Chapter Text
“Yeah, mom I’m actually fine. Don’t worry too much.”
Hajime sighs into his phone, already exasperated. It’s hard to maneuver around with his entire right arm in a cast and his left hand preoccupied with the several papers the doctors had handed to him and he’s already cramping what with his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.
“Hajime, I’m really worried though. What did I say about bicycles?”
He can hear his mother’s voice echoing in his head.
Hajime watch for the road. If you have another rider, be even more careful. Always look out for manholes and humps.
The last bit was largely forgotten however and he can’t help but make a face looking back at it. Takahiro had been with him here moments ago since he was partly the reason why he’s here at the moment. He had hitched a ride with him in his bike, singing loudly and then he was shouting something noisily in Hajime’s ear and Hajime had only belatedly realized that he was shouting MANHOLE and the front wheels had crashed into it and they had both tumbled out of the bicycle together.
For some unfortunate reason, Takahiro only got minor bruises and abrasions. Hajime had gotten the worse part of the accident what with his fractured radius and sprained upper arm. What’s more, Takahiro had to leave for work so he’s stuck here struggling to fill out papers with his left hand.
He’s been mumbling, I have to teach my children to be ambidextrous for the past few minutes until his mother had called.
“Yeah, I was careless,” Hajime tells her.
“How is Takahiro-kun?”
“Doing better than me at least—oh fuck—heck. Heck, sorry,” Iwaizumi grumbles loudly as a few sheets papers he’s been holding flies off a few steps away.
“Hajime?” he can almost see his mother’s confused frown.
“Sorry,” he amends. “Mom, can you call back later? I’m trying to fill up something and it’s kind of hard with my left hand…and my papers sort of has a grudge on me at the moment.”
Hajime hears his mother sigh.
“Alright. Be careful on your way home, okay?”
“Mom I’m an adult, I can do things.”
“Of course you can, and yet you’re in the hospital. I love you, honey.”
Fair point.
“Love you too—ah,”
Hajime gets up to pick up his papers and finds someone already there, picking it up and offering it to him politely.
Hajime gapes. Said someone is slightly taller than him with soft curly brown hair and brown eyes as bright as his smile which is kind of brighter than the lights at the moment. He’s leaning on a cane and there’s a white knee supporter wrapped around his left knee.
“Yours?” he offers and Hajime finds the strength to take his papers back and smile shakily.
“Yeah, thanks a lot.”
“No problem. You seem like you needed the help.”
Hajime can’t tell if that’s only mere observation or there’s going to be a genuine offer of help afterwards but he keeps his mouth shut.
“So do you,” he comments and the other guy laughs. He limps toward the bench not too far across Hajime and takes a careful, calculated seat.
“Right, but I still can write at least,” he says, amused. “But I can help with that if you want.”
“It’s fine, thanks. I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Hajime says stubbornly, going back to the complicated process of trying to write with his left hand.
“It’s Tooru, actually.” Other guy says smugly and Hajime raises an eyebrow at him. “Tooru Oikawa, because I’m friendly.”
“Friendly enough to offer help to right-handed strangers huh?”
Tooru chuckles. “It’s just because I’m used to talking to strangers. It’s not really that much of a magic trick.”
Hajime studies him for a moment and then glances at his ugly ass left-hand penmanship.
“Hajime Iwaizumi.” He says, finally.
“There we go, Hajime,” Tooru sounds pleased. “Now do you need my help after all?”
Hajime pretends to think about it to give his ego a boost.
“Maybe.”
Tooru grins. “Hand them over, then.”
Hajime walks over to him (at least he still has the use of his legs, he thinks) and hands the papers to Tooru singlehandedly before sitting beside him with a considerate space.
“Oh my, this is a mess,” Tooru comments when he looks them over.
“Please don’t.”
Hajime hears a giggle. “I’ll just copy what you’ve written to a new one,”
“You know I’m probably being a big bother.” This guy has got to have a doctor’s appointment too right? Has got to be immediate too what with him being in here.
“It’s alright though. I offered didn’t I? Let me be a Good Samaritan now and then...oh we’re the same age,” Another satisfied giggle.
“Hold on a second you’re probably one of those people trying to steal information from other people so they can sell it,” Hajime sounds doubtful for a second though looking at Tooru’s grinning face somehow banishes the suspicion.
“Nice guess,” Tooru tells him, flipping to page two now. “I’m an athlete, actually,” he points to his knee. “That’s why I mess this up a lot.”
“That’s unhealthy,” Hajime says.
Tooru raises an eyebrow. “Is it? What happened to your arm then?”
“My friend was being a noisy and I didn’t see the manhole,”
“Sounds kind of complicated out of context but I’m sure there’s an appropriate context in there somewhere to which I will not pry,”
Hajime feels like choking.
“I meant, I fell off a bicycle because my friend was being stupid.”
Tooru’s smile is definitely teasing.
“I didn’t say anything,”
Hajime wants to smack him for some reason.
“I don’t see your friend,” Tooru says out of nowhere.
“He has work and had to leave.”
