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Chapter Text

a love story spread across one hundred and ten days.

part one

the mirror crack’d from side to side

“the curse has come upon me,” cried The Lady of Shalott

— alfred tennyson

day one

The week before Iwaizumi Hajime had left her friends and family and the rest of her minor life in suburbs of Sendai to attend Queen’s Academy— a prestigious boarding school rich in history for the modern young lady, as the brochures had described it— a five hour drive away, her mother had begun to pack her clothing and other belongings. She’d done it meticulously— stuffing nearly everything Hajime had collected in the past 17 of years of her life into neatly labelled boxes— though that seemed to be forgotten, now. Everything simply lay spewed over the linoleum floor of Hajime’s dorm room; room forty-two.

“I can unpack the rest, mom,” said Hajime.

Her father stood. He seemed ready to go.

“I’ll just make your bed,” replied her mother.

“It’s fine,” she told her, “I can do it.”

Her mother stood in the centre of the room for a moment, helplessly folding and unfolding a pair of socks.

“God,” she said suddenly, stepping through the minefield of suitcases and all of Hajime’s lacrosse equipment to pull Hajime into a tight hug, “We’ll miss you so much, sweetheart!”

It was the start of the semester, and so the heart was sweltering; there was no air-conditioning, after all. Hajime merely grimaced and glanced at her father who merely shrugged.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Haj’,” her father grumbled in a low voice, “No drugs, no drinking, and no cigarettes.”

“Yeah,” she replied, “I won’t.”

Her mother hugged her once more, and then her father did, too, and after that, it was over, just like that. Out of the back window, Hajime watched their silver SUV drive the winding road off campus, and Hajime briefly considered whether she should have felt some sort of gooey, sentimental sadness. Instead, all she could think about was the sweltering heat, and so she tore open the windows and tied her shirt up to bunch up just below her breasts. Her thighs sweated, and so her shorts clung to her skin.

The windows did little to improve the situation— the air outside sat as still and oppressive as the air inside— and yet Hajime remained in front of it, staring outside. Students greeted and hugged each other— some ran up to each other and shouted— and, not for the first time, Hajime felt as though she were within, and without; she was here, at school in her dorm room with her belongings unpacked, and yet she was a complete outsider. For a moment, uncertainty crept towards her, originating and boiling deep inside her stomach.

She was alone, or, at least, she had been, until the door flung open with a ferocious laugh.

“Yeah,” a voice shouted to some distant figure, stepping into the room “Hang on, lemme put my shit away— oh,” she halted as her eyes trailed upwards. Hajime stared back at her; she was tall, and sort of lanky. Her hair was choppily cut and died in the shrillest, most brilliant shade of pink Hajime had ever seen.

“Nice hair,” Hajime told her.

She grinned, then, and leaned against the doorframe.

“Thanks,” she said, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Cool. I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, and I’m the best fuckin’ roommate you could have asked for.”

Hajime snorted at that.

“Why?” she asked.

Takahiro laughed and shook her head incredulously.

“You’ll see soon enough,” she spoke, stepping inside and dropping the plastic bag she clutched on the floor, and flinging her duffle bag on the top bunk.

“I’m a top bunk kind of girl,” she said, “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Not really,” Hajime murmured before looking out of the window once more. A car pulled up, and someone screamed again.

“You’ve decorated,” hummed Takahiro, “I like it. Mind if I put up some posters?”

Hajime shrugged, and Takahiro grinned. Out of the white plastic bag— decorated with a yellow smiley-face proclaiming Thank you!— she pulled five or six glossed pieces of paper; images of faraway places and lava lamps and green frogs with red lips and large eyes.

“Nice memes,” snorted Hajime.

“Excuse me, I think you meme dank memes.”

Hajime laughed, at that; she was going to be fine, after all.

Takahiro began to talk, then. She told her she was in her third year, here, and that she’d come for the uniforms— they only had to wear them on school days— and that she was whatever and like whoever. Hajime had little problem with how unreserved she was; she was mostly simply relived that Takahiro quickly began to shape herself into one of the most marvellous people she’d ever met. She liked reading and art— she loved painting— and she almost simply adored the school, how home-y everything is and how no one is straight here, it’s amazing.

“You have to be careful here, though; with the students and with the teachers,” Takahiro finished, “I do hate being careful, but I love it here.”

She’d told Hajime this as she ripped through her duffle bag and threw clothes into drawers with reckless abandon. Hajime’s mother would have had a heart attack; Takahiro did not seem to believe in separate drawers for anything. Neither did Hajime.

After she’d finished, she turned on the balls of her feet and stared down at Hajime expectedly. Hajime stared up at her with a blank look that she hoped hid her doubts.

“C’mon,” Takahiro laughed, “We’ve got shit to do, Hajime! Let’s go get some cigarettes.”

She’d neglected to ask whether Hajime smoked.

(Hajime didn’t.)

Takahiro lead her past screeching girls and scowling teachers into the corridor. They walked five doors down before Takahiro halted at room forty-seven. The pale, plastic door— coated in dark blue chipped paint— had a dry-erase board haphazardly nailed to it. Briefly, Hajime wondered who in the goddamn world would have been smart enough to shove a nail into a plastic door— it seemed to be forcefully pushed in and surely dug a dent in on the other side— before she read it; Oikawa Tooru has a single! it read.

Takahiro explained that Oikawa Tooru was the owner of room forty-seven, and that Oikawa Tooru had been the one to dig a nail into a plastic door.

She knocked, once or twice. It seemed misplaced; she hadn’t knocked earlier, after all.

“Come in!” a voice screamed from behind it, “Holy shit, Takahiro, I have the best story to tell you!”

Hajime wondered how Oikawa Tooru knew that Takahiro stood outside, though Takahiro merely rolled her eyes and grinned before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Hajime closed the door behind her, and Takahiro waved and said something that was likely clever and witty and hilarious, though Hajime had not noticed, for the single most absolutely drop-dead gorgeous girl in all of human history stood before her in bright red drawstring shorts and a black Adidas sports bra.

The pinnacle of Iwaizumi Hajime’s gayness was reached in that moment.

Oikawa Tooru was the single most drop dead gorgeous and prettiest girl she’d ever seen, and she was talking loud and fast.

“Alright, so I’m spending the summer in Tokyo and it’s Friday night and I decide to meet up with my friends from middle school because I was feeling so nostalgic, y’know? Anyway, we get drinks and decide to go Passage because it was Freaky Friday at Passage and gosh, I just love Passage! So we get in, and I’m pretty drunk and this guy I was friends with puts his arm around me and pulls me in closer and I’m just thinking oh, this is nice, we’ve been friends for so long and then like a hawk he reaches down and squeezes my ass— hard— and what’s playing in the background? Scream and Shout by will.i.am featuring Britney Spears. My first thought was how will I extricate this claw from my ass before it leaves permanent marks? and my second thought was holy shit, I can’t wait to tell Takahiro and Issei because isn’t Scream and Shout simply the worst song ever?”

Takahiro laughed, and Hajime felt warm all over. She simply stared; stunned partly by the crystal clearness of her voice and partly by the very distracting pale sliver of skin of her abdomen and legs and arms and neck. She was tall, and there was a mole underneath her left breast— barely peeking out from underneath the sports bra— and another one on the inside of her right thigh. She was gorgeous, in that objective manner; smooth skin, symmetrical features, big brown eyes and dark lashes and long, deliciously wavy brown hair haphazardly secured someplace on the back of her head. Her lips were small, and round, and Hajime found herself staring at her mouth even after Takahiro fell silent.

“Takahiro,” she spoke, “Who is this girl and why is she not laughing at my very funny story?”

Hajime felt herself flush further at Tooru’s words as she noticed that she had been looking at Tooru’s magnetic mouth for far longer than appropriate. She tore her gaze away, and stared up into Tooru’s reflective pupils with wide eyes. Comically, Tooru mirrored her ridiculous expression and raised her own eyebrows, shaking her head rapidly.

“Oh, right,” said Takahiro, “Tooru, this is Hajime. Hajime’s new. Hajime, this is Tooru. Tooru’s old. She got her ass grabbed over the summer.”

Tooru stepped closer to her.

“That is the frizziest hair I’ve ever seen.” she said.

Hajime swallowed.

“Is that a problem?” she asked lowly.

Tooru laughed. It was harmonious, and sounded like birds.

“Not really,” she said, “It’s hot.”

“Oh,”

Tooru grinned.

“I meant the weather, Hajime,” she said, “There’s no need to blush that much.”

Takahiro scoffed.

“Don’t be a dick, Tooru,” Takahiro told her, “Sell me some cigarettes.”

“It’s the first day back, babe,” Tooru murmured, “I’ll give you the first pack for free.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There is none,” Tooru replied, titling her head back and laughing lightly as she fell back onto her mattress, digging underneath it, “I consider you a loyal customer, after all.”

Takahiro scoffed and grinned lopsidedly. She took the pack from Tooru’s long fingers— Lucky Strike Blue— thankfully. Hajime furrowed her eyebrows a little.

“I’m not trying to sound like a complete fuckin’ dumbass, or anything,” Hajime said, “But— how the fuck are you two smokers at a boarding school?”

Tooru sighed.

“Oh, Hajime,” she cooed, “You have so much to learn. You’re going to get into trouble, though ninety percent of the time, your parents aren’t even informed. Smoking is considered a minor offense, and the school doesn’t want your parents to think you became a fuckup here. They’d rather have you fuckup big time once and kick you out; simple as that.”

“Bullshit,” hissed Takahiro, “You’re so full of shit, Tooru. Listen, kid,” she said to Hajime, “All you have to do is lock the door, put a towel down in front of it, and smoke in the bathroom with the shower on, or, even better, don’t smoke at all, or at least not on regular school days. No one cares if you smoke or not at games or parties, or whatever; not even the teachers.”

“You’re so rude to me, Takahiro,” whined Tooru, “Is that pent-up sexual tension, or something?”

Takahiro snorted.

“Fuck you,” she said.

Tooru sighed wistfully. 

“If only.” she drawled, “Actually, speaking of, I think we’ve reached the point in the evening when you’re obliged to go find your girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“She is,” Tooru continued as Takahiro blushed a striking shade of pink which had an uncanny resemblance to her bright hair, “Anyway, go spend some time with the love of your life and tell her about the ass-squeeze and save me some of those cigarettes you’ll never all smoke anyway. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Takahiro bit at the inside of her mouth.

“Fine,” she replied, tearing open the door with a little too much enthusiasm, “But she’s not my girlfriend!”

Hajime and Tooru stood alone in her room. It was spacious, with two beds— she must have had a roommate at some point— and decorated in pretentious posters of works of art and old American films— Breakfast at Tiffany’s and some others Hajime had never heard of— and on the wall beside her bed a photograph was stuck; of Tooru and Takahiro and another girl she did not recognise. It was a little blurry and out of focus, and Tooru grinned brightly in it. Hair tied up with a golden, metallic scrunchie in a ponytail, Tooru was pictured from the chest upwards. Hajime could still pinpoint the uniform she so proudly wore—

“Cheerleading?” Hajime voiced.

“What? Oh, yeah— yeah, I do cheerleading.” Tooru replied.

They were silent, after that. Hajime shifted nervously, and stared at a spot somewhere left of Tooru in a desperate attempt to not stare at her pale, smooth skin.

 “Listen,” Tooru asked after a while, “Do you want to go take a walk?”

“What?”

She tore her gaze back to Tooru, and Tooru looked right back at her.

“A walk,” Tooru repeated, “It’s your first day on campus, right? I can show you around, if you’d like.”

Hajime felt a furious flush spread over her cheeks; if she hadn’t been so tan— it was summer, after all— Tooru would have surely noticed.

“Yeah,” said Hajime breathlessly, “I— yeah— yeah, I’d like that.”

Tooru grinned, and left the room in long strides; she must have known Hajime would follow her. She led her outside— past the last students arriving and the groups of reunited friends that bustled around— and they began walking down the small path into the forest which lay on the other side of campus. Cicadas sang, and the heat was sweltering. Hajime swatted some mosquitoes away. Tooru watched her and laughed.

“So, Iwaizumi Hajime,” she said in a voice far quieter and softer than Hajime had expected, “What brings you to the academy?”

Hajime was a little taken aback by the sincerity of her tone.

“Dunno,” she shrugged, “I just wanted to leave.”

Tooru laughed once more.

“That makes sense,” she said, “You’re from Sendai, right?”

Hajime almost tripped over a root.

“Yeah— yeah, I am. How did you—”

“I know lots of things about lots of people.” said Tooru, “It’s a gift.” she added in a hushed voice.

Hajime swallowed thickly as Tooru titled her head back and stared up at the sky— at how the evening sun reflected in the leaves of the trees— and sighed happily.

“What brings you to the academy?” Hajime asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah, who else?”

Tooru shrugged.

“Same reason, I suppose.”

Hajime didn’t press further. She simply watched Tooru blink at a spot somewhere in front of them. It was beginning to get dark, and she smelt of sweat and sunshine and vanilla, and Hajime could see little more than her silhouette and her glossed over eyes. They were large, and dark, and seemed to take everything in.

“So,” Hajime spoke, “Who’s the girlfriend?”

“Who?” Tooru asked, whipping her head around. Her hair moved as she did so, and Hajime could smell her shampoo; vanilla.

“Takahiro’s girlfriend. Who is she?”

Tooru grinned lopsidedly. It was the kind of smile that predisposed you to support her every endeavour.

“Issei,” she replied, “She’s Issei, and she’s the best.  God, you’re going to get along great!”

“Why’s that?” laughed Hajime.

“Well,” Tooru said, “I don’t really know. I just know you will.”

Hajime licked her lips and averted her eyes as Tooru smiled at her.

“How long have they been dating?” Hajime asked.

Tooru shrugged.

“Feels like forever, to be honest,” she spoke, “But let’s not talk about them; let’s talk about us.”

Hajime snorted; it sounded as though they’d known each other for years. It’d felt like that, too. Tooru seemed to be immensely comfortable around Hajime, and it was a stark contrast to Hajime’s pounding heart and fluttering pulse.

“What do you want to know?”

Tooru sighed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she exhaled, “You got any siblings?”

“An older brother.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“Lacrosse and— well, that’s all, really.”

Tooru’s mouth opened a little, as though she were surprised, and then her lips spread into a brilliant grin.

“Lacrosse?” she asked excitedly, “You play lacrosse?”

“Yeah,” Hajime replied, “What of it?”

Tooru threw her head back and laughed.

“That’s kinda hot,” she said, “You signed up for try-outs, right?”

Hajime nodded.

“Good,” Tooru continued before turning sharply on her heels, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Lacrosse and cheerleading coincide. Lucky you; you get to see me in that cute little skirt of mine. I had it shortened over summer break,” she spoke as she walked back the way they came, waving her hands wildly as she continued, “The regulated model makes me look like some Catholic school girl, and that’s so not hot. Well, unless you’re into that. Are you into that?” she asked, turning her head and staring at Hajime expectedly over her shoulder.

Hajime remained frozen, staring at the smooth, pale expanse of Tooru’s back. She had a mole on her right shoulder blade.

“Not really,” Hajime replied dumbly. Her throat had become incredibly dry. Tooru laughed and leaped over a pile of leaves. Hajime was rooted to the ground.

“Well?” Tooru asked eventually, her voice echoing in the forest, “Are you coming, or are you going to eat bugs and shit for dinner?”

In retrospect, bugs were little match for the cafeteria cuisine which greeted Hajime at dinner. She lifted her spoon, and dropped the cold soup— cold soup— back in its plate. It stuck on the silverware a beat too long before slobbering down with a horrendous noise. Hajime sneered at it as Tooru scooped up the last of her portion. Beside her, Takahiro and Issei mirrored Hajime’s expression.

“How the fuck can you eat this shit?” Issei voiced, arms crossed.

Tooru shrugged. Hajime sighed.

“Hey, Hajime,” Takahiro nudged him, “Don’t stress, buddy. Today’s menu is the worst; literally only Tooru can eat this horseshit. I’ve got snacks back in my room to last us ‘til October break.”

Hajime nodded and grinned.

“Thanks, man.” she said, and Takahiro clasped her on the back with a light no problem, hombre.

“Hey, I forgot; tell me, what room do you guys have?” Issei asked with a grin.

“Room forty-two,” Hajime replied.

“Four-twenty, blaze it!” Issei shouted. Takahiro threw her head back and laughed before reaching across the table and high-fiving.

It was silent, then, for a while; the four of them sat alone. Hajime wondered why Tooru chose to sit with this ragtag group of misfits, for Issei was gorgeous, sure, but in the thirty minutes she’d known her, Hajime was already entirely in love with the way she laughed so much and how her whole body shook with each giggle and how her shoulder-length hair fell into her face constantly. Takahiro seemed to be, too; she looked at Issei so fondly it made Hajime’s heart ache.

“Listen,” Issei asked Tooru as Takahiro sat in her lap, and she wrapped her arms around her slim waist, “How the hell did you get a single? I apply every year for one— or at least to be roomed with one of you guys— and each year I’m stuck with some shitty first year.”

Tooru shrugged.

“You know the saying: you think you’re walking on water, but it turns out, you just got piss in your shoes.” she replied.

It was silent after that.

“Literally no one says that.” Hajime voiced.

“Yeah, seriously,” Takahiro said, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Tooru?”

“So many things.” she said in a haunted voice.

Hajime whipped her head up and caught Tooru’s eyes. She swallowed dryly at the sight, and Tooru averted her gaze immediately. Her cheeks seemed to flush in a pretty shade of pink, though Hajime wasn’t sure; she was entirely biased in Tooru’s favour.

The rest of the lunch discussion concentrated on what happened over summer to the girl who’d been supposed to be Tooru’s roommate; she’d been kicked out in the last week of the previous year for what Issei baptised as The Holy Trinity of Sin. She’d lied in bed with her girlfriend— naked, which ticked off genital contact— and were drunk— the second offense— and the dean had burst in on them just as one of them was going down on the other, which was the third and simply the single best reason to be kicked out of school, in Hajime’s mind. It was a common rumour and loose truth that someone must have ratted them out; Tooru seemed intent on finding out who, though Takahiro frowned at her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Takahiro said, “You get what you get; it could have happened to any of us.”

Tooru leered at her.

“Are you telling me,” she asked with a malicious grin, “That you’re likely to get caught eating out some naked girl in your bed while drunk?”

Takahiro hissed irritably.

“Whatever,” Issei mumbled, “What a way to go, though; death by puss-eh!”

Later that evening, Takahiro lay on the top bunk reading as Hajime blinked the sweat from her eyes and taped a van Gogh poster to the back of the door.

“So what’s up with Tooru?” Hajime asked in a tone she hoped was casual.

Takahiro lowered her book.

“Are you in love with her?”

Hajime felt her shoulders hunch a little.

“No,” she replied, pressing down the strip of tape a little too vigorously, “Why would I be?”

Takahiro raised an eyebrow.

“That’s none of my business,” she replied, “What do you want to know about her?” she added after a pause.

Hajime shrugged.

“What’s her story?”

“She’s from Sendai; where the rich kids live. Her dad’s crazy rich, you couldn’t drive pass her house without noticing it. That’s all there is to her, really,” Takahiro said in a hushed voice.

“That can’t be it,” Hajime replied, turning around and flopping down on the bottom bed. Takahiro leaned her head over the mattress and looked at Hajime; she was upside down, and her fingers clamped on the edge of the bed in an effort to keep herself from falling flat on her face.

“She’s captain of the cheerleading team, and she likes to fool around with boys,” Takahiro said, “She likes to have a reputation as a supposed straight girl around here. She’s smart, and she’s in the student council, and she’s loud in life and loud in bed. Trust me; Issei and I heard her going at it with her ex-boyfriend.”

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“He does cocaine now.” Takahiro added.

Hajime sat up in bed so fast she hit her head. Takahiro snorted.

“He does what?”

“Cocaine,” Takahiro repeated, “He snorts coke.”

“Jesus,” sighed Hajime, slowly sinking back down against the mattress once more.

“Welcome to Queen’s.”

They were silent, for a while.

“Hey,” Takahiro asked Hajime, then, “Enough about Tooru, yeah? There are one hundred and forty-three other girls at this school, and every single one of them is less crazy than Oikawa Tooru. Tell me, hombre; what class do you have tomorrow morning?”

Hajime couldn’t care about anything else; not the van Gogh poster, and not about her class schedule. The dean had come by earlier and brought it.

Hajime sighed.

“German,”

“Ah, shit,” she hissed, “Issei and I got free period. Good luck with that class; Tooru’s in it,” she told her, winking and clicking with her fingers, pointed at the ceiling as though they were guns.

Hajime closed her eyes.

“Why the fuck does Tooru take German?”

“Why do you take German?” Takahiro retorted.

Hajime frowned.

“I thought it’d be easy,” she replied.

“Shit, fam,” Takahiro laughed, “Are you for real? Everyone knows Spanish is a joke.”

Hajime shrugged.

“Shit,” she sighed; to herself, and to any higher power, for it was in that moment that she realised she was undoubtedly fucked. Her heart was beating fast at the thought of being in the same room— perhaps sitting next to her— as Tooru, and her skin still tingled where Tooru had touched her.

“Fuck.”

day two

Before Hajime had even applied to attend the academy, she’d read through the website. It has designed horribly, and it looked horrendous, yet all Hajime could notice with no grain of happiness was the dress code section. It contained four words; conforming to uniform standards. The uniforms consisted to a short sleeved white blouse for summer, and a navy skirt, as well as a navy blazer— with the pretentious, school emblem sewed onto it— which was fine, really. Hajime was lousy at tying ties, though, and so she had to make Takahiro do it for her before she left to go hang-out— whatever that meant— with Issei.

It had never occurred to Hajime that the students would show up to early morning classes in sweltering heat in haphazardly tied ties and untucked shirts and no one would bat an eye, and something about girls wearing navy skirts made German at eight twenty-five in the morning a little more bearable, even though Hajime had simply muttered a guten morgen at the ever-frowning Frau Kleist before plonking down in the nearest possible seat at the back of the class. She recognised no one in the entire class. The bell rang.

Tooru was nowhere to be found.

“Guten morgen, Schülerinnen,” Kleist said, before skipping all summer pleasantries diving directly into some tense called Plusquamperfekt.

In the distance, a door slammed. Footsteps echoed in the hallways.

“So,” Kleist spoke as she wrote up verb conjugations on the board, “Wer will mal das versuchen? Megumi, du vielleicht? Will keiner denn—”

The door flung open.

Tooru bent over— clutching her rib cage— as she heaved.

