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Hajime groaned aloud with the rest of the class when the teacher came in and started handing out papers. They were the graded results of the pop quiz he sprung on them yesterday, and judging by the horrendous splashes of red on his classmates’ papers, there would be hell to pay for the evident lack of reading.
He himself wasn’t the least bit sorry. He had gotten accepted into university, grades were almost all packed in, and he and Oikawa were starting on getting things together to move into their dorm. This one class only had one assignment left, the equivalent of half a test grade, and Hajime would have to focus on failing miserably for it to affect him in any way. Hajime looks over at Oikawa, who has made a paper airplane out of the quiz and is shooting it at Hanamaki.
“Alright, alright, enough. Calm down, class.”, the teacher uselessly says from his podium, “Enough!”. The class stops throwing papers, at least.
“It is clear none of you read the play. None of you read the portion I assigned, and only a few had read the parts I assigned a while ago. So, to understand that school is not yet over, we are performing this play.” He waits a minute to let the class express their outrage. “Not in front of the entire school, just in this class. But we are doing this. Who wants to play Juliet, and who wants to play Romeo?”
Oikawa immediately stands up, the call of the limelight too strong for him to resist. He fluffs his hair up and puffs his chest unnecessarily. “Sir, I volunteer to be Romeo!” He then turns to smile at the girls in the room, and Hajime can hear the sighs from them. Then, he turns the smile to Hajime, who raises an eyebrow in return.
“Oikawa, sit down.”, the teacher says tiredly, but turns to write his name next to Romeo on the board. “Ok, Juliet?”
A girl with curled hair and pink nails stands up and volunteers for the position. The name escapes Hajime, but he thinks she’s part of Oikawa’s fan club. She turns and smiles widely at Oikawa, and Hajime can almost see the heart-eyes on her face.
“So those are the main parts chosen. I’m picking the rest of them to save the drama, so sit down, all of you. Hanamaki, you’re Benvolio, Matsukawa, you’re Mercutio, Iwaizumi, you’re Friar Lawrence…” Hajime tunes out after his friends have been called. He thanks god for small mercies, and for the teacher putting them all in close roles. They were all unlikely to get their work done like this, but it’d be much better than other people playing the roles.
Maki and Matsu are both smirking at each other, and Hajime has the feeling they were part of the few that read some of the play. Romeo and Juliet was some play about teenage love, he knew, but it couldn’t be that bad.
~
It was fucking awful. Let the record be known that Hajime could possibly be too optimistic about things. The play itself wasn’t read by a lot of the class, so half the time would be taken up in confusion about what to do. The teacher stood by on the side with a smile that could only be described as evil, and simply made comments about how this was their final assignment grade.
When the confusion ended and the play actually began, it seemed that their “Juliet”, a sharp girl named Hiyori, wanted it to be as perfect as possible. She’d ask for redos over and over again, but only when the scene involved Oikawa. Nobody minded, the assignment was doomed from the start, but it was still keeping them from finishing the unit.
Oikawa would do his part to the T, a natural at saying ridiculous lines. He does them well, not that Hajime would ever tell him, but he does them better than Hiyori says so. There’s always something wrong, her hair is messed up, she said the wrong words, or she felt it was wrong and needed a redo.
The balcony scene, especially. There’s no kissing directions in it, but somehow, it makes it’s way into their little play. And somehow, the scene must be redone multiple times. If not because Hiyori messed up, then because the teacher thought the balcony scene was especially important.
They redo it six times. Oikawa does his part, gliding in while Hiyori’s lamenting Romeo’s last name, both keeping time with the script. He kisses her quickly, nothing special about it, but Hajime can’t help but getting more and more irritated with the mess.
“Great play, isn’t it?” Matsukawa sits down next to him, eyes far too knowing. He points at Oikawa, who’s currently about to lean in to press his lips against Hiyori’s.
“It’s disgusting.” Hajime deadpans, “And aren’t you dying in the next scene?”
“We could have been forced to write a paper on the book. I’m grateful.” Matsukawa shrugs. “The next scene you have to marry them, though. Hiyori looks like she’s done kissing Oikawa.”
Hajime looks over at the ‘stage’, and they’re getting ready for the scene in which he has to officiate their secret wedding. “She can’t be done with him when she’s the one asking for redos.”, he says as he gets off the ground. He takes his uniform jacket off and pulls the hood of his hoodie up, hoping it’ll help him get in character enough to not look peeved at Oikawa.
“Iwa-chan! I was wondering where you were.” Oikawa turns from his girls, some not even part of their class but heard he was performing something. His smile softens at the edges, and his eyes get a little crinkle. Hajime drops the shoulders he didn’t realize he’d tensed.
He’s about to open his mouth, likely a self-damning response Oikawa would see right through, but the class ends before he can. There’s a flood of people going out of the room, and he closes his mouth.
