Chapter Text
(...) but for the fall, my
do you dare to look
him right in the eyes?
Way down we go - Kaleo
Oikawa turned his back on Ushijima and despite knowing his team and coaches would be waiting for him, his legs dragged him away from the crowded corridors and guided him to a secluded spot in the Sendai City Gymnasium. The loud voices coming from the courts were like a distant murmur ringing in his ears, but his own voice, speaking pompous, boastful words, was loud and clear in his mind.
‘You’d best never forget this worthless pride of mine.’
After unexpectedly meeting Ushijima, Oikawa needed time to collect himself before going back to the bus and facing the team. If he’d had the strength, he would have laughed at his pathetic attempt to retaliate against Shiratorizawa’s captain and Ushijima’s unlimited stubbornness and irritating bluntness, but right then Oikawa hadn’t been able to shrug it all off.
What irked Oikawa the most was the ease with which Ushijima could crawl underneath his skin. And the fact that Ushijima chose to make remarks about his Seijoh teammates –his team, his friends– every time they confronted one another pissed him off even more.
Ushijima had always looked down on Seijoh’s concepts and values. If Oikawa were to follow the Shiratorizawa way, he should punch Ushijima in the face every time Shiratorizawa’s captain dared to refer to Oikawa’s team as weak or bad or questioned his decision of joining Aoba Johsai High.
But brute force wasn’t his team’s way and Oikawa was certain that Seijoh was a solid and complete team, every player strong in their own way.
‘With six people, the strong are even stronger.’
Iwaizumi’s advice from years ago still echoed in his mind. Those words had repeated themselves like a mantra ever since the referee blew the whistle proclaiming Karasuno the winner; after he told Kageyama they were tied; after they bitterly bowed to the victors; after they thanked their grandstand; even while Coach Irihata spoke to them and Oikawa pretended to be paying attention.
‘With six people, the strong are even stronger. With six people, the strong are even stronger. With six people, the strong are even stronger.’
Oikawa’s chest clenched; it was so difficult to believe those words when it was him that had screwed up that last dig. It was Iwaizumi’s voice, yet in a different, annoyed tone, that broke into his track of thoughts one more time.
‘I this. I that. It’s annoying!’
Oikawa tried to hold onto what the first voice said: with six people, the strong are even stronger. Yet all he could hear in his head was a twisted, self-destructive ‘I.’ Not the ‘we’ Iwaizumi had helped him understand. Since that day, Oikawa had tried his hardest not to disappoint his friend, but self-doubt caused him to fail when it mattered the most.
His chest clenched again; the raw ache that it radiated was one Oikawa hadn’t felt in years. Would he ever learn? Or was he destined to fail to grasp that comforting notion? The sense of ‘we,’ of being a part of the team, of being one of six. Most times he was there, he belonged, he felt it in his bones… but when faced with defeat, a treacherous, self-loathing part of Oikawa claimed it all for himself.
He had lost.
He had lost against Ushijima. And not even that, really. He lost without even facing Shiratorizawa’s emotionless captain because he had to screw up that last dig. His and his team’s resolve didn’t matter. It was always the team who let the ball hit the floor first that lost. And he’d let it hit the floor.
If Iwaizumi had been by his side at that moment, he would’ve already knocked some sense into him. Years of friendship had sometimes granted them both with a little bit too much understanding of each other. Iwaizumi wouldn’t need to guess what was going on in Oikawa’s mind: I lost. Not ‘we,’ the six on the court, the whole team, but ‘I.’
To Oikawa’s luck, Iwaizumi was not by his side, so to hell with it: I, Oikawa Tooru, lost.
Against Karasuno.
And so against Ushijima. Against Shiratorizawa.
He had lost. Again.
And it sucked. And it hurt.
…
The intense ache spreading through Oikawa’s back and the slight tremor on his right told him the adrenaline of the game was wearing off. As well as the effect of the painkillers Mizoguchi-kun had given him after their visit to the infirmary room to make sure everything was fine after his fall. But the worst reminder of his situation was the raw ache his right knee radiated, complaining along with his back for slipping while trying to get up during the last rally.
Oikawa took a deep breath, trying to ground himself; his back and leg were something he could easily fix by taking another pill, but the growing anxiety he could feel bubbling below the physical pain wasn’t.
