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Tooru has been through hell. Many times. In fact, he’s visited hell enough times that it's almost his third home. There are at least a dozen horrible incidents in his life he could point to as evidence, each more hellish than the last.
There’s the hell of losing the most crucial game of his career – more than once. The hell of living in Argentina for a full year before becoming even somewhat fluent in Spanish. The hell that was the time he ate that really spicy curry Makki mailed to him as a prank that had him bent over a toilet for hours. The hell of his favorite knee brace not being sold in South America and having to be shipped in from overseas. There’s the day Takeru announced that he would be playing volleyball for Shiratorizawa, otherwise known as the school from hell . And then there’s the worst hell of all; the hell of pining after his best friend for years, then dating him long distance for just as long.
But this fresh hell he has found himself in today? Worse than all of them.
If you'd told him, two hours earlier, that he'd be trapped in the same car as two of Japan's top spikers (one of whom is a dear friend who has heartlessly betrayed Tooru several times over the course of the day, and the other who really should not be operating a moving vehicle), stuck awkwardly in the middle seat between a middle blocker he hated in high school and a middle blocker who he barely knew in high school, he would have asked why he didn't just get an uber. Or better yet, a plane ticket back to Argentina.
But, like the rest of the world's population, Tooru finds it excruciatingly difficult to say no to Hinata Shouyou.
When the embodiment of human sunshine spots you in the airport and says, "you don't need to get an uber, I'm sure Bokuto-san has room and would be happy to give you a ride!" there's no option but to say yes. Which is what Tooru, too tired to even process half of Shouyou’s words, does.
"I didn't know you'd be on the same flight, Oikawa-san!" Shouyou continues as he follows Tooru to baggage claim. "If I'd known, we could have sat together!"
Tooru nods miserably. He'd been late getting to the airport (all Iwa-chan's fault, naturally, their video call before Hajime’s own flight had gotten away from them), and then he'd been stuck at the front of the plane next to a crying baby who didn't even appreciate his gracious and persistent attempts to cheer it up. And the airplane’s shitty excuse for an in flight meal sucked ass. So now he's exhausted and hungry and grumpy and he kind of just wants to lay down on the conveyor belt walkway so he doesn't have to remember how legs work. But Shouyou, bless his heart, is one of those people who keeps walking even when there's a machine under his feet that can do the moving for him. Tooru has no choice but to keep up as Shouyou practically flies the rest of the way to baggage claims.
If he'd known he and Shouyou were flying out of the same airport, the last 24 hours could have been a delight, instead of the hell they'd been.
But to be perfectly honest, Tooru had kind of forgotten Shouyou would even be coming to Japan. He's gotten so used to seeing him across the net in his red Sao Paolo uniform, (or on the sand next to him during their yearly meetup in Rio), that he'd almost forgotten about his red Japanese national team uniform.
Weird, how things change.
Even weirder is the sight he and Shouyou are greeted with when they finally make it to arrivals:
Bokuto Koutarou, Japan's most lovable ace, waving his hands in the air and shouting, "hey, hey, hey!" in an embarrassingly loud voice. Next to Bokuto, lurking so awkwardly behind him that at first Tooru isn’t sure if they are actually together or not, is a tall, vaguely familiar blond guy with glasses. And, next to him, weirdest of all, is Tendou Satori, who Tooru barely recognizes with his hair so short.
"Tsukishima? What are you doing here?" Shouyou asks, half confused, half excited, half some third emotion Tooru is sure only Shouyou is capable of, and yes, that adds up to three halves, but Shouyou is just that kind of person. Something about the name triggers a memory though, and ah, that's why the glasses guy had seemed familiar. Karasuno’s middle blocker seems taller than Tooru remembers him being. Though the last time he'd seen him was high school, so that isn't too surprising.
Bokuto slaps Tsukishima on the back so hard that Tooru fears for his spine. "Tsukki is lending us his car!"
"Oooooh," Shouyou says in wonder. "I didn't know you could drive!"
Tsukishima mumbles something incoherent and looks up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. Bokuto translates:
"Oh, he didn’t pass the test. Yamaguchi drives, usually."
Shouyou nods sagely, as if this exchange makes sense. Tooru scrapes through dusty, jet-lagged memories and tries to remember if he knows any Yamaguchis.
Tired of feeling like a third (fourth? fifth?) wheel, Tooru opens his mouth and says the first thing he can think of.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asks Tendou.
Tendou smiles, wide and toothy. "Don't you? Did you get on the wrong plane or something?"
That doesn't answer his question, but Tooru forges ahead, undaunted. "What happened to your hair?"
"What happened to yours?"
Tooru instinctively reaches a hand up to fix his hair, which probably has baby spit in it. Tendou laughs, and Tooru wonders if he was sent by the devil to torture him.
Some things change, like seasons and passports and relationship statuses. Others, like the way Tendou knows exactly how to get under anyone's skin, never change.
Tooru and Shouyou grab their bags from the spinning carousels and Bokuto and Tsukishima lead the new arrivals to their ride.
Tsukishima drives a boxy, olive green car. As they stand by the curb, suitcases and backpacks in hand, Tooru feels a creeping sensation of dread.
“Should’ve bought a minivan, Tsukki!” Bokuto says as he pops the trunk to reveal two bags already crammed into the small space. “You’d have more room!”
“Well I didn’t anticipate ever having to give more than two people a ride at a time,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath.
"I call shotgun!" Shouyou shouts before shoving his bag in between Bokuto’s and Tsukishima’s and pushing his way to the passenger seat.
And thus Tooru’s trip to hell continues.
Tooru loses the ensuing round of rock paper scissors to determine who gets a window seat and is forced to sit in the middle (the bitch seat, Tendou calls it with a giggle,) between Tsukishima and Tendou, while Shouyou, who is the only one of them who doesn't need copious amounts of leg room, gets to sit up front.
Bokuto was very generous and very excited to be able to offer the Oikawa Tooru a ride. ( It's my car, Tsukishima protests weakly, and is ignored.) Bokuto informs Tooru that the reason he’s driving is because he is the only one in the group with a valid Japanese driver's license. Which, Tooru comes to discover very quickly, is a miracle.
