Yahaba and Kyotani sat in the living room of Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s house alongside its two residents, the four of them having fallen into an uncomfortable silence. After everything that happened and came to light in such a short span of time, Yahaba was adamant about having a talk with these two and, naturally, he brought Kyotani along for support. He wasn’t very good at this sort of thing without his mate there to ground him. Then again, what defined “this sort of thing” was already fairly vague and...unusual. He wasn’t sure there was a standard process for going about it, but that was why he was here to figure it out.
“...Have you asked him why—” he began, but Hanamaki cut him off.
“No,” the beta said. “What’s the point? Nothing he says is gonna change the fact that he—”
“You don’t know that,” Yahaba countered. “He could be going through something none of us know about.”
“So what? That doesn’t excuse anything.”
“No, it won’t, but it would at least help to get an idea of why he would—”
“You heard what he said, Yahaba! He said Matsu ‘just needs to move on’, as if that’s just such an easy solution to this. It’s not that simple!”
“And I’m sure he understands that.” Yahaba sighed. “Look, we’ve all known him for how many years now? Over a decade, and when have we ever seen him act like this? Especially toward his friends.”
“People change,” Hanamaki argued. “And he changed for the worst.”
“I don't think that’s true.”
“You weren’t there! What makes you such an expert on—”
“Neither were you,” Yahaba said, leveling a pointed glare at Hanamaki. Then, his expression softening, he turned his attention to Matsukawa, who had been sitting quietly throughout the conversation. He was staring down at his hands in his lap, cooling bandages wrapped around his neck and eyes sunken with lack of sleep and, if Yahaba had to guess, lack of food. “Matsukawa…”
“Don’t make him talk right now,” Hanamaki snapped. “He’s not in any condition to—”
This time it was Matsukawa who cut him off, albeit with a hand on Hanamaki’s shoulder. The beta’s head turned to stare at him, eyes pleading. It was clear he just wanted his friend to rest his voice and keep him from doing anything that might upset the Hanahaki, but the alpha seemed determined to chime in.
“...I don’t think he was trying to hurt me,” he rasped quietly. It seemed like he might have cleared his throat to be able to speak louder, but he thought better of it and swallowed instead. “He knew...he knew about the Hanahaki already. I think he was just trying to...stop it. Hana, I didn’t tell you about what happened so you could go assault him in his own home. I told you because you asked. I’m not angry with him. He’s trying to process this like everyone else.”
A slight cough began to build in his throat and Hanamaki was quick to grab the cup of tea off the coffee table and hand it to him. He took small sips, likely to keep from inhaling it by accident. Yahaba felt bad that he had to speak so much, but his thoughts were just as important to this conversation as their own.
“I think you’re right,” he agreed softly. “We know he doesn’t have...the best coping mechanisms out there.”
“That still doesn't excuse it,” Hanamaki said, crossing his arms over his chest. Yahaba bit out a sharp sigh.
“Nobody’s trying to excuse anything. We all know what he did was wrong, but we’re his friends. We’ve always been there for each other, even when one of us messes up. We didn’t turn our backs on you when you and Kunimi got into it a couple years ago.”
Of course, Kunimi never quite got over it, but that was why he wasn’t sitting in this room right now. Yahaba was still friends with him, but they weren’t half as close as they used to be. Hanamaki deflated at that, sinking lower into the couch he sat on. When he opened his mouth, Yahaba continued before he could speak.
“And don't say that was different. Every situation is unique, but we stick by each other no matter what. That’s just what we do. Oikawa has stood by us through our lowest moments. I think the least we can do is return the favour. That doesn’t mean you have to like what he did. It just means we need to work through it like we always have.”
Kyotani stood up suddenly. All three heads turned to look up at him, but his eyes were trained on Hanamaki, and it seemed as if they had been for a while. The beta seemed to shrink under his gaze when he noticed, as if he could somehow evade it if he sank low enough into the couch.
“You, come with me,” Kyotani said without elaborating. He left the living room to walk through the house and to the back door, merely expecting Hanamaki to follow. Yahaba and Matsukawa glanced at him, none of them saying anything. Hanamaki eventually sighed and pulled himself to his feet to skulk after the alpha. Yahaba and Matsukawa shared a look before shrugging at each other.
Outside, Kyotani had his arms crossed as he waited for Hanamaki to close the back door behind him. He hesitated to turn around, but when he did, he was slow to meet Kyotani's eyes.