“Entschuldigen Sie!” she spoke, loud and fast just like the first time Hajime saw her, “Ich hab’ verschlafen. Es ist ja der erste Schultag,” she explained as she slid in the seat beside Hajime.

Hajime gaped at two facts; Tooru sat next to hear, and Tooru spoke German.

Tooru was in her German class, and Tooru could actually speak German.

Frau Kleist simply nodded and waved a hand before continuing.

“How the fuck— why can you speak German?” whispered Hajime.

“Well,” Tooru snorted, panting a little, “This is German class. Where else would I speak it?”

Tooru huffed, then, and tucked her hair behind her ear before digging inside of her backpack and pulling out a notebook. As she licked her lips and squinted at the board, Hajime slouched down further in her seat and peered at Tooru. Tooru’s hair was tied to the back with a small hair-tie, and her long, brown locks were wavy and flowed down to graze past her shoulders and collarbone. Her hair was a stark contrast to Hajime’s own; frizzy, and tied up with a black scrunchie in a haphazard ponytail.

Tooru’s eyelashes fluttered as Frau Kleist wrote down some irregular verbs, and her handwriting was this messy, swooping cursive. Her arm rested on the desk, right beside Hajime’s, and their skins touched, eliciting goosebumps all over.

Hajime swallowed thickly, and tore her gaze away, resting her chin in her palm as she bit her lower lip in an effort to make the tropical burn that had spread over her cheeks disappear.

Tooru’s hand twitched, then, and she trailed her fingers along Hajime’s knuckles. Hajime glanced down at their hands before staring straight ahead at the board with intense concentration; it would be painful to think of Tooru’s actions of anything more than a joke. Tooru grinned, too, a little lopsidedly and a little shyly and entirely, utterly charmingly. At this rate, Hajime was sure she’d fail the class.

“Hey,” Tooru whispered to her later as Frau Kleist assigned reading comprehension exercises to them. Tooru leaned her head far too close to Hajime’s for her to avoid blushing furiously. “Do you get this?”

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“Get what?”

“This,” Tooru repeated, “The conjugation; question eleven.”

Hajime glanced down at her worksheet.

“I’m on question three.”

“Oh,” Tooru spoke, “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Hajime licked her lips.

“I’m shit at German.” she confessed, inching closer to Tooru.

Tooru grinned and cocked her head to the side.

“That’s fine. I won’t tell anyone.” she hushed, as though it were a tremendous secret, and winked at Hajime. Hajime felt her composure slip, and she pushed Tooru’s ferociously gorgeous face out of the way before hunching her back and trying desperately to focus on the work in front of her as Tooru sighed and leaned back in her chair, titling it far enough to fall backwards with a small, high-pitched noise of surprise and pain. Hajime laughed so hard her stomach hurt at the sight of Tooru rubbing her bruised behind with a grimace.

In the end, Hajime didn’t make it past question four.

Hajime’s disparity only increased after the last class at three in the afternoon, when it was time for lacrosse try-outs. It coincided with cheerleading practice, and so Hajime stood in her gear in the middle of the field under the sweltering sun as Tooru and her teammates laughed and jumped around.

Hajime sighed.

The try-outs, it seemed, were not try-outs at all. Hajime was the only person who signed up.

“Wow,” Tetsuro— the team captain— had said, “I can’t believe someone actually showed up. Congrats, buddy. You’re a regular player.”

“What.” Hajime replied.

“You’re a regular player.” Tetsuro repeated, hitting her on the back, “We’re only three players short, now.”

“That’s—” Hajime began, “How— if we’re three players short, how will we ever play in a match?”

Tetsuro threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh, Hajime,” she cooed, “The only school we’ve ever beaten is the one for the deaf and blind.”

“Wow,” muttered Hajime.

“Yeah, we’re a pretty shitty team, but hey! That’s alright! Now that you’re here, that makes us have three good players; you, me, and Tadashi.” Tetsuro grinned.

“Hey!” a girl with freckles— presumably Tadashi— exclaimed, waving at Hajime from the other side of the field. Hajime grinned nervously and nodded her head at her.  

In the distance, the cheerleaders built a pyramid. Hajime stared at them.

Tadashi threw a ball up into the air and scooped it up before throwing it up once more. She didn’t catch it, this time. It hit Hajime in the face just as the cheerleaders dissembled and Tooru clapped, clasping them on the back. Hajime’s skin burned, and she hissed in pain and rubbed at the tender flesh. Tadashi shouted an apology as Hajime tossed the ball back at her; Hajime had to admit, though, that girl had some arm. 

Hajime’s attention was fixated back at the cheerleaders, after that. She shielded her eyes from the sun, and watched Tooru’s hair glisten in the afternoon light, and how the blue uniform suited her far too well.

“Wow,” Tetsuro sighed, leaning on Hajime’s shoulders with her elbows, “Look at all those attractive heterosexuals.”

“Who?” Hajime asked in a distant tone, taken aback by the proximity of Tetsuro as she leered at her.

“The cheerleaders,” she spoke, pointing her lacrosse stick to the distant group of giggling girls as Tooru clapped and shouted some directions or commands, “They’re all basically straight, you know. Don’t get your hopes up. Everyone knows they all fuck or fall madly in love with the boys from Prince’s,” Tetsuro said, and at Hajime’s apparent confusion, she added, “That’s the all-boys Catholic boarding school nearby. They’re all pricks.”

Hajime nodded senselessly.

“Yeah,” she said, “Yeah, okay.”

“Just be careful, yeah? You don’t have to lie to me; I know you’re gay as fuck. Everyone can see that a mile off.” said Tetsuro with a brilliant grin before running off to continue to drill the others.

Hajime’s eyes did not leave the cheerleaders, and continued to fixate on Tooru’s bright smile— she could see it glinting in the distance— and how when she jumped her skirt was raised. She lifted her arms, then, and shouted some nonsense cheer before somersaulting forwards. With each leap, her skirt fell further, and with each movement, Hajime could feel her composure slip. Tooru laughed, then, and hugged some anonymous figure before waving wildly at the lacrosse team. Hajime refused to believe she waved at Hajime in particular, though she found herself biting her bottom lip and turning away, for watching Tooru was like staring into the sun; it’s entirely beautiful, though eventually, your eyes begin to burn, and you have to look away before the light sizzles your pupils off.

On cue, Tetsuro shouted for a team huddle, and she made some sort of speech about team spirit and team work and any other word she could think of involving team before announcing that they’d be playing their first game of the season in a couple of days; against the crows, as Tetsuro put it. Evidently, their bitter rivals who were full of shit yet difficult to beat. Hajime bit her lip and ground her teeth in annoyance; she paid little attention to the rest of Tetsuro’s rhetoric until Tetsuro handed out the plastic packets of uniforms. Hajime had number four. Her name was printed neatly on the other side. She wondered how Tetsuro had known that she’d stay.

“Thanks,” Hajime said, “I’m— I’m thankful to be able to be on the team, and I hope we have a good season.”

The team swarmed together and yelled, then; Tetsuro clasped Hajime on the back and Tadashi hugged her neck. Hajime grinned. She felt overwhelmingly, utterly happy. 

day five

Things carried on like that, for a while. Hajime attended lacrosse training regularly— along with Tadashi and Tetsuro— and was routinely distracted by Tooru’s presence; how short her skirt was, how long her legs were, and how lean her arms were. Hajime could probably snap her in half. She wondered whether she’d let her.

The more Hajime learnt about Tooru, the deeper she dug her own death; cause of death: girls, it would have read, particularly how Hajime discovered that Tooru was obsessed with Gossip Girl and that she was almost insanely good at academics. For someone so rich, she cared a lot about them; more than Hajime, Issei and Takahiro combined.

Tooru was best as German. It was insane. Hajime was the worst in the entire class— and that was fine— and found herself quickly denoting German as her favourite class. She got to sit next to Tooru, after all, and bask in how sleepy she was every morning; not tired, just sleepy. Tooru told her jokes, and stories about her life in class; about her first pet, about the time she fell into a swimming pool and almost drowned. It continued in lunch, too, and with each little piece of information Hajime uncovered about the complex idea that was Oikawa Tooru, she fell a little bit more for her.

Practice was by far the highlight of Hajime’s week. Tooru and she had gotten into a little routine; they ended practice at the same time, and so they slumped over on the benches together.

“Are you ready for the game?” Tooru has asked her once. The sun was setting, and mosquitoes whizzed around them as Hajime wiped the sweat off her brow with her t-shirt; it exposed her stomach, though she couldn’t care any less.

“Crows?”

“Yeah,” Tooru replied, tucking her hair behind her ear and resting her knees against Hajime’s, “Who else?”

Hajime shrugged.

“I guess so, yeah,” Hajime replied. She was in the offensive; she’d best be ready. Tetsuro had told her their rivals had some underlying aggressive current in their defensive players. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve played teams who were in nationals. Shouldn’t be too hard,” she mumbled, blushing at the sheer proximity of Tooru.

“True,” sighed Tooru, “Wow, you’re really good at lacrosse, y’know.”

Hajime blushed.

“I’m not,” she spoke.

“You are!” Tooru said with a little giggle that absolutely broke Hajime’s brain, “You’ll kick their asses; the crows are all douchebags.”

“Doesn’t your step-sister go there?”

“Yeah,” Tooru replied with a smile, “Douchebags.”

Hajime was nervous; it was the first game of the season, and she was in the front line. Tetsuro shot her a thumbs-up. Tadashi clicked her fingers at her. In the distance, a voice shouted Hajime’s name, and she glanced at the side-lines to see Issei and Takahiro waving frantically.

“Hey, dipshit!” Takahiro screeched, “Score a goal, yeah? Do it for the gays!”

Issei cackled; they were both on the school paper, and so had front-row seats to the duel of the century as Issei had written it. Kenma— the editor-in-chief— had only agreed to print it after Tetsuro had begged her to do so.

The school didn’t have a mascot, though that was fine; it seemed that their mascot was Tooru. She paraded in front of the cheerleaders and blew kisses to the audience— all fifty of them went wild at that— and waved and grinned brilliantly. Before the referee had blown her whistle to signal them to get into positions, Tooru had run over to Hajime— in front of everyone— and hugged her with a hushed good luck; you can do it. Hajime felt lightheaded and a little too happy at the memory.

As the rival team walked onto the field, all Hajime had to do was close her eyes, inhale shakily and remember Tooru’s scrunchie and her tiny skirt, and how she’d waltzed up to Hajime— only Hajime, specially Hajime— and hugged her; it gave her strength.

Hajime squared her shoulders and spun her lacrosse stick; the offensive player than very clearly seemed to be assigned to her— she was fresh meat, after all— was number nine, a tall freshman named Kageyama with dark hair and a prominent frown, Hajime remembered Tetsuro telling her. She was a good player; a natural talent.

She was also Oikawa Tooru’s step-sister.

Hajime’s mouth went dry as Tooru made the audience stomp her feet. Tetsuro shook the other captain’s hand. She gripped a little too tightly, and Hajime grinned at the sight.

The referee whistle, and so it began; Tetsuro scrambled to gain hold of the ball, and she scooped it up. She immediately passed to Hajime, who caught it with glee. Hajime lunged forward— past Kageyama and narrowly missing another team member— before throwing it into Tadashi’s net. Tadashi aimed to the goal, and missed. Number ten had caught hold of it, and sprinted forward. Kageyama shifted behind Hajime. Hajime noticed, and spun around; colliding into Kageyama but giving it no notice. She had other things to think about. As she ran towards that number ten, she briefly was aware of two facts: out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small, circular object get bigger and bigger— like a fast-approaching sun— before she thought very clearly that’s going to hit me and then I should probably duck.

It did hit her; sometimes, when things get thought, they don’t get done. The ball hit her square in the side of her face. Her head slammed against the field. Hajime toppled down— she could hear echoes of voices above her thundering heart beat as well as an extremely recognisable screech originating from none other than Oikawa Tooru— and lay on the ground. Tetsuro rushed to her side.

“Hajime,” she said, “Hey— Hajime,”

Hajime tried to stand up immediately, as if unhurt.

“Hajime!” Tetsuro spoke, forcing her back down, “You have to lie down, just—”

Hajime was out cold after that.

“I’m concussed.” Hajime announced. She was entirely sure of her self-diagnosis; her vision was blurry all over.

“Only a little,” Issei said, sitting beside Hajime, who lay propped up against her pillows in her dorm room. “The nurse came by earlier. You’ll be fine if you just rest for a day.”

“I am concussed.”

“I know,” Takahiro said, opening the window with a surprising amount of effort, “We all know. That’s all you said on the way here.”

The door was wrenched open. Tooru stood in it— in her uniform and a little sweaty— and panted as she began speaking, fast and loud; just like she’d done when Hajime first met her.

“Holy shit!” she said, scrambling over to sit on Hajime’s mattress and cup her face, “Are you okay? Are you awake? Issei— is she awake?”

“Yes,” Hajime slurred, “Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“Oh, my God— are you in that much pain? Issei, get the nurse, we need painkillers— we need morphine—”

“That’s illegal, Tooru.” Issei replied.

“Are you an angel?” Hajime asked.

“What?” Tooru gasped.

“You look like an angel; ‘cept you don’t have wings.”

“So,” Takahiro whispered to Issei, “Like a person?”

Issei laughed. Tooru blushed from head to toe.

“Hey,” cooed Hajime, “I know you.”

“Yes— yeah, we— we’re friends.” Tooru stammered.

“Cool,” said Hajime, clicking her fingers as though they were guns before flopping back against the pillows. She smiled at Tooru.

“You’re pretty.” Hajime told her.

“What?”

Takahiro cackled.

“You’re really, really pretty; you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Hajime drawled, “D’you wanna marry me?”

Tooru made a choking noise.

“I— I—” she managed.

“I want you to raise my children,” Hajime continued, “Do you want that... fuck, what’s your name? My name’s— what’s my name again?”

“Hajime,” Tooru breathed, “Your name’s Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“That’s nice,” Hajime said, “That’s really, really nice, isn’t it? What’s your name? My name’s Hajime.”

“I’m Oikawa Tooru, and I think you should get some rest.”

“Oh, my God,” whined Hajime, “That’s such a pretty name. What the fuck,” she whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

Tooru hid her face in her hands.

“You should go to sleep, Haj’.” Issei told her.

Hajime stared at her blankly.

“Okay,” she said before passing out completely.

She woke up four hours later to the sound of chatter in her dorm room.

“I fucking hate that team.” Tooru sneered.

“Why? They’re just a couple of kids—” Issei replied. 

“They’re not. Tobio’s such a fuckin’ bitch—”

“It wasn’t her fault—”

 “I don’t care. I don’t like her. I don’t like any of them.”     

“You still made out with Koushi, though,” Takahiro interrupted, “And that girl with the horrible highlight—”

“That was one time! And I was pretty drunk!” Tooru exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and tilting her head backwards in annoyance.

Hajime swore she could hear angels sing, for in that moment, the impeccable truth that Oikawa Tooru was not straight began to settle in.

Tooru kissed girls. Tooru liked girls.

Tooru could possibly, maybe— just maybe— like Hajime as much as Hajime liked her.

All of a sudden, Hajime felt lightheaded, and she fell back against the pillows once more.

“Hajime!” Tooru gasped, leaning closer to her, “You’re awake! Are you alright? You’re really red, hang on, let me feel your temperature—”

“I’m fine,” Hajime sighed.

“Are you sure? I’ll just—”

“She doesn’t have a fever. She’s concussed, you dumbass.” Takahiro said as Tooru huffed and folded her arms. 

“Well, maybe she has both—”

“Jesus fucking— never go into medicine, Tooru. Stick with cheerleading and student council.”

“Hey,” Issei said, “Remember when Tooru requested morphine for Hajime?”

Tooru shrieked at that.

“Shut up!” she said. Takahiro laughed ferociously at that.

“She requested morphine?” Hajime asked.

“What?” Issei said, “Are you telling me you don’t remember?”

“No,” Hajime replied, “I don’t remember anything; I mean, I remember Kageyama knocking me out cold. That’s pretty much it.”

“Holy shit,” Takahiro hushed, “So you don’t remember—”

Tooru clasped a hand over Takahiro’s mouth.

“What don’t I remember?” Hajime asked, sitting up a little straighter and staring at them with scepticism.

“Nothing!” Tooru quipped, “Absolutely nothing! Nothing happened. Let’s talk about something else; let’s talk about revenge.”

“Revenge?” Hajime asked, “Revenge for what?”

“Revenge for Tobio knocking you out cold, that’s what.”

“And how are you going to accomplish that?”

Tooru grinned.

“Why,” she said, “With a prank, of course. The prank of the century!”

“Excuse me,” Takahiro interrupted, “I think we all know the prank of the century is that time Issei and I dyed all your white underwear pink by putting a red sock in with your white load.”

Tooru blushed and spluttered at that. Hajime blushed, too, though at the thought of Tooru in tiny, white panties; maybe bent on the floor, the white just peeking underneath the hem of her skirt and curving over her wet and soft—

“Hajime? Hajime, are you alright? You’re red again—” Tooru began.

“I’m fine.” Hajime intercepted.

They were silent, then.

Issei broke the tense atmosphere with a stifled cough before stating, “We should plan that prank. I’m thinking we sneak into the crow’s barn— it’s not that far away, we could walk it— and spend the night there. Then we’ll do something classic with fireworks; it’ll be a quick, low-risk job. I’m not risking getting detention for those shitheads.”

“Agreed.” Takahiro said.

Tooru shrugged.

“You’re the mastermind,” she told Issei.

“That I am.” Issei replied, “Let’s do it after break. I’ll buy the fireworks then.”

 “Sure,” Tooru said, “I’m staying here, anyway. I really can’t deal with going home right now. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Hajime hadn’t dared to ask why she didn’t want to go home; perhaps the answer would be too painful.

“I’m staying home, too,” she blurted instead, “I’m— I’m staying here over break.”

Hajime could not determine whether it was her beating heart that caused her to say that or her concussion.

“Really?” Tooru asked with wide eyes, as though she couldn’t really believe it.

“Yeah,” Hajime answered, “Yeah, I am.”

“We should— we should hang on, then.”

“We— we should.”

“Good,” Tooru stated, “That’s— good.”

Hajime nodded weakly.

Later, Hajime called her mother.

“Hey— hey, mom?” she said, “Nothing happened, I just— I’m fine. Everything’s great, my roommate’s really nice. I just— I wanted to... I’m staying here over October break. I know it’s sudden— and no, nothing’s wrong— I just want to stay here. I’ve made some friends, and everybody stays here over October break. It’s only a week and a half, anyway. Is that— really? Thank you. Yeah— I’ll— love you too. Bye; I’ll talk to you soon. Love you,”

day seven

After everyone had left— Issei’s mom showed up in a Porsche and picked up Takahiro and she, since Takahiro was spending the long weekend at Issei’s anyway— and after everyone else had left, too, and campus settled into an eerie silence without doors slamming or music playing or girls shrieking, after all that, Tooru burst through Hajime’s dorm without knocking at five in the afternoon.

“Hajime!” she exclaimed, “We’ve got one day before people start coming back; and by people I mean kids with almost-divorced parents who can’t handle a little bit of shouting! God,” she sighed, sagging against the doorframe, “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to not be alone. Hey, tell me. What do you want to do first; go through classrooms or dormitories?”

Hajime stared at her for a moment.

“I want to finish reading this.” she settled on, gesturing to the sports magazine that lay in her lap.

Tooru groaned miserably.

“C’mon,” she whined, “Can’t you just—”

“No.”

“Why don’t you—”

“No. Be patient or I’m going home.”

The threat seemed to convince Tooru; she flopped down on the floor and sat cross-legged on the linoleum. Her shorts rose a little at that, and Hajime blushed; Tooru was close— far too close— and the sheer proximity cause Hajime to blush.

“What magazine is that?” Tooru quipped.

“Sports Monthly.”

“Oh, is that the one with the—”

“That’s Sports Illustrated, you perv.” Hajime replied. A smile spread across her lips, and she bit at the inside of her mouth to try and contain it.

“Oh, yeah,” Tooru replied, leaning her head to rest it on Hajime’s shoulder. Her soft hair tickled at Hajime’s neck. “I forgot. That’s the one boys buy, right?”

“Yeah,”

Tooru hummed.

“Boys are dumb,” she told her, “You know, what I hate the most is how easy you can get them off. Two strokes, and they’re done for. Blowjobs are even worse, though. With some guys, all you need to say is the word and they come in their pants.”

“You’ve blown someone before?”

“Yeah,” Tooru replied, “I have. I’m pretty good at it,” she said proudly.

Hajime felt a harsh stinging sensation in her chest, as though someone had stabbed her with a slab of red-hot iron.

“Wanna see?” Tooru exclaimed, shifting and facing Hajime.

“What?”

“Do you wanna see me do it?”

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“Yeah,” she replied, “Yeah, okay.”

Tooru grinned, and sat up, leaving the room before returning and sitting in front of Hajime once more— cross legged— with Colgate toothpaste in her hand.

“Pay close attention,” she warned.

Hajime nodded needlessly; she’d pay attention to everything Tooru did.

Tooru grinned once more before sticking out her tongue and circling it around the cap slowly, eyes sliding shut. Briefly, Hajime wondered whether it was hygienic, though that thought was quickly forgotten as Tooru’s tongue slid downwards and she wrapped her lips around the cap, twisting and moving her head a little as her other hand held the tube tightly, pushing it further into her mouth. Tooru’s tongue slid along the underside of it, and Hajime felt her heart stop as Tooru bobbed her head slowly, moaning around it. Hajime flushed as Tooru opened her eyes and tightened her lips around the tube before exhaling a small, muffled moan once more and swallowing. Spit dribbled from her chin, and Hajime bit her bottom lip to stop herself from groaning at the sight.

Tooru pulled her mouth away, then, with a small pop and stared at Hajime expectedly. Hajime watched her carefully, and shifted awkwardly, scooting backwards a little; she felt almost threatened, as though Tooru were some fascinating, dangerous insect under a microscope.

“Good?” Tooru exhaled.

“Huh?”

“Good; was it good?”

Hajime furrowed her eyebrows and licked her bottom lip nervously.

“Uh,” she stammered before coughing into her fist, “Yeah— yeah, it was.”

Tooru grinned.

“Maybe you can use those tricks on your boyfriend,” she hummed.

Hajime felt her heart stop.

“I don’t think so.”

Tooru laughed.

“Oh?” she asked, “Did I not impress you, or do you not have a boyfriend?”

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Tooru shrugged.

