"Do you believe in soulmates?"
Tooru looks up from the book he's been reading, shutting it when he sees Wakatoshi has turned to lie on his side. There is an indecipherable expression on his face as he watches Tooru, who hums curiously.
"I want to believe in them. Why?"
Wakatoshi reaches out, tentatively, to brush a strand of hair behind Tooru's ear, lips pulled into a tight line. He doesn't answer for a moment, so Tooru sits up a little further against the headboard of their bed, a slow wariness spreading from his chest to his throat, threatening to form a lump.
"I overheard Hinata and Bokuto talking about soulmates the other day." He lets his hand drop onto the white, rumpled sheets between them.
"Do you believe in them", Tooru returns the question after a moment of silence, not daring to move, lest his boyfriend might shy away from his touch.
"I've been thinking about it. When I was younger, I disliked the concept."
Wakatoshi seems unusually hesitant, as if he's unsure of how to voice his thoughts. There's the slightest crease on his forehead, an indication of a frown, maybe.
"You hated me."
"I've never hated you, Toshi."
"I was so sure of it, back then."
Finally, Tooru understands that it is not hostility or upset, looking up at him, but distant, long-held regret.
He finds himself smiling when he does take a hold of Wakatoshi's hand, interlacing their fingers.
"I thought that, if you hated me, we couldn't be soulmates." He exhales slowly, olive eyes trained on where their palms are touching.
"But you know that's not how soulmates work."
"I know, now."
Tooru gives his boyfriend's hand a soft, reassuring squeeze, delighting in the way it is returned instantly.
"So, what do you think? Do they exist?"
Wakatoshi closes his eyes, the last of the tension in his features dissolving, before he answers: "Depends."
It elicits an endearing chuckle from Tooru, who lets go of the other's hand to lay his own flat on Wakatoshi's chest, right above his beating heart. His soft cotton t-shirt wrinkles when Tooru's grip carefully closes around it, pulling himself down to place a sweet kiss to Wakatoshi's lips.
"Depends on what", he whispers the question against the corner of the other's mouth, trailing his fingers up to the crook of his neck, then further to the joint of his jaw, where they linger.
When Wakatoshi's lids flutter open, he gazes fondly up at Tooru, light eyes so beautiful in the warm dimness of their bedroom.
"Depends on if you want to be my soulmate, Tooru."
It doesn't matter, then, that that isn't how soulmates work, either. That soulmates could never actively choose one another. It doesn't matter that they both know that.
Tooru nods once and expects the gingerly press of Wakatoshi's lips against his. But he doesn't predict the emotion it holds, the overwhelming gratitude it succeeds to convey.
The love it carries.
He takes a shaky breath, familiarity and homeliness filling his lungs. He doesn't need to think twice about his answer. It has held true for years, after all.
"Wakatoshi", Tooru tells him, "there is nothing I want more than to be your soulmate."