“...What’s up?” he asked.
“You’re hiding something,” Kyotani said, blunt as ever. Hanamaki stiffened and furrowed his brows.
“What—”
“I can smell it on you.”
Kyotani's sense of smell was more acute than anyone Hanamaki had ever met. That had always been obvious, so much so that he had been offered a position as a scent-hound on the police force on numerous occasions. He always declined, though, likely on account of the fact that the police had never been kind to him in his past.
“...You smell sick,” he added.
Hanamaki pursed his lips. Leave it to Kyotani to, quite literally, sniff him out. He glanced at the door, through the window that showed Yahaba and Matsukawa still sitting in the living room. Hanamaki grabbed Kyotani’s arm to guide him out of sight of the window before facing him again.
“Listen to me. You can’t tell anyone about this, alright?” he said. Kyotani narrowed his eyes.
“You have Hanahaki Disease,” he concluded.
“Yeah, it happens. There’s no reason to make a big deal out of it.”
“Who is it?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Is it Matsukawa?”
“Kyotani! I said it doesn’t matter, alright?” Hanamaki sighed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “He’s already dealing with too much right now. If he found out about... this, it would only make it worse. You get that, don’t you? It’s bad enough he has to come to terms with the fact that he’s literally dying —”
“But so are you.”
“And there’s nothing anyone can do about that!” Hanamaki glared at him head-on, his jaw clenched and the hand still on Kyotani’s arm gripping him tighter. The alpha glanced down at his hand, then raised a brow at Hanamaki. The beta slowly released him, letting his hands fall to his sides. “It’s pointless, okay? He loves someone else and that’s not going to change. You’ve heard the way he talks about Oikawa. He’s…”
He was so damn in love with that asshole that he couldn’t even bring himself to get mad at him for screwing him over so much. The worst part of it all was that, deep down, Hanamaki didn’t hate Oikawa, either. He was mad, yes—royally pissed off, to be frank—but he knew Yahaba was right. Oikawa had his faults just like the rest of them and yet he never once turned away from them. He was always there, like an anchor that kept them all together. He had even earned Kyotani’s begrudging respect after a while of playing as setter and ace on their high school volleyball team. They weren’t exactly best friends, not like he and Matsukawa were, but their camaraderie spoke for itself. Hanamaki wished he could ignore all of that, but he couldn’t.
“Please... Please just keep this a secret. I’ll tell everyone when...when I’m ready.”
“...Do you plan to wait until after Matsukawa is already dead?”
Hanamaki’s throat closed up. He could feel the unmistakable prickle of tears threatening to gather in his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He lifted his hand again, lightly curling his fist to press against Kyotani’s shoulder, then turning his hand over to grab at the fabric of his shirt.
“...Nothing about this is going to be easy. There’s no right way to do it. The least I can do is take it on my own terms. You understand that, right?”
Kyotani was quiet for a while. Then, instead of answering, he took a more physical approach and reached up to grab Hanamaki’s wrist. The beta thought he was just going to shove him off and sulk off back to his mate, but he was proven wrong when Kyotani pulled him into an embrace instead.
Hanamaki was as still as a statue. In all their years of knowing each other, he had never known Kyotani to be especially affectionate, or at all for that matter. As far as he could remember, they had never hugged before. Fist bumps and a few punches thrown here and there were the extent of their language of friendship. Hanamaki felt the tears finally break through the dam he desperately tried to build to no avail. He wrapped his arms around Kyotani and clutched at him just as fiercely.
Up until this point, he had avoided confronting the reality of his own fate. Now he felt like he had no other choice.
Back inside the house, Yahaba had moved to sit beside Matsukawa, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back as he was overcome with another coughing fit.
"Can I get you anything?" Yahaba asked once the coughing subsided a little. Matsukawa offered him a weak smile.
"No, thank you. There's, uh...not a whole lot that stops it," he rasped.
Yahaba tried not to let too much of his concern show. Matsukawa's face was pallid and thin, stubble growing along his jaw and cold sweat sticking to his cheeks and brow. He was thinner overall, too, evidenced by the way his clothes hung off of his frame as if they were a size or two bigger now. Yahaba imagined he must not have been eating much. It was probably hard to get anything down with flowers sprouting in his throat, let alone try to keep it down.