“Well, you will one day.” she replied.

“No, I mean— I don’t have a boyfriend, and I never will.”

“There’s no need to be so—”

“No, I won’t— I mean, I won’t have a boyfriend because… because I’m… gay.”

Tooru’s jaw dropped a little.

“Oh,” she stated needlessly.

“Yeah,” Hajime replied.

“That’s— fine. Good.”

Hajime shrugged. Tooru averted her gaze and bit at the side of her thumb. Her face was flushed red, and her eyebrows furrowed as though she were angry at something. Hajime wondered whether she was angry at Hajime.

After a long moment of silence, Tooru clapped her palms together and sat up.

“C’mon,” she exclaimed, and Hajime followed her wordlessly, nodding slowly as she did so, “We have things to do, and people’s rooms to go through.”

Hajime froze, then.

“What.”

The first room Tooru lead her into with a clever swipe of a credit card— she must have seen it in some film— was room fifty-eight.

“This is Tetsuro’s,” Tooru explained, “I mean, Tetsuro and her totally not one-night-stand Morisuke. I mean, they’ve obviously done it. Everyone here did it. Anyway, you know Tetsuro, don’t you?”

Hajime nodded.

“Well,” Tooru continued, “You know what her hair looks like, right?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you think she uses gel to make it look so perfectly imperfect?”

“Probably,” Hajime said, “She says it’s natural, y’know.”

Tooru grinned wickedly.

“Why don’t we find out?” she said before grabbing Hajime’s wrist and tugging her into the bathroom. Hajime’s skin felt warm where Tooru’s fingers dug into it, and she bit her lip in frustration; Tooru was surely going to drive her mad.

Tooru released her, then, and tore open the medicine cabinet. She stood on her toes and leaned to the side in search of any product, though with a frustrating sigh she acknowledged that Tetsuro had been telling the truth; there was no sign of any hair product.

“She must have taken it with her,” whined Tooru.

“Or she could have just been telling the truth.” Hajime retorted.

Tooru snorted.

“Bullshit,” she said, “Oh, well. Time to look for porn!” she spoke, turning around and facing Hajime with a brilliant grin.

“What,”

“Porn, Haj’,” Tooru repeated, “Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s when two people who are very much in love get together—”

“Yes, yes,” hushed Hajime, slapping a hand over Tooru’s mouth in an effort to silence her, “I’ve heard of it.”

Tooru stared blankly at her. It was silent, for a moment; Hajime hadn’t removed her hand. They were standing too close to one another, and Tooru seemed to be leaning forward. Hajime blinked at her, and her grip on Tooru’s mouth fell a little slack. Her palm was just resting on it now, and she stepped towards her as Tooru watched her with eyes that seemed a little hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, Hajime could— and Tooru would want her to—

Tooru licked a broad stripe along Hajime’s palm.

Hajime recoiled instantly, and squealed in disgust. She wiped her hand on her skirt as Tooru buckled over laughing before skipping out of the bathroom and searching through Tetsuro’s dorm room.

Hajime stared up at the tiled ceiling. It took her a long moment to regain composure and follow Tooru, who was searching underneath the mattress of the bottom bunk. Hajime watched her crouch. Her skirt rose up, and exposed just enough of her thigh for Hajime to peek at her underwear, provided she lean down and tilt her head just right, which she did.

“Did you find anything?” Tooru asked.

Hajime’s spine straightened at lightning speed.

“No,” she said, turning around to hide her flushed face and scan through the shelves of books and magazines, “Not yet.”

It didn’t take long, though.

“Holy shit,” Hajime spoke.

“Yeah?” Tooru asked half-heartedly as she stood on her tip-toes to throw off the covers of the top-bunk. 

“I think I’ve found the Holy Grail.” Hajime said, and she let the simple DVD— titled The Good, The Bad, and The Slutty— hang from her fingers.

Tooru merely gaped at it.

“Holy shit,” Tooru echoed later, over the sound of pants and moans and thighs slapping against thighs.

Hajime nodded slowly, her jaw slack in sheer horror at the sight. Tooru sat closely beside her— shoulder pressed against hers, thighs flush— and stared at the screen of Hajime’s laptop. They sat in Hajime’s dorm on her bed, and the bright lights of the screen reflected on Tooru’s face, contorting her gentle features and making them all seem a little more prominent. Her eyes seemed lighter, too.

“This is sort of disgusting,” voiced Hajime, “I mean— if I hadn’t been so fuckin’ gay already, I would be now.”

Tooru licked her lips and turned her head to look at Hajime, and for a moment, they held eye contact. Tooru opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something— anything— though she decided against it and simply closed it once more.

“Me too,” she said after a while, cautiously, “I mean I— girls are nice, yeah?”

“Very.” Hajime agreed. It was then that Hajime realised simply how close Tooru was; they were millimetres apart, and Hajime could have counted her eyelashes. She was gorgeous. Hajime wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.

“Do you like porn?” Tooru whispered.

“Sometimes,” Hajime confessed.

“I do, too,” Tooru said, “Though, I mean… it’s not really… Where’s the kissing, right?”

“Given their position, I don’t think they can.”

Tooru laughed at that. The sound echoed over screams of give to me harder, daddy and it was incredibly beautiful. Hajime felt a smile spread over her lips.

“You’re funny,” Tooru sighed, “I like you, Hajime.”

Hajime swallowed thickly. Tooru rested a hand on Hajime’s shoulder before nestling closer, and laying her head on it.

“I’m tired,” she announced, “Wake me up when she comes, yeah?”

Hajime never did, and the girl never came, either.

Hajime wanted so badly to lie down next to her and wrap her arms around her and hold her tight, keep her safe. Instead, she closed her laptop and knocked her head back. She thought of Tooru. She wanted to sleep with her; not fuck, like in those goddamn movies, but just to sleep together in the sense of the phrase, though Hajime lacked courage and it was— out of all the possible girls in the entire school— Oikawa Tooru she’d fallen in love with. Hajime was endlessly boring, and Tooru was hopelessly, infinitely fascinating. Tooru went from a hundred miles an hour to zero; from laughing wholeheartedly to falling asleep on Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime had never felt so blessed.

day eight

The next morning, Tooru wasn’t lying next to her. Hajime awoke to a pain in her neck and an aching sense of loneliness.

She found her sitting alone in her room with none other than Issei.

“Issei came back a day early,” Tooru quipped, from her position on the floor. “Isn’t that marvellous?”

“Yeah,” Hajime spoke. She felt a little choked up. “It is.”

“My dad came home and kicked out ‘Hiro,” Issei sniffed, “So I left with her. ‘Hiro’s taking a shit.” Issei spoke, titling her head in the direction of Tooru’s adjacent bathroom.

Hajime nodded understandingly before crouching down to sit beside Issei.

“Sorry about that,” Hajime said, “That’s really fucking stupid.”

“Yeah,” Issei nodded, “No shit. Oh, well; at least I had time to get the fireworks. And ‘Hiro and I wrote up a plan. Hang on,” she wheezed as she leaned backwards to dig around in her backpack. She pulled out a journal.

“Alright,” Issei began reading from it, “So; we leave Friday night. It’s got to be Friday. Nobody expects anything on a Friday. We’re doing this elegantly; in, out, no big deal. Think sixteen year old boy losing his virginity.”

Takahiro opened the door, then.

“Hey, Hajime,” she greeted before sliding down to settle in Issei’s lap. Issei wrapped her arms around her, and Hajime felt jealous at the sight; she didn’t want to be either of them, she just wanted to do the same to Tooru. It hurt.

“Anyway,” Issei continued, “We meet Friday night in all black; sensible and comfortable. Then we go and hide in the barn on the Crow’s campus— you can walk it in forty minutes and run it in twenty— and execute the plan from there. I’m not telling you what it is, because I’m not letting either of you get into trouble for it. You’re too good a student, Tooru, and Hajime, you’re too good a person.”

“Thanks,” Hajime muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

day fourteen

The next Friday— after a surprisingly successful German exam, though perhaps not so surprising at all; Tooru had tutored Hajime— Hajime packed clothes and a blanket into her backpack. Takahiro packed in silence, though with far more happiness and renewed joy compared to when she came back to school; it was normal once more.

The first task of the evening had been to get granted leave from the dean, a Ms. Mizoguchi; a sad, thirty-something year old.

“I’m taking Tooru and Hajime and ‘Hiro home tonight.” Issei told her, “We’ll be back sometime tomorrow after lunch.”

Mizoguchi spun her pen around her fingers.

“‘Hiro liked her taste of Azabu that much?” she said.

“Yes,”

“Let me just ring your mom to ask her.”

Tooru’s hand reached out behind her back to clasp Hajime’s; Hajime held it, tightly.

“Tooru and Hajime and Takahiro will be at your house this weekend, won’t they, ma’am? Yes, they said— oh, I see. Alright… thank you. Goodbye,”

Mizoguchi looked up at Issei.

“Your mother is a marvellous women,” she said.

“She is,” Issei replied, “See you on Sunday, ma’am.”

As they walked— more like sprinted— out of Mizoguchi’s office to the forest, Issei explained, “I phoned her yesterday and asked her to cover for me; and she did. I’m sort of surprised myself. Guess she knew I’d do it regardless. She doesn’t want us to get caught, either, I suppose.”

They continued on towards the forest, and walked through it; bugs whirred around them. Tooru swatted at them relentlessly. Hajime watched her and laughed.

After three quarters of an hour or so, they reached the dilapidated leak-prone, aching structure that was the barn; it seemed ancient. The Crow’s school could be seen in the distance, raise on a little hill. Hay was stored in the barn for whatever reason; they didn’t have horses, or anything like that. Tooru simply snorted and told Hajime they had it because they’re fucking weird, Haj’.

Takahiro dropped her bag in the centre of it, and the others formed a sort of circle; Hajime lay her blanket beside Tooru’s. Tooru caught her eye and smiled.

Issei let her bag fall, then. It landed between them with a surprisingly loud noise.

“These are the fireworks,” she said, “Take a couple. We’re splitting into pairs.”

The plan had been laid out. Issei had even shown them a map of the grounds and where the fireworks were to be lit, and at which time. If Issei had put this much effort into academics, she’d be an honour roll student, Hajime thought. It left no room for error; come eleven p.m., an alarm rang on Takahiro’s phone, and Issei checked her watch before pulling down the balaclava she possessed and instructing Tooru and Hajime to get your asses out there, homos! before disappearing into the night, Takahiro’s hand clasped tightly in hers. They were partners in crime, and partners in life, it seemed.

Tooru shifted beside her.

“Guess we should get going, huh?” she asked and Hajime nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, pulling down her hat; courtesy of Issei. She slung the backpack— filled with fireworks of all sorts— over her shoulder.

“We look like spies,” Tooru giggled. She tucked back a strand of her hair into her own black beanie; courtesy of Takahiro.

Hajime’s heart beat rapidly against her ribcage as they walked out of the barn together. For a moment, they seemed invincible; truly as though they were on a mission that could not be stopped.

“First to fight, first to die.” Hajime whispered.

“Fuck, yeah.” Tooru said. She reached out towards Hajime, and tangled their fingers together. “Does it bother you?” she asked.

“What?”

“The handholding,”

“No,” Hajime stuttered, “No— no, it doesn’t; not at all. Why?”

Tooru shrugged.

“It calms me down.” she said, “I like it. Tell me if it bothers you, yeah?”

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“Yeah.” she replied.

Two minutes later, they crouched behind the trees fifty metres from the backdoor of the academy. Hajime could feel her pulse ring in her heart beat as Tooru pulled out the fireworks and flicked her lighter open

“Thirty seconds.” Tooru hushed. She lit the fireworks.

They sizzled, and suddenly, it was the fourth of July in September; Hajime stared at the fuse for a moment, to make sure it was hit before pulling Tooru— who’d been frozen and rooted to the ground— and running with a whisper of, “Go— fucking run, Tooru.”

They ran.

The fireworks burst in the blue night. Hajime thought her eardrums would burst; it was incredibly loud, though she could hear her own heartbeat hammer, too. She was running— fast— and Tooru’s hand was still in hers.

Briefly, Hajime recognised that by now, all the students would be awake; the teachers would be searching for the culprits. They had to keep moving. Hajime tore Tooru across the sports field and into the woods, running up the hill and across the stream until they ran out of the other side of the woods, right behind the dorms. Hajime dropped and ripped open her backpack as Tooru heaved. With a shaking hand, she lit the second firework.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” Tooru hushed, and then came the sizzle. Tooru didn’t hesitate to run this time, and Hajime followed her. Behind them, firecrackers exploded.

“Stop right now!” a voice shouted behind them.

Stopping was not in the plan. They did not stop.

“Stop, or I’ll call the police!”

Hajime crouched down on the ground. Tooru lit the fuse, and they ran once more. The firecrackers exploded in synchronicity with Hajime’s heartbeat, though it was ridiculous; with Tooru’s hand in hers, she felt infinitely unbeatable. They turned north, and ran past the murky, green lake just in front of the school. In the distance, another firecracker burst into the sky; it was Takahiro and Issei’s shift, now.

“Drop one now,” Hajime wheezed, “Tooru— hey, Tooru; drop one now.”

“Okay,” Tooru breathed, “Yeah, okay.”

Hajime could feel her hot breaths fan over her mouth. She dropped down, and Tooru lit the fuse; they were getting faster, now. The roman candles exploded above them as they sprinted past the lake, and up the hill until the shackled barn was in sight. In the distance, bright sparks burst into the sky as Tooru fell on her knees, and Hajime buckled over. It was dark, and everything was still, aside from their hard, loud breaths echoing in the silence. Hajime sat beside Tooru in the grass, and they watched arrays of colour elicit in the midnight air; though Hajime wasn’t really watching the fireworks. She was watching Tooru. Tooru was gorgeous. She looked like a mess, but she was still unfairly, utterly beautiful.

“Hang on,” Hajime whispered. Tooru turned her head and watched her with wide eyes and a parted mouth as Hajime reached forward and picked some leaves out of Tooru’s hair.

“Thanks,” Tooru said as Hajime flicked them away.

“No problem,” Hajime hushed needlessly.

Tooru nestled closer to her, then, and rested her head on Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime leaned back on the palms of her hands, and in that moment, she wondered whether reality had been just a little bit altered; it was surreal, and entirely magnificent.

“Mission accomplished.” Hajime said with a grin. Tooru smiled, lifting her head to look at Hajime; her eyes were glazed over, and reflected everything in their wake. She had dirt on her face. Hajime raised a hand and rubbed at it with her thumb. Tooru’s skin was just as soft as she expected, and a tropical burn grew over her face. Tooru blinked at her, and then her eyes slid just a little bit closed as she tilted her head and inched closer. Hajime was sure she wasn’t breathing at this point; all she could do was stare at Tooru’s parted, perfect pink lips and—

“Hey, dipshits!”

Issei and Takahiro ascended the hill. Tooru and Hajime broke apart as though lightning had struck between them.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did we ruin your little moment by reminding you to go inside the fucking barn?” Issei continued.

“Yeah, you did.” Tooru muttered before staggering towards the ragged barn. Takahiro patted Hajime on the back as Issei led them inside.

“War does funny things to man.” Takahiro whispered to Hajime. Hajime hadn’t known what she meant with that; she was too intoxicated on how close she had been to kissing Tooru back then.

Things were just as they’d left them inside the barn. Tooru sat down in the centre— atop of Hajime’s blanket— and crossed her legs whilst rummaging through her backpack. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one.

“If you’re going to be rebellious, you might as well go the whole way.” she mumbled as Hajime slumped beside her.

“Is it smart to smoke in a barn full of hay?” Hajime questioned.

Tooru laughed.

“No,” she agreed, “I just want to be cool.”

“You’re already cool.” muttered Hajime.

Tooru bit her lip. A terrific blush covered her cheeks and neck, and she inhaled some smoke in an effort to calm herself.

“Thanks, Haj’,” scoffed Takahiro, “You’ve successfully made Oikawa Tooru shut up for once.”

Issei lit one, too, as Takahiro settled next to her, legs sprawled over her lap.

“Do you want a cigarette?” she asked Hajime, “If you don’t, that’s fine. Tooru smokes like a Victorian chimney as soon as the sun sets, anyway.”

Hajime stared at the white stick Issei held between her two fingers. Eventually, she grabbed it and placed it between her lips. Issei lit it, and as she inhaled, she caught Tooru’s gaze on her.

Hajime coughed. She wheezed, and gasped for breath before holding the cigarette out towards Issei.

“No thanks— that tastes like licking a fuckin’ ashtray.” Hajime said.

Issei laughed and nodded. She took a drag from the cigarette regardless.

“Yeah,” Issei replied, “It does.”

“Why do you smoke, then?”

“It drives the bugs away.”

Hajime raised her eyebrows and nodded, as though the concept were entirely logical.

“So,” Issei spoke, “How’d it go?”

“Huh?”

“The prank; how’d it go?”

“Oh,” said Hajime. All she good think about was how nice it’d felt to hold Tooru’s hand, and how nice Tooru looked, and how—

“It was,” she eventually replied, “Good. It was… good, yeah.”

Tooru exhaled some smoke.

“Nice,” Issei replied, “I think we did well, guys; really. Well done.”

“Thanks, Ms. Matsun.” Tooru drawled. Issei scowled at her and stubbed out her cigarette on a piece of aluminium foil she’d brought; a sort of make-shift ashtray. Tooru flicked her cigarette over it.

“I’m bored,” stated Tooru, “Ms. Matsun, the alcohol, please.”

“Sure, Ms. Oikawa,” Issei replied, reaching behind her to grab a messenger bag. She placed it in the centre, and opened it to reveal three bottles of some sort of wine; the cheap kind. Even Hajime could tell that much. Tooru clapped her hands gleefully and opened a bottle, placing it to her lips and knocking her head back. She drowned a good quarter of it before passing it to Hajime, who followed suit. It was horrendously bitter and entirely cheap, though Hajime drank it regardless and passed it onto the Takahiro, and then Issei.

The alcohol in Hajime’s blood rose to her head a little too quickly. Tooru must have been a little drunk, too; she laughed at everything, and she had the most adorable giggle. Hajime found herself staring at her a little too long; the thousand-yard stare of intoxication, Issei called it, before Hajime flushed and tore her eyes away. Tooru merely laughed; she looked so goddamn happy.

Takahiro opened a second bottle, then, and between the four of them, it was emptied fairly quickly.

“Great,” Tooru spoke, “Now we can play spin the bottle.”

“We could have done that with the first bottle,” Hajime drawled.

“It’s no fun playing sober.” Issei spoke.

“You’re no fun sober, either.” Tooru whispered to Hajime, though she’d failed miserably. Hajime turned her head towards Tooru and glared, though she failed at that, similarly. Tooru spat a laugh. Hajime grinned, and laughed, then, too. Her face hurt, and her abdomen hurt, too. There was nothing like the deep breaths Hajime felt after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world felt like a sore stomach for all the right reasons.

“I am fun.” Hajime hushed.

“Yeah,” giggled Tooru, “Maybe— maybe a little bit.” she breathed. They were close once more; Tooru’s breath fanned hotly over Hajime’s mouth and cheeks.

Hajime felt sad and happy at the same time, and she was still trying to figure out how that could be.

“I thought you wanted to play spin the bottle?” Issei asked with a grin.

Tooru turned her head.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, “Yeah, I do.”

Tooru shifted, and sat in front of the bottle. Hajime’s heart rate spiked; pull out a bottle and put it in the middle of a circle, and heart rates do spike. Hajime refused to believe it was solely caused by the one-in-four chance— that’s twenty-five percent— that she could end up kissing Tooru; her lips on Tooru’s. Though, the fact that Tooru sat beside Hajime surely lowered the probably of that occurring. Regardless, Hajime could not stop herself from wondering whether Tooru’s lips would be soft and warm, or chapped and dry. Tooru had this habit of biting her lower lip, and so—

“Who wants to go first?” Tooru exclaimed.

No one volunteered, and so Tooru tossed it to Takahiro. She took a deep breath and spun. It landed on Hajime, and she laughed. Takahiro scrambled towards her and pressed her lips to Hajime’s forehead, then down to her cheeks, dusting her skin with tiny pecks until she smacked Hajime’s lips loudly, clasping her head between her hands. Hajime’s eyes widened at the sheer surprise of it, and laughter rang.

It was Hajime’s turn, then; the bottle spun, and then it didn’t.

Hajime stared at the neck of the bottle. She followed it with cautious eyes.

It had landed on Tooru.

Issei snorted. Takahiro shushed her.

Tooru’s face was bright red, and her eyes were trained solely on Hajime whilst Hajime rubbed at the back of her neck, and then she shifted closer. Tooru scooted towards her, nervously staring a point somewhere in the bottom right corner.

Tooru’s breath fanned over Hajime’s cheeks. It smelt of cheap alcohol and bitter cigarettes, yet underneath all that, it was sweet, too. Hajime’s heart felt too large for her ribcage to contain. Tooru exhaled a shaking breath. Hajime’s fingers were trembling.

It was Hajime that closed the remaining gap between their lips. They barely grazed before she moved away. Longing spread deep inside her chest, and her mouth burned where it had touched Tooru’s. She opened her eyes, and saw Tooru stare back at her with wide eyes, mouth parted in a perfect little oh.

“Wait— I’m sorry— I shouldn’t— I thought—”

Tooru didn’t let her finish. Her hands returned to grasp the back of Hajime’s neck, and she pulled her down once more. Their teeth clashed, and Tooru surged forward to push Hajime onto her back with her enthusiasm. It was frantic, and painful, though Hajime kissed back with such earnest enthusiasm Tooru swore her heart grew three sizes.

Hajime sucked and bit at Tooru’s lips until Tooru gasped and opened her mouth. Tooru moaned lowly as Hajime licked the roof of Tooru’s mouth, pressing closer towards her until Tooru sat in Hajime’s lap; thighs on either side of Hajime’s lap, her fingers in her hair. Hajime ran her hands up and down Tooru’s back as Tooru swivelled her hips and sucked at Hajime’s lower lip. Hajime moaned lowly, and Tooru grinned; Hajime could feel her lips spread into that lopsided smile of hers.

Hajime’s fingertips mapped out Tooru’s face, then; traced along her temple and jaw. She cradled her face as Tooru laughed a little, and Hajime found herself smiling, too. She was just so damn happy, that’s all.

Hajime wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, in the end. When they drew apart, Tooru was heaving a little— her breath fanning over Hajime’s mouth— and Hajime was panting, too.

