make contact.
He raised his head suddenly and met Hajime's eye with a small, trembling smile. Hajime could tell it was genuine. He felt his body relax as his hand dropped to his side. Whatever Oikawa was thinking, at least he wasn't crying or just trying to hold it together for Hajime's sake. Hajime hated when he put on a mask when it was only them. Hajime wanted to be a person that Oikawa never felt he had to lie to.
"Yeah. Thanks." Oikawa said softly, his words quiet but strong in the gentle breeze. Hajime waited for something else. For a confession, maybe. The words didn't come. The high peal of a bell announced the end of lunch and five minutes until their next class. Oikawa stood and started packing his bento and, after a hesitant moment, Hajime followed suit. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed.
Graduation day passed all too quickly and Oikawa and Hajime were whisked away by their families, by underclassmen they might never see again. Goodbyes were exchanged and empty promises to remember to call were given out like candy. Hajime felt anxiety and anticipation combine into a potent potion that kept him jittery all day. He wouldn't admit even to himself what he was waiting for, but when Oikawa just gave him a small smile before leaving with his family, Hajime felt a dark weight of dissatisfaction settle in his stomach.
College was very different from high school. There was a lot more freedom, but with that came more responsibility, as well. There was no one to make him breakfast in the mornings, and the teachers didn't care if he attended class or not. They didn't give him a stern talking to if he got bad grades. It was entirely up to him to sit down and do his work-no one else was going to remind him. If he missed meal time at the cafeteria then he had to cook something for himself, and remember to do the grocery shopping so there was actually something to cook.
Now, theoretically, Oikawa could help with all these things-he didn't. Not that Hajime had ever expected him to. Oikawa was on a volleyball scholarship and between that and his insane coursework, they didn't have much time together. Hajime had elected not to continue volleyball in college, and though Oikawa had spent hours trying to change his mind, Hajime was stubborn. Volleyball wouldn't be the same without Oikawa. He was never planning on going pro, anyway. He was going into sports medicine, and the memorization for anatomy was kicking his ass enough that he didn't need practice on top of that.
Hajime had his classes mostly in the morning, whereas Oikawa's were mostly in the afternoon, so they rarely saw each other. Hajime had taken to studying in the library most days because going back to an empty apartment bordered on depressing. They only saw each other in the evenings when Oikawa got back from practice, and even then they spent most of the time doing work. The topic of Oikawa's sexuality never came back up, and Hajime didn't press the issue.
Until he got a boyfriend.
Oikawa told him in a text, and Hajime spent twenty minutes just staring at it, the muted noise of the library seeming unusually quiet in comparison to the heartbeat now pounding in his ears. Where had he gone wrong? Had he misinterpreted everything? The long stares in the classrooms, the times he had caught Oikawa watching him as he changed, the way his hands lingered on Hajime's too long after handing him his water bottle during practice. Hajime wasn't crazy. That had definitely happened.
Maybe Oikawa was never interested in him. Maybe it was just curiosity. Hajime was his closest friend. Maybe he had realized he liked men and just latched onto Hajime as because he was the closest one available. Maybe it was nothing more than a minor crush, a passing interest.
Hajime felt sick.
He made it to the bathroom and bent over the toilet seat, but though his stomach convulsed painfully, nothing came up. His eyes watered and his throat closed, the stale air around him seeming too heavy in his lungs. He realized he was hyperventilating when his lips started tingling.
Hajime was pathetic. All this time, he had thought he was special. He had thought he meant something, more than just a childhood friend. He was wrong, and it had taken this sickening realization to bring to light his own feelings. He was in love with his best friend-who didn't love him back.
Most days were torture. Hajime watched Oikawa and his boyfriend lounge around their apartment, sharing soft laughs and inside jokes to which Hajime wasn't privy. He stayed up until the early hours of the morning some nights before finally accepting that Oikawa wasn't coming home. He took large gulps of scalding coffee as Oikawa returned after dawn just to change his clothes before leaving for practice.
He pretended it didn't burn every time he thought about what could have been.
It went on that way for almost five months.
They started to grow apart. Hajime found friends of his own that shared his classes and started spending more time with them. He got a girlfriend at some point, and told Oikawa over text. The congratulatory message he got in return made his chest ache with the dull sort of throbbing pain to which he had become accustomed.
His girlfriend was sweet, intelligent, witty, and everything Hajime could ask for.
They broke up after only three months.
When Oikawa came home early one night, Hajime knew something was wrong. Oikawa hadn't come home before nine in weeks. He had started to wonder why Oikawa didn't just move in with his boyfriend. Whatever snappy words Hajime had died in his mouth when he saw Oikawa's expression. He turned around fully in his desk chair to watch as Oikawa shut the door behind him.
The taller man collapsed onto their well-worn couch, leaning his head against the back and closing his eyes. Hajime took in his general appearance: clothes that didn't match, hair disheveled without mousse to tame it, his sports bag filled past the point of closing with what appeared to be sweaters.