He hated seeing his friend like this, but more than that, he hated how useless and powerless he felt knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it. He thought that Oikawa must have felt the same way, if not more so. No, he must have felt infinitely worse, especially after last night.
When Oikawa had called him that morning, Yahaba didn't even find out about it until later. Evidently, Kyotani had rejected the call before Yahaba could even hear his phone going off. When he saw the call log later in the process of calling Hanamaki, he confronted Kyotani about it. His mate hadn't taken the quarrel the night prior very well; he never did when Yahaba was involved. Even if someone weren't mad at him, if there were even a whiff of a threat in Yahaba's vicinity then Kyotani would all but start frothing at the mouth. Naturally, he hadn't been too excited for this meeting with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, either (albeit primarily Hanamaki).
Yahaba was a little worried about how long those two had been outside, actually. He wasn't sure what Kyotani needed to talk to him about privately. The fact that he would go out of his way to initiate a conversation at all was...odd. Yahaba at least knew he wasn't going to start a fight. He was significantly more docile now than he used to be thanks to finding an anger management coach he actually respected. He needed more of a stern hand than the slightly patronizing approach most classes preached.
The back door opened once more and Yahaba and Matsukawa turned their heads to see Kyotani and Hanamaki wander back into the living room. They were both silent as they sat down again, Hanamaki taking a seat on the other side of the couch next to Matsukawa. Yahaba shared a look with Matsukawa before turning his attention to Hanamaki.
"Everything okay?" he asked, glancing at Kyotani as well.
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," Hanamaki said. He kept his eyes on the floor. "...I think I'm gonna go apologize to Oikawa later."
Yahaba's brows shot up. Kyotani's expression offered nothing in the way of an explanation for the beta's sudden change of heart, so he stared at Hanamaki instead.
"...Really?" Hanamaki flashed him a halfhearted glare and clicked his tongue.
"Yes, really, " he affirmed. "...You guys are right. I shouldn't have punched him."
"That's...very mature of you, Hanamaki," Yahaba said, offering a supportive smile. That smile took on a teasing edge after a moment, though. "You know, your record of violent outbursts is starting to look a little like Kentaro’s."
"Yeah, right," Hanamaki scoffed. "At least I haven't vandalized a cop car, or thrown someone over a bridge, or—”
“You make it sound like I killed them or something,” Kyotani snapped. “It was a small bridge.”
“That you threw someone over,” Hanamaki countered. “Point is, me punching a couple of assholes doesn’t even come close.”
They carried on like this for a while longer, cracking jokes to break through the tense atmosphere from before. Yahaba relaxed back into the familiar dynamic, but he couldn’t help but wish Oikawa were there to take part in it. He had to imagine that this kind of lighthearted joking around was just what the alpha needed.
He found his eyes settling on a framed picture on a shelf against one wall of the living room. It was a photo of all of them and the rest of those from their high school volleyball team, Oikawa stranding right in the middle of the line-up with the biggest grin on his face and his arms stretched wide as if to try to hold everyone together at once. A soft smile crossed Yahaba’s face as he stared at it, thinking fondly of all the memories it held, but there was a certain bitterness there, as well. Oikawa always had a habit of stretching himself too thin and that much still hadn’t changed. For years Yahaba worried that one day it would cause him to snap, in some fashion or another. He hoped that all of this would sort itself out before that ever happened.
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“So…can it be done?”
Oikawa Midori sat in a clinic office, purse held in her lap as she gazed at the psychologist behind the desk in front of her with anticipation. Yachi Hitoka sat in a chair against the wall, head held down while her hands played with the hem of her shirt. She had just finished her examination to determine the severity of the bonding bite on her shoulder. It had taken a lot of convincing from Midori to get her to allow anyone to touch her in order to perform the examination and ultimately Midori had to stay in the room with her to get her to agree. Her fear was completely reasonable.
“...It’s deep,” said the psychologist, Tsukishima Akiteru. He let out a soft sigh as he laced his fingers together in front of him and regarded Midori with a serious expression. “The assailant clearly intended to claim her wholly.” Midori tried to pretend that she didn’t see the way Yachi flinched in her peripheral vision. “There will be much resistance, and the process won’t be quick or painless, but…it can be done.”
Midori felt herself release a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She glanced toward Yachi, who showed the slightest hint of interest of her own in the way her eyes drifted toward the side of the room in which the psychologist sat. Smiling softly, Midori turned back to Akiteru.
