Realization

Consciousness comes slowly, almost reluctantly, tendrils of sleep clinging stubbornly even as his brain struggles for coherence. The cocoon of warmth wrapped tightly around him and cutting him off from the cool morning air only impedes him, but eventually, his efforts bear fruit, and he wakes fully, eyes cracking open and blearily taking in his messy room.

An action he immediately regrets when sunlight promptly stabs into his eyeballs, lances of pain making him grimace and squint them closed again. Too bright, he thinks, and that one thought triggers an avalanche, bringing yesterday's revelation into sharp focus and mercilessly trampling on Hajime's weak hopes of it all being a dream or a hallucination.

Sunlight shining on brown hair, making it glow, lighter brown eyes crinkled at the corners, and lips quirked unerringly, the very picture of mischief. Laugh warm and happy, spreading along his skin and leaving shivers in its wake.

Bright, he'd thought then, awed and overwhelmed and more than a little in love. Bright and beautiful and like something out of a fairy tale. He'd felt in that moment that he was looking upon something magical and ethereal, unreal. As if Hajime could reach out and touch him, and his fingers would go through him, grasping air.

The enormity of the moment had almost been too much, had threatened to send him into the throes of panic, but it passed, Oikawa became human again, and the afternoon progressed in much the same manner as all the others that had preceded it.

His mind was kind enough to wait until he was completely alone and in the safety of his own room to remind him of the reality-bending assertion he'd made in that moment that had stretched into eternity.

I'm in love with Oikawa, he realizes, and the most surprising part about it is that he's not surprised at all. Some part of him had always known, and only now, after over ten years of friendship, does this knowledge spread to the rest of him. All because Oikawa had looked so damn kissable.

"I'm screwed," he whines, because though Oikawa is bisexual, he's never shown any interest in Hajime. Not once in all their years of friendship, and wouldn't something like that have come up by now? Oikawa knows himself, knows his own emotions better than Hajime ever could, so surely he must already know about Hajime's feelings toward him, even when Hajime didn't.

He likely knows and hasn't said anything.

Hajime sighs, long and loud. 'Oikawa's an asshole, but he's probably scared to reject me. He's the kind of idiot who would be afraid of hurting my feelings and ruining our friendship.'

The thought stings, all the more so when he thinks about the many times Oikawa's gotten confessed to; that small, sad, helpless smile as he explains that no, he doesn't feel the same, and he's sorry, but he doesn't want to take the time to get know them, either; that defeated slump of his shoulders when the person runs off crying that only Hajime knows him well enough to notice.

After every rejection, he's come to Hajime for cheering up because he hates making people cry or delivering bad news (unless they're Ushijima or rival players), and Hajime has never minded because he hates seeing Oikawa upset.

There wouldn't be a Hajime to comfort Oikawa after Hajime's confession and subsequent rejection, however, and he wouldn't be able to go to Oikawa for help, either. In this kind of situation, it's just lose-lose. Hajime's confident their friendship could survive absolutely anything, even this, but is the embarrassment, the anxiety, the lingering awkwardness that'll take a while to fade- is all that worth it?

Oikawa's miserable expression pops up again, impossible to forget, too grim and tragic a look for a face that should always be happy and smiling. The idea that Hajime might be responsible for putting that expression on Oikawa's face…

Yeah, no. It's not worth it at all.

Exhaling heavily through his nose, Hajime hardens his will and rolls out of bed, sick of all this thinking and overthinking and ready to start the day now that he's finally made a decision.

"I~wa~chan~!" is the only warning he gets before he's pulled to Oikawa's side, arm snug around his neck and face uncomfortably close to Oikawa's dazzling, unrepentant smile. "Good morning!"

Hajime elbows him and then shrugs him off as he's recoiling from the attack. "It was good," he corrects, rolling his eyes at Oikawa's breathy laughter. He can feel his neck heating up from the proximity, and he speeds up, grumbling internally. Stupid feelings. Iwaizumi Hajime doesn't blush. Especially not just because his best friend did something he always does - invade Hajime's personal space with no regard for time or place or Hajime's own protests.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, not meaning it in the least. He only smiles brightly when Hajime shoots him the dark look he deserves. "Anyway, what's up? You haven't answered any of my texts."

Hajime had spent the better part of the afternoon and the entire rest of the night living in denial, and interacting with Oikawa would definitely have broken that fragile peace. "I have better things to do than comment on every single meme you send me," he says instead because it's the truth, even if not entirely.

Oikawa gasps, offended. "I take time out of my very busy schedule to entertain you with only the most ripe and exquisite of millennial humor in picture form, and you don't even appreciate it!"

"I have the same 'schedule' you do. The only thing you do outside of school is go to practice."

"Ha! Unlike you, I have a thriving social life! It must be my sparkling personality. Or my dashing good looks. No, wait- my charisma out on the court!" Oikawa grins smugly.

Hajime can feel his eye twitching. "How about: none of the above?"

"No need to be jealous, Iwa-chan! Girls would be all over you, too, if you learned to smile more! And maybe brush your hair sometimes? Oh! And get rid of that hulking caveman thing you've got going on. Don't get me wrong, I like it, but it's really doing you no favors with- ack!"

Annoyed, Hajime uses perhaps more force than necessary to mess up Oikawa's stupid perfect hair. "Just because you like random girls fawning over you all the time doesn't mean the rest of us do. They even make you late to practice!"

