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Those kind of thoughts were forgivable when they were kids. Objectively, six-year-old Tooru missing baby teeth and demanding “apology hugs” whenever they fought was adorable. But nowadays, Tooru was six feet tall and smiled with the plastic charm of their vice principal’s toupee.
Hajime shouldn’t find it cute. He shouldn’t melt when his best friend slung himself across his back, whining for a piggyback ride. He shouldn’t think the winks and practiced pouts were to die for. He definitely shouldn’t find it endearing when Tooru taunted opponents across the net, lacing barbs in a singsong voice sweet enough to sting.
And yet, lately, it only gets worse. Like some kind of Pavlovian reflex. Just hearing that nasal voice sends a sharp jolt down Hajime’s spine. And that makes him so, so angry.
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Or: Iwaizumi Hajime suffers from the worst case of cuteness aggression ever known to man, and it's all Oikawa's fault.