“I think I speak for both of us when I say it’ll be worth it. Right, Yachi-kun?” she said. The blonde gave a quiet hum of agreement, then stilled her hands as she tentatively looked up at Akiteru, not quite meeting his eyes.
“...What is it like?” she asked, her voice still so very small. Midori’s heart ached every time she heard it.
“Well,” Akiteru began, “first we’ll need to perform a psychological evaluation to gauge your current mental and emotional stability. That will help us determine what methods to use and how to administer them. The whole process will take several weeks, depending. If I had to guess, I’d say we’ll more than likely have to take smaller steps at a time to avoid…traumatizing you even further. I want to make it very clear that bond breaking is still a highly experimental therapy. It’s…a lot like exposure therapy, which isn’t for everyone. Of course, you can always back out at any point in the process if it ever becomes…too much, but…” He sighed, gazing at Yachi with clear sympathy. “I will say that, at some point, it’ll be better to complete the process rather than stop it altogether, for your mental and emotional health. Depending on the method, stopping early can leave lasting negative effects on your psychological well-being.”
Yachi seemed to consider all this for a moment before speaking up again.
“And what if…I choose not to go through with it at all?” she asked. Midori pursed her lips. “Will it…will it still stay? Will it ever go away?”
“All bonds fade over time when a mated pair is separated,” Akiteru assured. “I would say this one would likely fade sooner than a proper bond would, if you never consummated the—”
“He did,” Yachi interrupted. Midori and Akiteru both paused to look at her questioningly. She bit her lip, back to staring at the floor. “He claimed my body the night he bit me.”
Midori felt her heart shatter all over again, a look of grief befalling her face as she lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Yachi had never mentioned that part of the story. She thought the girl had been able to get away after just being bitten. Maybe it was already too late by then.
“...I see,” Akiteru said, his voice more strained now. It was obvious he was trying to remain impartial in the situation, but how could anyone not feel disgusted and outraged and horrified by something like that? Tensing his jaw, he continued. “If that’s the case, then it’s more likely the bond would take upwards of a year to disappear on its own. …Perhaps longer.”
Midori felt her stomach churn, her eyebrows knitted together. She was a lawyer; she dealt with awful situations all the time, but rarely did she ever become this involved in them. It hadn’t been her intention to begin with, but from the moment she and Hanamaki saw Yachi in her apartment, her scent soured, little more than a spectre in her own body, Midori knew she couldn’t simply walk away from this after the trial was over. Not when Yachi had no one else to turn to for help.
Sure, she could have recommended social services, or simply referred Yachi to this psychologist and let her handle the rest on her own terms, but that felt wrong, too. She couldn’t, in good conscience, abandon Yachi to fend for herself after everything she had been through. Midori felt far too responsible for her now, too much of a meddling mother hen to turn the other cheek. Honestly, it probably was just her motherly instincts kicking in. She never quite lost them even after Takeru weened off of sippy cups and grew out of his toddler bed and learned how to ride a bicycle and every other milestone she was so very proud of, yet mourned each time.
“...Would it break if he died?” Yachi said then, surprising both of them. Akiteru stumbled over his words for a moment before he regained his composure.
“That isn’t—”
“I’m only asking. I thought I remembered reading somewhere that if someone’s mate dies, then their bond disappears.” Akiteru spared a glance over at Midori, clearly a little uncomfortable with the topic, but she could only offer a shrug in response. It was a fair question, all things considered. Akiteru reluctantly turned his gaze back to Yachi.
“...Yes, if one mate dies, then the bond is broken,” he said slowly. “But it is…extremely painful. Some people have described it as the most excruciating pain they’ve ever felt, a soul-deep kind of agony.”
“But that only goes for mates who chose to bond. Because they loved each other,” Yachi extrapolated. Akiteru pressed his lips together.
“...I honestly couldn’t tell you if it’s different for…willing mates. I can’t recall any accounts of…that happening in this kind of situation that I’ve read off the top of my head.”
“...I think I want the procedure,” Yachi decided finally. Akiteru and Midori both let out out simultaneous breaths of relief.