"It's not like I can just scare them into fleeing with one look at my face like Iwa-chan!" He chokes when Hajime pulls him into a headlock. "Ah! Stop! I was wrong! I was wrong!"

Hajime lets go with an irritated huff. "They'd probably leave you alone if you dated one of them," he suggests, before he can stop himself.

"Hm. Maybe," he says, "but I'm not planning on dating 'til I'm at least twenty."

This isn't the first time Oikawa's talked about not dating, but he's never sounded so serious about it before. Hajime studies him from the corner of his eye and can't find any sign that he might be joking.

"Why twenty?" He asks, for lack of anything better to say.

Oikawa laughs. "It's a romantic age, isn't it? The first foray into adulthood after high-school and teenagerdom! Besides, like you said, I don't have time for anything in my life right now other than volleyball. It wouldn't be fair to the team or whoever I was dating."

"...That's a mature outlook." Not that Oikawa doesn't have his moments, especially during a game, but Hajime wouldn't generally expect such shrewdness from the guy who cried for hours after Hajime told him that milkbread was made from spider milk when they were ten.

"Are you implying I'm not usually mature, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa asks, narrowing his eyes, pouting now.

The school gates come into sight as they turn the corner, and Hajime speeds up, dodging the question. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

"It's Makki's turn to set things up. I bet he's just waiting for some poor sucker to show up and help him," Oikawa grumbles, longer legs allowing him to keep up with little trouble.

Hajime opens the door and shoves him inside. "Go on then, sucker."

"Traitor!"

Hajime ducks his head to hide his smile.

Twenty, huh?

...He can wait that long. Probably. If he and Oikawa don't murder each other first.

Moving

"You look like you're about to vibrate out of your skin," Iwaizumi observes, amused, as he sets the last box on the counter. The almost illegible KITCHEN scribbled in black sharpie on the side explains why he brought it in here rather than adding to one of the towering stacks in the living room.

Tooru rounds his excited smile on him, the one he hasn't been able to wipe off since the landlord handed him the key to their new apartment this morning, and pays no heed to the dumb look he gets in return. "We're actually living on our own!" He says, almost disbelieving, waving the spatula in his hand wildly in emphasis.

"That is the plan," Iwaizumi agrees, opening the box - of pots and pans, apparently - and beginning to put them away in one of the top cabinets. "What, is it only sinking in now?"

"Yes!"

He doesn't like to think about Before very often. It just leaves him feeling angry and bereft, and it makes Iwa-chan worry. But one thing he can't help thinking about is the fact that he died before he ever got the chance to move out and live by himself. He died before he even graduated high-school. He's older now than he ever got to be before, is experiencing milestones that were stolen away from him, creating an entirely different future from the ones laid out for him in both his old life and an anime that had haunted his steps for years.

He's finally carving out his own path. Living on his own terms. Becoming an Oikawa Tooru that he can feel proud of, connected to, one that's totally and completely his own.

When Tooru spots his reflection in the sink, for the first time since he realized exactly what he was at six years-old, he sees himself. When he looks around at the counters, the floors, the furniture, these walls, he feels more at home than he ever did in his childhood bedroom. When he smiles brightly, almost manic, at his best friend and new roommate, it feels like a fresh start, like redemption, like everything coming together perfectly during a match.

Tooru has no idea what the original Oikawa did after losing to Karasuno, and he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters right now is what Tooru does, what path he chooses to take.

Waking up this morning and realizing that has had him on cloud nine all day. He doesn't think he could stop smiling if he tried. He's almost giddy with possibility, drunk on the heady power of choice.

"If your mom knew you were so eager to get away from her, she'd be heartbroken," Iwaizumi tells him, dry, but he's smiling, too, almost as widely as Tooru.

"Are you kidding? She practically threw me out!" Granted, it was probably because Tooru was bouncing off the walls before four A.M., but still, who knew his own mother could be so heartless?

Iwa-chan snorts, maneuvering around Tooru to reach the cabinets right above him. "And now I'm stuck with you. Great."

Tooru elbows him, swerving gracefully around the revenge swipe and putting the spatula in the cute little Baby Yoda jar they bought for that purpose. "Hmph! I'll have you know you won the lottery when it comes to roommates! No one else would be willing to put up with your toe socks." He shudders just thinking about it. Those things are unholy.

"Tch. Like anybody else would be okay with all your space-themed decorations."

"You can't tell me our bathroom isn't cool! I won't believe you!"

"The word you're looking for is 'nerdy'. I bet if any one of those girls who confessed to you at graduation knew about your alien obsession, they'd think twice."

"Lalalala~ Not listening, I'm not listening!"

"Yeah, you definitely weren't listening when I said 'no, who the hell has little aliens on their shower curtain? We're grown men.'"

"It's not my fault you don't have good taste, Iwa-chan! That's why you let me pick all our decor in the first place!"

"Uh, no. I distinctly recall you deciding that yourself and me giving up on stopping you because I know when to pick my battles."

"If you knew that, then why are we still arguing about this?"

"I saved up all my energy then for this dumb argument today."

"You shouldn't have bothered. I'm going to win this one anyway, just like I always do."

"Karasuno."

"That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me."

Iwaizumi finally breaks, bending over and clutching his stomach as he laughs. Tooru hmphs again, stomping out of the tiny kitchen and into the living room. But he's still smiling so much it hurts, and his heart is full and free of worry, at least for now.