They were both smiling— at each other— and that was fine. Hajime’s entire body tingled, and her pulse fluttered at the sight of Tooru sitting in her lap, grinning brilliantly down at her; she was too beautiful. The dim lighting of the barn created this halo around her, and her hair was messy, and her skin was flushed, and her shirt rode up a little from all the movement.

Hajime thanked her past-self for being assigned to dorm room forty-two and receiving one Hanamaki Takahiro as a roommate, for it all lead her to this; to tracing Tooru’s face with her fingertips— down from the tip of her ears to her cheeks to her jaw to her neck— as Tooru laughed softly and rested her forehead against Hajime’s.

“I don’t think anyone else will be able to beat that.” Issei spoke.

“Yeah,” Takahiro said.

Everything was whirring in Hajime’s ears. She felt a little lightheaded as Issei announced that she had to pee, and Takahiro nodded and scrambled up to join her. Tooru remained close to Hajime, and Hajime couldn’t stop blushing; it was so embarrassing, but she was too damn happy to care. Her stomach felt as though it was going to implode, and she was sort of worried she was going to vomit, but she was so damn happy.

Tooru tangled their fingers together and leaned her head on Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime could not stop grinning.

Later, they’d join the others again and drink and smoke some more— maybe a little less than they’d originally planned— and Hajime’d pull Tooru into her lap and kiss the back of her neck and Tooru would let raw laughter escape her lips as night fell like a curtain over the four of them.

day fifteen

Hajime’s mind was still foggy with sleep the next morning; she felt a little hung-over, and as she blinked, the situation slowly dawned on her. Tooru was still in her arms, and Hajime clutched her tightly. Her hair was mussed, and it tickled Hajime’s chin. She had dark circles underneath her eyes, though that was fine; she was gorgeous, and she was so close to Hajime that Hajime couldn’t care less about what Tooru looked like. All she cared about was that Tooru was here; in her arms, safe and sound. Her heart beat rattled against Hajime’s chest.

Tooru stirred awake, then.

“G’morning sleeping beauty,” Hajime whispered into her ear, kissing her cheek as Tooru groaned, and turned over. She shielded her eyes from the early morning light peeking through the panels of the barn. Issei and Takahiro lay in the corner. They were out cold.

“Are you calling me a princess?” Tooru asked, grinning.

“Maybe,” drawled Hajime as Tooru wrapped her arms around Hajime’s middle and drew her closer to her. Hajime felt the top of her ears redden; Tooru was still here, with her, even after last night. Hajime still couldn’t fathom that she’d kissed her back, though that left the question she’d asked herself ever since girls stopped being gross; does she like me, or does she like me?

They were quiet for a few minutes. Hajime felt the rise and fall of Tooru’s chest against hers.

“Listen,” Tooru stuttered, “Hajime, I—”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Fooling around, and— kissing,” hushed Tooru, “I just— that won’t work—”

“Oh,” Hajime said dejectedly, “That’s— I—”

“That won’t work because— because I don’t want to just— I don’t want you to end up like all the others. I like you.”

“What?”

Tooru inhaled a shaking breath.

“I think I’ve accidentally fallen in love with you, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Chapter Text

part two

i carry your heart with me

(i carry it in my heart)

— e.e. cummings

day fifteen (continued)

Hajime could hear her pulse roar in her ears.

She was trembling all over, though no words came out of her mouth; all she could do was gape at Tooru and mouth silent sounds whilst Tooru exhaled shakily. She looked as though she was a Jenga tower that was leaning too much to one side; all Hajime had to do was reach out and touch her and she’d collapse.

“Tooru— Tooru, I—”

“Hey!” Issei shouted, slamming the door open and scrambling inside, “We have to bounce! Dean’s on the way to look through the barn!”

Tooru looked away and sighed through gritted teeth whilst Takahiro clambered in a hectic effort to gather all their belongings. Hajime blinked away tears as she stuffed that blanket— the one she and Tooru had sat on when Tooru had let her kiss her— into her backpack. She couldn’t look Tooru in the eye; she felt as though her heart had been ripped out, and Tooru was holding it in her hands.

Tooru followed Takahiro out of the barn, and they sprinted back to the academy in utterly heart-wrenching silence.

They reported back to Ms. Mizoguchi with heaving breaths. She didn’t seem to care, and neither did they; Hajime was pathetically apathetic. All that mattered, and all she could think about, was Tooru; even when Takahiro unlocked the door to their dorm and raced to the bathroom and vomited half her intestines into the toilet bowl. Hajime threw her backpack on her mattress before plunging down and screaming into her pillow over the sounds of Takahiro’s retching.

Her eyes were damp— she might have cried a little— when she sat up again. She inhaled a trembling breath before straightening her shoulders, balling her fists, and marching over to room forty-seven; the room with the dark blue plastic door that had a nail shoved into it, and a small dry-erase board. Oikawa Tooru has a single! it read.

Hajime tore open the door and stepped inside. Tooru stood in the centre of the room, and spun around a lightning speed as Hajime slammed the door behind her. She walked up to Tooru as Tooru stepped away from her, though Hajime quickly had her backed up to a wall. Tooru stared up at her with wide eyes; she sniffled, and her bottom lip— which was held between her teeth— trembled incessantly.

“Tooru— hey, Tooru— listen closely, ‘cause I’m only going to say this once and it matters, okay?” Hajime spoke, holding Tooru tightly with one hand on each of her forearms, “I— I can’t tell you why I want to be more than just some random hook-up or why being around you makes me feel weird or why it matters to me what you think about me, but I know that it does, and I think that it might matter to you too, so, I’m going to do what I wanted to do since day fuckin’ one, and you’re going to deal with it, or punch me in the face if you don’t want to.”

With that, Hajime closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, leaned forward and kissed Tooru for all she was worth, and Tooru was worth a lot; Tooru was worth the whole world, the galaxy and all the stars and planets and just the entire universe, really.

Tooru made a small noise in the back of her throat, and her entire body seized up underneath her. For a moment, Hajime felt guilt boil in her blood, and she considered pulling back and apologising and transferring schools, but then—

Tooru wrapped her arms around Hajime’s neck and jumped up, wrapping her legs around Hajime’s and titling her head. As Tooru opened her mouth, Hajime staggered backwards until the back of her knees hit Tooru’s bed. She fell onto the mattress, and Tooru climbed on top of her and held Hajime’s face. Hajime’s hands rested on Tooru’s waist as she pressed against her, and licked at the roof of her mouth before pressing her tongue against Hajime’s. It was slow, and soft, and entirely theirs; it was wonderful. Hajime could die happy kissing Tooru, she thought.

“Do you mean it?” Tooru breathed as they pulled apart.

“Yeah,” Hajime spoke in a hoarse voice, “I mean it.”

“Really?” Tooru asked, grinning.

“Really.” Hajime replied in a tone far softer than she had anticipated. She ran her fingers up and down Tooru’s waist, and Tooru giggled; she was ticklish. Hajime basked in the sight of Tooru laughing above her until Tooru sighed happily and carded her hands through Hajime’s hair. She rested her forehead against Hajime’s. Hajime closed her eyes; Tooru smelt of vanilla and tasted of sunshine.

They were fine.

Hajime didn’t realise they’d fallen asleep until she woke up an hour later. Tooru was nestled beneath her. Her breathing was even, and Hajime kissed at her forehead. She snapped her head up to look at Hajime. She grinned, and opened her mouth to say something before her phone vibrated from her nightstand. She reached for it and she glanced at the screen, then threw her head back and groaned.

“Who is it?” asked Hajime, resting her chin on the crown of Tooru’s head.

“Fuckin’ Ushijima telling me when rhythm gymnastics practice is,” Tooru replied as he locked her phone and tossed it away, “She always does that. She keeps finding me and just telling me you should have come to rhythm gymnastics all because I went to try-outs but quit to join cheerleading. It’s ridiculous.”

“You wanted to do rhythm gymnastics?” Hajime laughed.

“Don’t mock my pain! It’s not funny!”

“Yeah,” Hajime snorted, “Yeah, it is. I’m glad you didn’t join rhythm gymnastics, though, because that would have meant I wouldn’t get to see you practice cheerleading. You look so good in that skirt, Tooru.” breathed Hajime, trailing a hand along Tooru’s inner thigh.

“Oh,” exhaled Tooru.

Hajime hummed. Tooru’s muscles contracted underneath her fingertips.

“Hajime,” she said in a choked voice, “Hajime— Hajime, we should— we should see Issei and ‘Hiro. Make sure no one saw us yesterday, yeah?”

Hajime sighed.

“Sure,” she replied before sitting up and walking towards the door. She yawned and cracked her back as Tooru mirrored her actions. Her heart thundered in her ribcage, and quickly glanced at Tooru; had she done something wrong, or was she moving faster than Tooru wanted?

Tooru smiled, and suddenly, everything was alright again; Hajime took her hand and led her to her dorm. Just as she reached to open the door, Tooru bit her lower lip and looked down at their joint fingers.

“Is this okay?” Hajime questioned.

“Yeah,” Tooru exhaled, “It’s… more than okay.”

Hajime smiled shyly and pushed the door open. Takahiro had stopped vomiting. She sat on the top bunk in Issei’s lap. Issei’s fingers mapped her face as she whispered sweet nothings to her, hushed words of praise and we’ll be fine, I’ll talk to them; I love you—

“Hey,” Tooru spoke awkwardly, “Are you— is there— uh, should we—”

Takahiro slumped down and rested her head on Issei’s shoulder. Issei ran her palms up and down her curved spine soothingly.

“It’s fine,” Issei replied, “My dad’s an asshole, that’s all. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright,” Tooru said softly. She stood on her tiptoes to lean over the top bed, and tilted her head, resting it on the barrier around the mattress.

“How was the manifesto received?” Hajime asked.

Issei grinned.

“Good,” she said, “It was… good. They think the boys did it. I guess they don’t think girls have it in them to pull of an awesome prank like we did.”

Tooru smiled sweetly.

“No,” she said, “They don’t.”

Takahiro sniffled. They were silent, after that.

day seventeen

Sunday came and went; Takahiro was called home since her mother felt unwell, and there was no one else to help her, and so Takahiro— and naturally Issei— left Sunday morning. Tooru seemed to have become a space cadet in the time between Saturday and Monday; she’d avoided Hajime consistently, and to great success.

The next time she saw her was Monday in math class. She sat two seats in front and one to the left of Hajime, and Hajime hadn’t known before that that it was even possible to stare at the back of a person’s head for one-hundred-and-twenty minutes, but it was. She could only watch Tooru in the hope that Tooru would eventually notice and look back at Hajime and smile and her and tell her that everything was fine; that they were fine.

That didn’t happen. Instead, Hajime spent the rest of the day sulking alone in her dorm room. She felt unbearably lonely, and she supposed she could have gone to Tooru’s; she could have insisted Tooru would tell her what was wrong— did she find someone better; did she realise Hajime wasn’t all that great; did she want more than Hajime could give?—  but she didn’t. She fell onto her mattress, let lose a broken mix of a sob and a groan and didn’t leave her room for the rest of the day.

day eighteen

Hajime awoke on Tuesday with a piercing migraine and greasy hair; in the end, she didn’t care about either, and simply dragged her sorry-ass to class. English was first; another class she had with Tooru. It seemed impossible to avoid her presence, Hajime realised as her head thundered.

Tooru wasn’t there.

Hajime didn’t know where she was. A terrible, dangerous concoction of worry and guilt and anger boiled inside of her stomach.

day nineteen

Tooru didn’t show up to class the next day, either.

Issei and Takahiro came back, though; Takahiro wore a extravagant scarf, and Issei was dressed in a turtle-neck. Hajime nodded her head in a silent greeting at them before asking whether they knew where Tooru was. Takahiro tightened her hold on Issei’s hand.

“No,” she said in a strange sort of voice, as though she wasn’t really sure herself, staring off into the distance, “We… we don’t; sorry, buddy.”

day twenty

The day after, Hajime cornered Takahiro; they were lying in their bunk beds, and it was early in the afternoon.

“Hey,” spoke Hajime, “You got a minute?”

Takahiro dropped the magazine she’d been reading.

“Ye-es,” she said, “I do.”

Hajime was quiet. She bit at the side of her thumb nervously.

“You do have to say something, though.” Takahiro snorted.

Hajime exhaled a shaky laugh.

“Takahiro Hanamaki,” she started, “If you tell anyone this— and by anyone I mean Tooru— I swear to God I will cut you.”

Takahiro blinked up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” she voiced.

Hajime inhaled a deep breath.

“Okay; so I have this huge fuckin’ gay-ass crush on Tooru, and God— I don’t know,” she dragged a palm down her face, “After that night in the barn when we kissed I— I might have told her I— shit, did I tell her? I think I did. Anyway, I told her I loved her, and—”

Takahiro swung her head down the top bed. In her vigour, she miscalculated, and promptly fell completely out of her bed with a shriek, a loud curse to the high heavens above, and a wince, as well as a rather loud thunk!

“You did what?” huffed Takahiro, scrambling to sit up.

Hajime muffled a scream into her hands.

“I told her I loved her, and now she’s gone forever; I think I fucked up— holy shit, I fucked up— ‘Hiro, what do I do? She’s so— and I’m so—”

Takahiro snickered.

“Dude, are you about to cry on me here?” she said. Hajime shook her head and bit her lips to fight back the tears that stung her eyes.

“I fucked up.”

Takahiro was silent for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said, then, “No shit.”

Hajime groaned.

“What the fuck should I do?”

Takahiro inhaled a breath.

“Dude, calm down. This is Tooru we’re talking about, firstly; she loves this place, so she’ll come back, and also she still has all her shit here, so… she has to eventually. Secondly, Tooru has issues.”

“Issues?” Hajime asked, sitting upright and staring at Takahiro with wide eyes.

“Yeah, some; I mean, not like… mental issues. I mean more like… she hasn’t… God, how can I explain this to you— she’s sort of a shy hoe, a… a shoe. She’s a shoe.”

“She’s— she’s straight?”

“What?” Takahiro exclaimed, “God, no! I don’t know what she is but that girl for sure as hell ain’t straight. She’s just… Here’s the thing. She doesn’t know how relationships work, and I think she just got scared. For the record, she asked me if girls hold hands when they date once. Her family’s really, really weird— like, her mom is like that mom from Mean Girls— and I think she’s just… scared.”

Hajime exhaled a shaking breath.

“Scared?” she repeated, “She’s— she’s scared of what?”

Takahiro shrugged.

“Why don’t you ask her?” she said, “She’ll probably come back soon; don’t worry.”

With that, Takahiro climbed up to her bed and returned to her magazine, and Hajime dug her teeth into her lower lip; that was easier said than done, she thought.

day twenty-four

Hajime waited two days to corner Tooru after she returned. She came back in the afternoon, without a word and without a bag; Issei had seen her strut up to her dorm room and lock the door.

Hajime tried to push open that same door— with that jutting nail sticking out of it— after dinner. Tooru hadn’t shown up, which Hajime had expected; the anger was beginning to override the worry she felt for Tooru, at this point, though the real problem was that neither came even close to the sheer amounts of pure, unadulterated love she contained directed to her.

Hajime pound her fist to the door; just once. She heard rustling, and then Tooru opened the door just a fraction wide enough for Hajime to step her foot inside and push it open; she was stronger than Tooru, and so she shoved her backwards. Tooru stumbled over her own feet as she moved towards the wall.

She seemed completely unstable; her hair was tied in a messy bun, and she was standing barefoot in that same Adidas sports bra and some grey sweatpants shorts.

She frowned, and flushed all over as she looked up at Hajime.

“What are you doing here?” she breathed. Her voice sounded rough. Hajime wondered whether she had smoked a lot in recent times.

She had thought of so much to say before, though now that Tooru was here— right here— they all had died away instantly.

“It’s been a week.” Hajime eventually replied, stepping closer.

“Since what?”

“You know what.”

“No, I— oh.”

Realisation dawned on Tooru. She stepped closer to Hajime, too.

“I’m sorry,” she hushed, “I’m sorry— I’m sorry.”

Hajime pinpointed the moment her heart broke into a thousand million tiny little pieces; Tooru’s voice was so broken, and she seemed like she was desperately trying not to hyperventilate.

“It’s— where were you?”

Hajime had almost told her it was fine when it wasn’t; either one of them must have done something wrong, and had to be fixed. Hajime didn’t want to give this up for the world. She thought back to how soft Tooru’s lips were, and how perfectly her fingers fit into her hand, and how warm she was all over, and how nice her laugh was—

“Lots of places,” Tooru spoke, “I— I just—”

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you,” Hajime blurted, “I’m sorry— I— I thought that— since you said you liked girls, too… and I… I… I’m sick of pretending that I don’t like you like that— like more than a friend but… I get it. If you don’t want that, I can get over this. We can be friends— it’ll be just like before—”

“I don’t want that,” Tooru stated. Her lips were pressed tightly against one another; so tight that they were white. Hajime was sure she wasn’t breathing at this point.

“What?” Hajime exhaled, “Then what’s the—”

“I’m scared.”

Hajime shut her mouth; she blinked— once or twice— and then held her breath.

“You’re what?”

Tooru’s muscles deflated. Hajime immediately regretted her tone; it was too strong. It wasn’t what Tooru needed right now.

“I’m sorry,” Hajime tried, “I’m— I didn’t mean— I’m sorry—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Haj’!” Tooru shouted. Her palm pushed against Hajime’s shoulder, and she breathed heavily out of her nose, “Stop apologising! This isn’t your fault— you’re perfect— it’s mine!”

Hajime staggered back and stared at her in shock. Her voice had this leer to it. Hajime recognised her expression; she was angry, though not at Hajime, but at herself, and at the world.

“It’s yours?” echoed Hajime.

Tooru’s shoulders sagged further, and she closed her eyes and balled her fist, as though she were fighting back tears. Hajime reached out, then, carefully and slowly, as though she were a wild animal. Her hand hovered above her shoulders before cupping the back of her neck. Hajime could feel her breath fan quickly over her mouth and cheeks as she leaned forward and rested her forehead against Tooru’s.

 “Yeah,” she said weakly. Her eyes were still shut, though her fists uncurled slightly, and then, warm fingers graze her cheek.

Tooru fluttered open her eyes then, and God; she’s beautiful, Hajime thought. Even when things were like this— even when there were trials and tribulations and all— she was still so goddamn beautiful it hurt to look at her, sometimes.

Tooru made a small, pathetic and utterly desperate noise in the back of her throat, and then the tears come; slowly, and then all at once.

“We have to talk about this, Tooru,” Hajime said softly.

“Can’t we just— I don’t think— there’s nothing to talk about—”

“You can’t just disappear for a week and then… don’t… please, Tooru.” Hajime sighed.

Tooru wasn’t breathing; her chest heaved with sobs, and then, Hajime shifted a little. She cupped her face with both hands, and tried to swipe the tears away.

“Hajime…,” she breathed, “Hajime, I— I’m sorry, this is my fault— this is all my fault— I just—I really, really like you… and I…”

Hajime prepared herself for the worst.

“… I’ve never dated a girl— or anyone— before and I don’t know what to do.”

Hajime exhaled a breath she didn’t know was holding.

Tooru let loose a horrifically raw sob as Hajime hovered her mouth over Tooru’s lip. She waited; for Tooru to give some form— any form— of consent, and Tooru did. She leaned forward and kissed her softly. It made something burst inside of Hajime’s ribcage. She wasn’t sad, or happy, really, but it was something else entirely; a mix out of thankfulness and something indefinable. It felt incredible.

“I like you, too, Tooru; I probably love you.” Hajime whispered into the gap between Tooru’s lips, “I’ll love you forever, if you’ll let me. I love you so much it hurts, and I want to do this; I want to do this with you, and we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“Yeah,” breathed Tooru. She laughed hoarsely, and hiccupped a little. She gave Hajime a watery smile. Hajime felt like she could have flied then and there; happiness exploded from inside of her and made her fingers tingle. She tightened her hold on Tooru.

Hajime kissed her once more— because she could— and she melted towards Tooru, pushing her closer into the wall. Tooru opened her mouth a little more, and slim, long fingers slid into Hajime’s hair. Hajime made a low noise in her chest, and Tooru smiled; Hajime could feel it, how her lips stretched against hers. It was gorgeous.

Later— how much later was hard to tell— Hajime would have to leave to sneak back into her own dorm room, though not before wrapping Tooru in her arms and pulling her towards her and kissing her silly. Hajime pressed her lips against Tooru’s neck and cheek, and Tooru snaked her arms around Hajime’s neck, urging her to press closer as Tooru laughed and laughed and laughed—

It was so easy to love Tooru, and luckily for her, it was easy for Tooru to love her as well.

day twenty-eight

Tooru lay on her dorm bed, alone; it was nearly midnight, and so her phone was the only source of light in the room.

            to: hiro

            hey nipple.

            from: hiro

            STOP CALLING ME THAT

            to: hiro

listen here dickhead speak 1 word abt what i asked u about earlier & i’ll spank ur sorry ass so hard w/ a fuckin lacrosse stick ur gonna forget ur Not Straight

A moth flew in front of her face, attracted by the bright screen. In an effort to swat it away, she slapped herself in the face.

            from: hiro

            ...

            from: hiro

            you mean when u asked me how girls have sex

            to: hiro

            YES

            from: hiro

1. ok.

            to: hiro

            i have so much power over you

            from: hiro

            wtf no u don’t you’re weak

            to: hiro

            EXCUSE ME

            from: hiro

            hajime is too good for you.

            to: hiro

            yeah.

            to: hiro

            i know.

            from: hiro

            are you… AGREEING with me????? :o

            to: hiro

            stfu shithead i’m sleep deprived

            from: hiro

have you been staying up all night fucking hajime. did u finally make use of my advice.

            to: hiro

            omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!

            to: hiro

            no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and mind ur language u CHILD!!!!!!!

            from: hiro

            are you telling me you haven’t had sex with her yet.

            to: hiro

            i’m not telling you anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

            to: hiro

            also so what if i didn’t.

            from: hiro

well u want to right?? and hajime wants to as well. she keeps on having longer showers. which means she’s just jerkin’ off a lot

            to: hiro

            oh

            from: hiro

            yeah.

            to: hiro

            ok.

            from: hiro

            you should probably get onto that

            to: hiro

            onto what?

            from: hiro

            onto hajime’s lacrosse stick.

            to: hiro

            omfg s t op

            from: hajime <3 <3

            go the fuck to sleep you piece of shit. i can see you’re online.

            from: hiro

            do you want to jump onto her lacrosse stick.

            from: hiro

            do you. do you want that.

            to: hiro

            so what if i do!!!!!!!!!!

            to: hajime <3 <3

            love u 2 bae ;-*

            from: hiro

            do you want to have sex with the literal goddess iwaizumi hajime

            from: hiro

            do you.

            to: hajime <3 <3

OK FINE YES SO WHAT IF I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH THE LITERAL GODDESS IWAIZUMI HAJIME

to: hajime <3 <3

oh.

to: hajime <3 <3

shit.

from: hajime <3

uh.

from: hajime <3 <3

ok.