"What happened?" Hajime asked quietly.
Oikawa lifted both hands to rub down his face, muffling his voice as he answered. "We broke up."
"Oh." Hajime tried to quell the petty surge of satisfaction that rose in his chest. He cleared his throat, wishing it would clear his head, too. "Okay."
"Okay?" Oikawa questioned, not moving his hands from his face. He let out a short huff of air in what Hajime supposed was a dry laugh. "I just told you my deepest secret. Can I get more than just an 'okay' here?"
The words from almost a year ago stung like a thorn piercing the fragile shield Hajime had built around his emotions. "I'm glad you broke up." He couldn't help the ire that dripped from every word.
That gave Oikawa pause. He looked up slowly, hands lowering until his fingertips just covered his lips. Hajime couldn't read his expression. "What? Why?"
"Didn't like him." Hajime answered honestly, voice gruff as he looked to the side. He could feel the back of his neck heat up with anger or vulnerability. He ignored it and hoped Oikawa would, too. He needed to end this conversation before he made a mistake and said more than he was intending.
"Why?" Oikawa brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He rested his chin on his knees and it was so painfully Oikawa that Hajime suddenly had difficulty breathing. He had missed him so much these last few months.
"He wasn't right for you."
"No," Oikawa agreed with a thoughtful hum, looking down at his fingers in contemplation. "He wasn't. But who is?" He added with a wry smile.
"Me."
The word slipped from Hajime's lips before he had time to consider it. It fell to the floor and rested in the space between them like a heavy weight.
Hajime hadn't meant to do this. He had decided to never tell Oikawa his feelings, to never open himself up to expectation just to be shot down again. But he knew by the way Oikawa's eyes widened and his lips parted in shock that there was no going back now.
"Iwa-chan…?" Oikawa questioned hesitantly. He stared at Hajime with a look that said he wasn't quite sure if this was a dream or not.
Hajime squared his jaw and met Oikawa's gaze. He had dug his grave, it was time to lie in it. Maybe this would make him feel better. Maybe getting it off his chest was what he needed to do. Maybe, after Oikawa rejected him, he could move on.
"I love you." His words were firm and even. Probably less romantic than the sparkling confessions Oikawa had received in the past. Hajime was no blushing maiden, and he had resigned himself to his fate. His eyes were hard as steel as he waited for the blow that was sure to come.
Oikawa was silent for several long seconds that felt like hours. Finally, he spoke, lips trembling as he stared at Hajime in disbelief and something else that Hajime tried not to interpret as hope. "You mean… as a friend...?" His voice was guarded, tentative.
"No. I'm in love with you. Romantically." Oikawa's expression didn't change and Hajime felt anxiety well up inside him. Just get it already. Reject me so I can go and cry and stop thinking about you. Oikawa still didn't react. "I want to be with you. I want to date you. I want to kiss you and hold your hand during those awful movies you love and hold you at night. I want to watch you fall asleep and make you dinner and all that other sappy bullshit you probably love. I wanted it to be me instead of him."
Hajime's hands were clenched into fists on his knees as he waited.
And waited.
He lost count of the seconds before Oikawa finally moved. He raised a shaky hand to wipe away tears that had started to drip down his cheeks. The muscles in Hajime's arm flinched as he fought the desire to reach out again, to hold him, to apologize for his feelings, anything. He waited as Oikawa drew in shaky breaths and his face grew blotchy and red.
"You idiot." Oikawa sobbed, eyes closed as he brushed away the clear trails tears had made down his cheeks. "How long were you going to make me wait?"
Hajime blinked, not entirely sure he heard right. Oikawa blowed his nose loudly on his sleeve. "Uh. Come again?"
"You made me wait for years! When were you planning on telling me this? After we were old and wrinkled and sitting in rocking chairs and playing shogi? God, you're awful."
Hajime felt like he was going to explode if Oikawa didn't explain himself right the fuck now. "Okay, you need to tell me what the fuck you're going on about, 'cause I am not going through this again." He could feel a dangerous surge of hope threatening to rise, despite his best efforts to tamp it down.
"I love you, Iwa-chan." Oikawa looked at him sharply through watery, red rimmed eyes. "I've always been in love with you. How the hell did you not notice?"
Hajime's heart was beating loudly in his ears as the wave of hope turned into a full-on tsunami. He felt light headed with a million emotions he wasn't articulate enough to name. Laughter bubbled to his lips before he could stop it and his cheeks felt sore with the width of the grin that stretched his face.
"Don't laugh at me! I've been pining after you for years! Mean, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa complained shrilly, but he was smiling, too. Then they were both laughing, Oikawa with quiet chuckles and Hajime clutching his stomach with the force of his laughter.
Soon enough they sobered up. Hajime crossed the space between them. He dropped onto the couch beside Oikawa, close enough that their thighs touched.
This time, when he reached out to press a tender kiss to Oikawa's lips, he didn't move away.