Like anything in life, the beginning was the hardest part, and Hajime hit the first hump hard. He was determined to go cold turkey and cut all the booze at once. The hangover and shakes made him bedridden, and Tooru had his work cut out for him. It seemed Mattsun had been right about his guess that Hajime had been drinking the whole time after he had moved out.
"We should get some food into you," Tooru said while checking the fridge he had stocked the previous day. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Not hungry," came a muffled reply from the bed.
"I could make a broth my mom always made when I was sick."
"Not. Hungry."
"It's more like a drink anyways, so let's give it a try."
He piled the small kitchenette tabletop with ingredients (onions, garlic, carrots, potatoes, fresh ginger, and some spices), and soon the room was filled with rhythmic chopping. Tooru hummed to himself a tune his mother had often sung. The door of their room was ajar because the AC wasn't working, and as Tooru began to boil the vegetables, the mouthwatering aroma spread to the hallway. An occasional passer-by quickly glanced in their room.
As the soup was simmering, Tooru sat at the end of Hajime's bed. "How you feeling?"
Hajime buried his face deeper into his pillow. "Could you stop asking me that every two seconds? How do you think I'm feeling? Like crap."
"You want something for the pain?"
"They don't help," Hajime mumbled. "And it's not really pain, or at least not the kind you could cure with pills. It just feels like I'm dying."
"Dying isn't painful?"
"Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?"
Tooru smiled to himself. "My dad always said that. He was the strong silent type, you kinda remind me of him. He was in the military, too, in the navy."
That seemed to pique Hajime's interest, and the bed stirred when he rolled over to look at Tooru.
"He was? What was his rank?"
"Admiral."
Hajime's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yup, served his whole life. His favorite story to tell at dinner was how he managed to sneak in and enlist with a fake ID before he had turned 18. His mother, my grandma, had been furious when she had found out and kicked him out of the house for a while."
Hajime grinned, and Tooru's heart leaped at how he suddenly looked like a mischievous little boy.
"My ma was upset, too, when I enlisted but she came around when I told her Mattsun was going with me. She lectured the poor guy's ears off about how he should make sure we won't get in trouble. I think she secretly wished Mattsun was her son sometimes."
When Tooru didn't answer but just stared, Hajime frowned and the little boy was gone.
"What?"
"Nothing, I just…I think you spoke more words in one go than I've managed to get out of you this whole time."
"Shaddup," Hajime said and threw his familiar death glare at him.
"You're an interesting guy, Iwaizumi Hajime," Tooru said with a grin. "I kinda like you."
The tips of Hajime's ears flared red, and he opened his mouth to no doubt call Tooru stupid or gross or some other insults he seemed to have ready to go at a moment's notice, but nothing came out. He just frowned and kept opening and closing his mouth.
The timer on the kitchen counter went off, and Tooru bounced on his feet.
"Shoot! Gotta check on the soup." He lifted the lid and hissed when the hot metal burned his fingers. Carefully he sipped the hot broth with a big spoon. "Hmm, yummy. I think it's done. You want it mild, medium or hot?" he said over his shoulder as he strained the steaming stock.
"Mild."
"You don't like spicy? I always load mine with hot sauce and ginger."
"I don't like when it burns."
Tooru balanced the hot bowl across the room. "You sound like a little kid," he said and sat next to the bed. "Okay, sit up. Time to eat."
"I can do it myself." Hajime reached for the spoon, but Tooru snatched it away.
"Oh, really? Let's see those hands."
After enough times of Hajime spilling water all over himself, Tooru had enforced the shaky-meter. Before proceeding with anything that required any kind of brain-hand coordination Hajime had to hold his hands in the air for Tooru to assess whether the shaking had eased up enough. This time, too, Hajime reached his hands with an annoyed huff. They were still trembling like leaves in the wind.
"Sorry, but I'm not gonna be responsible for giving you third-degree burns. So, here comes the plane, open wide," Tooru sing-songed. Hajime did not look amused but opened his mouth and swallowed the spoonful.
"How is it? Not too spicy?"
"Hot."
"You want me to blow on it?"
"That'll be the last thing you did. My hands may be shaking and I may be a gimp, but I'll still kick your ass."
"I don't know about that," Tooru said pretending like he didn't believe Hajime and fed him more soup. "I played some serious volleyball in high school and college, almost made it to the national team, so I'm no featherweight."
Hajime wiped some of the soup that had spilled down his chin. "You played sports?"
"Again, you sound just like my dad. He had that same kinda tone when I told him I wanted to join the school team. In his mind, because I didn't wanna join the army a pair of balls was wasted on me."
"You didn't go the army?" Hajime frowned.
"For me, it was just too many people taking themselves too seriously." Tooru shrugged. "And the whole mentality of taking honor and pride in getting seriously hurt made me sick to my stomach."