How this man passed the test is a mystery.
"I had help!" is all he says when Tsukishima asks that very question. (Tooru thinks he might like Tsukishima, underneath that salty, indifferent exterior of his. He asks the real questions, and Tooru can appreciate that. Unfortunately Tsukishima has not looked at Tooru with anything resembling fondness or even interest, which Tooru tells himself is his loss. At least two people in this car appreciate Tooru. Those two people being Shouyou and himself, of course).
Tooru is viciously ripped from his thoughts as Bokuto swerves through airport traffic. Tooru ends up in Tsukishima's bony lap, and then, just as quickly, Tendou's bony lap, as Bokuto takes another sharp turn.
Why hadn't he gotten an uber again? Oh right, the chain of events summed up as: Bokuto Koutarou takes the train in from Tokyo and offers separately to both Shouyou and Tsukishima to pick them up in a rental. Yamaguchi, (whoever he is,) suggests they just take Tsukishima’s car, which has been collecting dust on the street since he bought it five months ago. And then while waiting for Shouyou’s flight, Bokuto and Tsukishima bump into Tendou, who is heading the same direction as them, and it would be cruel to make him take an uber when there’s an empty seat, right?
And then Tooru was unable to say no to Shouyou and now here he is, in Tsukishima Kei’s tiny car, probably doing irreparable damage to his knees.
Tsukishima looks unnaturally pale and also like he's regretting his life's choices. Tooru can relate.
It has only been ten minutes since they left the airport, and already, Bokuto has run a red light, jumped a curb, and accidentally turned on the windshield wipers. Google Maps tells Tooru their destination is still many red lights, curbs, and windshield wiper mishaps away.
"So how have you been, not-so-chibi-anymore?" Tendou asks loudly, breaking the tense silence everyone had adopted.
Shouyou turns around in his seat. "Great! And you? You flew in from Paris, right? Ushiwaka said you're a chocolatier? That's so cool!"
Are they friends? Tooru grumbles to himself. I thought I was Shouyou's international bff. Tobio doesn't count, of course.
He misses Tendou's answer, (he already knows that Tendou lives in Paris and is a chocolatier anyway, because he knows everything) but catches Tendou's next question, directed at Tsukishima.
"And what about you, Mr. Vanilla? Haven't seen you since…" he taps his chin. "That first year training camp, right?"
Do they know each other too?
Tooru thinks very hard back to his third year, Tsukishima’s first, which is a blur of minor injuries and hard losses and preparing to leave the country. He vaguely remembers a few days when Kunimi and Kindaichi hadn’t been at practice because they’d been invited to some special training camp at Shiratorizawa. Tooru remembers complaining about indoctrination and Hajime rolling his eyes in response which had given Tooru a pang of longing so deeply painful that he’d spiked a ball into the back of Hajime's head. That had been before they’d confessed their feelings, of course.
Tsukishima must have been at that training camp too.
Tooru's need to know everything burns under his skin like a thousand fire ants. But before he can inject himself into the conversation, Bokuto, who'd been randomly pressing buttons the last few minutes, finally finds the radio, and from the speakers comes a dull, monotone voice.
The car descends into a confused silence while the voice drones on about tax law.
"What the heck kind of music station is this, Tsukki?" Bokuto asks.
"It's talk radio. It's educational."
"It's boring," Bokuto and Tendou say at the same time. Tendou laughs. Bokuto laughs. Shouyou laughs.
Tsukishima does not laugh. Tooru wonders if he knows how.
Tooru can't decide if he should join the laughter (which would mean agreeing with Tendou, a spine chilling horror almost scarier than tax law) or stay silent (which would make him look like a boring loser who likes discussing the finer points of tax law, which he doesn’t).
"Taxes scare me," Bokuto Koutarou, Japan's fearless ace, says, and then changes the station.
Tooru can practically feel Tsukishima's icy stare. Or maybe that's the air conditioner kicking in. Bokuto must have accidentally turned it on in his quest for the radio.
Tooru decides that it is in his best interest to be nice to Tsukishima, since it’s his car he’s trespassing in. So he decides to strike up a conversation.
"So…" he starts hesitantly. "How are you connected to all… this?" he gestures lamely to the other passengers.
Tsukishima shrugs. "I've been asking myself the same question for years."
Shouyou turns around in his seat. "Volleyball, duh!" He starts counting on his fingers. "You're on the frogs with Kogane, who's dating Goshiki, who's friends with everyone from Shiratorizawa, and some of them still live in the area so you’ve seen them around and stuff, and you’re in the V-League too, so you’ve been to a lot of the same events as Ushiwaka. And you're friends with me, and Kageyama, who plays with Ushiwaka — don't make that face at me, you two are friends and you know it — and I'm friends with… well with everyone!"
"And," Bokuto adds, turning around, "you're also friends with me! And I'm also friends with lots of people!"
"For the love of god, please look at the road while you're driving!" Tsukishima shouts. Bokuto sheepishly smiles and turns back. Tsukishima sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, like being friends with Hinata and Bokuto is his life's biggest regret.
Tendou reaches across Tooru and offers Tsukishima a piece of candy. Tsukishima accepts it warily.
"This is the weirdest day of my life," he mutters as he unwraps the candy with long, delicate fingers.
"Same," Tooru says, and tries not to feel jealous that Tendou didn’t offer him any candy.
"I'm having a great time!" Tendou says. He pulls out his phone and turns around, leaning over Tooru’s lap. "Smile for Ushiwaka~" he singsongs, before taking a selfie of the three of them.
Tooru considers if it’s bad etiquette to kill Tendou, but the bastard has already hit send.
For the next several minutes, Tooru decides that maybe dissociation is the path to survival. It almost works. For a few minutes, he stares blankly forward at the road ahead, sinking into the same headspace he uses to keep himself in the game during time outs, ignoring Tendou and Hinata and Bokuto’s ceaseless chatter. He lets himself sink into the fact that he’s back in Japan for the first time since the Olympics. It’s weird, seeing signs in Japanese instead of Spanish, weird driving on the left side of the road and not the right side. Weird, to see Sendai's skyline out the window instead of San Juan's.
Weird, how things change.
