TRIGGER WARNING: There is discussion of death and suicide but no actual death or suicide takes place. It is merely described and not in graphic detail.


Fear

When he was in grade school, he learned that the sun was going to die and take humanity out with it.

For weeks, he had nightmares about the sun descending upon the Earth and destroying all life on the planet. He would look up at the bright, burning ball of gas in the sky and feel its weight bearing down on him, inescapable and inevitable. Haunting his steps and reminding him of his own mortality at every waking moment.

He got over his paranoia of sudden annihilation eventually, his attention stolen by other things, new lessons and friends and cartoons on TV. But his fear never quite left him, nor his abrupt understanding that he and everyone he had ever known could be so easily snuffed out by an event of greater magnitude than all of them. His father could do anything, his mother was all-knowing, but neither of them could hold up the sun, and Tooru's faith in them, everlasting and unshakeable up until that point, wavered.

And unfortunately, it never quite recovered.

For all that he loved them, Tooru now knew that there were things his parents would never be able to do. That there were things they couldn't protect him from. Every child goes through this realization at some point. Tooru was not special in that regard, even if his came a bit early.

Whatever the case, it prepared him for disappointment. For mediocrity. Tooru's parents couldn't save the planet from its inevitable death, and neither could Tooru. Life lost a little of its splendor, and Tooru matured in a way no one who met him at the time or later would possibly have noticed.

Then, Tooru discovered aliens.

In the vast expanse of the universe, there were other planets, planets he couldn't see, that no one could see. And on those planets, there might be life. There might be other people, like him or possibly weird and fantastic in ways his overactive imagination had no trouble conjuring on its own. It was exciting. It was new. If they ever discovered a way to get off of their own planet and traveled to another, if they were discovered by another race, it would be a solution to a problem that had none.

He gobbled up absolutely everything he could about space after that and regaled anyone and everyone with every new fact learned, every new idea sparked whether they wanted to hear it or not. He devoured cartoons and books, covered his room in little green men and UFOs and stars, proudly sauntered into school with the coolest backpack he had ever seen. He argued snidely with non-believers and naysayers and got into more than a few fights over it, even though Tooru had been a model student before.

It was in the midst of this that his ego truly formed. That he came into himself. Came to know himself in a way he hadn't been able to before, crippled as he was with shyness. There was something inherently grating about Tooru's personality, something intrinsic to his very being.

He realized that he enjoyed taunting and teasing and getting revenge for every little slight. Being the weird alien kid would have made him a target for bullies on its own, but it was his smart mouth that really made him enemies. And Tooru thrived on their attention, their reactions. The predictable behavior he was able to incite with just a few words or a look.

Tooru couldn't hold up the sun. He couldn't stop everyone on Earth from dying. But he could control the people around him like puppets on a string, and that made him strong. Powerful. It was heady knowledge. It was probably too much for a little kid to handle, but there was no stopping him.

Then…Tooru dies.

And as he lay dying in agonizing pain, he inexplicably thinks of the sun. How he had been so afraid of something he could not control. How he had never quite shaken that fear, even as an adult. He finds it funny, then, that he had spent all that time worrying - even if subconsciously - only to die before the sun, after all.

When he closes his eyes for the last time under the light of the full moon, he feels a little regret that he couldn't see the sun one last time.

When he opens his eyes again, no longer dead and with six years of memories freshly integrated into the previous nineteen, in a body and with a name he recognizes but shouldn't, the first thing he sees is a clear, blue sky and-

the sun, burning brightly and fiercely alive.


Confession

"You're officially twenty," Hajime says, clinking his shitty cheap beer against Tooru's once the clock ticks on over to twelve AM.

They're seated on the floor on either side of their coffee table, engaged in one of the various stupid board games Tooru bought on impulse and coerced Hajime into playing with him on the premise that it's his birthday. (As opposed to every other time Tooru cajoles him into playing with the excuse that it would be a waste not to, Iwa-chan! )

They have plans later to go out for karaoke with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who they haven't seen in person in about two months because of classes and the distance between their universities. Hajime has already heard all about how Tooru can't wait to subject them to horrible American pop music. They both spent an entire break back in high school roasting Tooru for his singing voice, and apparently, he's not above weaponizing it against them. According to Tooru, ten years isn't too late for a gentleman's revenge. Never mind that it's only been four.

Hajime has already bought and fully intends to utilize a pair of earplugs. He's also heard Tooru sing, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki aren't all that much better. They're definitely going to ham it up in their dumb, terrible competition in an attempt to one-up each other, too. He's in for a night of dying cats yowling at each other. No way he's subjecting himself to the full experience - even if a smug Tooru high off revenge will be damn cute. Insufferable, probably punchable. But cute.

"I'm officially an adult! No longer simply on the cusp, neither a teenager nor a proper grown-up!" Tooru crows, triumphant. He leers at Hajime. "Now you're no longer an old man by yourself, Iwa-chan! You don't have to worry about any more insinuations about the indecency of hanging out with a minor!"

