as promised, since nakita niyo si tooru in hajime's perspective..eto naman kay hajime hehe

happy reading!

The silence stretched between them as they stepped inside Hajime’s apartment, the air thick with unspoken words. Tooru moved first, making his way to the sofa without waiting for an invitation, but his movements were hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome here.

Hajime followed, shutting the door behind him before walking toward the living room. He didn’t sit right away, instead tossing his keys onto the coffee table with a soft clatter. His posture was tense, shoulders squared, as if he was bracing himself for whatever was about to come.

Tooru sat on one end of the sofa, arms wrapped around himself, fingers gripping at the fabric of his own sleeves. His legs were crossed, but he kept fidgeting, shifting every few seconds like he couldn’t get comfortable. Hajime sat down at the opposite end, maintaining some distance between them, though his eyes never left Tooru.

The room felt smaller than it actually was, the silence pressing down on them both.

Tooru cleared his throat, breaking the tension, but he still didn’t know how to start. His hands tightened around his sleeves, gaze flickering to Hajime, who was staring at him expectantly.

“Uh…” Tooru started, his voice barely above a whisper. “I—” He hesitated, pressing his lips together before exhaling sharply.

Hajime leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tooru, if you came all the way here, just say it.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a firmness to it—like he was tired of waiting.

Tooru flinched, not because Hajime raised his voice (he didn’t), but because Hajime was right. He didn’t come here just to sit in silence.

But now that he was here, now that Hajime was right in front of him, he didn’t know where to begin.

Tooru had always known that Hajime was handsome. It wasn’t a thought that snuck up on him or something he realized too late—it was a fact, simple and undeniable. But sitting here now, across from him in the dim light of Hajime’s apartment, Tooru realized that he had never really looked at him the way he was looking now.

Hajime wasn’t just handsome. He wasn’t just grumpy or tough or impossibly stubborn. He was warmth. He was home.

His hair, dark and slightly tousled, looked softer than it should have for someone who barely cared about styling it. Tooru knew how it felt between his fingers—coarse yet comforting, something he had tugged on in frustration, something he had buried his face into on quiet nights when the weight of the world felt lighter in Hajime’s arms.

His eyes—deep, sharp, and unwavering—always held something unreadable in them. Hajime had never been easy to figure out, not for anyone else. But Tooru had memorized the way his gaze softened when he was amused, how it darkened when he was angry, how it turned impossibly tender in moments Hajime probably didn’t even realize. Right now, his eyes were guarded, his expression neutral, but Tooru could see the tension behind them—the quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, the exhaustion of someone who had waited for too long without knowing what he was waiting for.

Tooru swallowed hard.

Hajime’s hands rested on his thighs, fingers slightly curled, like he was trying not to clench them into fists. Those same hands had held him countless times—sometimes gently, sometimes possessively, sometimes like he was afraid Tooru would disappear if he let go. Those hands had shielded him from the cold, steadied him when he stumbled, wiped away tears he never admitted to shedding. Those hands knew every inch of him, every curve, every fragile part.

And Hajime’s mouth—Tooru knew it too well. The way it quirked up in a smirk when he was being smug, the way it pressed into a firm line when he was annoyed, the way it softened against Tooru’s own lips in the dark, in the quiet, when no one was watching. Right now, it was unreadable, his jaw tight, like he was holding something back.

Tooru’s chest ached.

Because Hajime looked exactly the same as he always did—but at the same time, he looked so, so far away.

Maybe it was the way he sat, his posture stiff, his body slightly angled away as if keeping his distance. Maybe it was the cautious look in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure whether to let Tooru in or brace for impact. Maybe it was just Tooru’s own guilt pressing down on him, making him realize that Hajime had always been right there while he—he had been running in circles, too afraid to claim what was already his.

He wanted to reach out.

