happy reading!

The morning air was cool against Tooru’s skin as he made his way downstairs, stretching his arms with a quiet yawn. His hair was a mess—bed hair sticking out in soft waves, evidence of how deeply he had slept. He barely cared. It wasn’t like he was in the city, where he had to constantly look put together. Here, he could be… a little more himself.

He tugged at the oversized white shirt draping over his frame, the fabric falling past his wrists. It smelled like Hajime. Probably because it was his. Tooru had complained endlessly last night about how the clothes he packed were too fancy for the province, leading Hajime to toss him a shirt with an exasperated, “Tama na reklamo mo, suotin mo na lang ‘to.”

Now, the shirt hung loosely on him, slipping slightly off one shoulder, paired with shorts that barely reached mid-thigh. He was comfortable, for once.

As he stepped into the small kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses. Hajime stood by the counter, stirring his cup, his broad back turned toward him. The early morning light seeped through the window, casting a golden glow over the room, making everything feel slow, warm, and peaceful.

Hajime glanced over his shoulder, noticing Tooru’s presence. “Aga mo yata nagising,” he commented, setting his spoon down with a soft clink against the ceramic. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Gusto mo ng hot chocolate?”

Tooru blinked at him, still groggy, but nodded.

With that, Hajime turned back to the counter, reaching for the chocolate powder and milk, moving with a familiarity that Tooru found oddly mesmerizing. He stood there, watching him work, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of the oversized shirt. It was strange—this quiet moment, the domesticity of it all.

He wasn’t sure what to do with it.


Tooru leaned against the wooden counter, watching Hajime work with practiced ease. There was something calming about the way he moved—no hesitation, no wasted motion, just quiet efficiency. Hajime scooped a generous amount of chocolate powder into a mug, poured warm milk over it, and stirred until it was smooth. Then, as if remembering something, he grabbed a small container of muscovado sugar and added just a pinch before setting the mug down in front of Tooru.

“Try mo muna,” Hajime said, pushing the cup toward him.

Tooru eyed the steaming drink suspiciously. “Baka mapaso ako.”

Hajime rolled his eyes, grabbed the spoon, and blew on it a few times before holding it up to Tooru’s lips. “Ayan, spoiled baby treatment pa. Sige, tikman mo na.”

Tooru gave him an unimpressed look but leaned in anyway, lips parting slightly as he took a small sip. The rich chocolate flavor melted on his tongue, warm and comforting. It wasn’t overly sweet, just the right balance, with a deeper taste than the instant ones he was used to.

“…Okay, fine,” he admitted, setting the spoon down. “Masarap.”

Hajime smirked, crossing his arms. “Siyempre. Ako gumawa.”

Tooru scoffed but took another sip, this time cupping the mug with both hands. The warmth seeped into his fingers, and for a moment, everything felt strangely peaceful. The quiet hum of the morning, the scent of coffee and chocolate in the air, the way Hajime simply existed beside him—it was different from the chaos he was used to.

“Anong plano mo today?” Hajime asked, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Tooru hummed, thinking. “I really don't know… Ikaw?”

Hajime shrugged. “Baka tumulong sa bukid ulit. O gusto mong sumama?”

Tooru raised an eyebrow. “Me? Sa bukid?”

Hajime snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. “Oo. Para naman hindi ka lang nagre-reklamo buong araw.”

Tooru huffed, pulling the oversized shirt closer to himself as he leaned against the table. “We’ll see.”

Hajime only chuckled, shaking his head. “Sige. Sabihan mo na lang ako kung kailan ka magsisimulang magpaka-maarte ulit.”

Tooru kicked his shin under the table, making Hajime laugh louder.


Tooru took slow sips of his hot chocolate, the warmth of the drink spreading through his chest as he stood by the edge of the bukid. The early morning air was still crisp, the sky tinged with the soft hues of dawn. The sun wasn’t fully up yet, but the horizon was already glowing in shades of amber and gold, casting a gentle light over the scene before him.

And there, right in the middle of the field, was Hajime.

Shirtless again.

Tooru swallowed thickly, fingers tightening around the ceramic mug as he took in the sight. Hajime was wearing nothing but gray sweatpants tucked into a pair of black rubber boots, his toned upper body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His muscles flexed as he guided the carabao with ease, hands gripping the wooden plow, his movements steady and practiced. Every push and pull, every shift of his shoulders, sent ripples down his arms and back.

Tooru hated to admit it, but it was… mesmerizing.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until Hajime suddenly turned his head toward him.

“Tooru!” Hajime’s voice rang out across the bukid, snapping Tooru out of his daze.

Tooru stiffened. “What?” he called back, pretending to be unfazed as he lifted his mug for another sip.

“Bakit ka nandiyan lang? Lika rito!” Hajime grinned, one hand resting on his hip as he gestured for Tooru to come closer.