Hajime scowls. "I'm only a month older than you," he points out, irritated, and takes a sip of his drink. That he had reached Tooru's specified dating age before him hadn't been unexpected, but it had made him even more impatient for July 20 to finally get here.

"Older is older," Tooru insists, waving a hand idly. "My, what would my parents say if they knew I'd been flouncing about unattended with a strange older man?"

Hajime can feel a vein throbbing. "Your parents like me better than you," he says, mean.

Immediately, Tooru grimaces, face scrunching up in jealousy and indignation. "I know," he admits, resentfully. "What do they even see in you? I'm their son!"

"They have eyes," Hajime says and hides a smile behind another sip when Tooru pouts at him.

Tooru huffs, not bothering to continue the argument. Instead, he spins the little wheel, moves his piece five spaces, and draws a card. "Ha!" He smirks, brown eyes glittering as he flips the card to face Hajime (who reads the instruction to replace his opponent's piece and make them start again from the beginning with resignation) and then moves their respective pieces with unnecessary smugness.

"So," Hajime starts casually, cringing internally when it doesn't come out casually at all, "you can finally date now." Shit, and now his hands are sweaty. He discreetly wipes them on his pants before completing his turn.

Tooru doesn't catch onto his nervousness, watching the board of a children's game with the same intensity he would on the court. He's such a fucking dork. Hajime hates that he likes this loser. And that he finds Tooru's competitiveness endearing. What the hell. Tooru wasn't wrong. He really does have shitty taste.

"I guess," Tooru finally answers, more focused on how to beat him than the topic Hajime has been anticipating and wanting to bring up for years now. "I did say twenty, didn't I?" He muses.

Hajime panics and insists, firmly, "You did." He can't imagine waiting another entire year. Or worse - years. It would literally kill him. He always knew Tooru would be the cause of his untimely death, but he hadn't thought it would be with anything less than his full intention. Not this. Accidentally blue-balling Hajime into the grave.

Hajime spins again and makes it a whole one space further. This game makes no sense whatsoever. His proof? Tooru is winning. Although Hajime suspects that has more to do with the fact that Tooru claims to have lost the rules and keeps "remembering" new rules that benefit him every time Hajime is in the lead. Hajime has only let him get away with it so far because it's the sly idiot's birthday.

He resolutely ignores the fact that he always lets Tooru get away with this shit.

"You know," Tooru says, and Hajime whips his head back up to face him, instincts blaring a warning he knows better than to ignore. He should have expected this. Tooru always gets inexplicably sad and distant on his birthday. Hajime had expected this one to be different simply because of what it had meant to him, but he shouldn't have. Tooru looks off to the side and a million miles away, and Hajime curls his hands around his beer to keep from reaching toward him and pulling him back to here and now. "I thought I would die before I turned twenty."

Hajime sucks in a startled breath. "What?" falls out of his mouth without his consent.

Tooru doesn't look at him, still so far away. His expression is hard to read, but his voice is laced with a sort of dry amusement. "I had a dream once, when I was very young. Before I met you, Iwa-chan. Can you believe it?" He smiles, a little, and it makes something inside Hajime twist painfully.

Truth be told, he can hardly remember what life had been like before Tooru. It sort of seems like his pain in the ass best friend has been by his side forever. Like life - existence - started and ended when Oikawa Tooru appeared in front of Hajime one day with knobby knees and a gap-toothed smile. Like Hajime only came into being when Tooru was with him.

"No," Hajime croaks, raw, honest.

Tooru smiles a little wider. It still doesn't reach his eyes. "I know. It's been so long, and we were so small. But I remember. I dreamt that I died when I was nineteen. It's so cliche nowadays, Iwa-chan, you're gonna laugh. In my dream, I got in a car accident."

Hajime doesn't laugh. Can't, not about this. In fact, he wishes Tooru would wipe that sad smile off his own face. Wishes he wouldn't talk about his own death like it might be funny or like it wouldn't matter. Normally, Hajime might say these things out loud, but he's never been able to when Tooru gets like this. When Tooru seems so still and fragile. When Hajime's usual sharp words could shatter him.

"...You hate riding in cars," Hajime says instead, the observation he had made years ago but had never confronted Tooru about striking him suddenly. Cars, specifically, but other vehicles seemed to make him uneasy as well if to a lesser degree. "You always avoid it if you can."

Tooru nods. "The dream was so real…It was like a memory," he says, quietly, absently. "I guess it traumatized me. I haven't been able to ride in a car since." Hence why they walk or bike or take the train.

"Did you…Did you think you would die if you did?" Hajime asks, despite himself, hushed, horrified.

"Maybe," he hums. "I can still recall it so vividly. It was the day before my twentieth birthday. I was on my way to my birthday party that night, but obviously, I never made it." He stops smiling, then, admitting softly, "All this time, a part of me didn't think I'd make it to twenty either."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Hajime asks, distraught. A horrible thought occurs to him. "You didn't- You weren't planning to die, right?"