He wanted to touch Hajime the way he always had, like it was second nature, like Hajime belonged to him. He wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, to thread his fingers through Hajime’s hair, to pull him close until there was no space left between them. He wanted to hear Hajime sigh against his ear, wanted to feel his heartbeat under his palm, wanted to remind himself that this—this—was real.

But right now, Hajime wasn’t moving.

He was waiting.

And Tooru realized, with a sharp pang in his chest, that Hajime had always been waiting.

For him.

For this.

For the words Tooru had never been brave enough to say.

Hajime had always been steady. Solid. A force of nature that never wavered, never crumbled, never turned his back on the people he cared about. Tooru had always known that about him. It was one of the things he loved most—Hajime’s unwavering presence, the way he stayed even when he had every reason to leave.

But now, sitting across from him, Tooru felt like he was seeing Hajime through new eyes.

For the first time, he wasn’t just looking at the Hajime who scolded him for being reckless, the Hajime who always carried extra water bottles because he knew Tooru never brought one, the Hajime who grumbled about Tooru’s spending habits but still showed up with small, thoughtful gifts.

No—right now, Tooru was looking at the Hajime who had waited.

His posture was guarded, arms resting on his thighs, but there was something in his shoulders—something heavy, something tired. Hajime had always carried himself with a quiet kind of confidence, but this was different. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t annoyed. He was exhausted.

And that scared Tooru more than anything.

Because Hajime wasn’t the type to show weakness, not unless you knew him well enough to see past the surface.

His lips were pressed together in a tight line, the muscle in his jaw ticking ever so slightly—just enough for Tooru to realize that Hajime was holding something back. A sharp comment? A question? A plea?

Tooru didn’t know.

All he knew was that Hajime looked like someone who had given too much for too long without knowing if he’d ever get anything in return.

And fuck, it hurt.

It hurt because Hajime was always so sure about the people he loved. It hurt because Hajime had never made Tooru feel uncertain about how much he cared. It hurt because now, for the first time, Tooru was seeing hesitation in his eyes.

And it was his fault.

He had let Hajime wait. He had let Hajime wonder. He had let Hajime doubt—and Hajime wasn’t supposed to doubt. Not about him. Not when he had been everything to Tooru since the moment they met.

Tooru wanted to reach out.

He wanted to cup Hajime’s face in his hands and tell him he was stupid for waiting this long, stupid for not realizing that Tooru had been his from the very start. He wanted to kiss him, to remind him that no matter how much of a mess Tooru was, no matter how long it took, he would always come back to him.

But he didn’t.

Because for the first time, Tooru wasn’t sure if Hajime wanted him to.

Not after everything.

Not after the months of uncertainty, the stupid fights, the unspoken words, the hesitations that built up between them like invisible walls.

He had made Hajime wait.

And now, as Hajime sat there—silent, expectant, exhausted—Tooru realized that if he didn’t do something now, if he didn’t say what he should have said from the beginning…

Hajime wouldn’t wait forever.

And that thought terrified him.

Tooru blinked rapidly, but it was useless. His vision blurred anyway, his throat tightening as a sharp, overwhelming wave of emotion crashed into him.

Putangina, he thought, swallowing hard. Ganito siya kamahal ni Hajime.

Ganito siya alagaan. Ganito siya intindihin. Ganito siya mahalin—buong-buo, walang tanong, walang alanganin.

He had always known Hajime was different. Always known that Hajime looked at him in a way no one else ever had, that Hajime’s presence felt more like home than any place he’d ever been.

But now, sitting here, looking at him—really looking at him—Tooru felt something inside him shatter.

It was the way Hajime’s hands had always been steady whenever they touched him, never hesitant, always warm, always sure. The way he would pull Tooru closer instead of pushing him away, even when he was frustrated, even when he had every reason to leave.

It was the way Hajime knew him—knew his moods, his tells, his little manipulative tricks, yet still chose to deal with him, to love him despite it all.

It was the way Hajime always knew what Tooru needed before he even had to ask.

And fuck, fuck, that kind of love?