It wasn’t that Midori thought that Yachi had any intention of seeking out Hagimura to kill him. Even if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to go through with it, more than likely. There was a reason why Akiteru didn’t know of any recorded instances of mated pairs with forced bonds breaking them by one of them dying. If the unwilling party could exact their revenge that way, they undoubtedly would, given half the chance. However, it was the unfortunate truth that mated pairs, even if against their will, couldn’t bring themselves to harm one another. It went against the very nature of the bond, which was part of what made forced bonds such a revolting crime. It was, essentially, violating someone’s most private and sacred parts of themselves, then stripping them of the ability to retaliate against it at the same time. It was truly vile.
After hashing out a few more details about the procedure and filling out some paperwork, the two omegas left the clinic with a date scheduled to begin the process of breaking Yachi’s bond to Hagimura. While Midori knew, logically, that this was a good thing, she couldn’t help but worry for what Yachi would have to endure over the next few weeks, likely months. She must have looked distracted as they walked back out to her car because Yachi felt the need to comment on it.
“I can handle it,” she said without so much as a hint of doubt. Midori glanced over at her, eyes slightly widened, but the blonde was looking straight ahead. “After what I’ve already been through, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to cut Hagimura out of my life once and for all. I was raised to survive long before I was abducted into the omega trafficking ring. You don’t have to worry, Oikawa-san.”
Midori blinked, her steps slowing to a halt as she continued to stare. Yachi reached the passenger side door of the lawyer’s car, hand resting on the handle as she glanced up at Midori. Surprisingly, she didn’t hesitate to meet the brunette’s eyes, and even more surprising was the determined little smile she gave.
“I’ll make it through this,” she said. “I can’t wait to go back to having a life after this is all over. And I have you to thank for it.”
Yachi turned and got into the car, whereas Midori was still stood in the middle of the parking lot, speechless. Tears pricked at her eyes, and as much as she wanted to let them fall and allow this overwhelming pride and joy flood out of her, she blinked away the moisture and smiled instead, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out slowly as she walked to her car, her steps far more confident now.
“Oikawa-san,” Yachi spoke again once Midori had gotten behind the wheel and turned on the car. She gave a questioning hum. “Do you think… Do you think you could take me to the bar?” she asked, playing with the hem of her shirt again. “I want to talk to Tanaka-san. I…I think I’d like to see if she’s willing to let me come back to work.”
“...I think that’s a great idea,” Midori said softly, offering an encouraging smile. She pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the road in the direction of the bar. “And please, call me Midori.”
Yachi glanced up and blinked at her, quietly considering the request before another small smile tugged at her lips. She nodded, and the rest of the drive was spent in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or overladen with the same melancholy as before. If anything, the air felt lighter, easier to breathe, and like hopeful change was on the horizon.
When they arrived at the bar, they went straight for the counter where a certain, spunky alpha was serving drinks as expected. When she spotted the two omegas, Saeko’s entire face lit up and she wasted no time rounding the bar to meet them halfway so that she could envelope both of them in a tight hug. Midori stiffened, both in shock at being included in the embrace, as well as in apprehension of how Yachi would react to the contact, but oddly enough, she didn’t show any signs of discomfort when Saeko released them, if a bit flushed from the overzealous greeting.
“I’m so glad to see you guys!” she squealed. “I was so worried when I didn’t hear anything after the trial. How are you doing, Yacchan? Holdin' up?”
“Um…yeah. Thank you,” the blonde replied, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Sorry for not…reaching out. And for disappearing after—”
“Don’t even think about apologizing,” Saeko interrupted, placing her hands on her hips. “You have nothin' to apologize for, got it?” Yachi simply nodded, though she looked reluctant to accept the reassurance. Saeko turned to Midori, her smile taking on a knowing edge that prickled at Midori’s nerves. Not necessarily in a bad way. “And you! I can’t believe ya didn’t come by after the trial. I was gonna set ya up with free drinks and everything.” She pouted in a way that Midori knew was fake (because it was the same exact pout her brother constantly used), but it still made her feel a little bit guilty nonetheless as she averted her gaze.
“Right, sorry about that,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I just got caught up with work and…” Her eyes drifted over to Yachi, but she didn’t elaborate further. “But I’m here now? Actually, Yachi-kun was hoping—”
“Ya wanna come back to work?” Saeko filled in with a hopeful grin. Yachi nodded, lifting her gaze to meet the alpha’s as if to prove that she was sure of her decision. Saeko laughed and patted her shoulder. “Hell yeah! We had somebody quit yesterday, so we could use the extra pair of hands. How’s tomorrow sound?”
