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Tooru wakes up with the feeling of an arm being slung across his waist, a broad chest firmly pressing his back. He shifted a bit, adjusting his position so his neck would be more comfortable.
"You're awake?" A familiar voice calls from behind, a deep rumble sending tingles down his spine. Tooru barely managed a nod through his sleep-addled brain. As half-assed as it was, it still served as an answer though, because Ushijima followed up with a mumbled good morning .
Right. He's at Shiratorizawa dorms now, specifically his boyfriend's room after an impromptu sleepover that happened the night before. (No, he doesn't know where Ushijima's roommate—that red-haired weirdo with the awful hair job—went off to. "He's on vacation," the other had said, and Tooru did nothing but raise an eyebrow skeptically.)
Tooru lets a content smile hang on his lips, hand reaching down to his waist to entwine their fingers together. "Morning," he greets, voice hoarse from sleep. "How long have you been awake for?"
"Not long."
Not long , as in what’s perhaps 30 to 45 minutes ago, since his dear boyfriend is a terrifying man who’s programmed to wake up at the most ungodly hours possible. Tooru remembers, clearly, how he used to be freaked out whenever Ushijima was already awake and moving at 6 AM on a weekend. (He is still afraid of it, by the way. Hiding your fears is definitely a great thing to do.)
Tooru couldn’t hold a small laugh when Ushijima buries his face deeper into the junction between his shoulder and the base of his neck. It always did tickle, and he’d had his friends bully him over it for more than 3 years.
Times where he could relax and throw his problems off a cliff like these are truly blissful.
But he sighed then, remembering the schedule he had for today; which meant that, as much as wants to indulge in Ushijima's warmth, Tooru couldn't stay here for much longer. He promised his team to meet up and train, and there's no way he's going to break said promise when he's literally their captain. Begrudgingly, he says:
“Waka-chan, get off, I’m gonna be late.”
“Mm.” The other hummed. “Your team is practicing so early on a Sunday. That’s commendable.”
“Shut up,” he answered with no bite. “I’m serious, Iwa-chan’s gonna bite my head off if I miss today’s practice. He got the chance to match us up with a college team, there’s no way he’s letting me miss that .”
There’s a huff of warm breath against his nape from Ushijima’s trademark laugh—or, at least, what his version of a laugh is. Tooru had let out an involuntary shudder when kisses were slowly peppered on his skin.
“I don’t think Iwaizumi-san would really bite your head off. If he did, that would be called as murder, wouldn’t it?”
Tooru rolled his eyes, groaning. “You’re really insufferable sometimes, you know that?”
“I do. You say it to me every day.”
"You’re exaggerating, no I don’t." Another hum was what he'd got in return. Tooru, who'd gathered enough soul for today, promptly flips himself over, smiling lazily when he is face-to-face with Ushijima, their chests pressed together as he lets his free hand play idly with the other's short olive hair.
Ushijima's own hand was raised to gently caress his cheek, and Tooru allows him to map his face; calloused fingers tracing the bridge of his nose, the edges of his lips, down to his chin and jaw. Fondness laces the other's eyes, and distantly, Tooru thinks about how he used to genuinely despise that very same gaze.
He hadn't really understood when his sister said that life works in wonders, at least, not until now. It wasn't until the start of his high school senior year and against all odds that he’d begun falling for Ushijima Wakatoshi. At first, he'd thought he was dying, if the racing of his heart were anything to go by, and also because how could he fall in love with him? Him, the man whom he’d marked as an enemy since the beginning, a boy who took a jab at his pride and had never bothered to fix it.
But one particular run-in-turned-first-date with Ushijima at a bakery proved him otherwise.
Proved that he was so incredibly and awfully wrong on his stance towards the other.
Really, if you had told young Tooru how he's going to be absolutely head over heels with his archnemesis, he would look at you as if you've just told a disgusting joke.
Life really does work in wonders.
They stayed in silence like that for one, two, and okay, maybe five minutes, before the rational part of Tooru's mind decided to (rudely) hit him with the jarring realization that he is, in fact, going to be awfully late to today's practice.
He wrestled himself out of his lover's grasp, causing the ghost of a warmth to linger as he sat up. "We can do cuddling later," he says then, eyes narrowing at the look Ushijima was sending him—said look being the normal impassive default version with the slightest bit of a pout dressing his face. A laugh nearly slipped out of Tooru just then, because it's honestly impressive how easy it is for him now to read someone so incomprehensible as Ushijima.
He rushes to the bathroom, getting ready for the day as soon as he can since the last thing he wants in life is for Iwa-chan to know that he wasted more than half an hour in the shower. Then, dressing up happened just as quickly. Tooru was thankful for the fact that he'd prepared his outfit before they went to bed. God, he's really smart.
He places a peck on Ushijima’s cheek, just enough to make faint red dress his boyfriend’s ears. He grinned at it.
"Tooru—"
"Not now Ushiwaka-chan," he answers, cutting the other off whilst reaching for his bag, his other hand now shoving a piece of milk bread haphazardly into his mouth. "I really need to go now. We can go out together later after practice, just let me know, 'kay?"
"Okay," Ushijima says, sounding strangled as if he doesn't know whether he should be amused or concerned. "See you soon, Tooru."
"Mhm."
Or, that's how Tooru ended up running all the way from Shiratorizawa dorms to Miyagi community gym as if his whole life depended on it.