Tooru raises his eyebrows. “He got off okay? Sounds kind of unfair.”
Hajime hides a smile with his hand.
“Yeah, a little.”
Tooru chuckles. “Tell him that I said he’s unfair.”
“I mean, I don’t actually want anybody hurt are you secretly a murderer? I kind of want those papers back.”
“Too late, I have already memorized every piece of information, Atty. Iwaizumi,” Tooru jokes lightheartedly, beaming as he hands Hajime his already (and neatly) filled up papers.
Hajime’s heart is doing a satisfying little trick with Tooru’s little joke.
“Not yet, actually,” he tells him.
Tooru shows him a thumbs up. “But getting there, good job.”
“Aren’t you enthusiastic?”
“You have to be for the people who can’t write too well.”
Hajime wants to make a retort but he’s looking over his papers written so well and cleanly he almost feels bad for himself.
“Here’s the one you failed to finish by the way,” Tooru hands him the rest of his papers graciously.
“Hey, thanks a lot,” Hajime tells him, honest for once and Tooru winks at him.
“No problem.”
“Oikawa Tooru-san?”
They both turn their heads and see a nurse walking up to them with a clipboard. She points to Tooru importantly and Tooru waves at her and begins to stand. Hajime reflexively holds out a hand to help and Tooru merely chuckles at him, “It’s okay, Hajime, thank you.” he says.
“Well then, I’ll hear from you,” Tooru tells him and Hajime doesn’t really understand this but he’s being blinded by his smile again so he nods dumbly.
“Watch out for manholes next time,” Tooru adds.
“I’ll tell my friend that.” Hajime says, laughing.
Tooru smiles at him one more time before turning away.
And then he pauses to look back at him again, a curious expression on his face.
“Say, I have a random question,” Tooru wants to know and Hajime tilts his head, waiting. “Do you…er, watch television…like the news maybe? Or…read magazines of sorts?”
Oh. Uh…
Hajime looks sheepish. “I don’t really…I mean I’m busy with law school and…”
Tooru laughs cheerily. “Oh, no, no. It’s okay,” another expression passes his face and Hajime can only say it as pleased. “Just wondering. See ya!”
Hajime would be lying to himself if he’d say he wasn’t looking when Tooru walks away.
***
Hajime passed his medical papers to a nurse as quickly as he could, having stowed away his first failure of a paper what with his handwriting and had immediately made his way home which was thankfully, uneventful.
He talks to Takahiro the next day feeling much though he’s already grumbling about how heavy his cast is and Takahiro had the nerve to make fun of him.
“I mean, it adds to your aesthetic,” Takahiro says from where he’s standing by the stove.
“I’ll show you aesthetic when I get this cast off and I kick your ass.” Hajime assures him.
“I’m sure Issei will back me up on this,” Takahiro points a spatula at him. “Get your big beefy arms away, sir. My boyfriend will come for you.”
“Shut up, Takahiro.”
Takahiro sticks his tongue out at him.
“You know what, make yourself comfortable and nicer by waiting in the living room the TV is on you loser.”
“Why are we roommates again? Oh yes because you’re paying for the electricity, nice.”
“You’re such an asshole—”
“And we’ve got news from Japan’s Top Setter, Oikawa Tooru!”
Now that the TV is mentioned, sounds coming from it seems clearer and somehow he hears that one line and Hajime goes stiff, inhaling sharply.
Did he just hear—
Do you watch television? Magazines perhaps?
“HOLY FUCK,” Hajime yells, startling Takahiro who jumps.
“What the fuck is your damage!” he shouts back as he watches Hajime run to the living room like he’s not injured or anything.
Tooru is on the news.
Or rather, he’s probably always been since apparently—
“He’s an athlete,” Hajime says to himself.
“Who’s an athlete?” Takahiro calls out.
In Hajime’s defense, athlete could mean anything. He wouldn’t immediately think that meant he’s the national volleyball team’s top setter.
I mess my knee up a lot.
“Oh my god,” Hajime says.
Tooru apparently, has hurt his knee again and would mean he’d take a few week’s break off of practice which, according to a news anchor Hajime has literally not seen before, had taken a toll on him.
And yet he was smiling. Celebrities, man.
A picture of a smiling Tooru comes on screen and Hajime’s chest is doing the funny little tricks again though this smile of his is a little off and not as bright as he remembers.
“What’s gotten into you?” Takahiro walks into the room and Hajime faces him.
“My friend says you’re unfair,” Hajime tells him and Takahiro is once again taken aback.
“What did I do—”
What else did Tooru say? Why does everything need to be so cryptic and complicated?
I’ll hear from you!
Hajime stops breathing.
“My paper!” he shouts and Takahiro has a deadpan look to his face as he watches Hajime run to his room.
Hajime almost stumbles again as he digs into the bag he brought with him yesterday and finds the paper he had unceremoniously crumpled to hide his shame of a handwriting but he manages to straighten it with one hand and at the back of it, as he suspected is a neatly written Hi inside a small heart, a row of numbers following underneath it.
Maybe a little handwriting hardship is not too bad.