If he ignores his current companions, he can almost imagine that he’s going to visit his parents, rather than family of a different sort.
Unfortunately, dissociation is nearly impossible when sharing a car with his current companions, and it doesn’t take long to get wrenched from daydreams of his mother’s cooking.
“I have to pee,” Shouyou says with all the bluntness of a person who is used to their bladder betraying them.
“Why didn’t you go before we left the airport?” Tsukishima asks, with all the tiredness of someone who has been through this before.
“I didn't have to go then!”
“Should I go back?” Bokuto asks, concerned.
“No!” everyone shouts in unison, united in their fear of Bokuto’s willingness to do a u-turn on the highway for the sake of Shouyou’s bladder.
“Can you hold it?” Tooru asks.
Shouyou squirms in his seat. “All the way across the city? I don't think so!”
And then Tendou says what is quite possibly the most unhelpful suggestion in history.
“This reminds me of the time when Goshiki had to use a water bottle because Coach wouldn’t let the bus driver pull over. I have an extra if you need one!”
Tooru snickers, remembering a similar story from his own high school days. (Poor Kindaichi never lived it down.)
Tsukishima, on the other hand, looks about ten microseconds from exploding. He pulls out his phone, furiously types something, then hands the phone up to Bokuto. “Drive here,” he orders. And then, “Hinata, find a way to distract yourself until Bokuto gets us to the gas station. Do not even think about pissing in a bottle in my car or I will make sure you never play another game of volleyball again.”
Shouyou lets out a squeak, nods, and starts humming a song under his breath, something about “sprinkling,” that makes Tooru question how it’s supposed to make him need to pee less.
Tendou quickly catches along to the tune and adds his own lyrics over top, complete with hand gestures that Tooru assumes are supposed to evoke images of rain showers.
Great. Now he has to pee.
They make it to the gas station with seconds to spare. Shouyou flings open the door and sprints into the gas station’s convenience store. The rest of them aren’t far behind.
Tsukishima sighs in relief and slumps in his seat when they return back to the car a few minutes later. His clenched fists relax.
“So,” Tendou says, “Is now a good time to tell you that I forgot my bags at the airport?”
They’re halfway back to the airport when there’s a worrying ding! from the dashboard.
“Uhhh, Tsukki?”
Tsukishima leans over Tooru to peer at the dashboard, hand gripping the passenger seat for leverage. He groans. “Bokuto, why didn’t you just fill up while Hinata was using the restroom?”
“The light wasn’t on then!”
After a brief discussion and several quick calculations on Tsukishima’s part, they decide there’s enough gas to get them to the airport first, and then back to the gas station. It'll be tight, but on the plus side, Bokuto won’t have to make the first available legal u-turn.
The downside is that now Bokuto is driving as slow as an old man as if that will conserve gas. Or maybe he’s trying to prove to Tsukishima that he’s a responsible driver. All it does is give Tooru plenty of time to think of many, many worst case scenarios. But eventually they make it to the airport. Tendou runs in to grab his bags. Bokuto only hits two curbs. They make it to the gas station in one piece. Bokuto gets gasoline on his shorts but otherwise succeeds in filling up the tank. There is much rejoicing as finally, things are getting back on track.
And then Tooru’s stomach growls and he is reminded of the fact that he has not eaten a full meal since he was in South America.
Luckily, there’s a convenience store conveniently located at the gas station.
“Mind if I grab a few snacks before we hit the road?”
“Oooh, me too!” Shouyou says. “Good idea, Oikawa-san! I'm starving!”
Before Tsukishima can protest, Hinata is already halfway to the store. Bokuto shouts, “wait for me!” and runs to join him. Tooru glances at Tendou.
“I'm good!” he says. “I ate at the airport. That's where I forgot my bags, actually! My flight got in way earlier than yours.”
Tooru looks at Tsukishima. The blond raises an eyebrow as if to say, well? Your move.
Tooru is locked in a stalemate. If he wants to get out of the car, he’ll need to ask either Tendou or Tsukishima to move. And neither of them look like they’re willing to offer without being asked.
Damn blockers and their… blockiness.
So Tooru takes the middle road. That is to say, he climbs over the center console like any mature, reasonable adult would, and exits through the passenger door. Then, like a mature, reasonable adult, he sticks his tongue out at Tsukishima’s car and goes to join Shouyou and Bokuto in the snack aisle.
Tsukishima, unsurprisingly, is the kind of person who treats the possibility of crumbs in his seats with the same threat level as nuclear war.
Tooru has never eaten a tube of pringles so slowly and carefully. Each crunch makes Tsukishima’s eyes narrow further and further until he’s squinting like he’s looking into the sun. It would almost be funny if Tooru weren’t 65% sure he’d be on the evening news for commenting on it.
Gorgeous Japanese-born, Argentinian Olympic athlete found dead on the side of a highway. Foul play suspected. Witnesses describe a tall, glasses wearing man throwing a body out of a moving car.
Bokuto returns to fiddling with the radio.
“Oooh, Bokuto-san stop here, this is a good one!” Shouyou begins singing along to an upbeat foreign pop song around a mouthful of his own bag of gas station takis.
Tsukishima makes a face. “I see your taste in music has not matured. Why am I not surprised.”
“Oh, like you’re any better, Stuffyshima?” Shouyou teases, pointing a takis powdered finger in Tsukishima’s face. “Do you still only listen to artists if they have less than a hundred followers on spotify?”
Tsukishima doesn’t answer. He seems to have acquired a pair of headphones from thin air, and they are now clamped firmly over his ears.
Tooru, for what it’s worth, thinks Shouyou’s taste in music is perfectly acceptable. In fact, this current song is one of Tooru’s favorites – just that right mix of catchy and challenging that Tooru can't help but find himself singing along to.
What happens next can only be described as carpool karaoke, an idea that Tooru is sure would make an entertaining tv show for about six episodes before it gets repetitive.
It's been a while since he’s done any sort of karaoke, in a car or otherwise. His Argentine teammates don’t really get it. That singing in front of strangers they try roping Tooru into on nights out? Tooru may have an ego, but no thank you.