Oikawa tilts his head inquiringly but Hajime waves it off. Hiyori puts her hand on Oikawa’s arm and winks at him, then turns around and leaves, hand almost stroking it as she walks. He can’t help but narrow his eyes at the spot her hands were.
~
The worst thing about the play they’re performing, aside from the sheer fact that they’re performing a play as punishment for not doing work, is that it sticks long after class ends.
They’re both at practice and Hajime can’t stop wondering how Hiyori felt during each of those kisses. It had to feel good if she wanted to do it six times. He peeks glances at Oikawa’s pink lips, bottom lip slightly bigger than the top, corners pulled into a proud smile as Yahaba successfully sets a ball for Hanamaki.
He wonders how the stage kiss felt, but also how it’d feel if he were kissing someone he liked. If he’d smile into the kiss, if his face would be less stagnant, if there’d be teeth involved. With Oikawa, it’d likely be all of them.
Hajime tries to put it to the back of his mind. He focuses on spiking the ball that’s about to be set for him, and definitely not the lips of the best friend he’s been in love with for years. When he’s faced with Oikawa’s ecstatic grin after slamming the ball down, it’s hard not to just put his lips on some part of his face. His hands itch to cradle his jaw and lean in, knowing he’d be met with soft brown locks lightly wet with sweat, but he curls them into fists and goes to the other side of the net to receive the balls.
He thinks it’ll be harder for his attention to wander when receiving the spiked balls, but in between hits his eyes stray back to Oikawa. It’s like there’s a pull towards him, one that’s only been thrown into the light and strengthened by watching him kiss someone else. It’s kind of funny how someone who obsessed with stars and space can have his own pull.
He wonders how it’d be, if Oikawa would duck down to kiss someone shorter, or if they’d have to get on their toes to do it. For one glorious second between hits, he allows himself in the imagined position of the shorter person. Maybe his neck would be warm to the touch, the way it is when they forget to turn the heater on during sleepovers in winter. It might even be red the way it is when he stays outside too long and gets hideously sunburned.
Hajime tries to shove the thought further down, annoyed with thinking this in public, and in perfect eyeview of Oikawa, who’d know immediately the difference between the blush from exercise or from something else.
“Iwa-chan, what is it? You look grumpy today.” Oikawa says while they’re walking home after practice, lips pulled in a frown, eyebrows following the same downward pattern.
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” Hajime smiles at him, hoping it looks convincing. Oikawa’s frown flattens and he waits for Hajime to give a better explanation. He belatedly remembers texting Oikawa last night and said he was going to bed early for their test this morning.
“If you’re not going to tell me then fine. I’ll find out anyways~” Oikawa says when Hajime doesn’t. He waits a minute for something ridiculous to pop out, whether he’s grumpy because he didn’t eat breakfast or if his socks weren’t the same size. “Do you like anyone right now? Like like, not just casual like.”
Hajime hums to stall and try to cover the rising panic at the oddly specific question. “I don’t like Hiyori like that if that’s what you’re asking.”, he says with a shrug. He sees Oikawa narrow his eyes, and his stomach drops at the realization that he didn’t answer the question. He waits for the interrogation to come, complete with chocolate brown eyes watching his every movement. He loves Oikawa’s eyes, especially the way they move when observing something, flicking here and there to catch everything shown, and piercing what’s not. In this case it’s the flimsy facade of not being affected by him, and if Oikawa can’t catch what feels like is plastered on his forehead, he’ll go braid Ushiwaka’s hair.
Instead, Oikawa shrugs and moves on to talk about the severely degrading quality of the one sweater that fits under his uniform jacket. Apparently it’s been stretching.
~
The teacher decided to prolong the torture by breaking the days up and giving a quiz in between each day of performing. What truly sends his irritation to new heights, however, is that Hiyori keeps sitting in front of Oikawa. She tries to talk to him, and the 184 mass of flirt responds back with an equal level of enthusiasm. In breaks, she’s there. During lunch, she’s there. By the end of the day, he wouldn’t be surprised if she were at practice.
She’s not, but that makes it all the more difficult to stop staring at Oikawa. It’s been a full night of sleep later, but Hajime’s still tracking a stray bead of water down Oikawa’s jaw, thinking about it mingling with the salty sweat already there. He jerks his head away, an uncomfortable disgust rising harsh in him, at himself for thinking such thoughts toward someone who sees him as only a friend, and again at himself for only actively thinking it after there’s a hint Oikawa may well and truly not be available.
He hears the footsteps before he sees them, and he starts inspecting his nails, wincing at how he’s not even opened his mouth but has already given himself away. “So, Iwa-chan, what do you see?” Hajime looks up and sees a calculating and slightly hopeful glint in Oikawa’s eyes, catching him off guard. He looks the way he does, head tilted, when they’re studying together and Oikawa’s got a hold of something but isn’t sure which end of it he’s got. He looks to Hajime for clarification, as he does then, and Hajime doesn’t know what response to give.