Concealed by the expected pain after his fall and lost in deep thoughts, Oikawa had missed the warning flares. His head pulsed a particular steady, annoying rhythm, and he felt cold sweat trickling down his back, sending chills racing up and down his spine. The breathing techniques he had learnt to calm down didn’t seem to be working.
It had been a few years since he’d last had an anxiety attack.
Dammit, why now?
Iwaizumi wasn’t there to help him and Oikawa hated himself just for thinking it. He didn’t need Iwaizumi’s help, although he wanted it, badly. He could calm down on his own, like his psychologist had taught him to. Besides, Oikawa was supposed to be supporting Iwaizumi, not the other way around. But the time he had taken to lick his own wounds and rebuild his carefree attitude before facing Iwaizumi and the rest of the team had backfired.
Iwaizumi’s image after the game clouded Oikawa’s mind, his strong yet vulnerable, shaking frame, tears running freely down his cheeks... “What kind of ace am I?” Iwaizumi hadn’t needed to voice his self-doubt, because just as he could see through Oikawa, Oikawa could see through him. Oikawa understood the meaning of his tears.
“The best,” Oikawa had answered, unspoken, with the strongest of slaps on his friend’s back. It was a wordless conversation, but both knew exactly what they were saying: “The only one for me.”
Oikawa had always hated seeing Iwaizumi in distress. It felt wrong, no matter the cause, so the rare times that his friend had chosen to openly show his vulnerability Oikawa experienced an intense, almost physical urge to make it right. He would gladly take Iwaizumi’s suffering if he could.
Thinking about it, Oikawa could count with the fingers on one hand the times Iwaizumi had allowed him to witness his vulnerable moments. Opposite yet complementary, all his fingers and toes wouldn’t suffice if Oikawa tried to keep track of his own vulnerable moments he’d shared; the times Iwaizumi had reminded him that it was okay to cry.
Oikawa found himself mentally listing the times Iwaizumi had allowed him to stay by his side during vulnerable moments, as if in doing so his anxiety would back off.
Without being aware of it, Oikawa started fidgeting with his left pinkie as he thought of the first time.
~
A four-year-old Oikawa, against a one month and a few days older Iwaizumi’s better judgement, climbed the tree that was in his friends’ backyard. Purpose? To catch a rare beetle for Iwa-chan and, in Tooru’s own words –he was still Tooru back then– “to prove to Iwa-chan I’m not scared of that awful horned-thing.”
After much deliberation when the pair met, Iwaizumi Hajime had been Iwa-chan; while Oikawa’s name, Tooru, worked just fine, Iwaizumi’s name had been too intricate for young Oikawa to pronounce it right and Hajime-chan wouldn’t do. The ‘-chan’ was most certainly needed to show Oikawa’s endearment towards his friend, so, ‘Iwa-chan’ was the perfect solution to Oikawa’s dilemma.
“That branch is too weak, Tooru. You’re going to fall!” Iwaizumi snapped from the ground, for probably the fifth time that afternoon; Oikawa was clumsy and his knees were always patched up with the weirdest of band aids. Iwaizumi had been the cautious voice that alerted him of a rock in the way, or a step, or a post. Sometimes, Oikawa didn’t listen. This time, the task –the dare, really– ahead of him was more important.
Oikawa was so close; he stretched forward, his tiny hands almost catching the awful beetle, but in doing so, he put his full weight on the weak branch. It swayed and bent a little but if he could just crawl a little further–
Crack!
As predicted, the branch gave way. Oikawa yelped and landed hard, his back hitting solid ground. Iwaizumi had run to him, launching himself to the ground with arms extended, but only made it in time to keep Oikawa’s head from hitting the ground –back then he wasn’t fast and strong enough.
“You okay?!” Iwaizumi said, quickly getting up and kneeling in front of Oikawa; small hands checking his friend for any severe injury. Too worried, Iwaizumi didn’t notice the safe cocoon Oikawa’s hands were creating, until Oikawa opened them, just a little, so Iwaizumi could peek at what was inside.
“See, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa brushed off Iwaizumi’s concern, forcing sing-songed words, but his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I told you I wasn’t afraid. I got it!”
Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa’s hands once again, tears prickling in his own eyes too. Seeing his friend wasn’t going to let go of the beetle, Iwaizumi helped him to sit up, asking Oikawa if he was okay one more time before calling for their parents.