Tooru dropped her phone on her face.

            from: hiro

            dude. wtf did u text hajime she just fell out of the fuckin bed. wt f

            to: hajime <3 <3

            really??

            from: hajime <3 <3

            yeah. really.

            to: hajime <3 <3

1. yeah. cool.

            from: hajime <3 <3

            get some sleep tooru

            to: hajime <3 <3

            g night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

            from: hajime <3 <3

            i love you too

            to: hiro

            hi RO HOL Y SHIT FUKC

            to: hiro

            I THINK I’M GONNA GET LAID

Tooru locked her phone and placed it on her nightstand. She covered her face with her hands and squealed in glee, kicking her bed sheets as her mind wandered; what would Hajime be like in bed? She was already a good kisser. Would she kiss Tooru’s neck? Would she drag her lips along her sensitive throat until Tooru would squirm underneath her and pull her close? Or perhaps Tooru would be on top; perhaps Tooru would be the one to slide her blazer off her shoulders and kiss along the expanse of her skin, and hook her finger in the knot of her tie and slowly— so slowly— pull it down. Her fingers would then undo the zip of her skirt, or perhaps she’d simply leave it on; Hajime looked far too good in it. Hajime looked far too good in anything, really. Tooru was sure she wouldn’t be able to breathe if she ever saw her naked; she’d be able to touch her, too. Perhaps Hajime would maybe— just maybe— moan. Tooru would become incoherent after that. She’d die at that very moment; she’d whimper, she’d gasp Hajime’s name, as Hajime’s mouth would fall open and growl out a rough Tooru— oh, fuck yeah, baby— just like that— you’re so good—

Tooru fell asleep an hour later, though only after she came so hard she got a cramp in her neck.

day twenty-nine

The next time Tooru saw Hajime, she couldn’t look her in the eye, though that was fine; neither could Hajime. It got better, though; after classes ended, they retreated to Tooru’s dorm room. Tooru sat cross-legged opposite Hajime as Hajime bit her lower lip and averted her gaze.

“Hajime,” Tooru spoke, “Are you alright? You’re really red—”

“I’m fine.” Hajime replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Really? You’re a horrible liar,” Tooru said with an infinitely adorable bashful little smile, “You must be the worst at two truths and a lie.”

“I’m not,” huffed Hajime.

“Oh, yeah? Wanna prove it?”

Hajime shrugged.

“Sure,” she replied. Tooru grinned maliciously.

“You first,” Tooru said.

Hajime leaned back on her palms.

“Fine,” she said, “Uh… when I was nine, I broke my arm… I once gave someone a hand job in a Burger King, and… and I used to think I was straight.”

“You did not give someone a hand job in a Burger King,” spoke Tooru.

Hajime grinned.

“I did.”

Tooru gasped.

“No!”

Hajime laughed at that.

“Yeah,” she said, “I did.”

“Then… there’s no way you thought you were straight.” Tooru said.

Hajime sighed.

“You got me there,” she said, “You’re right.”

Tooru giggled and sat up in joy.

“Here’s mine; I was really close to getting a tattoo the last time I stayed at ‘Hiro’s… I— uh— I really want to get physically intimate with you but I’m really nervous about and I’m scared you’ll hate me after it, and… my mom met Jessica Alba once.”

Hajime blinked at Tooru. She scratched her ear nervously.

“The one about the tattoo…?”

“Wrong. I picked out a design and all; it was going to be my zodiac constellation.”

“Oh; oh. Then…” Hajime felt a tropical burn glaze over her cheeks.

A thick blanket of silence fell over them as the weight of Tooru’s words settled in. Hajime opened her mouth, and then closed it, as she realised she had no idea what to reply with; yes, yes— me too! is what she wanted to say, but she didn’t. It seemed too strained, and too awkward. Tooru’s words were frail and required all of Hajime’s respect and patience, and so she remained silent.

After a moment, Tooru spoke.

“Jennifer Anniston.” she said.

“What?”

“It was Jennifer Anniston, not Jessica Alba.”

Hajime swallowed thickly. She brought her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

“That’s— alright, yeah,” Hajime said, “I mean I… I’ve thought about it. The… the intimate thing and not— not your mom meeting Jennifer Anniston.”

“Really?” Tooru asked.

“I— I guess I… I know you texted me… about that… but I…”

“I didn’t think you wanted to.” Tooru blurted.

Hajime’s jaw slacked.

“Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed, “I’d love to!”

Tooru blushed a furious red, and Hajime wished there was some sort of way she could return the words she spoke back into her throat.

“Oh,” Tooru replied, grinning breathlessly as though she could not quite believe it, “Yeah, I— me too.”

Hajime exhaled a nervous sigh. She was smiling, too, now, for Tooru’s happiness was intoxicating.

“Are we… should we… do something about it?” Hajime asked; slowly, carefully.

“Yes.” is Tooru’s immediate reply.

“You mean… right now?” Hajime said.

“Do you not—”

“I do!” Hajime replied quickly, “We could… I… do you want to just do— do whatever or… I mean, how far do you— yeah.”

“We… probably… I mean… we’re both girls, so…” Tooru stuttered. Her fists curled anxiously.

“Yeah,” Hajime said, “That’s— for the first time, I mean… yeah, so like… hands, maybe?”

Tooru nodded quickly, licking her lips.

“Okay,” she said in a broken voice before lunging forward and tackling Hajime to the ground. She dug her fingers into Hajime’s shoulder, and carded her other hand through Hajime’s messy and unbelievably soft hair whilst she slotted her open mouth against Hajime’s. She moaned, and the sound made Hajime’s fingers shake. Hajime was sure she wasn’t breathing as Tooru’s knees pressed against Hajime’s ribcage.

Her mouth was warm, and Tooru licked at the roof of her mouth; it felt incredible, and yet, Hajime still managed to pull away to mutter an entirely breathless “Bed— bed,” before Tooru nodded and stood, tugging Hajime to her bed and falling back against it. She pulled Hajime down, and Hajime nestled above her.

Tooru was just as eager as Hajime had expected; she kissed Hajime— hard— and rolled her hips upwards, gasping into her mouth as Hajime’s palms trailed up and down the sides of Tooru’s body. She was perfect, in that moment, and as they broke away and stared into each other’s eyes, all the thoughts of how embarrassingly rushed and cliché this was disappeared out of Hajime’s mind; she could only blink down at Tooru breathlessly and grin back a lazy smile as her heartbeat spiked and throbbed high in her throat.

Hajime exhaled a nervous laugh before glancing down at her hand, and following it as it trailed up against Tooru’s bare thigh, underneath her skirt. Tooru panted beneath her, though other than that, it was deafly quiet; perhaps she was embarrassed. The idea that she was just as nervous as Hajime was calmed her down a bit.

Hajime’s hand hovered as it dipped underneath the hem of Tooru’s skirt.

“Hajime,” breathed Tooru.

Hajime licked her dry lips.

“Do you want foreplay or straight to it?” she asked in a low voice.

Tooru slapped a hand over her mouth to stop a helpless whimper from escaping.

Hajime felt her toes curl. She leaned up, and pressed her mouth against Tooru’s neck. Tooru mewled— honest to God, she mewled— and knocked her head back, baring more of her neck to Hajime’s mouth. Hajime kissed along it, and Tooru wrapped her arms around Hajime’s shoulders, pulling her closer to her. Hajime opened her mouth, then, and slid her tongue against Tooru’s smooth skin.

“Good?” Hajime mumbled in a low tone as she bit at a stop somewhere behind Tooru’s ear.

Tooru nodded; she could not trust her voice.

Hajime’s fingers ran down Tooru’s spine, then, and Tooru arched her back and let her mouth fall open. She breathed out tiny gasps and raspy moans, and as Hajime scarped her fingernails along her bare thighs, Tooru simply groaned before retracting a hand and biting down on her knuckle. The sight alone was enough to make Hajime’s head spin.

“Hajime,” breathed Tooru. Her voice was cracked. It was quite possibly the single hottest thing Hajime had ever heard in her entire life.

“You’re excitable,” teased Hajime.

Tooru whined and hid her face in her hands. Fingertips nudged at them, and Tooru peaked out to glance at Hajime. Hajime smiled at her gently and a little lopsidedly before Tooru let her hands drop, and permitted Hajime to press tiny little pecks to the tip of Tooru’s ski-slope nose, her forehead, her cheeks, and, finally— finally— her open mouth.

Hajime pressed her tongue against Tooru’s and swallowed Tooru’s moans as Hajime’s hands skimmed underneath the hem of her skirt, inching closer and closer to Tooru’s crotch. Tooru’s thighs trembled as Hajime hooked her fingers into the waistband of Tooru’s underwear and pulled them down, out of the way. It was less embarrassing and entirely nerve-wracking, this way; to simply do this with her skirt covering her was easier.

Her fingertips nudged against bare skin, then, and Tooru squeezed her eyes shut, as though it were painful, and she just wished it was over; as though she wished the awkwardness and strain of the situation would disappear into thin air.

“Tooru,” Hajime sighed, “Tooru, calm down… it’s just your vagina.”

A breathless laugh burst out of Tooru’s throat. Hajime laughed, too, and somehow, that made it easier; Hajime didn’t care whether they were meant to laugh— whether other people laughed during their first time together— because all of her doubts and worries disappeared. Tooru melted beneath her. The evident tension which had been laced through her earlier was gone, and she planted a feather light kiss to her cheek before nodding and giving silent permission to Hajime to do what she ever she wanted, which, evidently, was to press her palm against Tooru’s wet and aching crotch.

Tooru’s head knocked back, and she tightened her hold on Hajime as her lips parted in a soundless, guttering gasp of Hajime’s name. Hajime’s touch was light at first, and yet, it made Tooru’s hips buck forward; she was sensitive. It was wonderful.

“Shit,” muttered Hajime. She exhaled lowly and pressed her forward against Tooru’s. Tooru’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at Hajime with half-lidded eyes as Hajime’s hand began to move, slowly and carefully; she watched Tooru with apt attention, studying her face for any signs of pleasure. She wanted to know what Tooru liked, and she wanted to do that for the rest of her life.

Tooru seemed easy enough to be pleased; all it took as Hajime to inch her fingers forward until they pressed against her clit, and she gripped Hajime’s hair and rolled her hips forward. Her breath became thinner, and faster, and Hajime could do little but comply and kiss her as she worked up a rhythm; fast, but not too fast. Hajime’s mouth muffled the moans she coaxed out of Tooru. It felt good; it was probably the best Hajime ever felt in her entire life. Hajime wanted to tell Tooru that, but it was too embarrassing. Perhaps next time, she thought; Tooru deserved to be praised.

Tooru whined beneath her, and her thighs quivered as Hajime drew away from her, instead kissing along her neck and pressing her other hand up and down her side before choosing to— very daringly— cup her breast. Tooru gasped, and then threw her head back in a silenced cry of something that might have once been Hajime’s name.

Heat coiled tightly in Tooru’s lower abdomen, and her breath hitched as she ran a hand through her hair; she was sweating, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Haj’,” she slurred, “Hajime— fuck, Hajime— I’m gonna come,” she whined, “I’m gonna fuckin’ come, holy shit—”

Hajime simply pressed her fingers against Tooru’s throbbing clit before Tooru gave one final, bone-shattering moan and bucked her hips forward as the pressure was lifted; she came all over Hajime’s hand, and probably dripped onto her bed sheets.

A moment of almost serene stillness fell over them as Tooru’s breath slowed down. She’d never come that hard in her entire life. Carefully, she retraced her vice-like grip on Hajime and averted her eyes as Hajime sat back and stared helplessly at her dripping hand.

“Was I that good?” she whispered, giving Tooru a lopsidedly smile.

Tooru hid her face in her pillow.

“Obviously,” she keened, rolling over onto her side, “Don’t be a dick; c’m here,” she voiced, reaching out to Hajime with open arms. Hajime flushed from the sheer look of adoration and fondness clearly written on Tooru’s face, and lay down beside her on her side.

Tooru smiled a little shyly as her fingers danced downwards to dip beneath the hem of Hajime’s skirt. Hajime watched them, but then she glanced up at Tooru’s face. She was gorgeous. Hajime felt all the air inside her lungs escape at the sight.

“Can I?” Tooru whispered quickly.

“Of course you can,” Hajime replied in a quiet voice.

Tooru nodded, then, and slipped her hand into her underwear. Hajime trembled, and bit her lower lip to muffle an embarrassingly loud groan. Her head spun as Tooru rubbed against her clit with long, nimble fingers, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she cried Tooru’s name.

She lasted maybe a minute; possibly less. It was embarrassing, though Tooru didn’t seem to mind. She simply watched her and pressed closer to her as Hajime gasped a silent, broken moan of Tooru’s name and coiled against Tooru’s fingers.

Her brain buzzed as Tooru retracted them before reaching behind her and wiping them with a tissue. She handed Hajime some, too, to clean herself up— as best as she could— and to wipe Tooru’s fluids off of her.

They were silent. Hajime didn’t know what to say; she lay back against the mattress and watched the curve of Tooru’s back as Tooru shifted, and settled beside her.

As Hajime regained her breath, Tooru blinked owlishly up at her and rested her head on Hajime’s chest and shoulder. Hajime grinned at her, and Tooru smiled back; it was perfectly, utterly, cheesy. They curled against each other as the sun set, and silence fell. Their breathing evened out and mirrored each other as Hajime wrapped her arms around her and squeezed.

Outside, the sun was setting. Birds sung. It was quiet.

Hajime pulled Tooru a little closer to her, and Tooru complied, nestling her head beneath Hajime’s.

“Thank you,” Tooru spoke.

“For what?” Hajime asked in a fond tone, running her fingers through Tooru’s hair.

“For loving me.”

Hajime licked her lips. Silence fell. There was nothing else to say, and so Hajime thanked God for the existence of Oikawa Tooru, for Tooru was someone who understood Hajime, and adored her, and for some inexplicable reason loved her more than she could understand.

day thirty

The next morning, Hajime snuck back into her dorm early, though not after kissing Tooru for just five minutes, Hajime! though in reality, that meant an hour.

“How was it?” Takahiro asked Hajime from her top bunk bed as Hajime opened the door.

Hajime blinked at her.

“What?” she asked.

Takahiro turned around and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

“How was it; your first time with Tooru, I mean?”

Hajime flushed.

“It was…” she stammered, scraping her nail against the door handle nervously, “Good. It was… good.”

Takahiro grinned maliciously.

“Just good?” she asked, “What did she do to you; fingers, mouths? Or maybe… something a little more substantial; with some grip, y’know?”

“Jesus fucking— it was just hands, okay? And… nothing was inserted and it was underneath the… underneath her skirts so it really wasn’t—”

“Wow, you guys are so fuckin’ vanilla. It’s kind of adorable, really—”

Hajime stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.

day thirty-seven

Hajime typed away on her phone.

from: mom

            hey sweetie. didn’t hear from you in a while… you’re not homesick, are you??

            to: mom

             no, mom.

            from: mom

            are you sure??

            to: mom

            yes.

            from: mom

            did you make a lot of friends??

            to: mom

            yeah. some.

            from: mom

            why don’t you bring them home for the long weekend??

            to: mom

            they’re going home, mom.

            from: mom

            are you sure??what about your girlfriend??

            to: mom

            what.

            from: mom

            so you don’t have a girlfriend??

to: mom

            i don’t know how i’m supposed to respond to that.

            from: mom

            you should bring her home

to: mom

            hey mom i have to go

            from: mom

            ok sweetie. call me later tonight. dad wants to say hello

            from: mom

and tell your friend ;))) Takahiro thank you for me!! your german grade is very good!!! :p       

to: mom

it’s Tooru, mom. takahiro’s my roommate.

from: mom

i’m just glad you’re “studying” hard!!! : )

to: mom

MOM.

from: mom

what?? i’m happy that you found yourself a “friend”… ;))

to: mom

no seriously mom she’s looking over my shoulder don’t make this weird

from: mom

really?? hi Tooru!!

to: mom

hi ms. iwaizumi!! this is tooru speaking!! i’m very flattered!!

from: mom

i’ve heard so much about you from hajime and i’m glad you two are getting along so well. you are welcome to stay over at our house over October break!!

to: mom

sure!! i’d love to djdhsjlkajd

“Tooru— Tooru, baby— are you sure you… uh… I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t want you too it’s just…”

Tooru looked up at Hajime. Her head lay in her lap, and her phone rested between Tooru’s fingers. Tooru grinned at her, and Hajime blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear consciously.

“I’d like to go home with you, Hajime; if you’d let me,” she said softly.

Hajime was weak, which is how she found herself driving with a vice-like grip on the steering wheel as Tooru sighed dreamily and stared wonder-stuck at Hajime from the passenger seat. Music pounded. Tooru had— it wasn’t a surprise— a seven hour long playlist inside her car; it was mostly bubble-gum pop. Hajime had faked annoyance. In reality, it was just too goddamn cute and completely expected of Tooru.

“You’re such a good driver, Hajime,” Tooru cooed.

“What the fuck.” voiced Hajime.

“Now that we’ve officially made love—”

Hajime scratched her jaw and covered her mouth.

“Oh my God, don’t say it like that—”

“Now that we’ve been physically intimate with one another,” exclaimed Tooru, “You’ll get to know sexy Tooru; and sexy Tooru speaks like this,” she breathed lowly.

Hajime laughed.

“You sound stupid,” she said.

Tooru folded her arms and pointed her nose in the air arrogantly.

“Whatever,” she spoke, “Your loss.”

Hajime snorted before reached forward and resting her hand against Tooru’s thigh.

“C’mon, babe,” she said, “Don’t be like that. You know I think you’re always sexy.”

Tooru glanced at her.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really.”

“Even when I wake up and my hair’s a mess and I have drool on my chin?”

“Even then.”

Tooru whined and hid her blushing face in her hands.

“You’re too smooth!” she said, “It’s killing me!”

Hajime snorted and popped a piece of gum into her mouth, rested her elbow on the window and drove forward.

“Are we almost there?” Tooru asked.

“Yeah,” Hajime replied, “Just another couple of turns.”

Tooru nodded. She was silent, then.

“Don’t be nervous,” Hajime spoke, “You’ll be fine; they’ll love you, as long as you’re polite, which you are, so…”

Tooru sighed wistfully, stretching and lifting her arms above her head.

“I hope so,” she said, “I really, really hope so, Hajime.”

Hajime glanced at Tooru, and caught her biting the side of her thumb nail; a nervous habit. Hajime could not understand her thoughts, for Tooru was everything she ever could have wanted and more; she was sweet, generous, kind, hard-working, intelligent, hot as hell and really, really good in bed.

As Hajime took a turn to the left and pulled up in front of a simple and plain house, Tooru inhaled a long breath. Hajime parked the car, and with one final squeeze to Tooru’s hand, they unbuckled and opened the car doors. Hajime dug for her keys as Tooru popped open the trunk and hauled out the two bags they’d brought with them, handing Hajime’s to her, and then, Hajime stuck her key into the lock, and pushed open the front door.

The first thing Tooru noticed about Hajime’s home was how many photographs hung of Hajime and her older brother; they hung over the staircase, and in the corridor. The second thing she noticed was that Hajime looked nothing like her mother, for Ms. Iwaizumi stood in the doorway and grinned brightly at them.

“Mom,” breathed Hajime before her mother reached forward and hugged her. Her mother was shorter than Hajime, and it was absolutely adorable how she had to stretch up to hug her daughter. Then, her mother stepped closer to Tooru.

“You must be Tooru,” she exclaimed, “I’ve heard so much about you from Hajime— she’s absolutely smitten, you know; but don’t tell her I said that, you know how embarrassed she gets!”

Tooru did know; she knew Hajime far better than her mother probably wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Tooru laughed, “I know. Thank you for having me. The house looks lovely.”

Ms. Iwaizumi beamed. Tooru knew how to hit her weak points.

“Thank you!” she said, “So, tell me, how long have you two been—”

“Mom,” hissed Hajime. She tugged at Tooru’s elbow.

“We’re going upstairs,” she announced, “I have to help Tooru unpack, and I took some things with me from my dorm which I didn’t need.”

“Sure,” her mother replied, “Come down when you’re settled. I didn’t bother putting out extra sheets, since I’m assuming you don’t need two beds anyway.”

“Mom.”

Hajime’s room was bare. There were some shelves, and a desk, and a Turkish carpet in the centre, along with random pieces of miscellaneous objects; a lacrosse stick in one corner, a pair of shoes in the other. Her bed was in the centre of the room, shoved up against a wall. It was just large enough to fit two teenage girls into, Tooru noted as she fell against the mattress, and just small enough to give her an excuse to press closer against Hajime. She lay on her stomach, and rested her chin in her hand as Hajime unpacked her things and returned some books onto a shelf.

“Where’s your older brother?” Tooru asked.

“He’s at university,” Hajime replied, “King’s College.”

Tooru sat up.

“In London?” she asked excitedly.

“Yeah,”

“Cool,” wondered Tooru, “That’s cool. Do you want to go there?”

Hajime shrugged.

“I don’t think I’d get in in the first place.”

Tooru sat up.

“What? Why not?”

“Not smart enough,” mumbled Hajime. She reached up to stack her last book, and then turned around.

“Are you serious?” Tooru asked, standing up to step closer to Hajime. She wrapped her arms around Hajime’s middle, and hushed into her ear, “You’re way smart; you’re perfect. In other news, the sun is hot and water is wet.”

Hajime barked a laugh.

“I’m not perfect,” she mumbled.

“You’re perfect for me!” quipped Tooru with a bright smile. Hajime turned, then, and snaked her arms around Tooru’s shoulders, pulling her closer and kissing her temple as Tooru laughed. The corners of her lips quirked up, and then she turned around and kissed Tooru, cupping her head. It was slow; Hajime loved the slow kisses. Hajime loved all of Tooru’s kisses, of course, but there was something about soft, warm out-of-the-blue kisses that made her chest ache and heart rate spike. Her fingertips felt numb, and she felt lightheaded, and God; she loved Tooru so much. She was dizzily in love with her; she was a mess, and she was simply drowning in her undaunted love for one Oikawa Tooru. As she pulled back, she pressed tiny kisses over Tooru’s forehead and cheeks, and Tooru giggled breathlessly at the sensation. It sounded harmonious, like birds.