Okay, after all this is finished, he's so going to tell Ushijima about how unbelievably far Shiratorizawa is. Because who the hell builds a school on the edge of a prefecture?
But it isn't until when he's panting and out of breath, standing at the gym door with everyone staring (gawking) at him does he finally forget about filing a complaint to his boyfriend.
They hadn't started the practice yet, that's good. At least he's going to be spared.
Though he doesn't feel too spared when Mattsun whistled, or when Makki lets out a scandalized gasp, or definitely when Iwa-chan says:
"What the fuck are you wearing?"
Confusion washes through him, because first, ??? Why are they staring at me like I'd killed someone? And second, "I'm wearing my normal clothes, what's so wrong with that?" He argues, ready to face head-on whatever his friends’ antics have done this time. That is, before he spots purple in his periphery; vivid purple akin to the one he’d grown to love these past few months, the same damned shade which he would find before a tournament starts.
Shiratorizawa’s fucking purple.
In other words: oh shit.
Makki's laughter in the background is not helping.
“...I can explain,” Tooru says, long after he’d spent gaping at the jacket he’s wearing. Is this why Ushijima had called out to him seconds before he ran out of the dorms?
God if only he had time—even a millisecond—to look into the mirror then maybe, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
“Sure you can,” Iwa-chan deadpanned, face horribly stoic like he was already expecting this outcome.
Tooru couldn’t find the words to retort back.
Thankfully, none of his teammates prodded for more—mostly because they didn’t want to keep the college students waiting for far too long. Tooru had mastered the art of ignoring others, thanks to the many many people who had a knack for gossiping about him, ( “Do you think my girlfriend would dump me for Oikawa Tooru from next class?” or something along the lines,) and so Kyoutani’s incredulously murderous glare went past him without a scratch.
Eventually, it turns into a more familiar routine, the type of routine that doesn’t need you to have an absolute meltdown every passing second.
After they’d finished practice, Tooru had finally moved on from today’s early predicament by shoving said memory offhandedly to a random dusty corner of his brain that he will never ever find again. It worked for the most parts, because all he could think about now is the euphoria of their victory against a college team, no less.
Though, as nothing ever goes in his favor, his very good friends Makki and Mattsun just had to approach him. Even if he was still stretched on the floor to cool down from practice, Tooru simply does not miss the way shit-eating grins were plastered on their faces. Oh no. Then, like a time bomb that finally decided to explode, Mattsun says, “So, who’s the lucky Shiratorizawa student that caught the king’s eyes?”
Next to them, Yahaba choked on his drink.
He wishes he could choke on air too.
Tooru casted a forlorn glance towards the folded Shiratorizawa jacket next to him—one which he’d instantly taken off by the time he realized he was wearing the wrong damn jacket—before burying the entirety of his face into the palm of his hands. He wishes for a deity or someone to come and take him out of whatever hellhole he’s been plunged into. Yeah, he might be borderline insane at this point. What about it?
And, a savior does come to help him.
Mhm, a savior in the form of Ushijima fucking Wakatoshi instead.
The gym fell silent.
Makki looked like he’d won the lottery, Iwa-chan sighed so hard that if it weren’t for the current situation, Tooru would be concerned about the well-being of his lungs; Kindaichi had his face pinched as if he ate an incredibly sour lemon, and Kunimi seemed like he could honestly care less. He doesn’t know what the others are doing. Actually, he doesn’t want to know.
Mattsun placed both of his arms on his waist. “The biggest catch himself. Oi, dontcha have a raging hatred for that guy? Since when did you… Y’know.”
Wanting to die is perhaps an understatement.
What he wanted to say in return was cut short, because Ushijima had already been standing near him.
“You forgot your jacket,” his boyfriend informs, and Tooru honestly wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him that Ushijima is immune to being stared at. “I wanted to catch up with you but Goshiki stopped me because he wanted my advice.”
Tooru shoots the other a withering glare. “...Thank you.”
Ushijima nodded before finally taking a seat next to him.
There was a ball thrown his way, just slow enough for him to catch with both hands. “About time you told the others. I’m tired of seeing you being so in love all the time,” Iwa-chan says, arms crossed together like he usually does.
Tooru gaped.
“You knew?!”
“Yeah, you’re not slick at all, Oikawa. You don’t hafta be Einstein to know it.” His childhood friend smiled at him—or at Ushijima, actually. “Anyways, Ushiwaka ya wanna join us? We could do a 3 versus 3 before packing up.”
“Wait—are you not going to ask more?” Tooru asked.
“Nah, we can do it later.” Makki snickered. “We’re happy for you both and yadda yadda, but can we just have another round now? It’s not every day we have Shiratorizawa’s golden child himself around our practice place.”
That’s also when Tooru felt a hand so-not-very-subtly sneaking to hold his own.
(It took him everything he had to not smile dumbly at the gesture alone. Aah, hell. Iwa-chan was right. He is awfully in love.)
“Sure, I would gladly join.”
The rest of the team cheered, except for the very unfortunate still shell-shocked members Kindaichi and Yahaba. How come they’re treating Ushijima Wakatoshi better than himself? Tooru is literally their captain, goddammit.
Okay, on second thought—ignoring the fact that they’re treating his boyfriend all high and mighty like that and that he’ll be relentlessly interrogated soon when Monday comes, he thinks that it wasn’t all that bad.
They’d been wanting to publicly announce their relationship, after all.