When the knees and elbows of Oikawa had been disinfected and patched up, and his sore back rubbed with loving gentleness by Iwaizumi’s mother, Oikawa’s father scolded both of them for their recklessness. Only once the adults were gone did Oikawa open his hands again, presenting Iwaizumi with the beetle, who silently stared at his friend’s hands and the insect.
“Iwa-chan doesn’t like it?”
Iwaizumi couldn’t answer; instead he took the beetle with great care into his own hands, smiling down at it, and then silently nodded. Oikawa launched himself at Iwaizumi, trapping him in a tight hug; the tears Iwaizumi didn’t know he’d been holding back ran freely down his reddened puffy cheeks.
Their captive beetle took that opportunity to fly away from its benevolent captors, but it didn’t matter, not really.
Oikawa’s tears fell too, but for entirely different reasons. He had been afraid, going up the tree, yet at that young age he knew there would never be a challenge he wouldn’t face for Iwaizumi; and if Iwaizumi was by his side, all the better.
Oikawa had believed Iwaizumi’s tears had been happy ones. In the years to come, after mastering the ability to read Iwaizumi’s gestures and moods, Oikawa would learn that that hadn’t been the case. He’d grow to understand that people didn’t show love in the same way, expressing love freely didn’t always come easy to everyone.
As for Iwaizumi, he didn’t know why the small gesture had overwhelmed him that much.
When Oikawa told Iwaizumi he hadn’t been afraid, his chirpy voice was feigned and his whole small body had been trembling... but the resolve in his watery eyes, even at the age of four, had been unwavering. The ease with which his friend could give himself had moved Iwaizumi; the careless way of doing so had unsettled him.
Young Oikawa poured out his emotions and affections without restraint; it showed in his open and contagious laugh at Iwaizumi’s goofy jokes, the natural hugs when saying hello or goodbye or just because he felt like hugging, in his gasps and wows when Iwaizumi talked about insects or showed him his newest addition to his collection of Godzilla figures.
It wasn’t about the beetle, not really. It was about Oikawa’s love for him.
At that moment, Iwaizumi didn’t understand it and channelled his emotions as best as four year old could: into tears –not that he would get better at expressing his feelings when he was older.
Over time, when Oikawa’s small, even ordinary, but significant gestures kept happening, Iwaizumi came close to understanding what his four-year-self had felt: the weight of Oikawa’s love.
Sometimes, when old enough, a part of Iwaizumi couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be crushed under such a powerful weight.
~
If Oikawa hadn’t been familiar with his anxiety attacks, he would have believed the lump forming in his throat was actually there. That knowledge, however, didn’t stop his chest from becoming tight, and it became harder to breathe…
To the fidgeting with the pinkie, joined the ring finger, though Oikawa wasn’t aware of it.
~
It was nearly the end of their second year at Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High when rumours of Oikawa and Iwaizumi being appointed the team’s captain and vice-captain the upcoming year spread. There were still a few months left till the official announcement, but it was only matter of time. The news caused Oikawa and Iwaizumi to gain more popularity along with a certain level of exposure, which only grew when third year came and they officially became Kitagawa Daiichi’s Volleyball Club captain and vice-captain.
When the rumours started, Oikawa had been pleased with the attention they got; Iwaizumi had been indifferent about it. But Iwaizumi had witnessed how aware of said attention his friend was; it hadn’t taken much time for Iwaizumi to understand that Oikawa didn’t really care about popularity as such, but the use of it.
And wanted or not, popularity meant that teammates, school peers, into volleyball or simply into Oikawa, started to demand things from him: a smile for an unrequited love confession gift, a picture, a blessing for an unrequested girls’ fan club. Sometimes, it would be an apologetic, entirely dishonest, curl of lips for stirring jealousy. Or putting up with nonsense because trying to talk logic to bullies was way too exhausting.
But then… there was always Iwaizumi.
…
In the early days of their last year at Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High, recently appointed Captain Oikawa and Vice-captain Iwaizumi were going to early morning practice when they crossed paths with members of the soccer club. The loud voices from the other boys made it impossible for them to not to hear.
“If only Oikawa’s fangirls knew they don’t actually stand a chance with him.”
“I know! Why charm them if he’s not going to fuck them, that gay ass.”
At the cruel voices, Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi’s wrist, predicting his friend’s action and trying to prevent Iwaizumi from going after them. But Iwaizumi jerked himself free; he was strong now.