But Shouyou and Bokuto? They get it. Even Tendou, as much as Tooru regrets admitting it. Karaoke is a special moment meant for you and your closest friends (and former enemies) to share. It’s for bearing your soul and forgetting about the rest of the world.
Tooru feels the stress of the day melt from his body as he belts out the lyrics to this week’s top 10 pop hits. Shouyou is cheering him on like he’s on the sidelines of a volleyball match. Bokuto’s practically dancing in the driver’s seat, causing the car to jerk side to side but Tooru is not thinking about near-death scenarios right now. Tooru is jet-lagged and running on negative sleep and only the calories of a tube of pringles and it’s taking all his focus to make sure he’s the star of this show.
Tendou, however, seems to have no interest in letting Tooru win, and is doing his damndest to sing louder or sing the wrong words on purpose with the intention of tripping Tooru up. Typical.
On Tooru’s other side, Tsukishima has now acquired an eye mask. There’s no way he’s actually asleep, but perhaps he’s taking an, “if I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist” approach. An admirable effort, but ultimately impossible.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. It isn’t long before Shouyou’s groaning like he’s going to die.
Bokuto turns down the radio. “What was that?” he asks.
“I think I'm getting carsick,” Shouyou moans.
Oh. Oh no. On no no no no no. That was Shouyou’s “I’m about to puke all over your shoes” groan. Tooru is well acquainted with it, but he usually only hears it after one of those blurry nights they share in Rio.
“Not in my car, you’re not,” Tsukishima says, pulling up his eye mask and yanking off his headphones. Like he has any control over the possibility. Tooru is about to warn him to watch his shoes, but Tsukishima has known Shouyou for just as long as Tooru. He probably doesn’t need to be warned. He's probably well acquainted with puke shoes.
“Bokuto, pull over. Now,” Tsukishima demands.
“I can't!” Bokuto wails. “Keiji said you can only pull over when there’s adequate space!”
“Oh, so now you’re concerned about the right way to operate a vehicle?”
“Who is Keiji?” Tendou stage whispers. Tooru shrugs.
“Akaashi Keiji!” Shouyou says, impending vomit session temporarily on hold. “He's the little giant’s — uh, Udai Tenma’s, editor! And he was Fukurodani's setter!” He slaps his hand over his mouth. His face is unnervingly pale.
“And he’s my boyfriend!” Bokuto adds. “He’s the one who taught me how to drive!”
Tooru does not know Akaashi Keiji, but he feels an immediate rush of respect for the fellow setter. Whoever was patient enough to teach Bokuto how to drive must have the patience of a saint. He wishes Akaashi had done a better job, but perhaps that would be too much for even a saint to accomplish.
“He works with Udai-sensei?” Tendou shouts excitedly, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say so earlier! He's my favorite mangaka! Meteo Attack is the best manga of the year! I have the latest volume in my bag right now! Wakatoshi-kun hasn’t been able to get his hands on a copy so I brought mine. Did you know we bonded over manga in school?”
Ushiwaka reads manga? It seems incongruous with Tooru's image of the man. Though Tendou’s entire existence seems incongruous with Tooru’s image of Ushiwaka. How they became friends is a mystery. Maybe they just rubbed off on each other over the years.
Tooru shudders, imagining the lovechild of Ushiwaka’s stony exterior and Tendou’s rubbery exterior. It evokes thoughts of wet cement. Unpleasant thoughts.
“You should have told me!” Bokuto shouts back, matching Tendou’s energy and blessedly interrupting the horrifying movie playing in Tooru’s mind. “I could have gotten you an autograph or something! I'm his inside man. He comes to me when he needs references and stuff!”
Bokuto sounds immensely proud of the fact that he was chosen as a model. Tooru wonders if Akaashi was just trying to save money by using his very attractive boyfriend as a model. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to see Bokuto without his shirt on. Tooru, who served as Hajime’s reference model for many a physiology exam, is well-versed in such “boyfriend privileges.”
“Oh wait! Tsukki! Didn’t you say–”
“No.”
Bokuto ignores Tsukishima’s protest. “Didn’t you say he’s visiting your brother this weekend? You definitely did! So he’s in town!”
“Bokuto, whatever you’re about to suggest–”
“We should swing by! Hey Tsukki, text your brother!”
“Your brother knows Udai-sensei?” Tendou asks, leaning over Tooru’s lap to get up and close with Tsukishima’s face. “Mr. Tsukki Vanilla, I think you are my new best friend! Besides Wakatoshi-kun, of course, but he’s more than a friend if you know what I mean,” – insert lewd eyebrow wiggle – “so you can still count as a best friend. If you take me to meet Udai-sensei. Pretty please? I’ll ship you a lifetime’s supply of chocolate if you do. You have a boyfriend right? Tall, scrawny, freckles, does a mean jump float serve? Does he like chocolate?”
“Don’t call me Tsukki. Please. Bokuto is bad enough.”
“Uh, guys?” Shouyou interrupts in a weak voice. “Anyone got any paper towels? Or baby wipes?”
Tsukishima’s brother’s name is Akiteru, and he lives in a small apartment on the east side of Sendai and works at a stationary company. He plays volleyball on a local municipal team and is also friends with Udai Tenma, who is a former classmate of Akiteru's as well as former member of Karasuno High School’s volleyball team who, believe it or not, was actually the one who inspired Shouyou to play volleyball. Now, Udai is a mangaka, writing a story about volleyball players with superpowers. Also, Udai’s editor is Bokuto’s high school sweetheart, who is, according to Bokuto, the “best setter ever! No offense!”
(Tooru does take offense, but not very much, because Bokuto is so earnest it hurts.)
Tooru learns all of these fun facts and more in the fifteen minutes it takes to go out of their way so that Tendou can get his favorite mangaka’s autograph. And so that Shouyou can get cleaned up and not get thrown out of the window of a moving car. A justified homicide, Tsukishima had insisted, but Tooru had talked him down.
Imagine how insufferable Tobio-chan would become without him, Tooru said in a low voice. And Tsukishima shuddered. Once again, Tooru finds himself half-liking Tsukishima. It’s always nice to meet people who know you’re not crazy for thinking Kageyama Tobio is a monster sent from hell to torment you personally.