Hajime’s eyes remained closed. She didn’t feel the need to open them, for Tooru’s warmth was all she required. Tooru was here— right here, in her childhood bedroom— and it was all she ever wanted and more. She pressed her forehead against Tooru’s, and although Hajime wasn’t one for clichés, in that moment, she thought that if she was given the chance to do this forever, she’d take it in a heartbeat.

At dinner, Hajime’s father arrived, and Tooru understood that Hajime was everything like her father and nothing like her mother. Mr. Iwaizumi was kind, though a little awkward and almost shy, though he still had a demanding presence and oozed an aura of respect and admiring. Tooru understood from whom Hajime got that, now; why her lacrosse team respected her so much even though she’d been new, and all.

“Tooru, could you pass me the potatoes?” he’d asked her.

“Huh?” Tooru spoke, “Oh, yeah; sure— here you go— sorry.”

Hajime snorted.

“You’ve got your head in the clouds,” she said.

Tooru shrugged.

“I’m tired.” she supplied, “Car rides always make me tired.”

Ms. Iwaizumi coughed politely.

“You know, if you’re both done eating anyway,” she said, gesturing to their empty plates, “Why don’t you both go upstairs? Get a good nights’ rest, and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Hajime stood so fast her chair clattered, and after a polite nod and words of praise to her mother, Tooru followed her.

Alone in their room, Hajime locked the door, and then, Tooru wrapped her fingers around Hajime’s wrist and pulled her down against Hajime’s mattress with a breathless giggle. Hajime fell a little bit more in love with Tooru at that sound— if that were at all possible— and she noticed she hadn’t kissed Tooru once in the past two hours, and that was a crime; and so she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Tooru’s until Tooru gasped and writhed underneath her and made those wonderful noises Hajime loved so much.

“Baby,” Hajime murmured, brushing locks of hair out of Tooru’s face, “My parents are downstairs; you have to be quiet.”

“Am I that loud?” Tooru questioned. Her eyes widened, and she flushed.

Hajime laughed softly.

“Yeah,” she said affectionately, “You are. I love it.”

Hajime scooted forward and straddled Tooru as she kissed Tooru once more. Their tongues tangled and their lips slid against one another just a little lazily and sloppily; it was comfortable and domestic and so nice. Hajime’s fingertips trailed over Tooru’s face; down her cheeks, along her jaw and her neck until her hands ran over her breasts, then underneath her shirt. Tooru’s skin was impossibly warm, and suddenly, Hajime was hyperaware of everything; how good Tooru smelt, how soft she felt, the tiny, muffled noises she tried to hide that still escaped out of her mouth.

Hajime ran her fingers up the ladder of her jutted vertebrae, and then they pulled away to tear off their shirts and throw them haphazardly into one corner. Tooru smiled at the string of saliva that hung from their lips, though her mouth quickly parted into a silent moan of Hajime’s name as Hajime’s mouth pressed gently against her neck.

It wasn’t rushed; they had all the time in the world.

“Hajime,” Tooru breathed, “Hajime— I— if you’re going to do that I’m going to get really turned on.”

Hajime grinned.

“Is that bad?”

Tooru exhaled a shuddering moan.

“Depends,” Tooru said, “You’re wearing my favourite bra.”

Hajime shot her a glance.

“What?”

“Your bra; it’s that grey Calvin Klein one. It’s my favourite.”

Hajime flushed.

“Does it really matter?”

Tooru shrugged.

“Maybe,” she hummed, running her palms up and down Hajime’s shoulders and back, “It hasn’t come off yet, so…”

Hajime bit her lower lip.

“Do you want it to?”

“Yes.” was Tooru’s lightning speed reply.

Hajime laughed softly at her enthusiasm, and then with only slightly shaking hands, she reached behind herself to unhook it. She pulled the straps off, and removed it completely, dropping it to the floor with a faux aura of relaxation; she felt as wound up as a tight spring coil.

Tooru gasped underneath her, and then traced the sides of Hajime’s ribs with tentative fingers, biting down on her lip. Her touch was feather light, and it was enough to make Hajime’s breath hitch.

“You’re gorgeous.” breathed Tooru.

Hajime could have cried.

“You’re gorgeous.” she retorted. Tooru smiled lopsidedly. Hajime breathed out shallowly, and then, Tooru’s fingers moved once more— tracing the outline of her breasts— as Hajime pressed soft kisses to Tooru’s shoulders.

“Can I take yours off, too?” Hajime rasped.

“Yeah,” Tooru spoke, “Yeah, you— ‘course you can.”

Hajime nodded. Tooru arched her back and looped her arms through her bra straps as Hajime unclasped it. She was bare, then, and absolutely beautiful; she was smaller than Hajime, and paler too. Her skin was flushed.

Hajime leaned down and pressed her lips against her sternum, tracing her skin with feather light kisses and pecks before soothing her tongue over her skin—over her collarbone, then down to her nipple— and Tooru threw a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Suddenly, it was incredibly hard for Hajime to breathe.

“Tooru,” she gasped, “I want to— can I—”

Tooru cupped the back of Hajime’s neck and pulled her head down to her face.

“After that, you can do anything you want to.” she breathed.

“Even—”

“Anything.”

Hajime nodded.

“Okay,” she spoke, “Yeah— okay. Just… tell me if it’s… too much, or if you want to stop, or—”

“I will, but I won’t have to.” panted Tooru.

Hajime exhaled shakily; Tooru’s voice alone was an immensely powerful aphrodisiac.

“Okay,” she said, “I guess I’ll— you should probably get naked, then.”

Tooru gasped.

“Why do I have to be the first one naked?” she whined.

“Listen,” said Hajime in a low voice, “Do you want me to finger you or not?”

Tooru shut her mouth and widened her eyes. She pulled down her shorts— the tiny drawstring pair— and then her underwear. Tooru naked was a glorious sight; she was pale, and so every bruise and mole was easily visible, and she was flushed from head to toe. Hajime’s eyes trailed over her body— from her jutting collar bone to the curve of her small breasts down to her soft ass down to her long legs— and Tooru writhed from the intensity of her stare.

Hajime reached out a shaking hand

“At least take your clothes off, too,” huffed Tooru. She was clearly embarrassed. Hajime had no idea why; she’d told her she’d been intimate with others before, and she was so confident usually. It was entirely endearing.

“Yeah,” Hajime replied, “Sure.”

She pulled down her trousers, and then her underwear; as quickly as she could. It was less nerve-wracking, that way. Tooru’s breath hitched audibly. She simply stared.

“What?” Hajime asked, “Do I have a rash, or something?”

Tooru shook her head.

“No,” she said weakly, “It’s just— oh my, God.” she hid her beetroot red face in her hand, “You’re so hot! It’s unfair!”

“What?”

“Hajime, you can’t just do this to me!” Tooru complained.

“Do what?” Hajime asked. She leaned over Tooru’s body, and their bare skin slid against one another.

“This whole—” gasped Tooru, slowly removing her hands to rest on Hajime’s shoulders, “This whole I’m super hot and don’t even know it act. It pisses me off.”

Hajime laughed. A soft, fond smile stretched her lips.

“I’m not,” she spoke, hiding her flushed face in the crook of Tooru’s neck as Tooru giggled.

“You are!”

“I’m not.” Hajime said weakly. She was close to crying, at this point; it was too much. Tooru was perfect.

“Aw,” cooed Tooru, “Don’t be like that— c’mon, look at me.”

Hajime hesitantly raised her head and shot her an incredulous look.

“He-ey there, beautiful!” sang Tooru.

Hajime huffed a laugh, and then Tooru laughed, too.

Hajime wasn’t sure whether one was supposed to laugh so hard their stomach hurt before sticking their fingers inside of someone, but she did so anyway; just like that.

Tooru threw her head back and groaned lowly.

Hajime grinned wickedly.

“You have to be quiet, baby,” she whispered against Tooru’s temple, “Can you do that for me?”

Tooru nodded desperately and bit onto her knuckle as she ground back onto Hajime’s two fingers. Tooru was incredibly warm, and soft, and impossibly wet— the thought that it was only Hajime who did this to her, who made her this way, made her blush— and Tooru seemed to be a culmination of every single one of Hajime’s wet dreams.

Hajime hooked her fingers, then, and Tooru swallowed a scream. Her thighs trembled underneath Hajime’s palms, and her spine arched beautifully. Her nails dug into Hajime’s shoulder, and her other hand gripped down like a vice on her palm as her head tilted back and eyes screwed shut.

Hajime angled her fingers, and began to thrust.

“Hajime,” Tooru whimpered in a tight voice as the hold on her mouth began to slack, “Hajime, I— shit—”

Hajime momentarily lost her composure, and she could— embarrassingly enough— fell herself throb between her thighs and fluid drip down.

“Fuck, Tooru,” she rasped, kissing along her neck, “You’re beautiful; you’re so beautiful, and I love you.”

Tooru clamped down on her and shook from head to toe as she exhaled a guttural moan. She gripped onto Hajime white-knuckled, and Hajime kissed her on her open mouth; half to shut her up and keep her parents from wondering why Hajime was murdering their guest, and half because kissing Tooru was the most incredible, wonderful sensations she’d ever felt.

In the end, it was hard to tell how many times she came, and how long Hajime remained inside of her, since Tooru was forced to silence herself, and so Hajime vowed to— the moment they returned to school— spend an entire day settled between her legs. Tooru was glorious, and Hajime was so absolutely, dangerously in love.

“I love you,” Tooru vowed in a broken breath— almost a sob— as Hajime pulled out and wrapped Tooru in her arms, “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Tooru shook all over, and her hair was clumped and plastered to her skull with sweat. Hajime held onto her for a long while; until her breath evened out and she fell asleep.

“I love you,” Hajime whispered into the crown of her head, and it was so easy.

day thirty-eight

Hajime woke up the next morning to the smell of vanilla and warm fingers dusting along her ribcage. Her feet were cold, and her neck hurt, though none of that mattered; something warm and heavy weighed down on her side, and as she opened her eyes, she saw Tooru smile at her with half-lidded eyes.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” mumbled Tooru. She kissed Hajime’s jaw. Hajime hummed pleasurably. Tooru felt so nice, and she was pressed up to Hajime; naked. Suddenly, Hajime felt hyper-aware of everything around her, and so all she could do was cup the back of Tooru’s neck and pull her in for a kiss. Tooru giggled a little, and then moaned as she wrapped her arms around Hajime.

“Your morning breath is gross,” she rasped as they pulled away.

 “So is yours,” she retorted. Tooru beamed.

“You kiss me anyway,” she said happily. Hajime smiled.

“Yeah,” she said softly, pecking Tooru once more, “I do.”

Tooru’s fingers trailed along Hajime’s shoulders until they reached her neck. She played with the thin hairs on her nape and watched her with a curious expression, as though she were in deep thought. Hajime thought it was adorable.

“Can I touch you?” Tooru asked her in a quiet voice.

Hajime’s brain short-circuited. She must have said yes, yes— holy shit— yes or nodded or something, for next thing she knew, Tooru crawled down her body and settled in between her legs underneath the covers. It was easier, that way, Hajime supposed, but then Tooru abandoned all form of embarrassment and ripped the bed sheets out of the way. She was naked, and rested in between Hajime’s thighs, licking her lips as though Hajime were her favourite, absolutely delicious treat. Hajime covered her mouth with one hand, and the other tangled in Tooru’s messy hair.

Tooru smiled a little, and kissed at the inside of her thigh. Outside, a car alarm rang, though Hajime couldn’t hear it over the sound of her pulse ringing in her ears. The room was filled with obscene, wet noises as Tooru bit and sucked marks into her thighs. Hajime clutched desperately at her, and arched her back towards her. Hajime moaned— loudly— and shivered.

“Tooru,” she whined as Tooru licked at the mark she’d left, “Baby— touch me, please—”

“I am touching you.” Tooru breathed. Her fingers traced tiny patterns against her muscled, tan thighs. Hajime pulled incessantly at Tooru’s hair, and Tooru groaned loudly; it turned Hajime on to no avail, and she was beginning to feel desperate, now.

Tooru’s fingers inched closer towards her groin, and they trembled a little against her thighs before she crouched lower. With a feather light touch, she pressed her fingers against Hajime’s wet crotch, stroking it one fluid motion. Hajime trembled, and knocked her head back with a choked moan of Tooru’s name as she moved her hips with the motion. Tooru’s fingers circled around the hood of her crotch— over her clit— in a miniscule manner, and only when Hajime’s knees shook did Tooru press her palm against her. Hajime sighed harshly through her nose as Tooru’s fingers spread her wet fluids across the flushed skin before teasing her hood once more in slow circles.

Hajime moaned, and titled her head to the side. Tooru licked at the inside of her thigh— kissing and marking the smooth skin there— before pressing her palm against Hajime once more. Hajime groaned lowly and rolled her hips towards Tooru’s hand in a slow, solid rhythm. It was different than their first time; Tooru was calm, and everything she did was calculated. She knew what Hajime liked, and she seemed insistent on making her feel good.

 “Fuck me,” mumbled Hajime, “Fuck me, baby; put your fingers in me, or put your mouth on me— just do something— Jesus Christ, Tooru—”

Tooru swallowed thickly and gaped at Hajime before pressing a single finger directly onto her clitoris. At the sudden pressure, Hajime tugged at Tooru’s hair and moaned without abandon; she forgot that her parents were nearby, and she forgot the whole world, for in that moment, Tooru was her whole world. Tooru was everything.

 She writhed underneath Tooru and rolled her hips before Tooru began drawing small circles over the flushed skin with one finger, then two. It was obscene, the way Hajime’s shallow breaths echoed in the room, and how Tooru’s fingers did not still; rubbing at her incessantly, and pressing against her ass and thighs.

Hajime’s eyes closed, and she leaned her head backwards as Tooru rubbed up and down her hood with two fingers. Tooru kissed at her thigh before pressing her other palm against the pink, warm flesh of Hajime’s entrance, fingertips resting tentatively there. Hajime keened, and rolled her hips forward in an attempt to press them inside her.

Tooru was incessant, though; they merely rested there as the rhythm of her fingers against Hajime’s clit sped up. Hajime could head her blood roar in her ears, and her toes curled as Tooru nipped at the inside of her thigh. Her lower abdomen tensed, and she could feel her breath stutter as she bucked her hips upwards against Tooru’s fingers. Her thighs tensed around Tooru, and all she could do was bite her lip and chant Tooru’s name until she forced out a hushed shit—and convulsed around Tooru, nearly sucking her fingers right into her.

As Hajime slowly regained her breath, Tooru pressed her palm against the flushed skin of Hajime’s inner thighs before slowly pushing in one finger. Hajime moaned at the intrusion, for Tooru’s fingers were slimmer and longer than her own. Tooru had barely mover her finger at all, and Hajime keened and began to bear down on it. Her mind was spinning; she felt as though she didn’t even inhabit her own body, anymore.

After teasing at her soft and slick and unbearably hot walls, Tooru added a second finger. Hajime’s head knocked backwards, and she moaned loudly. Snapping her hips off of the mattress, she spread her legs as Tooru kissed at her thigh and slowly began to fuck her with her fingers. Pressing deeper each time, Hajime’s moans grew louder, and reached a breath-taking crescendo as Tooru hooked her fingers.

“God, that’s good—” hiccupped Hajime. Her entire body stiffened, and her thighs trembled as Tooru hummed and simply continued, “Fuck, baby— I’m—”

Hajime pushed herself down onto Tooru’s hand, and Tooru continued to slide firmly with every stroke. Hajime rolled her hips and clenched around her, and as her movements became more and more desperate, Tooru pressed the heel of her palm against her wet, flushed lips and clit, stroking faster as her fingers pressed harder. Hajime felt undoubtedly full, and, for a moment, she wondered why she’d ever thought she’d be better off alone, for as she tightened around Tooru and tilted her head, Tooru removed her hand from Hajime’s clit and pressed her open mouth against her. Her lips were soft, and warm, and she sucked. Hajime was unable to control her cries; with a series of loud moans and strong shivers, she writhed underneath her and clutched at Tooru.

Hajime exhaled shakily, and gritted her teeth as her hips violently jolted forward as she came once more around Tooru’s fingers. Despite her convulsions, Tooru continued to move her wrist and ground down on them as she continued to pulse around her, and then, she tightened around her once more and cried out Tooru’s name unhindered.

“You’re amazing,” murmured Tooru, leaning upwards to cup her face and brush sweaty tendrils of hair away from Hajime’s face. “You’re amazing, and I love you.”

Tooru she slid her fingers out of Hajime, achingly slow in order to savour the miniscule twitches it caused.

Tooru examined her fingers— covered in Hajime’s fluids— before closing her eyes and sticking them in her mouth, licking at them and enjoying her taste. Hajime flushed at the sight before kissing her, swiping her tongue into Tooru’s open mouth; she could taste herself, too, though that did not matter, for she could feel Tooru rut against her thigh and press their chests together.

Tooru moaned into her mouth as Hajime carded her fingers through Tooru’s hair, and bit at her bottom lip. She felt Tooru pant into her mouth and roll her hips against Hajime’s leg. Hajime pulled away, then, and moved to kiss at her ear and down to the soft expanse of skin where her jaw met her neck. Tooru’s face flushed— Hajime could feel the heat— and Hajime smiled against her skin as Tooru’s hips stuttered.

“Hajime,” she breathed, “Hajime— I—”

“I got you, baby,” Hajime whispered, “C’mon; come for me.”

With reckless abandon, Tooru moved against her as she chanted Hajime’s name before she contracted and pulsed around her, releasing tensely. Tooru quivered above her, and Hajime held her as her the rise and fall of her chest slowly evened out.

Tooru opened her eyes, then, and met Hajime’s gaze.

Suddenly, Hajime didn’t know what to say or how to act.

“We just did that,” Tooru said breathlessly, as though she didn’t know what else to say, “We did that; you’re my girlfriend, and we did that.”

“Yeah,” exhaled Hajime with a smile, “We did; you’re my girlfriend.”

Hajime grinned lazily as Tooru cupped her face and looked at her as though she were a miracle.

“I love you,” whispered Tooru into her ear, pretending it were a terrific secret.

Hajime laughed.

“I love you, too.”

day forty

Hajime’s house had a pool, which had only come to Tooru’s attention some days after she’d initially arrived, for they’d spent far more time than either had expected in Hajime’s bed with the door locked and some music turned up on the highest possible volume. They usually just put on the radio, though that had backfired once as Sex by N-Dubz came on, though perhaps not; Tooru had gone mental and been desperate and loud like never before, tangling her fingers in Hajime’s hair and pushing her closer to Tooru with innate confidence and drive. It was amazing; the skies above opened up, angels sung. Hajime couldn’t face her parents at dinner that night.

There was no music playing, now, though, as Tooru lay spread on a deck chair in a white bikini with ginormous sunglasses, chewing gum and blowing large bubbles as she flipped through a magazine. Hajime wore a black Speedo swimsuit; bikinis were dangerously impractical as she swam a couple of rounds in the pool. Tooru watched her. Hajime could feel her gaze on her.

“Haj’,” her mother announced, “I’m going to get some groceries; is there anything you need?”

“No,” replied Hajime.

“Anything for you, Tooru?”

Tooru lowered her sunglasses, pushed away the magazine and sat up.

“No,” she replied, “Nothing; see you later!”

With that, they were alone, and Hajime swore the air became palpably thick with tension as she heaved herself out of the pool. Water dripped from her body, and Tooru watched each droplet travel down Hajime’s curves over the rim of her sunglasses.

Hajime tapped over to Tooru, and dried herself off with a towel.

“Like what you see?” she murmured as she rubbed at the ends of her hair.

Tooru took her hat off, and raised her gaze; she carefully eyed the expanse of Hajime’s body. Hajime had toned legs, and impossibly soft and tan skin. It was sinful.

“Maybe,” hummed Tooru, “I’d like it more if you’d take it off.”

Hajime licked her lips and dropped the towel.

“That can be arranged.”

 Hajime peeled off her swimsuit slowly, and then she stood bare naked before Tooru. Tooru licked her lips, and picked her sunglasses off of her nose with careful movements and pointed fingers. She stood, then, and titled her head as she stepped closer. She pressed her palms against Hajime’s bare and wet skin. Hajime exhaled a shaking breath as Tooru mouthed at her pulse point. 

“Tooru— baby— we have to be quick,” Hajime whispered, “I don’t know when my mom’s gonna get home.”

Tooru grinned maliciously.

“I can do quick and hard.” she said, “I’ve got loads of fun tricks.”

And Tooru did; she kissed Hajime, hard, and licked at the inside of her mouth as she cupped Hajime’s behind and slotted a thigh in between Hajime’s legs. Hajime rolled her hips, and moaned openly before wrapping her arms around Tooru’s waist, then tugging her hair as she bit at her lower lip. Tooru groaned, and as they pulled away, fire sparked in her eyes; she was flushed with desire and need.

Hajime bit at her throat, and her fingers pressed into her skin, leaving tiny marks. She lead Tooru back to her deck chair before settling down atop of her. Tooru arched her back as Hajime’s hands moved up and down the expanse of her body— cupping her breasts and massaging her pert nipples through her swimsuit— before simply reaching inside her pants and pressing two of her fingers inside of her. Hajime’s wet hair fell into her face as she glanced up at Tooru, and Tooru rolled her hips to accommodate herself.

“You’re so wet,” marvelled Hajime, “You’re so wet, and I’ve barely touched you.”

Tooru threw her head back and moaned without abandon as Hajime pumped her fingers faster, hooking them in the way she knew Tooru loved.

“You’re gorgeous,” breathed Hajime over her parted lips, “You’re so beautiful, baby; you take me so good.”

Tooru screamed; her thighs trembled, and she convulsed about Hajime’s fingers, almost sucking them in. Hajime marvelled at her.

“You’re so loud I should put a gag on you,” she laughed.

Tooru trembled as Hajime slotted their hips closer together and kissed her once more, and suddenly, Tooru could focus on anything other than how good Hajime felt. As they broke apart, she dropped her head to the curve of Hajime’s neck as Hajime pressed her fingers deeper inside of her, thrusting them and angling them just perfectly; so perfect Tooru could do nothing but pant quiet, broken little sounds into Hajime’s ear. Hajime could get off from those alone.