Iwaizumi managed to punch one of them square in the face before the other two caught him and punched him back. Oikawa endured the same fate when he put himself in the middle trying to stop the fight.
Not sure who had stopped the fight or how they got there, both Oikawa and Iwaizumi ended up in the infirmary, where a gentle nurse tended to their mild injuries. After being cleaned up, their class counsellor came in and spoke to each of them in private while the other waited, sitting at the exam table.
When Iwaizumi came out of the private room, Oikawa noticed the dried tracks of tears on his friend’s cheeks. Oikawa didn’t say anything; instead he looked down to his hands and the bruises already forming; at least he had managed to shield a few punches from the soccer team players.
The counsellor told Oikawa and Iwaizumi to wait for her in the infirmary until she and the nurse reported the situation to the principal. Iwaizumi hopped on the exam table next to Oikawa and remained just as quiet as his friend.
Iwaizumi didn’t know why he had reacted the way he did, only that he needed to step up for Oikawa. He didn’t know what to say either, only that he wanted to offer his friend comfort. “Oikawa?” his voice was hesitant, unlike his mind, firmly set on his goal: provide comfort. “It’s okay to like boys… to be g-gay. Saying it as an insult isn’t.”
Iwaizumi was surprised when Oikawa didn’t look up and instead kept his gaze down. That kind of lack of confidence didn’t suit him; Iwaizumi decided he didn’t like that sight at all. Not for the uncertainty, that was okay, one cannot be always confident, but it seemed as if Oikawa was ashamed.
Was there really something Oikawa couldn’t trust Iwaizumi with?
Iwaizumi wouldn’t get his answer until their last year at Seijoh. But in the meantime, Oikawa couldn’t meet Iwaizumi half way.
It was the first time in his whole life Oikawa was unsure of meeting Iwaizumi’s eyes, but the strain and little tremor he heard in Iwaizumi’s voice made him doubtful. From the corner of his eyes, Oikawa saw a tear fall into Iwaizumi’s clenched fist. Oikawa didn’t need to look up to know the dried tracks of tears were fresh again and that knowledge caused his heart to shrink a little in his chest.
‘Why are you crying, Iwa-chan?’ he had wanted to ask, but for the second time that day he was unsure; afraid of whatever answer he might get. Oikawa didn’t need Iwaizumi’s reassurance but was nonetheless grateful for his friend’s unwavering support. “I know,” he whispered.
Since he was able to remember, Oikawa had known it was perfectly okay to like boys. His own father being a psychologist, with a modern understanding of the discipline, had its perks. Oikawa had liked certain people, regardless of them being boys or girls. Not that there had been many, not that he was really interested.
Not when he had Iwaizumi by his side, but Oikawa didn’t say that out loud. Yes, Oikawa had wanted to know why his friend was crying, but Iwaizumi’s tears, for some inexplicable reason, stopped him from asking.
If he had dared to ask, Oikawa probably wouldn’t have learned much, not at that time, not from that Iwaizumi. But that Iwaizumi had cried: angry tears for the jerks that slandered Oikawa; overwhelmed tears for the feelings that he not only did not understand, but that he wasn’t even aware were there at all, bubbling below the surface.
Lucky for Iwaizumi, Oikawa would one day provide the answers.
…
Though it started during the end of their second year, it was really through their last at Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High that Oikawa polished and mastered his social skills and his personality into a charming, easy one. As if that was his way to deal with the overwhelming, yet sometimes useful, attention.
Iwaizumi realised that there were times when, even if Oikawa was flashing his signature grin and irradiating his never ending, obnoxious, carefree attitude, it wasn’t honest. The gleam of Oikawa’s dreamy brown eyes was slowly fading out, the arrival of Kageyama Tobio to the team speeding up the blackout.
But while Oikawa kept perfecting the public-Oikawa-persona, Iwaizumi in turn learned to read the small rifts, relieved to notice true traces of Oikawa were still there, underneath the armour. Iwaizumi was grateful that Oikawa seemed to lower the barriers down when it was just them. But even then, and more after the incident with the soccer club members, Iwaizumi noticed a certain resistance and detachment persisted.
Of course, it would take Iwaizumi a couple of years to put a name to Oikawa’s attitude.
Oikawa? Oikawa knew he was in love with his best friend, had been for several years now.
~
Oikawa’s grasp on his pinkie and ring finger became stronger, but he didn’t feel the numbness spreading over his hands. Instead, he subjected his middle finger to the same fate as the others.