Tooru has known how small the world truly is since the day he spotted Shouyou on the beaches of Rio, half a world away from where they’d first met. But standing awkwardly in Tsukishima Akiteru's tiny living room, the world has never felt smaller.
Shouyou, Tooru’s anchor in the storm, is cleaning up his puke shoes (and puke shirt, and puke shorts) in the bathroom, leaving Tooru alone in a room full of people he does not know.
Normally, this would not bother him. Tooru is an expert at becoming the center of attention, and enjoys inserting himself into conversations that have nothing to do with him. It's what makes him a great setter who can work with damn near anyone. It's what gave him the confidence to show up to his first day of practice in Argentina like he owned the court, even though he barely spoke his teammates’ language.
But Tendou is gushing excitedly to Udai, waving a volume of manga around, and Udai looks a little baffled by the group of people who just barged into Akiteru’s apartment but appreciative of the support of a fan, and Tooru’s an asshole but he’s not so much of an asshole as to try and make that about himself. In the kitchen, Tsukishima is complaining, or maybe apologizing, to his brother, and Tooru’s an asshole but he’s not about to get in the middle of a family discussion when he’s already imposing on Tsukishima’s patience enough. And Bokuto is face-timing his boyfriend, something that involves quite a few lovesick expressions, and Tooru’s an asshole, but he’s not about to interrupt that either, not when he knows the difficulty of being in a long distance relationship, even if Bokuto and Akaashi aren’t quite as long distance as Tooru and Hajime.
Tooru's own phone is in his bag, which is in the back seat of Tsukishima’s car, which means he can’t text Hajime and let him know he’s been kidnapped. Which means he is left to examine the wall décor.
He is asshole enough to judge that.
And judge he does. He starts with the living room (cheap paintings probably picked up from a thrift store, or else Akiteru is a starving artist on top of his day job), then finds himself judging all the way down the hallway (family pictures now, many of an adorable little Tsukishima Kei. What had happened to that smiling boy to turn him into the man he is today?), then peers into a bedroom (hey, the door was open, that's practically an invitation.)
The apartment is small, but the noises from the other room are quieter now that he has stepped away from the group. He can finally think.
How does someone like Tsukishima survive being friends with these people?
He doesn’t notice how quiet things have gotten until it’s too late.
He returns to the living room to find it empty. No sign of anyone, even Akiteru and Udai.
Tooru peeks behind the couch, in case they’re just hiding from him, but the apartment isn’t small enough to hide two tiny giants and four slightly taller than average giants.
Tooru makes his way to the parking lot.
Tsukishima's car is not parked where Bokuto had left it.
Tooru reaches for his pocket, and remembers, with dread sinking in, that his phone is in the car.
First comes denial. He circles the entire building, because maybe he's just on the wrong side, but there's still no sign of Tsukishima's olive green car. He peers behind the dumpster, in case they’re hiding from him. They are not. He feels stupid for considering it.
Next comes anger. They left him. He kicks the dumpster. This makes his toes hurt. The fucking audacity.
Then, bargaining. He tries to head back up to the apartment. Akiteru and Udai had probably stepped out onto the balcony. He can just ask to borrow Akiteru’s phone to text his brother. But the door is locked and Tooru does not have a key and he can’t remember which apartment number is Akiteru’s to ring the buzzer. He looks up to the sky, and asks God what he did to deserve this. God does not answer, because there is no god, because this is hell.
After bargaining comes depression. Tooru sinks to the ground, leaning back against the dumpster, and reflects on the series of unfortunate events that led him to this sorry state. He really should have just gotten an uber.
Then the anger comes back. They fucking left him! Was it on purpose? Or did they just forget him? It pisses Tooru off that he can’t decide which is worse.
Acceptance comes last. He has no phone. No wallet. He is stranded in a foreign city.
No.
Not a foreign city.
He knows this city. This is the city of his youth. The city of school trips and family outings and volleyball tournaments.
He is not stranded. He knows exactly where he’s going, and he knows exactly how he’s going to get there.
Tooru knocks on Yahaba’s door not like he’s dropping in unannounced and desperate and disheveled, but like this was always part of the plan. That is to say, he stands up straight, tries his best to appear confident, and when the door swings open, says, “Yahaba-chan! So good to see you!”
Except it is not Yahaba who opens the door.
“What the fuck?” Tooru says, blinking hard as if that will clear away this hallucination.
“What the absolute fuck,” Kyoutani Kentaro replies.
So! Apparently Yahaba and Kyoutani are buddy-buddy! And Tooru was not informed! That's fine! Very fine! Tooru totally supports them and whatever they have going on!
“We’re fuckbuddies.” Kyoutani says bluntly.
“Yes, yes, I heard. Buddies. Friends. Pals.”
“We’re fucking.”
Tooru whimpers.
“Why are you here again?” Kyoutani asks, indifferent to Tooru's crisis. (He thought Yahaba had sense.) “Shigeru didn’t say anything about you being in town or stopping by. Aren’t you supposed to be in Argentina? Did they send you back or something?”
“They didn’t send me back,” Tooru replies indignantly. “I'm here for an event.”
Kyoutani's eyes narrow, but then he nods, as if in understanding. “Makes sense I guess. But I wasn’t asking why you’re here in Japan, I was asking why you are here in our apartment.”
"Our apartment? So ‘fuckbuddies’ rent apartments together now?”
Kyoutani glares. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“Wow, no respect for your old captain, huh?”
“None.”
“Fine. If you must know, I'm here because I lost my ride. And I was hoping Yahaba-chan would be home and also that he would have a car.”
“Well then you’re shit out of luck. Shigeru's out of town for the weekend.”
“Well then do you have a phone at least?”
Kyoutani raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t you?”
Tooru huffs. “My phone, along with my wallet and my luggage, are unfortunately preoccupied with being in Tsukki’s backseat.”
Kyoutani is staring at Tooru like he has two heads. Tooru reaches up to fix his hair on instinct.
Then Kyoutani’s head tilts sideways like an inquisitive puppy. “Tsukki like… Tsukishima Kei?”
And so Tooru’s world, already as small and crowded as the backseat of a boxy olive green car, shrinks just a little bit further.