Tooru didn’t know if he deserved it.

His fingers curled into the fabric of Hajime’s couch, his chest tightening, his breathing uneven. He felt raw, exposed—like all of his emotions were laid bare under Hajime’s gaze, like he had nowhere to hide.

Because of course Hajime noticed.

Of course, Hajime’s expression softened the moment he saw the glassiness in Tooru’s eyes, the way his lips wobbled just slightly. Of course Hajime was already leaning forward, already reaching out, already making sure Tooru didn’t fall apart alone.

“Tooru,” Hajime said, his voice rough with concern.

And that was it. That was all it took.

The first tear slipped down Tooru’s cheek before he could stop it. Then another. And another.

Hajime sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting it—as if he had spent so long being the strong one that he never really thought Tooru would break like this in front of him.

And Tooru?

Tooru didn’t even care how pathetic he looked.

Because fuck, Hajime was so good to him.

So steady, so patient, so Hajime.

Tooru sniffled, clenching his fists, his head dropping slightly as a broken laugh tumbled from his lips.

“Putangina,” he muttered, voice shaking. “Ang gwapo mo.”

Hajime blinked, caught completely off guard. “Ha?”

Tooru let out another breathless laugh, wiping at his tears but failing miserably as more fell.

“I fucking hate you,” he choked out, sniffling. “Kasi ang gwapo mo. Ang bait mo. Ang—ang gago mo. Paano ba ako hindi maiiyak, ha?”

Hajime stared at him for a moment, utterly speechless.

Then—slowly, carefully—he reached forward and cupped Tooru’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the stray tears.

“Tooru,” he said again, quieter this time.

And Tooru broke.

A quiet sob escaped his lips as he shut his eyes, leaning into Hajime’s touch like it was the only thing keeping him together.

Putangina.

Ito na talaga.

Ito na yung moment na narealize niyang hinding-hindi na niya kayang wala si Hajime.

Tooru let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping Hajime’s wrist as he leaned further into his touch. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he swore Hajime could hear it. His vision was still blurred with tears, but none of it mattered—nothing mattered except the man in front of him.

His voice trembled as he finally spoke, his words slipping out in a whisper—raw, unguarded, true.

“I love you.”

Hajime froze. His fingers twitched against Tooru’s cheek, his breath hitching ever so slightly.

Tooru let out a shaky laugh, a fresh tear slipping down his face. “No—fuck, that’s not enough,” he said, shaking his head. “I really love you, Hajime.” His grip on Hajime’s wrist tightened as he let out another trembling exhale. “I love you so much, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Hajime still wasn’t saying anything, just staring at him—like Tooru had just dropped the entire universe into his hands, and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold it.

So Tooru kept going.

“I love you,” he whispered again, voice thick with emotion. “I love the way you look at me. I love the way you hold me. I love how you always know what I need before I even say anything. I love how patient you are with me, even when I’m being a spoiled brat. I love that you choose me, every single time, even when I give you a million reasons not to.”

A shaky breath.

“I love you, Hajime.”

And finally—finally—Hajime moved.

His grip on Tooru’s face tightened just slightly, his thumb swiping away another stray tear. His own eyes were glassy now, his expression unreadable.

Then—softly, almost disbelievingly—he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Fuck,” Hajime murmured, voice hoarse. “You really know how to make a guy emotional, huh?”

Tooru laughed—wet and broken, but real.

And when Hajime surged forward to kiss him, he tasted every single emotion between them—the love, the relief, the sheer rightness of it all.

Finally. Finally.

The kiss was deep—overwhelming, all-consuming. Hajime’s hands cupped Tooru’s face, fingers firm yet gentle, as if he was grounding himself in the feeling of him. Tooru melted into him, his hands gripping the fabric of Hajime’s shirt, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

Their breaths mingled, desperate and raw, as Hajime tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything Hajime had ever wanted to say but never had the courage to. Every moment he had spent watching Tooru from afar, every time he had held back the words sitting heavy on his tongue. It was love, poured into every brush of their lips, every touch, every breath.

