The road stretched endlessly ahead, lined with rolling green hills and the occasional burst of wildflowers. The sun was high, warm light spilling across the dashboard as the hum of the engine filled the silence between you and Toru.

Hajime had been the one to suggest the trip. “Just the three of us,” he’d grinned. “Like old times.” Except Hajime had fallen sick the night before, and with non-refundable reservations and bags already packed, you and Toru were left with no choice but to go alone.

Now, with him in the driver’s seat, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel and the other propping up his chin, Toru looked infuriatingly relaxed. The exact opposite of how you felt.

He broke the silence first. “You’ve been glaring at the glove compartment for the last thirty minutes. Should I be worried?”

He glanced at you, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “You always did look like you were plotting my downfall. Even when we were kids.”

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Still think I’m some shameless guy who only finds validation from other people, huh?” You stayed quiet, but your expression must’ve said enough. He sighed, long and heavy.

“I used to think you hated me,” he admitted, his tone shifting, softer now. “Or maybe I just told myself that so I wouldn’t care what you thought.”

The road blurred past in a stream of light and shadow. “I didn’t care what anyone thought, not really. But you…you were different. You never bought into the whole ‘Oikawa the charming ace’ thing. And I couldn’t figure out why that got under my skin so much.”

He tightened his grip on the wheel briefly, eyes focused on the road. “I’m not saying I wasn’t a jerk sometimes. I was. But I wasn’t always who people said I was. You just never gave me a chance to prove it.”

Silence again, but it was different now—charged, uncertain. He turned to look at you for a moment, his eyes unreadable.

“You know, I don’t even know why I’m saying all this. Maybe being stuck in a car with you for hours is messing with my head.” But then he smiled, small and wistful.

“Or maybe I just don’t want you to keep thinking I’m someone I’m not.” The ocean wasn’t far now. You could smell the salt in the air, feel the shift in the breeze through the open window.

He glanced at you one last time, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “We’ve still got a few hours before we’re there. If you want to talk…you know I’m always listening.”