“Oikawa-san, I am so sorry!” Shouyou cries a few minutes later, after Kyoutani has texted Tsukishima (who has his number because he is his fucking teammate, go fucking figure), and the whole gang shows up on the Yahaba-Kyoutani household’s doorstep. “I noticed right away but we made a wrong turn and then we got lost and then by the time we got back you were gone. We thought you were lost forever!”
“Don’t you know that when you get lost you’re supposed to hug a tree?” Tendou asks. (He has hardly stopped laughing this whole time. Apparently the idea of Tooru being forgotten is a delight. He's probably going to blab about it to Ushiwaka at the first opportunity. And Ushiwaka will probably say something like: If Oikawa had come to Shiratorizawa, this would not have happened.)
“This is Sendai,” Tsukishima says flatly in response to Tendou’s survival tip, “not the wilderness.”
“Cities are kind of like wilderness though, right?” Bokuto asks. “That's why they call it a concrete jungle?”
“This is Sendai,” Tsukishima repeats, even more flatly, “not Tokyo.”
“Still lots of concrete though,” Shouyou counters. “And easy to get lost in, like a jungle.”
“Only if you have no sense of direction.”
“Hey, was that directed at me?” Bokuto asks, hands on his hips. “You knew I was bad with directions when you agreed to carpool, so don’t act all high and mighty about it! You said, and I quote, ‘you’ve never driven in Sendai and the last time you got a rideshare the lady was so terrified of you that you felt bad and so because I am such a nice person I will let you drive my car because if I don’t you will get a rental and you will get lost and everyone will be sad.’”
“I'm pretty sure that’s not an exact quote,” Shouyou tells Tooru.
“I'm pretty sure you’re right,” Tooru tells Shouyou.
“Can you all just fucking leave?” Kyoutani asks, and is ignored.
“Oh, is Seijoh's wittle puppy dog grumpy?” Tendou asks.
Kyoutani glowers, and yep. It's time to be the responsible one now.
“Alright, everyone,” Tooru says, clapping his hands to get their attention. “We've got somewhere to be, don’t we?”
And that’s the kick in the pants Tendou needed. “Mr. Bitch Seat is right!” Tendou pushes Bokuto towards the door. “Let's go, everyone! I've got a hot date tonight and I don't want to miss it!”
Shouyou files out next, then Tsukishima, but not before he sends a thin smile Kyoutani’s way. “I'll see you at practice Monday.”
“Tell Koganegawa not to drink too much, his sets are shit when he’s hungover.”
Tsukishima grimaces. Tooru scrapes through his memories attempting to remember if he knows any Koganegawas.
And then it’s just Tooru and Kyoutani. “Thanks,” Tooru says, sincerely. “I'm not sure what I would have done if you weren’t here.”
“Probably pestered some poor old granny for a ride.”
“You think so lowly of me.”
“Someone’s got to balance out Shigeru.”
Tooru makes a face. “It's still very strange that you two ended up together.”
“Is it?”
And okay, maybe it isn’t. But it’s… strange, how things change. Makes Tooru wonder how much he has changed. If Kyoutani looks at him and still sees his high school volleyball captain, or if he sees something else. Some one else.
“You'd better go before they leave you behind again,” Kyoutani says.
Tooru feels a flare of panic.
“Tell Yahaba-chan I said hi!” Tooru tells Kyoutani with a (definitely not forced) cheery wave, and then rushes out to the car.
“I can’t believe you’re on the same team as Kyoken-chan,” Tooru tells Tsukishima once they’re on the road again.
“Me neither, sometimes,” Tsukishima replies. “It’s a small fucking world, though, isn’t it?”
After today, Tooru can’t help but agree.
Tendou starts singing a song under his breath. “It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears…”
Bokuto groans. “Nooooo, don’t start that, I’ll never get it out of my head!”
“What is it?” Shouyou asks.
“You’ve never been to Disneyland?” Tendou asks. "It's a Small World?"
Shouyou shakes his head, eyes wide and inquisitive.
Tendou smiles, like he knows exactly what hell he’s about to unleash on this car, and he continues to sing.
And sing.
And sing.
And even after the song fades into a hum, the lyrics remain burned into Tooru’s brain.
The rest of the drive is relatively uneventful. Everyone seems to be tired out by the afternoon’s events, and so while Bokuto does floor it through more than one yellow light in an attempt to make up for lost time, there is no karaoke, no bickering. Just quiet conversation.
Tendou pulls out his signed manga and shows Tooru, and Shouyou and Tsukishima discuss how the younger generation of volleyball players seems to be faring, and Tooru adds in his own observations, and Bokuto hums “It’s a small world” under his breath, and Tendou joins him, and it’s strange, how things change, but maybe it’s not so bad.
And then Bokuto hits another curb and Tooru yelps in surprised pain as his head hits the ceiling and Tendou cackles like a hyena, and Tooru takes it all back.
"We're here!" Bokuto shouts.
Tooru blinks, and for a moment it's like being thrown back in high school.
The brick walls of Shiratorizawa are as imposing as ever, the lawns manicured to annoying perfection, the bronze eagles at the gates as hideous as the day Tooru first laid eyes on them. The sprawling campus is eerily deserted, but then again, the students are on break.
There's people waiting for them when Bokuto finally pulls — crookedly — into a parking space, pressing the brakes a little too hard as he does and sending Tooru lurching forward over the middle console.
Two men are sitting on the steps of a nearby building, deep in conversation. They stand and approach when the contents of Tsukishima's car spill out into the open air. Tooru just barely resists the urge to bend down and touch the grass and thank the gods he’s alive. Bokuto’s driving got increasingly worse as they drew closer to their destination, and Tooru’s bones feel like they are going to vibrate out of his skin.
"Iwa-san!" Bokuto and Shouyou shout, waving their arms excitedly.
Tooru perks up. "Iwa-chan?" He pushes Bokuto and Shouyou to the side and collapses into Hajime's waiting arms like a dying man.
"You were almost widowed a dozen times," he moans.
Hajime chuckles. "That's what you get for getting into a car with Bokuto. And I can't be widowed, dumbass, we’re not married yet."