Tooru wrinkled his nose. “No way, ang putik!”

Hajime chuckled, shaking his head as if he expected that response. “Arte mo talaga.”

Tooru only rolled his eyes and took another sip, as if to emphasize his refusal. But Hajime wasn’t done. Instead of going back to work, he handed the reins of the carabao to one of the farmhands and started making his way toward Tooru.

Tooru narrowed his eyes. “Hajime… Ano nanaman?”

Hajime didn’t answer. He just kept walking—confident, unhurried, yet unmistakably determined.

Tooru’s grip on his mug tightened. “Hajime. No.”

Still, Hajime kept coming.

Tooru’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. He could drop the mug and run back inside, maybe lock himself in the room—

But before he could act, Hajime was already there.

In one swift move, Hajime reached out, grabbed Tooru by the wrist, and yanked him forward.

“HAJIME, NO—!”

Too late.

Tooru barely had time to react before he was being dragged straight into the muddy field. His bare feet splashed into the damp soil, the thick, sticky texture clinging to his skin as he stumbled forward. His oversized shirt—Hajime’s shirt—flapped as he struggled, his breath catching in sheer horror.

“You—You absolute barbarian!” Tooru screeched, trying to wriggle free.

Hajime just laughed, his grip firm but not painful. “Sabi ko sayo sumama ka na lang kanina pa, e.”

Tooru glared at him, heart pounding from the unexpected pull. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

Hajime only smirked. “Sure ka? Akala ko gusto mo akong panoorin habang nag-aararo.”

Tooru’s face burned. “I—I WASN’T WATCHING YOU, YOU EGOTISTICAL—”

Hajime only grinned wider. “Sus, kitang-kita ko yung titig mo kanina. Akala mo hindi?”

Tooru opened his mouth to retort, but Hajime took another step forward, making him stumble further into the mud.

Tooru gasped. “Hajime, wag mo akong—”

And then, as if to seal Tooru’s fate, Hajime suddenly let go.

Tooru lost his balance instantly, his arms flailing—

And then he was on the ground.

Face first.

Into the mud.

A stunned silence followed.

Then, Hajime howled with laughter.

Tooru lifted his head slowly, his entire front covered in thick, wet, sticky mud. His once white oversized shirt was now completely ruined. His hair, still messy from sleep, had streaks of brown in it. He stared at Hajime, wide-eyed, processing what just happened.

And Hajime? Hajime was doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. “Gago—Tooru—ang dumi mo—”

Tooru clenched his fists. “Hajime.”

Hajime took one look at him and laughed harder. “Sorry, sorry, pero—”

“YOU’RE DEAD.”

Tooru lunged at him.

And the bukid echoed with the sounds of their laughter, shouting, and the unmistakable splashes of mud.

The sky, once tinged with the soft hues of early morning, suddenly darkened as heavy clouds rolled in. The cool drizzle that had started as a light mist quickly turned into a full downpour, soaking the ground beneath them until the soil became softer, muddier—more dangerous for someone like Tooru, who wasn’t used to running barefoot in the bukid.

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Hajime, you are SO dead!” Tooru shrieked as he sprinted across the field, his laughter mingling with the sound of the rain pelting against the earth. His breath came in short gasps, his oversized white shirt (which was already ruined thanks to Hajime) now clinging to his skin, drenched from both the rain and the mud. His legs ached from running, but there was no way in hell he was letting Hajime catch him—

Unfortunately, Tooru severely underestimated Hajime’s speed.

“Gotcha.”

A firm arm wrapped around Tooru’s waist before he could react, and the next thing he knew, his feet were off the ground.

“WHAT THE— Hajime, put me down!” Tooru flailed, kicking his legs wildly, but Hajime only laughed, his grip tightening as he effortlessly hoisted Tooru up—one arm hooked securely around Tooru’s waist, the other steadying him as he locked him in place.

Tooru was breathless, not just from running, but from the realization of just how easily Hajime had lifted him—as if he weighed nothing, as if Hajime’s hands belonged exactly there, molding perfectly against the curve of his waist.

The rain poured harder, soaking them both to the bone. Hajime’s chest was pressed against Tooru’s back, his warm breath fanning against the nape of his neck as he chuckled, his body shaking slightly with amusement. His arms were firm, unwavering, as if he had no plans of letting Tooru go anytime soon.

“Not happening,” Hajime teased, voice smug.

“Hajime!” Tooru shrieked again, twisting in his grip, but he was completely at Hajime’s mercy. The feeling of the rain, the mud between his toes, the way Hajime’s arms felt around him—it was all too much.

Tooru’s breathing was uneven, his heart pounding against his ribs. He felt trapped, caged by Hajime’s strength, and yet… he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be freed at all.

"ABA'Y ANG MGA BATANG IRE TALAGA, UMUULAN HOY! HAYME IPASOK MO NA 'YAN SI GANDA DITO!"