Hajime dodged and refused the next spoonful Tooru offered him. "You don't think those people deserve respect? They sacrificed a lot to defend you."
Tooru put the spoon down, and it clinked against the bowl. "Of course, they do, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying the mentality of the system is twisted and we should maybe tone down the hero discourse a little. It's like some kinda sick maiden call to lure in guys who are too young and stupid to know better and read the small print. They don't even understand the real causes they're fighting for."
"And you do? You sound like some kinda conspiracy theorist."
"Come on," Tooru rolled his eyes, "it's not like every war hasn't been built on some level of propaganda. And sometimes it's been necessary, I know that. Sometimes it's been important to rally the troops and the home front, but you still gotta see through it. Because if you don't, you've basically given up on thinking for yourself."
"So, you're saying I was a fool, too? That I'm in this position now," Hajime waved at his half of a leg which was the first time he had addressed it directly, "because I was 'young and stupid', because they filled my head with bullshit, and afterward it doesn't matter because at least I got to protect my country and the honor of my sacrifice will make it all better?" His voice rose a little. "Does it look like it's all better?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. You made a big sacrifice and everyone is all very grateful, but in the end, the honor doesn't make up the fact that you'll never walk properly again. But the mentality of wearing your injuries like a badge of honor kills all the questions about whether or not the sacrifices were really necessary or done for the right causes in the first place."
Hajime's eyes narrowed. "I know what I was fighting for, so you need to tone down the condescension. See, I know some big words, too."
"Oh, for god's sake, I didn't – you know what, let's just drop it. We're just gonna have to agree to disagree."
"That's always what the losers say."
Tooru's back tensed and his voice grew cold. "You don't think I know what I'm talking about with all this? I might know it even better than you. My father was in the navy and his father before him. My two younger sisters are all in active duty, halfway across the world. I've lived with the other side of the 'honor' you so desperately cling to my whole life. The moving around, always worrying and missing, the nightmares and snapping when they finally get home and then repeating it all over again when that phone call comes. Always running against the clock, and never having enough time. So, don't you dare say to me none of that matters."
At first, Hajime looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but Tooru's expression must have convinced him otherwise and silently he just opened his mouth. Just as silently Tooru went back to feeding him. The only sounds were the spoon clanking against the bowl and the traffic outside.
"So, what happened with volleyball? Why'd ya quit?" Hajime said when the silence threated to become oppressive.
"I fucked up my knee. Or more like, it was already a bad knee and I made it worse by not giving it enough rest. Then it finally snapped in one game. I jumped to serve, but it couldn't take the landing anymore. Tore the ligaments pretty bad."
"Sounds painful."
"It was only the beginning of painful. They had to operate it, and then I did months of physio just to walk."
"Were you really about to make the national team?"
"The last game I played, the one where I hurt my knee, there was a scout in the audience and he was rumored to be looking for seniors with promise. Later at the hospital, I heard he had come down while I was at the OR and talked to my folks about my situation."
"That must've stung." Hajime backed away when Tooru offered him another spoonful. "I think I've had enough."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, thanks."
Tooru scooped the remaining broth and ate it himself.
"I had always loved two things above everything else: drawing and volleyball. But dad didn't wanna pay for art school, so I went with sports and just scribbled for myself. When it was clear I'd never play again, I kinda changed gear. Got new friends, started drawing more, and found this guy who gave me a part-time job and taught me how to do tattoos."
The warm food settled in the bottom of Hajime's stomach and filled him with languor. His eyelids started to grow heavier.
"I'm gonna go back to sleep," he said and fluffed up his pillow.
"You good? How about those pain meds?"
"Nah, I'm fine."
Hajime looked for a position as comfortable as possible, closed his eyes and listened to Tooru doing the dishes. The clanking of plates dulled by the sink full of dishwater was oddly soothing, and it didn't take long before he nodded off back to his pitiful sleep.
Later he woke up to the sweats and shakes. The sun had gone down, and the room was only dimly lit by the streetlights. His shirt and the sheets stuck to his skin grossly when he rolled over. To his surprise, he bumped into something angular and soft and almost yelled out loud in surprise but in the nick of time bit down on his tongue.
Right next to him on the bed was Tooru lying on his side, facing Hajime. Judging by his deep, even breathing he was sound asleep. Hajime found himself staring at his sleeping face. The top of his undercut had fallen over to the other side into a fluffy mess of hair. Just now Hajime noticed the piercing holes on his left earlobe. He counted five. Tooru's lips were slightly parted, and his neck stretched out long and thin. Hajime was tempted to touch the fair skin with the tips of his fingers to see if it would really be as smooth as it looked.
Yeah, you're a pretty interesting guy, too, he thought to himself in the darkness.