Tooru pulls away. "Bokuto wasn't even the worst part. The worst was him." He points to Tendou, who is passionately kissing Ushiwaka. Tooru's face scrunches up because ew.
"I'm glad you came," Hajime says, so tenderly that Tooru almost forgives him for being the one to bring this trip to Tooru’s attention in the first place. "Was worried you might chicken out."
Tooru gasps in offense. "You should know me better than that, Iwa-chan! I have never chickened out of anything ever!"
"You're right, how silly of me. How could I forget that you'd never pass up a chance to witness your biggest enemy on the happiest day of his life."
Tooru's retort is interrupted by Ushiwaka peeling his lips off Tendou (again, ew,) and approaching. Tooru puts on his most unaffected expression.
"Oikawa. I always knew I'd get you to come to Shiratorizawa."
Tooru blinks. "Was that a joke?" He turns to Hajime. "Is he joking? Is that even possible?"
Hajime is laughing.
"Are you making a joke?" Tooru asks again. Ushiwaka's face is unreadable stone. Tendou snickers behind him.
"What is happening?" Tooru despairs. He points a finger at Ushiwaka. "I know you only invited me here to rub it in my face that you're getting married first, but you're going to regret inviting me at all."
Ushiwaka's expression doesn't change as he says, "I did not invite you."
Tendou bends over, cackling.
"What?” Tooru asks. “Is that another joke?"
"He didn't invite you," Hajime says.
Tooru turns to face his boyfriend. "What? But you said we were…"
Hajime is smiling like he just won a bet. "I said I was invited to the wedding. You're my plus one.” And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he adds, “your name wasn't even on the invitation."
"But…” Tooru flounders for a second. “I just… assumed he didn't have my address and that's why he sent the invite to you… you’re saying I came all this way and I wasn’t even invited?” Tooru slumps to the ground, head in his hands. "This is the worst. I hate this. I hate you all. You’re all awful. This is awful. I should leave and never come back. I'm too good for you anyway."
“I'm honored you came,” Ushiwaka says, and it sounds so sincere that Tooru wants to puke. “It means a lot to me.”
Tooru pulls himself together, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s powering through. “Of course!" he says cheerily, getting back to his feet. "I am a very nice person, after all. Also, Iwa-chan is your best-man. I can't have anyone trying to steal him away from me while I'm not looking!”
Ushiwaka’s brows furrow slightly. Hajime explains. “He’s been convinced half the national team has a crush on me.”
“Oh. Well I suppose even Oikawa can be right sometimes.”
It’s Hajime’s turn to look like his world just got rocked.
Shouyou chimes in, “you didn’t know?”
"Yeah, Iwa-san! Didn't you know? Tsum-Tsum's the worst though."
Shouyou nods gravely. "Atsumu-san kept faking injuries to go see you after practice. Omi-san yelled at him about it for a whole hour straight once. It was kind of impressive. There's video."
"I knew it," Tooru hisses. Trust Miya Atsumu to have no concept of boundaries.
"It’s not just the National Team,” Tsukishima adds. “Pretty sure Kuroo was ogling him too, before he and Kenma finally got their acts together." And Tooru takes back every nice thing he thought about Tsukishima. He's a bastard.
“You don’t have to worry about Kuroo anymore though, Iwa-san,” Bokuto says, patting Hajime's back reassuringly, “Kenma's got him wrapped around his finger.”
“Ooh, speaking of Kenma, is he actually coming?” Shouyou asks. “He told me he had that charity stream thing!”
“Yeah! Kuroo talked him into it at the last minute. Said ‘surely world famous Kodzuken is talented enough to find a way to just stream from the wedding,’ in that tone of voice, you know the one, and Kenma wasn’t about to let him win like that so he agreed to be Kuroo's plus one.”
Shouyou throws his head back and laughs.
(Tooru files away the fact that Hanamaki’s favorite streamer will be attending Ushijima’s wedding as something to examine later, when his head has stopped spinning.)
“Come on,” Hajime murmurs in Tooru’s ear, slipping his hand into Tooru's. “While they’re all distracted.”
Hajime tugs Tooru away from the group and towards Tsukishima's car.
“So,” Hajime says once they’re away from the others, and Tooru can practically hear his smile, “How’d you end up in a car with that lot?”
“Shouyou,” Tooru says, and that’s all the explanation needed, apparently, because Hajime nods. “How’d you know I'd be arriving with them?” Tooru asks. “I didn't even tell you when I landed! It was supposed to be a surprise!”
Hajime laughs and pulls his phone from his pocket. He scrolls through his camera roll and shows Tooru a picture.
A picture of Tooru, eye bags the size of 12 time zones, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and baby spit, squished between Tsukishima Kei’s bored expression and Tendo Satori’s peace sign. Ushiwaka must have forwarded it to Hajime.
“Delete that.”
“I don't think I will,” Hajime says, smiling evilly. “You need to be humbled every now and again.”
Tooru pushes Hajime against Tsukishima’s car, caging him in. “Hajime, dear, love of my life, I just spent the last two hours experiencing the worst road trip of my life. Delete it.”
"What could have possibly happened? The airport is only 30 minutes away!"
"Iwa-chan, let's just say it was worse than the time Mattsun took us to his grandma’s beach house and we all got sick.” Hajime winces, recalling the previous contender for ‘worst road trip ever.’ Tooru leans closer. “Do me a teeny tiny favor and erase the evidence of me looking all gross and crusty? So I can move on from this and pretend it never happened?”
“It’s too late,” Hajime says, and he even has the good graces to sound a little apologetic. “I already sent it to the group chat.”
“You. What?”
“That and the video of you doing karaoke.”
Tooru's brain screeches to a halt like Bokuto slamming on the breaks. “The what?”
Hajime leans up and presses a kiss to Tooru’s jaw. It almost distracts Tooru. “It was a very good performance. 10/10. Hanamaki docked a point for letting Tendou upstage you, but Matsukawa added one back for the lovely harmony.”
“If it weren’t for the fact that I haven't kissed you in eight months I would…” Tooru trails off. He hasn't seen Hajime in eight months. There are suddenly much more important things to think about than Makki and Mattsun witnessing him making a fool of himself. Things like getting as much of Hajime’s skin touching him as possible.