~
In the early days of Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s last year at Aoba Johsai High School, Iwaizumi presented himself at Oikawa’s house, unannounced. A true anomaly since it was usually Oikawa who showed up unexpected. So when his father called out with a loud voice that Hajime-kun was going upstairs, Oikawa knew something must’ve happened.
Oikawa’s suspicions were confirmed when he reached for his phone and there weren’t any unread texts. He glanced his friend’s way as Iwaizumi opened the door and walked in, deciding against the usual teasing greeting.
It was one of those times, Oikawa thought, so his attention went back to the book he had been reading for a literature assignment that was overdue.
Silently, Iwaizumi closed the bedroom’s door and laid flat on his back on the futon next to Oikawa, who was lying on his stomach, feet kicked up above him and clicking together every now and then, his head propped up on one hand, while the other flipped the pages of the book.
“Iwa-chan~” Oikawa said in his usual chirpy tone, not taking his eyes away from the book, when the silence stretched a little too long. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
Iwaizumi grunted –it was his usual way of reluctantly agreeing when Oikawa was right about something he shouldn’t be– and moved closer to his friend. Oikawa’s hand found its way to Iwaizumi’s hair and combed through it, while he resumed his reading. Not Iwaizumi-like at all, Iwaizumi closed his eyes with a deep sigh and hummed, content with the soothing feeling.
Both treasured the moment in different ways: Iwaizumi appreciated, like a rare gift, the silence that Oikawa chose to preserve; Oikawa was grateful Iwaizumi allowed the intimate, comforting gesture.
For a while they heard only the soft sound of the rain coming from outside.
“I know you know Sofia dumped me.” Iwaizumi’s eyes filled with unshed tears, threatening to fall.
Oikawa slowly closed the book, gazing down at him; Iwaizumi’s arm was bent over his face, covering his eyes.
“She says I like volleyball and you better than her. Can you believe it?”
Oikawa hummed, the hand that had been gently touching Iwaizumi’s hair stopped its motion, joining the other over the book’s cover. He turned over on his back too, scooting down a bit to lay right next to Iwaizumi.
Sofia, Iwaizumi’s girlfriend for nearly the past three years, wasn’t the first person to joke about their relationship status; Mattsun and Makki made a habit of teasing them. Except Sofia didn’t seem to be joking.
“The first one is true. You definitely like volleyball more than her.”
Iwaizumi gave a light kick to Oikawa’s legs.
“Ouch! What was that for? You know it’s true, Iwa-chan~.”
“Of course I fucking like volleyball ––how is that a bad thing?! I’ve been playing even before we started dating, so why complain now?”
Oikawa huffed, exasperated. Out of the two of them, Iwaizumi had always been the one to struggle when it came to romantic feelings. Or, as Oikawa would often put it: ‘You have the emotional range of a teaspoon, Iwa-chan~.’
The room fell silent again, except for Oikawa’s steady breathing, and the rain drops hitting louder against the windows, muffling Iwaizumi’s ragged breaths.
Oikawa moved one arm behind his head, looking up at the map of constellations that was his bedroom ceiling. In the vastness of that universe his feelings couldn’t suffocate him.
“She’s wrong about one thing though...” Oikawa took a deep breath before speaking again, his voice coming out strangely serious. “Iwa-chan liking me more than her isn’t true.” One of his hands moved to rest on his stomach, like a primitive reflex, to protect vital organs from a deathly blow. “Iwa-chan doesn’t like me, not in that way.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It took a moment for Oikawa’s words to sink in, and even still Iwaizumi didn’t completely understand what his friend had said. There was something hidden behind those words, behind Oikawa’s unexpected deathly-serious voice, behind the missing punch line and the absent banter. Maybe, Iwaizumi thought, if he looked closer at Oikawa he could read something beneath the surface.
Iwaizumi uncovered his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows to search his friend’s face for the hidden something, but came up empty handed. Oikawa refused to meet his eyes.
The vague feeling of unease Iwaizumi was experiencing felt too familiar, only he wasn’t a four-year-old and there were no tears this time. Still, there was that something, tottering, lurking, just on the edge of his awareness. How far did he have to go to push it over the edge, to unleash it?
And without realising, he was directly pushing on that something when he replied to Oikawa, “I’m going to deny this if you ever bring it up –but of course I like you, dumbass! If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have put up with you all this time.”
