iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru, words: 719 minor description of injury/death, character death/reincarnation
you know from the very first time you meet him. you are five years old in this lifetime, playing quietly by yourself in the sandpit when he runs up to you and asks to play with you.
he looks the same. the same wide, brown eyes, messy locks (you used to run yours fingers through them, teasing them into an even worse state) curling across his face. he smiles at you and you feel like crying. (tooru, you want to scream, to pull him close, to hold with your own two hands and never let him go-) but you are five and you feel the gaze of your mother (a kind and lovely woman who deals well with your idiosyncrasies because sometimes you forget you are five, without the weight of the world on your shoulders) on you.
you nod and pat the sand beside you. you tell him to join you (you want to tell him to never leave). he sits down beside you, warm (and alive), and starts chattering in your ear (you never thought you'd miss this so much) about some show on television because he at least is all of five years old.
you remember little else from the rest of that day, the rest of those few hours spent with him, (for what could be more momentous, more notable than this). you spend the rest of the time in a daze, only replying briefly when he speaks to you, too caught up in his warmth, basking in his mere presence.
the time passes too quickly, the melting colours of the sky signalling an end to your day (it was red the last time around, a deep, fiery blood-red). as your respective mothers call for you, he turns to you and asks will we see each other again?
(it's too late by the time he reaches you. you can barely feel the pain anymore and you have fought enough battles to realise that that is a bad, bad sign. he isn't crying, but his teeth are clenched together in a way you know that means he is holding them back, that he is being brave again for others, for you.
he holds you tightly and you can feel his warmth, as if he can chase the cold away by his mere presence. he is muttering under his breath, eyes looking over you, still looking for ways that he can fix things, like he always does.
there are things that even you can not fix tooru, you say and you force yourself to smile. if nothing else this is what you want him to know, that you may have died saving him but it was he that saved you first, that it was he that fixed you, loved you and gave you a place in this world.
his fingers brush your cheek gently before he pulls away from you. there is nothing that i can not fix, he says and there is steel in his eyes, in his voice and it steals your (faltering) breath away.
he starts to murmur in foreign tongues, the words falling harshly off his lips in his haste. you think it sounds beautiful. you can feel his power in the air as his voice crescendos, the crackle of electricity that threatens to sting and burn, wild and dangerous just like he is.
take my heart, take my body, he is screaming now, take my future, take my past.
what are you doing, you whisper, feeling a chill.
fixing this, he says, determinedly. there is this look in his eyes that you have never been able to argue with and here, now, you find that you still can not argue with.
will we, you choke, your mouth dry, your breaths coming out short and shallow, will we see each other again?
he smiles, warm and bright like the sun, and nods. you may have to come and find me again though, he says voice hoarse, but yes, we will see each other again.
you grip his hands tightly. i will find you, you say.
there is a light and then darkness)
he is gripping your hands tightly as he blinks up at you, waiting for your answer. you smile and squeezes his hands in yours.
FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G
minor description of injury/death, character death/reincarnation
you know from the very first time you meet him. you are five years old in this lifetime, playing quietly by yourself in the sandpit when he runs up to you and asks to play with you.
he looks the same. the same wide, brown eyes, messy locks (you used to run yours fingers through them, teasing them into an even worse state) curling across his face. he smiles at you and you feel like crying. (tooru, you want to scream, to pull him close, to hold with your own two hands and never let him go-) but you are five and you feel the gaze of your mother (a kind and lovely woman who deals well with your idiosyncrasies because sometimes you forget you are five, without the weight of the world on your shoulders) on you.
you nod and pat the sand beside you. you tell him to join you (you want to tell him to never leave). he sits down beside you, warm (and alive), and starts chattering in your ear (you never thought you'd miss this so much) about some show on television because he at least is all of five years old.
you remember little else from the rest of that day, the rest of those few hours spent with him, (for what could be more momentous, more notable than this). you spend the rest of the time in a daze, only replying briefly when he speaks to you, too caught up in his warmth, basking in his mere presence.
the time passes too quickly, the melting colours of the sky signalling an end to your day (it was red the last time around, a deep, fiery blood-red). as your respective mothers call for you, he turns to you and asks will we see each other again?
(it's too late by the time he reaches you. you can barely feel the pain anymore and you have fought enough battles to realise that that is a bad, bad sign. he isn't crying, but his teeth are clenched together in a way you know that means he is holding them back, that he is being brave again for others, for you.
he holds you tightly and you can feel his warmth, as if he can chase the cold away by his mere presence. he is muttering under his breath, eyes looking over you, still looking for ways that he can fix things, like he always does.
there are things that even you can not fix tooru, you say and you force yourself to smile. if nothing else this is what you want him to know, that you may have died saving him but it was he that saved you first, that it was he that fixed you, loved you and gave you a place in this world.
his fingers brush your cheek gently before he pulls away from you. there is nothing that i can not fix, he says and there is steel in his eyes, in his voice and it steals your (faltering) breath away.
he starts to murmur in foreign tongues, the words falling harshly off his lips in his haste. you think it sounds beautiful. you can feel his power in the air as his voice crescendos, the crackle of electricity that threatens to sting and burn, wild and dangerous just like he is.
take my heart, take my body, he is screaming now, take my future, take my past.
what are you doing, you whisper, feeling a chill.
fixing this, he says, determinedly. there is this look in his eyes that you have never been able to argue with and here, now, you find that you still can not argue with.
will we, you choke, your mouth dry, your breaths coming out short and shallow, will we see each other again?
he smiles, warm and bright like the sun, and nods. you may have to come and find me again though, he says voice hoarse, but yes, we will see each other again.
you grip his hands tightly. i will find you, you say.
there is a light and then darkness)
he is gripping your hands tightly as he blinks up at you, waiting for your answer. you smile and squeezes his hands in yours.
of course, you say.
(i've found you.)