“Kiss me,” he demands.
Hajime pulls a face. “I don't know, weren’t you the one who just said you’re all gross and crusty? And you’ve got something in your hair, did you know? Maybe I'll wait until you get a shower. You smell like sweat.”
“Since when has me smelling like sweat ever turned you off?”
Hajime laughs. “You’ve got me there.” And then he lifts his hands to Tooru’s cheeks and brings their mouths together, and Tooru kisses his boyfriend for the first time in eight months. It's very, very nice.
Until a polite but annoyed cough ruins the mood.
Tooru peels himself away from Hajime and turns to see Tsukishima standing awkwardly a few feet away, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there.
“Sorry, Tsukki!” Tooru says cheerily, and smiles when Tsukishima winces at the nickname. “I'll just grab my bags and we’ll be out of your hair!”
Tsukishima opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, closes it, then opens his mouth again. “Please arrange for alternative means of transportation back to Sendai Airport.”
"Don't worry," Hajime butts in, before Tooru can come up with a response, "we've got plans after the wedding. Thank you for putting up with him for today, I'm sure it was awful."
Tsukishima snorts.
"Iwa-chan! You're so rude! I was a perfectly lovely passenger! They’re the ones that abandoned me and left me for dead and I had to go to Yahaba’s apartment – did you know he and Kyoken-chan are dating? Isn’t that horrifying?”
Hajime grabs Tooru’s bag from the trunk with one hand, and grabs Tooru’s hand with the other, leading him away from Tsukishima's car and towards the building he and Ushijima had been waiting outside. Closer inspection reveals it as the campus dorms. Kyoutani and Yahaba’s questionable life choices no longer are the most pressing issue.
“Why couldn’t we get a hotel, again?”
“Because this is where everyone’s staying, since the ceremony and reception are on campus and there's no hotel nearby. It's just a couple of nights. I'll make up for it after.”
“Is that to do with those mysterious plans you mentioned to Tsukki? I didn't know we had any plans except maybe drowning myself in the river.”
“Well it’s not often we’re on the same continent. Gotta make the most of it, and I’m not about to make love to you at Shiratorizawa.”
Tooru’s heart feels all mushy at the disgust in Hajime’s voice when he says the school’s name. “Aw, you’re getting so sappy in your old age.”
Hajime shoves him. “Just for that, you get the top bunk.”
The next morning, Tooru wakes up in the top bunk of a bed that will belong to some teenage boy when the new school year starts. He wonders if this teenage boy who will sleep in this bed plays volleyball. If he loves it, as much as Tooru does. Maybe it will be Takeru, sleeping in this bunk, waking up each day to Shiratorizawa’s boring white ceiling. Tooru should buy him some glow in the dark stick on stars or something. All the cool kids love glow in the dark stick on stars, right?
Hajime kicks at the bottom of the bed. “Wake up.”
“I am up,” Tooru grumbles.
“You’re up and you didn’t decide to make it my problem? You’re getting soft in your old age.”
“I was just… thinking.”
“Well stop thinking and start getting ready. Why the hell Ushiwaka decided on a brunch wedding, I will never understand.”
“That's your problem, Iwa-chan. Ushiwaka defies understanding.”
But Hajime is right. They’ve got to get dressed. Tooru refuses to let Ushiwaka win by showing up late. He’s decided that he’s going to be such a good wedding guest that Ushiwaka will regret not actually inviting him. Tooru pulls out the suit he only wears for press conferences and weddings and Hajime dons a much more traditional outfit that has Tooru daydreaming about the wedding they might have themselves, one day, and then they walk across Shiratorizawa's campus hand in hand.
Hajime's best man duties include not being able to spend much time with Tooru as everyone assembles for the ceremony, but Tooru is seated near Shouyou (and Tobio, unfortunately), so at least he has someone to talk to.
Shouyou drags Tooru (and Tobio, unfortunately) over to where Bokuto sits with Tsukishima and a shorter guy that Tooru only realizes is Kodzuken when Shouyou shouts “Kenma! Hi!” And, arm looped over Kodzuken's shoulder, is probably this Kuroo guy that had apparently been ogling Hajime.
Kuroo is hot, but he's also wearing a volleyball patterned tie, which is so dorky that Tooru is relieved because Hajime has way better taste than that. Not that he was worried, because he’s not.
(He's also not worried about Miya Atsumu, who is lurking somewhere in this crowd probably trying to find a way to sprain his pinky toe so that Hajime will lovingly tend to it.)
The remaining minutes leading up to the ceremony are a whirlwind of friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of friends until the sprawling family tree is less a tree and more a jungle. It seems everyone here is connected to everyone else, in some kind of convoluted tangle of connections.
As Tsukishima Kei said, it’s a small fucking world.
In the end, the worst thing about this whole trip isn’t the international flight, and it’s not the terrifying car ride, and it’s not the too-small bunk beds, and it’s not that Hajime wouldn’t let them sleep in the same bed because they “wouldn’t fit.” And the worst thing isn’t that Tendou finds joy in pressing Tooru’s buttons, or that Ushijima sees no issue with the stick that has been shoved up his ass since birth. It's not the way Tendou wiggles his fingers in Tooru’s face or how Ushiwaka always says “Oikawa” with just a hint of disappointment.
No, the worst thing is that they actually aren't that bad, at the end of the day. The worst thing is that Tooru has grown up these last ten years, shed his high school insecurities, and realized that there's more to life than hating the guys on the other side of the net.
The worst thing is that he’s now aware of how much they share. He now understands that they’re all just people who love the things they love with a fierce passion. And that they love the people they love just as fiercely.
The worst thing about Tendou, and the worst thing about Ushiwaka, too, is that Tooru is happy for them. For Ushijima Wakatoshi and Tendou Satori. And as he sees them walk down the aisle arm in arm, and half the volleyball players in Japan and their plus ones all cheer, Tooru finds himself cheering too.
And when Hajime flashes him a smile that promises great things for whatever romantic getaway he has planned for them, Tooru smiles back, happy that he didn’t chicken out of coming.
It's weird how things can change with time. Weird, how it doesn’t even feel like hell, in the end.
It feels like coming home.