“You’re missing the point!” Oikawa huffed, annoyed at Iwaizumi’s denseness. “Sofia thinks you like me in that way.”
Iwaizumi was disappointed when Oikawa didn’t tease him for the unusual acknowledgement of their friendship status and confused as to why Oikawa remained serious.
Getting impatient for not understanding whatever was going on that was so clear to his friend, Iwaizumi snapped at Oikawa, remembering the multiple times Oikawa had told him he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, “The fuck are you talking about, Oikawa? Stop messing around. Which way?”
“Romantically, Iwa-chan, as in boyfriends.” Knowing Iwaizumi’s denseness when it came to romantic relationships, Oikawa didn’t give Iwaizumi time to interrupt. “No, Iwa-chan, not boys that are friends. Boy and friend, the two words together, no space. Geez, you’re so slow sometimes, I’m not sure how you got yourself a girlfriend in the first place.”
A beat.
Iwaizumi sat up abruptly, legs still stretched out, trying to find Oikawa’s eyes, which remained glued to the galaxy-like ceiling.
“Why would I even do that?” Iwaizumi spat, almost defensive. “You’re my best friend!” He didn’t miss the breathy chuckle that escaped Oikawa’s lips, indicating Iwaizumi was missing something obvious. “What?”
These were the times where Oikawa’s assessment of Iwaizumi’s range of emotions –the romantic ones– turned out to be one hundred percent accurate.
‘Why would I even do that?’ the blockheaded Iwaizumi asked. As if one could consciously control one’s feelings; as if Oikawa had been given an option when out of the blue his heart decided to beat faster when he saw Iwaizumi. If Oikawa were to imitate Iwaizumi, he would have already slapped his friend’s denseness away.
Oikawa took a deep, steady breath before answering, leaving no room for misunderstandings or doubts that time, “Of course I am your best friend, Iwa-chan! But I also happen to like you in a romantic way.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Didn’t you learn anything from our X-Files marathon?”
“What?”
“‘It seems to me that the best relationships –the ones that last– are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship.’” Quoting agent Scully’s words, Oikawa seemed too mature for his age, Iwaizumi thought. “‘You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.’”
Oikawa paused and Iwaizumi eyed him: his friend’s eyes remained focused on the dim shimmering galaxy above their heads. Iwaizumi discovered it was yearning that glistened in Oikawa’s eyes and something inside him hurt when the tiniest of sad smiles tugged at his friend slips before he spoke, “Although I would remove the word just; it makes friendship unimportant. And a friend can be the only person you can ever imagine yourself with. Don’t you think, Iwa-chan?”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Silence stretched for another beat. Iwaizumi was sure he couldn’t answer Oikawa even if he was given all his life to answer. He had never wanted to hear Oikawa’s stupid teasing and cocky, clever and infuriating replies so much as in that moment.
“Oh,” was the only thing Iwaizumi came up with, unable to bear the silence any longer. That sad small smile tugged again at Oikawa’s lips and again something within him ached.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Iwaizumi lay back on the floor again with one arm bent over his eyes, taking his initial position. It was pointless to try to muffle his whimpers. In the darkness Iwaizumi pictured Oikawa’s resemblance of a smile of seconds ago and, without looking, driven by pure instinct, took Oikawa’s hand with his free one.
“I don’t want that stuff to ruin our friendship, Tooru.” The lump in Iwaizumi’s throat caused his voice to come out uncharacteristically small, fragile.
‘Tooru. That stuff.’
Oikawa would have laughed at his friend’s poor choice of words, if his chest hadn’t hurt the way it did. It was Iwa-chan, after all, so could Oikawa really say he was surprised by Iwaizumi’s level of elaboration? What did come as a surprise though, was that he realised he pitied Sofia; Iwa-chan really was the thickest man on earth.
“It won’t, Iwa-chan.” It wasn’t a lie, not even a wish. Oikawa knew they both were going to be okay. “I just– it felt like the right moment to tell you.”
“It’s alright.” Iwaizumi gently squeezed their entwined hands. “Always taking the spotlight, Assikawa.”
Oikawa chuckled. “You told me you were dating Sofia when Haruki broke up with me, remember?”
“I guess we do have shitty timing. I was expecting you’d say Sofia left me because I sulk all the time and I’m ugly... and she probably realised she liked you instead of me.”
“Rude, Iwa-chan, just rude! You just got your heart broken, how can you think I, your best friend, would be so petty?!”