“Oh— Sure,” Yachi agreed, blinking as if she weren’t expecting to be able to start working again so soon. “Who quit?”
“My turd brother, if you’ll believe it,” Saeko said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Ya know how he was in between jobs and I told him I’d help him out? Well, apparently, he found somethin' better at the gym uptown. Damn traitor.” Yachi giggled quietly at that, and while the sound was barely audible, it still struck Midori as a complete shock when she realized it was the first time she had heard Yachi laugh. A proud warmth bloomed in her chest with the realization.
“I guess I have a lot of slack to pick up,” Yachi commented, making Saeko laugh as well as she pulled in the omega for another hug.
“Oh, I’ve missed ya, kid. It’s gonna be great havin' ya around again. Ya know, everyone’s been complainin' since ya left. They’re always like, ‘You lost your best waitress?’ and I’m like, I know!” Saeko chuckled and let Yachi go again, the omega’s cheeks taking on a rosy tint under the compliments. “Ugh, look at me. I’m a horrible bartender, keepin' you guys from sittin' down. Have a seat! Drinks on me!”
“Oh, that’s okay, really. I don’t want to impo—” Midori began, but Saeko was already walking away to return behind the bar. The brunette gave a helpless sigh and shared a mutually amused, but exasperated look with Yachi before they went to take their seats at the bar.
“Actually,” Yachi said just before sitting down, a thoughtful look on her face. “I…need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Midori nodded and the blonde made her away across the room to the omega bathroom, thinking nothing of her absence for the time being. Saeko was preparing two drinks for them just on the other side of the counter, her sharp eyes flicking up to find Midori’s. The latter wouldn’t admit to startling a little, immediately lowering her gaze as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. That is, staring.
“I was kiddin’, ya know,” the alpha said. Midori furrowed her brows, hesitantly glancing up again in question. “Earlier, about you not stoppin’ by. I had a feelin’ ya had your hands full. By the way, I think it’s really sweet that you’re lookin’ after Yacchan. I know she appreciates it, too.”
Midori was silent for a moment, gawking at Saeko as if she had spoken another language. In reality, she was just surprised Saeko had noticed enough to point it out. She dropped her gaze to the counter again, tracing invisible patterns in the wood grain with the tip of her nail.
“...She reminds me of myself,” she admitted, a fond look settling on her face. “When I was younger. Underneath the…the pain of everything that’s happened to her, I can see a young omega who wants to accomplish things. I just… know she must have dreams that feel so out of reach to her now. I want to…make sure she knows she can still reach them. Or maybe I’m just making things up in my head and meddling where I don’t need to be. I don’t know. I just know that if I were in her shoes, I’d wish I had someone I could lean on.”
“Sometimes people need to be meddled with,” Saeko said, pouring some sort of citrus juice into the drinks. “Even if they don’t know it. But if ya ask me, I think she knows she needs the help, and you’re not oversteppin' any boundaries by giving it to her.”
“...You think so?” Midori asked, lifting her head again. “What makes you so sure?” Saeko chuckled as she added the finishing touches to the drinks, placing one in front of the empty spot Yachi would return to and one in front of Midori, though her hand lingered on the base of the glass as she met Midori’s gaze.
“I just know people. Like I know you’re a caretaker, and you’d probably work yourself to the bone to help someone out, and I think ya really need to make sure ya take time for yourself every now and again so that doesn’t happen.”
Midori’s mouth fell open, once again stunned into silence by the alpha who was far more perceptive than she had initially given her credit for. Being a workaholic practically ran in the family; Midori and Tooru were both guilty of it, and so were their parents. In Midori’s case, even outside of her profession, she threw herself into caring too much for other people and trying to fix problems that weren’t hers. Tooru was similar in that he often neglected his own needs in favour of making other people happy. It was something of a curse, really.
Yachi came back then, and they proceeded to indulge in the drinks Saeko had made for them. Gradually, throughout the night, Midori stopped worrying so much about her next appointment or the next item to check off her list, and instead found herself getting lost in conversation, learning more about both Yachi and Saeko and even laughing from time to time. And if her eyes continuously strayed back to the boisterous blonde alpha who seemed to have a sixth sense for when Midori was looking at her and caught her each and every time, then that was nobody’s business but her own.