“Fuck, Tooru; sound so good, baby,” hushed Hajime, “Just like that, yeah; God, feels like you’re sucking me in— like your made for my fingers—”

Tooru rolled her hips and dug her fingers deeper into Hajime’s shoulders as Hajime’s fingers circled her clit a few times; softly at first, then harder. She let loose a broken sob of something that might have once been Hajime’s name.

“Is this what you like, Tooru?” whispered Hajime onto Tooru’s open mouth, “Do you like it when I tell you how good you feel; how good you look? Do you like letting everyone hear you scream because I’m fucking you so good?”

Her voice grew an octave higher as she moaned. Hajime was sure she sounded ridiculous, though Tooru moaned so beautifully she’d say anything to draw those noises out of her.

“C’mon,” hushed Hajime, “Come around my fingers; love it when you do that.”

“Fuck,” exhaled Tooru, “Hajime— oh, God,” she sobbed, “Haj’—”

“What do you want? Tell me want you want, babe.” breathed Hajime.

Tooru gripped Hajime tighter.

“I want… more; fuck Haj’— I—”

Hajime complied, and slid a third finger inside of her. It stretched Tooru as much as she’d expected and as much as she wanted, and Hajime pumped her fingers and curled them forward as Tooru ground against her.

“Fuck— God, Haj’— ‘m gonna come,” choked Tooru.

“Yeah?” exhaled Hajime. She cupped one of Tooru’s breasts, and rolled her pert nipple between her fingers. She gripped it tighter than usual, with an underlying current of desperation. She gaped at Tooru, and Tooru cupped her face and panted into the space between her lips.

“Say I’m yours, say you’re mine.” Tooru spoke hoarsely.

“You’re mine—” Hajime said, an ounce of possessiveness coming through her voice as she thrust fast, “I’m yours.” she said softy.

Tooru trembled in her arms as she bucked against the palm of Hajime’s hand. Her jaw slacked, and she tightened around Hajime’s fingers as she came with a drawn out moan; almost a whine, truly. She pulled Hajime close to her, then, and kissed her on her open mouth, licking at the roof of it. As Hajime made an effort to remove her fingers, Tooru stopped her.

“Don’t,” she said in a quiet voice, “I want them inside me when I make you come.”

Hajime stared at Tooru in awe. Tooru blinked at her, and then slipped her hand between Hajime’s thighs. She circled Hajime’s clit with a single finger— right where she knew it’d cause Hajime to groan lowly— and then with two, stroking her harder.

“Shit— fuck, Tooru—” she said through gritted teeth, “Just like that, God—”

Tooru shifted to slip two fingers inside of her. As she began to thrust them in and out, she rolled her own hips and ground herself on Hajime’s palm. They both made sounds like dying man as Tooru sped up her movements; desperation sizzled between them as Hajime hooked her fingers.

“Haj’,” slurred Tooru, “Fuck— feels so good— more, I want… I want more.”

“Are you sure you can handle one more?” Hajime asked.

Tooru nodded frantically. Hajime complied.

“Fuck, yes—” hissed Tooru as Hajime slid a fourth finger inside of her, “Yes— yes— don’t stop—”

Tooru shouted desperate moans as Hajime thrust them; slowly at first, and then faster. As she screamed Hajime’s name, Hajime clenched around her fingers, and came; harder than ever before and entirely unexpected. She breathed heavily as Tooru surged her hips forward, knocking her head back and shaking.

“Fuck, God—” she rasped as Hajime pumped her fingers faster; even faster, even as she felt Tooru convulse around her once more. She could feel Tooru’s pulse, and her own heartbeat rang in her ears, for she now knew that Oikawa Tooru liked it rough and fast; and so did Hajime.

As Tooru pulled her fingers away, Hajime mirrored her actions, and they stilled for a moment, simply trying to regulate their breathing. Tooru buried her face in Hajime’s neck; she was embarrassed.

“Babe,” Hajime told her, pressing a sloppy kiss to her temple, “Babe… we have to get dressed, I don’t know—”

“I don’t think I can move.” Tooru replied as her knees gave out. She fell into Hajime’s arms theatrically. Hajime laughed quietly, and laid her back on the deck chair as she wiped her come covered fingers on her towel.

“Love you,” slurred Tooru, resting her head on her forearms as she her body sprawled over the chair, “You’re the best.”

Hajime snorted, and she slipped inside her swimsuit once more.

“You only saying that because I just had four fingers inside of you?” she asked.

“Maybe,” cooed Tooru.

Hajime threw her bikini at her. Tooru shrieked in surprise, though she put it on once more regardless. Hajime watched her silently.

“You’re quiet,” said Tooru, “Are you in awe at my amazing skills? Takes years of practice, y’know.”

Hajime pushed her back against the deck chair, and kissed her cheek once more.

“You’re so talented, babe.”

day fifty-one

Tooru had arrived back to school with Hajime after an embarrassingly long time of saying goodbye of her parents. It was autumn, now, and leaved began to fall on campus, Hajime noticed as she stepped on an array of warm colours covering the sports field.

“Can’t they get these cleaned up?” she asked Tetsuro, who whisked some of them out of the way using her lacrosse stick.

Tetsuro shrugged.

“Apparently not,” Tetsuro replied, “Cleaning staff already left.”

On the other side of the field, Tadashi slipped.

“Can’t we just call off practice?” she whined, “This is ridiculous. I’m gonna break my leg.”

“No can do, buddy.” Tetsuro shouted in reply. Hajime winced a little, and mirrored her efforts of using her lacrosse stick as a sort of makeshift

“Maybe you can get your girlfriend to do something about this.” teased Tetsuro, leering at Hajime.

“Okay,” she replied with a shrug, “Sure.”

Tetsuro dropped her stick and gripped Hajime’s shoulders.

“Are you serious?” she hushed, “You— you’re— you’re dating Oikawa Tooru?”

Hajime bit at the inside of her mouth and averted her gaze.

“Yeah,” she said, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal? She’s Oikawa fuckin’ Tooru!” marvelled Tetsuro before turning around, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting, “Hey! Listen up, everybody! My main man Hajime here managed to bag Oikawa Tooru!”

Cheers erupted. Applause rang. Hajime felt triumphant.

Tadashi ran over, jumped high, and high-fived Hajime.

“How’d you manage to do that?” she whispered.

Hajime shrugged.

“I’m honestly surprised myself.”

It was true; Tooru was too good for her. She was too good for anyone. Out of the corner of her eye, Hajime watched her raise her leg and her arm atop a pyramid of cheerleaders.

“Hey, Haj’! Snap out of it!” Tetsuro scolded, clicking her fingers in front of Hajime’s dazed face, “We still have to practice. We gotta prepare for the next match.”

“Who’re we playing against?” Tadashi asked.

Tetsuro huffed.

“Well,” she said, “It’s totally no big deal, but I got Daichi— that’s the crows’ captain— to agree to a rematch, since Haj’ got knocked out, and all.”

Tadashi groaned.

“Seriously?” she said, “How’d you manage to do that?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

Hajime sneered at that.

“Jesus,” Tadashi whispered, “Again? I was terrified the first time!”

“C’mon,” Tetsuro told her, clasping her shoulder and jostling her, “Be happy I convinced Daichi to do this; she didn’t have to! Match is in two months, gays— oh, sorry; I mean guys. You better thank me for this.”

“Fine,” huffed Tadashi, “Thank you, Tetsuro— I guess.”

Hajime swallowed thickly. A cocktail of excitement and nervousness built inside her stomach, for it would be incredibly, absolutely embarrassing to lose for a second time. She had to win; she had to win for Tooru.

Later, the thought still buzzed in her mind as she lay in the middle of the sports field. Tooru was by her side, and the sun was beginning to set. Everything was basked in a soft, dewy orange, and a breeze blew through the trees as Tooru laughed; Hajime had told her she was feeling nervous— just a little bit— for the rematch.

Tooru hiccupped a final giggle.

 “Are you scared Tobio’s gonna knock you out again?” Tooru teased.

“Maybe,” said Hajime.

“.. Smooth, Haj’. I thought my girlfriend was the brave Iwaizumi Hajime, but oh!” cried Tooru melancholically, “I was mistaken.”

A vein twitched in Hajime’s forehead.

“You want brave? Fine,” Hajime said. She sat herself in Tooru’s lap, and leaned down, gasping her by the back of her head. Her fingers dug into her neck and the fine hairs there, and their lips were millimetres apart. Hajime could feel Tooru’s hot breath pant over her mouth and chin. Tooru stared at her with wide eyes before sliding them shut, carding her fingers in Hajime’s hair and pulling her down, closing the gap between them. Hajime brushed their lips together softly; so softly it hurt.

Tooru smiled into the kiss, and grabbed Hajime’s face to pull her closer together, opening her mouth. Hajime opened hers, too, and they pressed together like that, for a while; Hajime didn’t want to do much more. She’d get turned on— Tooru had that effect on her— and ruin everything.

Hajime pulled away before Tooru could suck on her tongue and elicit a low moan. With tiny, miniscule pecks, she tried to calm her heart rate down, though it was to no avail; Hajime felt unbearably happy, and she grinned as Tooru giggled quietly.

“You’re a tease.” Tooru spoke with a malicious smile.

“You still love me anyway,” Hajime grinned.

Tooru laughed.

“Yeah, always; I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone the way I love you.”

Chapter Text

part three

the weight of the world

            is love,

under the burden

            of solitude

under the burden

            of dissatisfaction

            the weight

the weight we carry

            is love.

— allen ginsberg

day seventy-four

Things had changed; though, perhaps not that many after all. Hajime applied to Tokyo University, and she received an offer soon after. There were new photographs stuck on Tooru’s wall, next to the old one of her and Issei and Takahiro. One of Hajime and her was glued beside it— they’d taken it on a day-trip to Tokyo, once— and one with all four of them after lacrosse and cheerleading practice, when they were all sweaty and disgusting and gross. How Hajime still managed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous was a mystery to Tooru, though perhaps it had something to do with the bright, wholesome smile that stretched her lips and bared her teeth. She looked happy. She was beautiful.

Tooru was still the same, though; she was absolutely ridiculously in love with Hajime and let her know that a lot, especially in the form of Tooru holding an eyeliner pencil pointed at Hajime’s pupil

“Hajime,” she spoke as she clamped her palm on Hajime’s chin, “Keep still.”

She leaned forward and pointed the tip of the pencil to the corner of Hajime’s eye. Hajime blinked reflexively.

“Keep still.” Tooru repeated with a laugh.

“It’s kind of difficult to do that when there’s a fucking pencil right in my eyeball.”

“Close your eyes, then, and trust me.”

“I trust you.” mumbled Hajime. Her eyes slid shut, and the pencil moved over her eyelids. Tooru’s movements were delicate, as though she were an artist.

Hajime could sense that Tooru had finished, though she kept her eyes shut, in case Tooru had wanted to do something else, but all the felt was a soft pressure on her lips. It took Hajime a second to register Tooru was kissing her, and her eyes burst open in sheer surprise, though they quickly fluttered shut once more. She cupped Tooru’s face, then, and hummed; it was nice, and soft and slow. Her chest ached— even after all this time— and her fingers trembled as Tooru shifted and sat in Hajime’s lap. Her thighs on either side of Hajime’s, she was warm all over, and Hajime exhaled softly; it felt amazing. Tooru always felt amazing. Being with her made Hajime feel as though she were finally home after a long day, for Tooru was home.

“Damn,” Tooru said as they pulled away, “I didn’t even get to contour you.”

Her voice was a little strained and breathless. Hajime didn’t know what to make of that.

“Is that a problem?” Hajime huffed. Her eyes trailed across Tooru’s face, and remained on her dimple; she had only one, on her left cheek. It was lovely.

Tooru shrugged.

“Depends,” she replied, “I mean, I think you’re beautiful with or without make-up, Hajime.” she cooed. Hajime grinned lopsidedly and scratched at Tooru’s scalp.

“Thanks,” she said. Tooru was silent, then, and leaned forward to rest her forehead in the crook of Hajime’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Hajime was overcome with her feelings of affection towards Tooru; she pressed her head beside Tooru’s, and tightened her arms around Tooru. Tooru’s breath hitched audibly.

“Hey,” Tooru whispered in a broken voice, “Haj’— what’re we gonna do after graduation?”

Hajime bit her lower lip. Her eyes stung a little; they didn’t speak about this— it was too painful— and Tooru only mentioned it after she had a talking-to by the university counsellor. Oxford accepted applications as early as September, and if Tooru would want to go abroad, she’d have to make her decisions soon.

“I don’t know,” Hajime said earnestly, “I… we’ll… we’ve got time.”

“Do we?” Tooru hushed.

“Sure we do,” Hajime replied, “Almost an entire year, yeah?”

“Applications are due in less than a month.”

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“Don’t… don’t beat yourself up over this; take things one at a time,” she said.

Tooru sniffled a little. She didn’t raise her hand, though Hajime could feel her tears fall on Hajime’s shoulder.

“Tooru…,” Hajime breathed, “Baby… don’t…”

“I’m sorry,” Tooru croaked, “I didn’t mean to… God, none of this was supposed to happen like this.”

“What was?”

Tooru lifted her head. Her face was flushed, and tears stained her cheeks. She cupped Hajime’s face and tilted her forehead against hers.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, stupid,” said Tooru, “This is your fault. You’re too good for me, I don’t…”

“No,” spoke Hajime, “Shut up; I am perfect for you.”

Tooru sobbed.

“Do you… if I… if I would— theoretically— apply to Tokyo, would we… I mean… we’d…”

Hajime halted, at that. Tokyo University was above Tooru’s calibre, and they both knew it; the reason most girls went to such a pretentious academy was to go abroad. Tooru was no exception. With her grades, she could go anywhere she wanted. The entire world was in the palm of her hands, and the thought that she would choose to stay in Japan just for Hajime was mind-boggling to Hajime.  

“I’m in this ‘til the very end, Tooru.” Hajime promised. She pressed her lips against Tooru’s temple, down her cheeks, against her jaw, until Tooru stopped trembling and let loose one final, aching sob. Hajime pulled the covers over them. It was dark, underneath, and it felt as though they were in their own little galaxy; just the two of them against the rest of the world.

“Hajime,” Tooru whispered, “Hajime, I love you.”

Hajime grinned.

“I love you, too.” she replied, and it was the easiest thing to say in the whole world. She leaned forward, and pressed her mouth against Tooru’s. It was dark underneath the blankets, so much so that Hajime was fairly blind, and she kept on accidentally knocking her skull against Tooru’s, which elicited the most gorgeous, breathless little giggle out of Tooru’s mouth Hajime had ever heard. She laughed then, too, and sometimes, their mouths would knock together as well, though they’d stay knocked together; Hajime pressed Tooru into the mattress as Tooru pulled the covers tighter over them and wrapped her arms around Hajime’s shoulders before rolling over.

Tooru straddled Hajime’s waist. Hajime’s eyes widened as Tooru rolled her hips, and Hajime hovered her hands over Tooru’s hips. She was unsure of where to place them, though Tooru quickly kissed her harder and clamped her hands down on Hajime’s wrists, pinning them on either side of Hajime’s head as Hajime opened and closed her jaw against Tooru’s.

Tooru gasped a little and rolled her hips once more as Hajime pressed her tongue against Tooru’s. Tooru shivered above her and made more of those breathless noises that Hajime basked in. Hot fever poured from her mouth into Tooru’s, and seemingly accidentally, it became more vigorous from then; their heads bobbed forwards and back, and Tooru’s hips did not still.

She became louder, and suddenly, there was nothing accidental about any of this. Her noises set Hajime’s nerves on fire and her ears rang and her hands shook. If Tooru noticed, she didn’t care; she simply let her hands wander from their iron grip on Hajime’s wrist. She traced Hajime’s veins with her fingertips as she bit on Hajime’s lower lip, increasingly desperate. Her palms pressed against Hajime’s ribcage, and then slid underneath her shirt. Tooru’s touch was warm, and then, her fingers raked up to cup Hajime’s breasts, massaging them just a little. Hajime gasped into Tooru’s mouth, and she felt light-headed; at this point, she couldn’t even tell which sound originated from whom. The lines blurred between them as though they were black ink on wet paper; shades of grey swirled into one solid black.

Hajime’s back arched and she moaned a little too loudly into the gap between Tooru’s lips. The darkness underneath the blanket seemed to heighten all her senses, too, and suddenly, she could feel everything Tooru was and ever will be; she could feel how soft and delicate she was, and how smooth her skin was and how sharp the juts of her bones were.

“Tooru,” she breathed, “Tooru— baby— I’m— I don’t think I can hold back, you feel so good, and I—”

“Huh?” exhaled Tooru. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was mussed. She was glorious. “What do— oh; oh,” she whispered, “Yeah, okay; that’s— fine. Tell me what I should— uh—”

“Kiss me again; that felt so good.”

And Tooru did; Tooru kissed Hajime liked she approached everything in life; with a little too much enthusiasm, and with brute honesty.

Her breath fanned over

“I want to taste you,” hushed Tooru, “Really taste you; until my jaw hurts. Is that okay?”

Hajime felt a tropical burn spread over her face.

“Of course it’s okay,” she replied, “Fuck, Tooru—”

Tooru kneeled before her. Hajime swallowed hard at the sight; it was dim and hot underneath the blanket, and Tooru’s hair clung to her forehead. She was beautiful.

Tentatively, Tooru ran her hands up underneath Hajime’s shirt until with some desperation, Hajime pulled it off herself and unclasped her bra. Tooru watched her, and then tore off her own t-shirt until she was bare. Her fingers were warm as they pressed against Hajime’s toned and soft thighs, and Hajime bit her lip to muffle a moan. Tooru noticed, though; she was good, like that, and she hooked her fingers in the waistband of Hajime’s shorts, pulling them down slowly. Her fingers trailed against each sliver of bare skin she exposed. Hajime could feel herself grow wetter at the sight, and so she lifted her legs to accommodate Tooru’s movements. Hastily, she pulled off her underwear too before reaching forward and pulled Tooru’s mouth against Hajime’s. Tooru gasped against her lips and her back bowed above her as she, too, tore off her shorts and underwear in one fluid motion.

As they broke away, Hajime’s mouth chased her, though Tooru was quicker; she pressed her open mouth against Hajime’s chest. Hajime threw her head back and bit at the inside of her mouth.

“You can be loud,” Tooru whispered, “I like it.”

Hajime licked her lips. She didn’t know what to reply to that, and so she simply tangled her fingers in Tooru’s hair and pulled her closer to her. Tooru mouthed at her breasts, and then her pert nipples; she closed her lips around one of them, and sucked, whilst she cupped Hajime’s other breast with her hand.

“Shit,” Hajime breathed, “Fuck, Tooru— yeah, just like that—”

She likely sounded ridiculous, though she couldn’t bring herself to care as Tooru trailed her lips downwards, grazing Hajime’s toned abdomen until she rested her mouth before Hajime’s crotch. Her fingers dug into the inside of Hajime’s thighs, trailing upwards until she pressed them against Hajime’s hipbones, pushing Hajime back against the mattress. Tooru kissed the skin around her Hajime’s hip, and watched Hajime’s head fall back against the mattress.

Tooru’s breath fanned hotly over Hajime’s sensitive skin, and Hajime trembled as Tooru simply licked her lips, and then leaned forward to press her open mouth against Hajime’s dripping crotch. Tooru could taste her. The thought made her own arousal ache.

Tooru trailed her fingers along Hajime’s thighs, then up and down her sides; Hajime was soft all over. She couldn’t get enough of it. Something about how soft girls were always made her heart ache, and the feeling of Hajime’s smooth skin against Tooru’s palm made her entire body tingle from head to toe.

“How do you… how do you want me to…” managed Tooru.

Hajime pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to gather enough composure to answer.

“Whatever,” she said, “I… slow but… don’t hold back.”

Tooru hummed in reply, and then, her mouth pressed against Hajime; she started hesitantly and slow— simply licking her broadly— though then, she sucked against Hajime’s clit. Hajime tangled her fingers in Tooru’s soft hair and pushed her closer as she threw her head back and moaned without abandon.

Tooru didn’t hold back; her lips were soft and her mouth was warm. Her hair tickled against Hajime’s thighs. She was gorgeous.

Far too quickly, a familiar tension built in Hajime’s lower abdomen as she inhaled deep, shuttering gasps and breaths before they were stolen from Hajime’s lungs each time Tooru moved her mouth against her. Hajime bucked her hips and arched her backs as Tooru moaned against her clit; in the end, it was those vibrations that pushed her over the edge. With a sound akin to a dying man, Hajime came— hard— and trembled against Tooru’s mouth as Tooru continued to kiss the sensitive, warm and wet skin there.

Tooru was still for a few moments as she waited for Hajime to regain her breath. As Hajime exhaled a shuddering breath, Tooru sat up, and tore the blanket away.

“Sorry; I’m sorry for— uh— I mean, I probably wasn’t that— that good compared to… others, since it was my first time doing that to you… properly, and all.” Tooru stammered energetically.

Hajime was lost for words; she was far too sated.

“What?” she replied, “No, you were— don’t worry about it. You were… It was… That was…” Amazing? Perfect? Incredible? “… chill.”

Tooru beamed at Hajime. Hajime grinned back lazily, and suddenly, a strong stab of affection hit her chest; she was overcome with the love she felt for Tooru, and so, she threw her arms around Tooru and planted her knees on either side of her waist before leaning down to kiss Tooru on her giggling mouth.

It was then that the door opened and a loud, exasperated groan resulted from Issei’s throat.

“Can you guys maybe put up a goddamn sign or something?”

Hajime wheezed a little as she pulled away, and she let her hands sit on Tooru’s waist as Tooru smoothed her palms up and down her back. Hajime shot Issei an incredulous look.

“You can’t escape the gays, Issei.” Tooru quipped.

“Jesus fucking—” is all Issei replied before she turned around and slammed the door. Hajime laughed softly.

day eight-three

“Blink twice if they used a strap-on.” Takahiro told Issei at dinner.

Issei blinked twice.

“Lies!” Tooru exclaimed, “We didn’t—”

“Nice,” hissed Takahiro.

Hajime bit the inside of her mouth. Briefly, she imagined what it would be like using a strap-on with Tooru; she’d probably like it. She told Hajime she was bisexual. That likely meant she liked it, like that, and Hajime already knew she could take four—

“Haj’, get your head out of the gutter; you’re blushing.”

“Huh?”

Issei leered closer.

“She’s totally thinking about it,” she continued.

Hajime folded her arms and sunk down a little more in her seat.

“’m not,” she mumbled, “Stop it. You guys are gross.”