Tooru finally looks at him and sees him. He looks surprised. He looks aghast. Good. "No!" Tooru denies, vehemently. "No, Iwa-chan. Never. I have too much to do to die now. I haven't accomplished everything I wanted to do yet. I've barely done anything. I'm going to be chasing volleyball for the rest of my life, just like you said. The rest of my hopefully very long and very fulfilling life!"

Hajime watches his face intently, searching for any tell, any hint of deception or uncertainty, but he finds none. Tooru is serious. He's telling the truth. Hajime lets out a relieved sigh as the hand gripping his heart like a vice releases it and finally allows him to breathe. "Thank God."

"Sorry," Tooru offers, abashed. "I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean to make you think that. Shit. I shouldn't have said anything." He then glares at his beer like it offended him, probably thinking the alcohol had loosened his lips.

And now that his brain had brought them up, Hajime finds himself focusing on those lips, which look plump and soft and-

Fuck, now Hajime is glaring at his beer. Now is not the time to be ogling his best friend! Not after everything that just went down! Alcohol really is the devil's brew!

He runs a hand over his face, suddenly tired. And sad. And frustrated, but it's all his own fault, so. "No, it's okay," Hajime says, before Tooru starts spiralling into a guilt-induced funk. He can sense that shit a mile away, and he's not having it tonight. He drops his hand and continues, looking Tooru right in the eye, "You can tell me anything, Tooru. You know that. You just did a really shitty job explaining just now."

Tooru snorts, but he's clearly relieved. "Give me a break, Iwa-chan! I'm having a bit of a crisis!" He wails, hamming it up like he always does, but he's also not lying. He's really struggling.

Hajime considers everything he's just been told. "What, are you panicking because you didn't really make any plans for after you turned twenty?"

"No!" is his immediate reaction but obviously not the truth. Tooru caves under Hajime's unimpressed stare. "Uh, yes? Maybe?" He smiles at him sheepishly. "I mean, it's not like I didn't make any plans. I didn't choose my university on a whim, and I'm definitely going pro after I graduate. It's just…" He trails off, unable to articulate.

That's fine. Hajime has learned to follow Tooru's alien way of thinking and can reasonably be trusted to understand what's going on up there at least 99% of the time. Hanamaki and Matsukawa have teased them extensively for their not-quite telepathy for years for a reason - or at least, they've teased Hajime, who is the only one who gets flustered by the idea. Tooru is supremely smug and amused by the accusations and goes out of his way to show off his and Hajime's "unbreakable bond of trust" to unsuspecting victims whenever it strikes his fancy.

"You don't know how to live without the threat of an early death hanging over you," Hajime finishes for him, and it hurts. More than losing to Shiratorizawa, to Karasuno, more than the years of waiting, more than the fear that Tooru might not reciprocate. It stabs into him mercilessly, the knowledge that Tooru has been living half-expecting to die and Hajime never knew.

Whatever expression he's making absolutely wrecks Tooru. His face crumples, tears springing to his eyes and spilling over. He lunges for Hajime, knocking the table and subsequently the board game and their drinks over in a move they will both surely regret once this is over. He throws himself into Hajime, knocking them both to the floor and thankfully away from the mess he'd just created.

"It's okay, I'm fine! Nothing happened! I've never wanted to die, Iwa-chan, I was just stuck in my own head, and I let that dream affect me more than it should! I want to live with you until you get sick of me, and I want to make Ushiwaka feel an actual emotion - preferably defeat, but I would take humiliation or shame - and I need to kick Tobio-kun's ass one more time, no, at least ten more times! And I still want to go to America and see Area-51, and I have to make Makki and Mattsun pay for making fun of my voice back in high school. That's, like, the most important one!" Tooru babbles anxiously into Hajime's ear, wrapped around him like an octopus and holding Hajime's head securely in the croon of his neck while he cries.

Hajime snorts wetly, muffled, but Tooru must feel it because he says, "You can't laugh, Iwa-chan! I'm being so serious right now! I have to get revenge, or I won't be able to rest in peace when I finally do die. When I'm like eighty!" He adds hastily when Hajime tenses. "I'm going to be the cutest old man you ever saw, Iwa-chan. All the little old ladies won't be able to get enough of me. And kids! Kids will take me as their grandfather figure because I'll be so adorably wrinkly and loveable. Like a wise old sage! But a good-looking, well-groomed one."

"I won't get sick of you," Hajime turns his head just enough to get out legibly, warmed and a little endeared by the idea of adorable old man Oikawa. "If it hasn't happened already, it isn't going to, idiot."

Tooru laughs. "I know. I just like to hear you say it." He sounds conceited and snotty and unbearably fond, and something in Hajime builds and builds and builds- until it bursts.

"I'm in love with you," he blurts out, with no caution or finesse. Or regard for time and place.

Tooru tenses up in shock, and Hajime blue-screens.

Fuck.