They exchanged numbers at the end of the night—for the sole purpose of being able to keep in contact regarding Yachi, of course. Midori had no other plans for the new contact in her phone, and she certainly didn’t save the picture Saeko sent her later that night after she had already left the bar with instructions to use it as her contact photo. She also definitely didn’t spend at least an hour scrolling through her own selfie gallery in search of something she liked enough to send back before settling on one she had taken two years ago on New Year’s Eve when she had gone out to celebrate with her coworkers and looked every bit as lively and carefree as she should have.
She hadn’t changed much, in terms of appearance, but she had to wonder when she stopped celebrating New Year’s with her friends and family, why she couldn’t remember the last time she had gone out just to have fun, and why looking at such a random photo caused grief to grip at her chest as if she had lost something, had lost it a long time ago, but never felt the loss until now.
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It was Tuesday when Hanamaki finally got around to telling himself that he was actually going to go apologize to Oikawa like he said he would two days ago. He had considered just doing it over the phone, but Matsukawa talked him into going to see Oikawa in person, despite his inhibitions. Matsukawa knew just as well as he did that that was the better option for both of them. He kind of hated how much sense the guy made sometimes.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t familiar enough with Oikawa’s schedule to just show up at his apartment at random and hope he was there like he did before, except he was more confident then because it was still ass early in the morning. At half past two in the afternoon, though, Oikawa still hadn’t responded to Hanamaki’s text asking if they could talk. He wanted to be pissed off about that, but he knew that Oikawa’s work actually kept him pretty busy throughout the week, so he couldn’t rightfully be upset that he hadn’t found the time to reply yet.
When five o’clock rolled around and he still hadn’t gotten a response, however, he came to the conclusion that Oikawa had to have just ignored his text altogether, which was mildly infuriating. He was aware that he was the one who told Oikawa to “lose his number” before, but that didn’t mean he could ignore his texts. He was trying to apologize to him, for fuck’s sake. Yes, he realized how hypocritical he sounded. No, he didn’t care.
He decided to say fuck it and took a cab to Oikawa’s apartment complex. It was late enough that he had to have been home by now, anyway. The sky was starting to get dark as the sun teased the horizon, painting the hallways in the complex in a golden tint through the large windows all along the side of the building. When the elevator opened on Oikawa’s floor, Hanamaki hesitated outside of his door, hands balled at his sides. It occurred to him belatedly that he had yet to put any thought into how he was going to apologize. A part of him still felt like he shouldn’t need to, but the other, more rational part of him that he didn’t like to listen to knew otherwise. Even if Oikawa had just as much reason to deliver an apology to someone, that didn’t negate the fact that Hanamaki had punched him.
He bit out a sharp sigh and finally knocked at the door, half-hoping that Oikawa wouldn’t answer so that Hanamaki could just go home, say he gave it his best shot, and call it quits. He was never quite that lucky, though, so when the door opened after a few moments, he was only mildly disappointed.
Of course, as soon as Oikawa saw him, his eyes flew open wide and he immediately ducked behind the door, but thankfully he didn’t just outright slam it shut in Hanamaki’s face. The beta rolled his eyes and huffed.
“Relax. I’m not here to punch you again,” he said. Slowly, Oikawa peeked around the door again, clearly hesitant to believe him.
“...You’re not?” he asked.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then…why are you here?” Oikawa opened the door a bit wider, standing in front of it. Hanamaki took note of the fact that he was wearing a nice button-down and pressed slacks, but he didn’t question it. He could only assume he had recently gotten home from a day of interviews or something of the like.
“Why do you think? I texted you to ask if we could talk and you never responded, so I decided to come here instead since you’re too chickenshit to reply to me anymore,” Hanamaki said with more bitterness in his voice than necessary. Oikawa furrowed his brows, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone and open his texts.
“I…never got a text from you,” he said, pursing his lips as he held up his phone to show his conversation history with Hanamaki. “You, um…blocked me, I think.”
And judging by the last failed message Oikawa had tried to send him with a simple “hey”, he was right. Hanamaki closed his eyes and let out a defeated breath as he brought a hand to his face.
“I fucking forgot I blocked you. Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot.” Dragging his hand back down his face and letting it fall to his side, he gestured uselessly toward Oikawa. “That’s my bad. I thought you were just ignoring me.”
“...It’s okay,” Oikawa said, lowering his phone and returning it to his pocket. He shuffled his feet awkwardly in the doorway, tossing a glance over his shoulder. Hanamaki raised a brow.