Both of them laughed at their own bad attempt to lighten up the situation. It wasn’t as awkward as one might think it would it be, but it wasn’t comfortable either. The laughter died soon, and silence claimed the room again; this time the sound of the rain hitting against the window didn’t manage to muffle Oikawa’s or Iwaizumi’s raggedy breathing and sniffling.
The warmth in their still joined hands encouraged the tears and reassured them that everything would be okay.
...
Things didn’t change after their talk. It was business as usual, except for the books on platonic/romantic relationships and sexuality that Oikawa silently put in Iwaizumi’s backpack from time to time.
Iwaizumi didn’t comment on it and read every single one of them. Sometimes he asked Oikawa about things he didn’t quite understand; Iwaizumi appreciated Oikawa’s gesture and patience. It was Oikawa’s way of allowing him to understand. It also felt like renewing the commitment between them to not let ‘that stuff’ ruin their friendship.
And it didn’t. Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s friendship kept growing strong, solid roots.
They didn’t bring up the conversation up again.
~
Seijoh’s loss to Karasuno –his loss– was added to the mental list Oikawa was unwittingly making: the missing index finger, the fourth time Iwaizumi had cried.
Oikawa cursed his anxiety that prevented him from going back to Iwaizumi, making sure he knew he still had his full confidence and support, trying to make things better for him. The love Oikawa felt for Iwaizumi hadn’t changed, with its physical urge to fix any problem Iwaizumi faced; it didn’t disappear from one moment to another, or in the year after that talk up to this very moment.
Oikawa was certain the feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon. He was in love with his friend and knowing Iwaizumi didn’t want anything from him –except friendship– had sometimes become asphyxiating. It had become even worse when he started to suspect Iwaizumi might be in love with him, too –and still wanted only friendship.
Oikawa had excruciating arguments with himself over whether Iwaizumi simply hadn’t realised yet, if he should point it out, or if that would violate their promise to keep out ‘that stuff.’
Why am I thinking this now? Oikawa thought, taking another laboured breath. His lungs burned and at some point his left hand had started to send a throbbing pulse up his arm.
Another attempt at a deep breath and slowing the rhythm of his breathing and instead of calming down, he became even more frantic, breaths shallow each time. The spot Oikawa had ended up at, sitting on a bench beside a broken vending machine, had seemed too open when he’d sat down, but now it felt like it was closing on him like fucking Dateko’s Iron Wall.
Oikawa didn’t have Iwaizumi’s strength to break through it for air. He would die asphyxiated by walls of his own making.
His chest was closing in––
“I think this might help a little bit, Oikawa-san.”
The kind voice, along with a cold sensation against his right knee, snapped Oikawa back to the present, pulling him out from the deafening, choking blackness that threatened to eat him whole. Breathing wasn’t a difficult task anymore and he gasped for the oxygen he’d been deprived of; Oikawa blinked, trying to regain his focus.
Someone cleared their throat, and Oikawa looked up, remembering he had been spoken to; hopefully that person was unaware of the turmoil swirling inside. The kindness in the eyes of the stranger, however, told Oikawa the young man knew he had just thrown Oikawa a lifeline.
Mr. Refreshing.
The way the boy was looking at him, trying to assess, taking in his appearance, reminded Oikawa of Iwaizumi –just the colour of his eyes was the wrong shade. Mr. Refreshing was the type of person who just knew, so he didn’t even bother trying to put up a brave facade. Oikawa hated it, the way that ability let his vulnerability be exposed, even in times he didn’t want it to be.
“You should rely on your team outside the court, too. Like they rely on you.”
Sugawara. That was Mr. Refreshing’s name, Oikawa recalled. A spiteful part of him wanted to snap at Sugawara and demand to be left alone –he was one of the last people Oikawa wanted to see him in this state.
Instead, Oikawa looked down to the ice pack being gently pressed against his knee; he noticed his hands on his lap then, the right one making the left a tight knot of long, delicate fingers –not all, the thumb had been left out. That was the reason for the pulsing throb; still, he couldn’t let go.
Sugawara’s hand patted the ice pack and then moved to grab Oikawa’s in both of his, helping him to disentangle the stranglehold. Oikawa let him, while he focused on Sugawara’s gentle hands –setters’ hands, not the same as his, yet still the same, he thought.