Instead of voicing the violent hope that responds to Oikawa’s own glint of it, he turns and comments on the team. “Yahaba’s in good form, and Kyoutani’s showed up again. Are you giving him tips on the side for his captaincy next year?”
Oikawa grins, easy and proud, then shakes his head. “No, Yahaba’s been watching me.” He glances at Hajime for a quick second. “He can’t be captain without a good pair of eyes, and he’s using them.”
“When are you going to announce it?”
“This Saturday. Can you make sure everyone meets at that place across the street from the library? Thanks Iwa-chan, I can always rely on you!”
“I didn’t even say yes yet, stop making decisions without my saying yes.”
“Like you’ll say no. Oh! Before I forget, come over after this. I need to practice my lines with someone and my mom’s making stew.”
Hajime immediately agrees, 2 good things for the price of none.
When they both stand opposite each other, alone in Oikawa’s room, it’s much heavier than he thought it’d be.
“For the last time, why are we doing this, Oikawa? It’s a play performed only for our teacher.”
“Yes, but I want it to be perfect! It’s a long dialogue and the most dramatic part, I have to get it right!”
Hajime wants to ask why Hiyori isn’t the one practicing with him, but it’d be like someone commenting on how nothing could go wrong. It’s asking for trouble, and Hajime wants no part of it. “We aren’t even close to this part of the play, though.”
“If you really don’t want to, I can try to get someone else, Iwa-chan.”
Hajime sighs and picks up his copy of the play, then begins his part as Juliet. He talks about Romeo staying longer than he should, then Oikawa saying his part about avoiding death. They go on, and on, Hajime feeling like his throat is slowly closing up in time with the progression of the script. It’s both a relief and a pain, to kiss Oikawa but to have it as a stage direction to end a scene. In the same vein, he can do it without rejection.
When he sees Oikawa’s sock covered feet in his peripheral vision, he looks up to see Oikawa looking at him curiously. There’s a blushing riding high on his cheekbones, and Hajime wants to swipe it with his thumb to see if it’s hot as well. There’s only a few lines left to say, so he powers through until it’s Oikawa’s turn.
Oikawa brings his hand up to cradle his cheek, and he’s hit with the sudden realization that this is not how he’s been doing his thing with Hiyori. There was no hint of the heavy lidded look Oikawa’s currently throwing at him, no thumb to caress her cheek, and before any of the kisses, Oikawa’s mouth had never been open. Hajime leans into the touch and bites his lip, recognizing the atmosphere’s way too heavy for a stage kiss like this was meant to be. Oikawa drags his tongue across his lower lip, and before Hajime can argue with himself against it, he presses his lips against him.
He does it quickly and Oikawa’s shocked into stillness. He moves his lips a bit, hoping he didn’t just read it all wrong, and he’s about to retreat with an excuse on his lips rather than Oikawa’s own, when Oikawa moves back. He moves confidently, lips moving pleasantly. It’s definitely not what he’d done to Hiyori.
He moves back and Oikawa’s hand drops between them. “I was supposed to kiss you, not the other way around!” Oikawa giggles and Hajime huffs with relief that all is not lost.
Oikawa leans in again, lips slotting against his, hand holding his head in place. He opens his mouth more when there’s a wet weight running against his lips, then against his own tongue. Hajime pulls his hands up into Oikawa’s hair, smiling into the kiss at how soft and fluffy his hair is. He can vaguely taste the milkbuns he had after practice.
Oikawa’s the one to pull away this time, and Hajime almost wants to take a picture of the way his pupils are dilated to the sides, blinking slowly at the sudden light, hair a mess from his own ministrations, blush back in full force and view. His lips are red, and all Hajime wants to do is go back to what they were doing. The copies of the play lay on the floor forgotten.
“Dinner’s done.” Oikawa whispers. He sounds breathless and it’s a weird mixture of pride and pleasure he feels at the thought that he got the Great Oikawa Tooru into that state. Hajime nods, but they’re still standing, close enough that it’d be no effort at all to just kiss him again. Oikawa licks his lips again and Hajime watches blood fill back the spaces he’d put pressure on with his teeth. Oikawa's contemplatively quiet and Hajime waits for him to say something else.
“Then let’s go down and eat. We can get back to this after food.” Hajime says after a few moments. He’s feeling the dull presence of hunger himself now that the nerves are gone and resolved. Oikawa nods and Hajime turns to go. Before he can take another step though, he’s pulled back into another kiss. It’s quick and fleeting, barely a kiss at all compared to the last ones, but still clarifies that this is not practice for the play, if it ever was.
He fixes Oikawa’s hair for him, and Oikawa adjusts his shirt before they go down. He doesn’t see how it’d do anything, if anybody were to see Oikawa’s lips and Hajime’s own smug and serene smile, they’d know. But he figures it’s different when you’re facing your own mother. If the hand on his knee is any indication, he’ll see the difference sooner or later. The absolute perk of being neighbors.