When they finally parted, Tooru’s forehead rested against Hajime’s, both of them panting softly. Tooru’s eyes were glassy, his lips swollen, and god, Hajime had never seen anything more beautiful.

Hajime swallowed hard, his fingers still tangled in Tooru’s hair. “Tooru,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion.

Tooru blinked at him, still dazed, still breathless.

Hajime exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he didn’t care—he needed to say this.

“Mahal din kita,” Hajime said, his voice steady, sure. “I love you so much, I don’t know how to not love you anymore.”

Tooru’s breath hitched.

Hajime pressed his forehead firmer against Tooru’s, eyes locked onto his. “I love how ridiculous you are. I love how dramatic you get over the smallest things. I love how you always act like the world revolves around you—because, fuck, mine kind of does.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I love the way you look at me, like I’m the only person in the room. I love how you make everything feel alive—even the things I used to think didn’t matter.”

Tooru’s hands trembled against Hajime’s chest. “Hajime…”

“I love you,” Hajime repeated, firmer this time. “Not just the way you make me feel. You. Your messy thoughts, your impulsiveness, your kindness, your stubbornness—everything.” His thumb traced the curve of Tooru’s cheek. “I love you so much it fucking hurts.”

Tooru let out a soft, broken noise. His hands fisted Hajime’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

And Hajime didn’t hesitate. He kissed Tooru again—deep, consuming, like he was trying to make him feel every ounce of love he had in him.

Because finally, there were no more doubts.

Finally, they both knew.

Tooru didn’t know when the tears started falling—maybe it was somewhere between Hajime’s confession and the way he kissed him again, deep and slow, like he was pouring every ounce of love into him. Maybe it was the way Hajime held him—so firm yet so gentle, like he was something precious, something worth holding on to.

His chest ached.

All this time, Tooru had been so afraid—afraid of feeling too much, of letting himself get attached, of wanting more than what Hajime was willing to give. But here he was, being handed everything he ever wanted, everything he had ever been too scared to admit.

Tooru pulled back just enough to look at Hajime, his lips parted, his breath uneven. Hajime’s hands stayed on his waist, grounding, steady. His eyes were soft, filled with nothing but love, and fuck, how did Tooru ever think he could live without this?

“Hajime…” he whispered, voice trembling.

Hajime brushed away the tears streaking down his cheek. “What is it, baby?”

That did it.

That was the last thing that shattered Tooru completely.

A choked laugh escaped him, followed by a sob. He covered his mouth with one hand, his shoulders trembling, overwhelmed by everything—by this, by Hajime.

Hajime only pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss against his temple. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

Tooru inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. He gripped Hajime’s arms tightly, as if to reassure himself that he was really here, that this was real.

He licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Say it again.”

Hajime frowned slightly. “Say what again?”

Tooru swallowed hard, looking up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “That you love me.”

Hajime’s expression softened. He cradled Tooru’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing against his damp cheeks.

“I love you,” Hajime said, steady and sure, like an unshakable truth. “I love you so much, Tooru.”

Tooru let out another shaky breath. Then, without thinking, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s neck, pressing his face into the crook of his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he murmured against his skin, voice raw and honest. “I love you, Hajime.”

Hajime’s arms tightened around him instantly, and Tooru felt the way Hajime exhaled deeply, like he had been waiting for this—for him.

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, in their love, in the quiet certainty that no matter what happened next, they had each other.

Finally, Tooru pulled back just enough to look at Hajime again. A small, teasing smile played on his lips, though his eyes were still watery. “So… does this mean I’m officially your baby now?”

Hajime chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve always been my baby, idiot.”

Tooru grinned, leaning in to steal another kiss—one soft, lingering, filled with promises unspoken but deeply understood.

And for the first time in a long time, Tooru felt whole.

"Madam baby."