“So can I come in? So we can talk?” he asked. Oikawa looked back at him and worried at his lip.
“Uh… Right now’s…not a good time,” he said. Hanamaki narrowed his eyes.
“Dude,” he said flatly. “I literally just wanna talk. I swear I’m not gonna jump you if you let me in.”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just—”
“Is everything okay?” came a third voice from behind Oikawa. The brunet visibly tensed up as a figure rounded the corner to stand beside him, a tall, blonde omega girl with striking green eyes wearing a gorgeous mint green halter dress. Hanamaki stared at her with a slack jaw and disbelieving eyes.
“Everything’s fine. I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Oikawa said, offering a bashful gesture toward the beta. “This is…my friend, Hanamaki. Hanamaki, this is Alisa.”
Alisa offered him a polite smile and a small wave, still standing half-behind Oikawa and seemingly aware of the awkward timing of her arrival as she then tucked her hands behind her back. Hanamaki reluctantly tore his eyes away to stare at Oikawa again, the flat look on his face begging a question he didn’t feel the need to voice.
“...We were in the middle of dinner,” Oikawa said, his voice pitching at the end as if to suggest that Hanamaki should really take the hint already. The beta blinked himself out of his confused trance.
“—Right, yeah. Um. Okay, so…I’ll just…” He gestured back to the hallway behind him. Oikawa nodded, gratitude in his eyes.
“I’ll call you after?” he offered.
“Yeah, sure. That’s…that’s fine. I’ll unblock your number, so just…whenever,” Hanamaki said. He spared another weary glance at the omega. “Nice meeting you, I guess.”
“Likewise,” she said with another kind smile. Hanamaki nodded stiffly to both of them before turning to walk back the way he came, hearing the door softly click shut behind him.
His feet carried him numbly back to the elevator, but once the door closed, his thoughts seemed to unclog all at once and flood his mind with unanswered questions. Who was Alisa? Why was she having dinner at Oikawa’s apartment? Were they on a date? Were they already a couple? Was she the one Matsukawa caught Oikawa talking to on the phone that day he drove Hanamaki home from the hearing? How long had they known each other? Was it serious?
His mind still raced with curiosities and assumptions and maybe a few accusations. While he waited on another cab to pick him up outside the building, Hanamaki took out his phone and unblocked Oikawa’s number first thing, then proceeded to do the same for his social media, since he had also blocked him on other platforms. He was pissed that day, okay?
When he opened Oikawa’s Instagram, he couldn’t help but snoop through his latest posts, wondering if he would find something about Alisa. He didn’t have any luck, but what he did find left him even more confused. There were a couple photos with people he didn’t recognize, which was weird because he and Oikawa had the same friends, apart from the other celebrities Oikawa sometimes pretended to be friends with for clout and Hanamaki was sure he would recognize these people if they were on that list, but he didn’t.
Except he did recognize one, after a moment. The one with the spiky grey and black hair—Bokuto Kotaro. He was the ace and captain of Fukurodani Academy’s volleyball team in high school. Hanamaki couldn’t recall ever playing against them, but he did remember watching their matches in some major tournaments. Once he recognized Bokuto, he was able to put a name to one of the other people in a photo: Akaashi Keiji, Fukurodani’s setter. The third person he still didn’t recognize. Hanamaki had to wonder if he had also been on the team and just didn’t stand out as much, but he couldn’t be sure.
It was odd. He didn’t remember Oikawa ever mentioning that he knew anyone from the other school’s volleyball team and he was sure he would have noticed if Oikawa had posted about them online before. Was it just a coincidence that they had run into each other recently? Did it even matter?
The cab pulled up to the curb then, and Hanamaki decided to file it away in the back of his mind as he pocketed his phone and climbed into the back seat to head home. Of course, when he got there, he couldn’t help himself and did a little more digging. He stumbled across one of Oikawa’s recent interviews by happenstance, which featured two of the images he had found on his Instagram earlier. Normally he wouldn’t have thought twice about a slimy TV show host trying to start rumours about a celebrity’s love life, but after the very obvious date he had walked in on tonight, he couldn’t put it out of his mind.
Everything about this sequence of events just felt… off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Oikawa called him later that evening and they arranged a time to meet tomorrow afternoon after Hanamaki got off work. He resolved to ask Oikawa about his apparent recent developments after he had gotten the apology part out of the way. Hopefully by then he would have figured out what the hell he was going to say.