“Gross?” Takahiro gasped, clutching her chest, “Excuse me? Did you… did Iwaizumi Hajime just kink shame me?”

“I think she did,” Issei agreed.

“You’re probably the one who stole my vibrator—”

“Wrong,” a voice said; it was Tetsuro, Hajime realised upon turning around, “I took it. Thought it was Hajime’s, though. I took it as revenge for that time you two homie-sexuals went through my shit last month” she said coolly, “Don’t think I didn’t notice, you fuckers.”

Takahiro stood up so fast her chair fell back.

“That shit was expensive. Give it back.” she commanded.

Tetsuro pushed some hair out of her eyes.

“I know. I noticed.”

“You noticed?” Hajime questioned, “You don’t mean— you didn’t…”

Tetsuro grinned wickedly.

“Heck yeah, I did!”

Takahiro was positively fuming. Issei stroked her back soothingly.

“C’mon babe,” she whispered, “I’ll buy you a new one, yeah?”

“Gross!” Tooru exclaimed, though it remained unnoticed as Takahiro sat herself in Issei’s lap.

“Yeah,” sniffed Takahiro, “Though… so many memories are now lost. Thanks for all the fun times, buddy; rest in peace in pieces.”

Tetsuro snorted.

“Whatever,” she said, folding her arms, “I actually came to invite you guys to something. The dean’s visiting their daughter tonight, so Morisuke and I are hosting a little get-together at our place if you want to come. It’ll be chill.  You guys should come.”

“What time?” Tooru asked excitedly.

“Seven.”

“Cool, we’ll be there.” she said with a bright grin before Hajime could even get a word in.

At seven twenty-nine p.m., she stood before Tetsuro’s dorm room, clasping Tooru’s hand delicately as Takahiro rested her chin on Issei’s shoulder. Tooru knocked with far too much enthusiasm. It was Tadashi that opened the door.

“Hey,” she said, “C’mon in, guys!”

Tooru grinned before stepping closer and kissing her on either cheek; she thought it made her look cool and European, she’d told Hajime once.

“We bring snacks,” Takahiro spoke, lifting a bag of chips.

“And drugs.” continued Issei. She gestured to the small Ziploc bag containing skins and weed.

Tadashi grinned, and opened the door a little wider before shutting it behind them. Tetsuro’s room looks just like Hajime remembered, though it was full of girls, now, and music was playing; Kanye West’s Yeezus album, naturally.

Takahiro and Issei sat down on the floor, and the others join them promptly, huddling around for a chance to inhale some of the smoke. Hajime joined them; she liked getting high. It relaxed her. Tooru did, too, sometimes.

“You’re so rebellious.” Tetsuro hushed with a brilliant grin, pulling the girl who was settled between her legs— Kenma, if Hajime could recall correctly— a little closer, “I almost regret taking your vibrator. You want it back?”

Takahiro gagged.

“Fuck, no,” she said, “I don’t want to know where it’s been.”

Takahiro rolled a neat joint, and licked the skin before placing it between her lips. Issei flicked her lighter, and the bottom end of it turned bright orange, then simmered down to yellow. Takahiro inhaled for a long time before passing it to Issei, who took a long drag as well. They exhaled into each other’s mouths; a steady current or tide, it seemed, of equal push and pull. She passed it blindly to the next person as she tangled her fingers in Takahiro’s hair and pulled her a little closer. Hajime took it graciously, and glanced at Tooru as she breathed out the smoke. The silent question of should we be like them, too? is this normal; are we normal? hung between them until Tetsuro shrieked as the music changed; from Kanye to the fifth opening of Naruto.

“Sorry about that,” she stumbled, “I— sorry.”

Kenma giggled a little in the haze of smoke, and suddenly, everything was alright; it seemed normal. Tetsuro changed the music to Kanye once more. Takahiro laughed at a meme she just remembered. Hajime felt as though she belonged her. Tooru was in her arms, and it was nice.

“We should play something!” Tooru suggested, “Spin the bottle; Tooru edition, yeah?”

“What’s the Tooru edition part of the equation?” Morisuke snorted. She reached behind herself for a beer bottle regardless.

“You haven’t lived, babe.” cooed Tooru, “You spin the bottle, and you either do a dare, state a truth, or strip if you decline a dare; the person who spins it decides, but it has to be fair. Easy, yeah?”

“Sure,” Tadashi grinned, “Sounds great. I’ll start.”

She turned the bottle; it landed on Tetsuro.

“Truth or dare?” she asked.

“Dare.” Tetsuro drawled with narrowed eyes.

Tadashi licked her lips and lowered her eyelids.

“I dare you to reenact the last porno you watched with Morisuke.”

Tetsuro blinked. Slowly, she turned her head.

“‘Mori,” she cooed sweetly.

“No,” Morisuke hissed, scrambling backwards, “No— no, no— I don’t want to know what kind of kinky shit you watch—”

“It’s not that bad; it’s just some—”

“I don’t even want to know! Kenma, do something!”

“Why me?” Kenma said lazily. She was sprawled on the floor and toying with the Ziploc bag, entirely fascinated.

Tetsuro sighed.

“I’ll refuse it. What piece of clothing do y’all want off?”

Hajime grinned.

“Shirt, please.” she supplied. Tooru huffed.

Tetsuro complied; Kenma stirred in awe at the sight, and she reached forward to run her fingers over the smooth ridges of Tetsuro’s toned abdomen.

Tetsuro grinned sharply at Kenma, and then reached forward to spin the bottle herself. It landed on Yaku.

“Are you fuckin’—” she started.

“Truth or dare?” asked Tetsuro.

“Truth; there’s no way in hell I’m doing a dare suggested by you.”

“Thanks. So, Morisuke,” she cooed, “If you had to have a threesome with me and one other person in the room, who would it be?”

Morisuke glanced around the circle.

“Tooru. I like the pretty ones.”

Tooru blushed at that, and hid her face in Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime laughed at that; she was adorable.

Morisuke spun, next, and it landed on Issei.

“Truth.” she stated.

Morisuke hummed in thought. Kenma passed her the joint.

“What’s the drunkest you’ve ever been?” she eventually asked around a mouth of smoke.

Issei blinked once or twice.

“This summer.” she eventually replied, “I… ‘Hiro and I went to my parent’s lake house.”

“Oh,” Yaku stated.

“Yeah.”

It was silent, for a moment.

Then, Issei spun.

“Truth or dare?” she asked Tooru.

Tooru fidgeted.

“Dare,” she blurted.

Issei grinned.

“Give Hajime a lap dance.”

“Seriously? You really want me to—”

“Do it or strip,” Takahiro stated.

Tooru glared at her.

“Fine.” she spat. Briefly, she glanced at Hajime, who merely blinked at her expectedly as she shifted. The music changed. No one spoke; even Takahiro was silent. Tooru bit her lower lip. She situated herself in Hajime’s lap, and rested her wrists on Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime exhaled slowly and gently laid her fingers on Tooru’s waist. Tooru grinned brilliantly; she felt in control, now.

—I can’t handle no liquor—

Tooru licked her lips extravagantly, swirling her pink tongue around the rim of her mouth. Hajime felt her jaw drop at the sight, and then, Tooru began to move; she swirled her hips to the music, and raised a hand to tangle it in her own hair. She titled her head back and bared her neck. Her mouth parted in a silent moan. Hajime felt her composure slip. A tropical burn spread over her cheeks.

—these bitches can’t handle me—

Tooru arched her back and whipped her long hair around before grinning smugly at Hajime; she must have known what she’d been doing, and what she made Hajime feel. As the beat of the song sped up, Tooru rolled her upper body in one fluid wave. Hajime felt it crash against her; she was the shore.

— bitch, I’m out of my coma—

Tooru danced slowly, and teasingly, and as though she was born to do this. Tooru truly never half-assed anything, even a simple dare like this, and so she gyrated her hips until Hajime’s breath came a little faster. She was flushed from head to toe, and Tooru leaned closer. Hajime’s eyes fluttered shut, and she could feel Tooru’s hot breath fan over her cheeks and mouth, for Tooru was so close— so damn close— close enough to—

“Okay!” Tetsuro interrupted, “Okay! That’s enough; I don’t want to see you guys having sex, okay?”

“It’s sort of hot,” Issei stated.

Tooru whined and hid her face in the crook of Hajime’s neck as Hajime half-heartedly laughed and ran her palm up and down Tooru’s vertebrae soothingly.

“Just… spin the fuckin’ bottle, Tooru.” Tetsuro said, “I… I’m speechless. I’m so done.”

Tooru pulled her lips to one side and lazily reached out to comply. The head of it pointed at Takahiro, who groaned theatrically. Tooru giggled gleefully.

“So… ‘Hiro… What’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” Tooru asked Takahiro.

“Boarding school.” she replied.

Issei smacked her leg, as though she’d said something helplessly embarrassing.

“What?” Tetsuro drawled, “We’re all friends here.”

And something about those words just felt so damn right.

day ninety-five

The sun had begun to set over the field. A breeze blew through the trees, and leaves fell as the wind hushed over the two silhouettes in the centre of the sports field.

“Are you nervous for the game?” Tooru had asked, “The rematch, I mean.”

Hajime turned her head. Tooru leaned closer to her. One of her hands clutched the water bottle she held tightly, whilst the other rested on Hajime’s calf, just under her knee. Tooru smelt of sweat, Hajime noticed as she reached underneath her shirt and scratched her stomach whilst Tooru babbled on, though that was fine; some girls just smelt amazing when they sweated, and Tooru was unsurprisingly one of them.

“Yeah,” Hajime replied, “I am. I’m really fuckin’ nervous.”

Tooru blinked, and averted her gaze.

“You have no need to be,” she said, “You’ll be fine; at the end of the day, it’s only lacrosse.”

Hajime nodded.

“I know.” she said, “I know it is, but… I just… it feels like it’s so much more than that, you know?”

Tooru licked her lips.

“I know.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Tooru turned her head, then, and they were millimetres apart.

“Are the locker rooms empty now?” she breathed.

Hajime nodded weakly.

“Good,” Tooru replied in a low whisper, “Because I… I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

Hajime titled her head towards her. Her lips trailed down to fixate on Tooru’s lips; they were plump, and wet, and absolutely perfect.

“No one’s stopping you from doing that now,” Hajime murmured.

Tooru bit her lower lip nervously.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I… I missed you. You’ve been so busy with practice, and I…”

“You’re selfish, babe.” Hajime grinned, “You’re so selfish.”

“Is that bad?” mumbled Tooru bashfully.

Hajime dug her teeth into her lower lip.

“Not really,” she said lowly, “Please; never be anything but.”

“Why?”

Hajime’s answer was a deep kiss; she pressed her mouth against Tooru’s. She could feel Tooru inhale deeply— as though Hajime were her oxygen— though it wasn’t nearly enough. It was never enough.

“Hajime,” gasped Tooru, “Hajime; I need you, I want you… I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Hajime replied.

“Lockers,” Tooru panted as she clawed at Hajime’s training uniform, “I need— something, anything; please.”

It was difficult for Hajime to deny any Tooru’s wishes, let alone when she was this gorgeous and desperate, and so Hajime kissed her once more as she pressed Tooru against the lockers. She licked at the roof of her mouth and Tooru gasped, desperately pulling Hajime closer and digging her nails into Hajime’s shoulder. Groaning, Hajime tore away— Tooru lapped playfully at the string of spit between them— and took off her shirt. Tooru mirrored her actions, and they fell into each other’s arms far too easily; they’d done this often enough, now.

It felt like the most natural thing for Hajime to cup Tooru’s breasts through her bra— that classic Adidas sports bra she’d worn the first time Hajime saw her — and roam her palms up and down Tooru’s chest before reaching underneath Tooru’s tiny cheerleading skirt and rubbing her through her underwear. Tooru keened into Hajime’s mouth, and Hajime bit her lower lip as she tore off her panties, letting them fall down Tooru’s smooth thighs; she wanted this too bad to tease Tooru, and so she pressed her fingers against Tooru’s hot and soaking crotch. Tooru clutched Hajime tighter and exhaled a guttering moan into the gap between Hajime’s kiss-swollen lips.

“Fuck,” Hajime hushed as she pulled away, “Tooru— baby, I—”

Tooru whined low in her throat and simply threw herself at Hajime once more, kissing her desperately. Hajime stepped backwards a little at the sheer force of Tooru’s actions, though quickly pressed her back against the wall and tore away once more.

“Sit on my face.” Hajime rasped.

Tooru’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped a little.

“Fuck, yes,” she groaned, “God; I love you, Haj’— love you, baby; you’re amazing, you’re the best—”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Hajime. She guided Tooru to the bench, and lay back on it. Hands on either of Tooru’s smooth thighs, she urged Tooru to her mouth. Tooru’s hips hovered above Hajime’s mouth. Slowly, she lowered them, and as Hajime’s lips pressed against Tooru’s aching arousal, she exhaled shakily above her. Her skirt constricted Hajime’s view, though that was fine; it was hot. If this made Hajime kinky, so be it. It was worth it.

Hajime could not stop herself, then; she moved one of her hands to touch herself. She moaned at the relief brought on by even the slightest pressure and friction, though if Tooru noticed, she didn’t care; she merely bucked her hips and grasped Hajime’s hair tighter.

Tooru lowered herself on Hajime’s flattened tongue. Her hips twitched at the sensation, and she mewled above her as Hajime dug her fingers into Tooru’s thighs and pulled her closer. Her tongue pressed against Tooru’s clit, and Tooru rolled her hips and gasped, shuddering as though Hajime’s touch were an electric current.

Her sounds were too much, and so Hajime removed a hand to press her fingers against herself; she was aching, too. Tooru arched her spine and moaned loudly— it echoed against the walls of the locker room— as Hajime pressed her lips against Tooru’s clit and sucked just right. Her jaw began to ache, but it was worth it; Tooru choked on a broken moan of Hajime’s name. Hajime rubbed herself faster at her desperate noises, and with a shuddering, muffle groan, she came herself.

Arching her back, she pulled Tooru closer towards her, and with trembling thighs, Tooru came around Hajime’s mouth, though Hajime didn’t stop licking and swallowing around her until her breath slowed down. She jolted as Hajime kissed her one last time before she pulled away; she could do this for years if they had the time, but they didn’t.

Hajime looked absolutely wrecked. Her mouth was wet and red, and her hair was plastered to her forehead. Tooru exhaled shakily at the sight.

“Should I…” Tooru began.

“No need,” Hajime said, “I… I already did”

“Oh,”

Hajime averted her gaze and flushed.

“That’s hot.” Tooru confessed.

“Yeah?” snorted Hajime. She shifted and pulled on her shirt.

“Yeah,” Tooru said softly, inching closer and watching Hajime with a pleased smile. She tilted her head and sighed contently.

“Why are you sighing so much? Are you regretting this already?” Hajime asked.

Tooru kissed Hajime’s cheek.

“Yes,” she replied, “I regret waiting for so long.”

Hajime didn’t know what she’d meant by that, though that was fine; Tooru was complicated, and Hajime liked that.

Hajime hummed in retaliation.

“I’m just happy,” confessed Tooru in a hushed whisper, as though it were a terrific secret, “I’m happy that I have the cutest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Hajime blushed furiously.

“Not possible,” she muttered, “You’re the cutest.”

Tooru squealed at that, and wrapped Hajime in her arms a little too forcefully.

“I love you,” Tooru whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you; I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Hajime licked her lips. She couldn’t believe it either, and— perhaps more so— she couldn’t believe Tooru thought the same; it was insane how much Tooru loved her. It felt absolutely crazy that someone could love her that much, but then again, she loved Tooru just as much.

She nuzzled her head against Tooru’s, and held her a little tighter. Her chest ached, for in that moment, everything was perfect; they felt infinite.

It was then that Hajime remembered that they weren’t; graduation was a foreboding threat that began to creep towards them and smother them in darkness. 

day ninety-seven

“Shit,” hissed Tetsuro. Her ketchup packet flew on the floor, and she picked it up with a frown staining her features.

“Don’t swear,” Hajime said, “This is a family restaurant.”

Tetsuro frowned and stuck her straw between her lips.

“This is a Mc Donald’s,” she stated.

Hajime shrugged.

“There’re children here,” she countered.

Tetsuro shrugged. She stretched her legs out a little underneath the table— she was too tall otherwise— and Hajime ate a fry. After practice, Tetsuro pulled her aside and tore her away to her car and drove them to Mc Donald’s; for some quality captain and vice-captain bonding time. Hajime hadn’t bothered to ask when Tetsuro decided she was fit to be a vice-captain after being knocked-out in their first game of the season.

“So,” drawled Tetsuro, swirling her fingers around her straw, “You and Tooru, huh?”

Hajime bit at the inside of her mouth.

“What about us?” she asked.

“You’re dating.”

“Yeah, and? You got a problem with that?”

Tetsuro raised her palms.

“None whatsoever,” she retorted, “I just— well, I thought we… you…”

A tropical burn spread over her cheeks.

“What?” Hajime asked carefully.

“I… you… advice; I’m asking for advice.” Tetsuro stammered.

“Asking— advice for what?”

“How to… get the girl,” confessed Tetsuro, “I need to get a girl.”

“Oh,” Hajime said, “A… a specific girl?”

“Yeah,” Tetsuro replied, “She’s… pretty specific.”

Tetsuro slid down further in her seat. Hajime didn’t ask who; it was— quite frankly— none of her business, and she wasn’t Tooru, after all. She didn’t want to get tangled up in other people’s lives.

“Well,” began Hajime, “I… what do you want to know?”

Tetsuro licked her lips. Dramatically, she pushed the tray between them away and leaned over the table.

“How… how did you get Tooru?” she whispered.

Hajime blinked once or twice.

“I… I just… I guess I just… told her.”

“You told her? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Hajime said, “Just like that.”

“Oh,”

Tetsuro rubbed at her face.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, “I guess I…” she barked a hoarse laugh and averted her eyes, “I just gotta… man up and tell her, huh?”

“Basically, yeah.”

Tetsuro bit at the side of thumb.

“Great,” she sighed exhaustedly, “That’s… great. Thanks, Haj’.”

“No problem,” Hajime replied, and she meant it; Tetsuro had this underlying charm about her that made her instantly immensely likable.

Tetsuro shifted, then.

“Are you guys going to do long distance? You and Tooru, I mean,” she asked Hajime.

Hajime froze. Tooru and her hadn’t talked about university after that one time a couple of weeks ago; it seemed to painful.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“You don’t know?” Tetsuro laughed, “I thought you guys were all happy and in love and shit!”

Hajime shrugged.

“We are, but… I don’t know whether Tooru would… she probably wouldn’t want to do long distance.”

Hajime didn’t want to tell Tetsuro she thought Tooru wouldn’t deem it worth the trouble. She couldn’t share everything with her.

“Bullshit,” Tetsuro hissed, slurping at her drink, “You guys are soulmates, probably.”

“Maybe,” Hajime said, “Probably.”

Tetsuro smiled— smiled, not grinned sharply as she so often did— and there was something that felt so right about that.

day ninety-nine

Hajime lay on Tooru’s bed. Tooru rested in her arms, her back flush against Hajime’s chest, and she cradled her phone in her hands. It was dark outside, and so the screen flashed brightly, even through Hajime’s closed lids.

“What are you doing?” hushed Hajime. Her voice was low, as it always was in the depths of the night.

“I’m texting a girl.” replied Tooru.

Hajime’s phone vibrated on Tooru’s nightstand, and she grabbed it with lazy, tired fingers. She unlocked it, and her eyes widened and throat constricted as she read;

from: tooru <3 <3

            I’m not going abroad. I got an offer from Tokyo. I’ve accepted it.

Hajime exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Tooru glanced at her nervously.

“Are you…” she began.

“Of course I’m sure,” Tooru finished, “I talked about it with my parents and all. I don’t… I don’t think I’d like it abroad, and since I’m starting with law, it’s best if I study it here; y’know, ‘cause if I did go to England I’d study English law there, and that’s not what I want to do.”

“Yeah,” Hajime supplied, “Makes… that makes sense.”

Tooru licked her lips and nodded slowly.

“We should move in together,” Hajime stated bluntly.

Tooru sat up.

“Really?” she breathed.

“Yeah, really.” Hajime said, “I mean, unless you don’t…”

“Of course I want to!” finished Tooru, “Oh my God; we’re going to be the best looking couple in the whole university!”

“Yeah,” Hajime laughed, “Sure.”

Tooru hummed happily.

“Hey,” she said gleefully, “We could get a dog.”

Hajime snorted.

“Are you serious?” she said, “You can’t even take care of yourself.”

“Aw, c’mon, Haj’; don’t be like that. I could totally take of a dog. Think of all the possibilities. We could get one of those ugly ones and name it Tobio.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hajime replied. Her voice was muffled by Tooru’s hair. Tooru ignored her regardless.

“Or we could get a pug. I know you like pugs. You follow Doug the pug on Instagram.”

Hajime tightened her hold on Tooru and blushed.

“Stop,” she whined, “It’s— I—”

“I see through your lies, Iwaizumi Hajime. We’re getting a pug. End of story.”

Hajime sighed.

“Fine,” she said, “Then you won’t be my only bitch, though.”

Tooru gasped, and Hajime snorted. Tooru laughed at that like she fell asleep; slowly, and then all at once. The sound carried them deep into the night.

day one hundred and ten

After Tetsuro’s speech pregame, after the team huddle, and after the field’s bleachers had filled with students from both schools, and after Tooru and the other cheerleaders had performed; after all that, Hajime became agitated. She felt a familiar sting of nervousness run through her veins, and Tooru gripped her hand tightly; so tight that she’d begun to sweat far more than either would have liked.

Tooru guided Hajime out to the fields, and in front of the stands, their fingers remained laced together. Hajime felt far too nervous and jittery all over to give a fuck about what people thought when they saw them. She leaned her forehead against Tooru’s, and they stared into each other’s eyes for a couple of seconds— or maybe minutes, it was hard to tell— before Hajime was called out onto the green field.

“Good luck,” Tooru said quietly with a teasing, lopsided smile. She squeezed Hajime’s hand. “Not that you need it, of course.”

“Of course,” Hajime said, smiling; Tooru was too good for her. She was too good for anyone.

Tooru raised a hand to cup Hajime’s face and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek— in front of the entire school, really— before Hajime watched her ponytail bounce as she strode towards the huddle of fellow cheerleaders on the other side of the field.

Hajime felt ridiculously happy; her face hurt from smiling so much. She huffed a laugh and braced herself for whatever the game would throw at her; literally.