“You’re shaking,” Sugawara said and sat beside him once Oikawa released the grip on his hand; a prickly burning sensation spread through his arm as blood started to flow normally again.
“What do you gain from this?” Oikawa tried to sound annoyed at Sugawara’s honest persistence but his voice betrayed him, coming out flat and too small.
A cramped, sad smile curled Sugawara’s lips and it made think Oikawa that was how his smile must’ve looked when he confessed to Iwaizumi. He had pitied himself then, which meant Sugawara pitied Oikawa’s cautious reaction now.
“Nothing, really.” Before getting up and standing in front of Oikawa, Sugawara playfully patted the ice pack again, and when he spoke, his voice was laced with mischief, “Don’t keep your ace waiting, Oikawa-san, he must be worried.”
Before taking a step back, Sugawara extended a paper with his number on it and Oikawa hesitantly took it, but the fellow setter didn’t let go of it and said, “You never know when you might need a friend.”
“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi’s sharp voice came from somewhere around the corner, startling them a little. Sugawara smiled again, brighter that time, as if his point had been proven. Iwaizumi continued, irritation tingeing his voice, “If there’s a girl near you, I swear to whatever alien god you believe in, I’m going to kick your non-existent ass–”
Iwaizumi appeared at the end of the hall, walking casually to them, the usual frown disappearing and eyebrows going up in surprise at the sight of Sugawara, but the frown returned when his eyes landed on the paper being held by the two setters. Karasuno’s let it go.
“Mr. Refre––” Iwaizumi started with their nickname for Sugawara, but caught himself as he reached them. “Suga–”
“Sorry for keeping him,” Sugawara cut Iwaizumi off and made a small bow to Iwaizumi before continuing with a sweet, apologetic voice, “I was just asking for a few tips!”
Asking for tips after Karasuno just crushed Seijoh’s dream of going to nationals? Oikawa thought Sugawara was an awful liar; but bowing to hide his incriminating face had been clever enough, Oikawa recognised. Sugawara then bowed to Oikawa and left.
Iwaizumi had been slightly alarmed when he rounded the corner and saw Oikawa talking to Mr. Refreshing, but the exchange had seemed civil. Once they were alone, Iwaizumi took his time to scan Oikawa, searching for the flaw that needed to be fixed but he couldn’t find it.
The ice pack pressed against Oikawa’s knee was evidence enough of the physical damage, but Iwaizumi knew that that wasn’t the issue. It had been a few years since Oikawa had kept him on his toes; not being able to read him unsettled Iwaizumi. Instead of trying to figure Oikawa out, Iwaizumi surrendered and gave Oikawa a half-tired smile.
“Hey, we were waiting for you. Coach is treating us to dinner.”
“Lovely, Iwa-chan~.” Oikawa’s was missing its honest, sweetly joyful tone. “Coach Irihata does have a kind soul in the end, doesn’t he?” It was the voice Oikawa used for his fans, which often annoyed Iwaizumi. It wasn’t for his teammates, and never for Iwaizumi. It could only mean that Oikawa didn’t care about the coach’s invitation, finding it condescending.
Could he blame Oikawa for his attitude when Iwaizumi was feeling the same? Even Coach Irihata had said so: it didn’t matter what anyone might have said, it didn’t change the result of the game. And a stupid dinner wouldn’t lessen their pain.
Oikawa stood up, brushing up against Iwaizumi’s side and easily locking his arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Damn those five centimetres! Iwaizumi thought, but didn’t complain about the gesture, his own arm finding its way around Oikawa’s waist, supporting him.
“Lead the way, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said, a little shaky; he had expected Iwaizumi to snap out at his clinginess and disentangle from the grasp.
“You okay, Trashykawa?” Iwaizumi didn’t need to look sideways to know his friend was shaking his head; Oikawa suddenly letting him take more of his weight, truly leaning on him, was enough answer.
“You?” Oikawa spoke, at that time, with his honest voice. It was a start.
“It’ll pass,” Iwaizumi replied honestly and guided them silently to Seijoh’s bus, only letting go when they had to line up to get up the bus steps, into the narrow aisle. Oikawa went up first; Iwaizumi’s warm hand was pressed to his back while taking the steps to their seats.
The bus was quiet, everyone pretending to be asleep or with their headphones on. Only Yahaba and Kunimi shot a worried look at Oikawa, because they knew –Oikawa had trusted Yahaba with his feelings for Iwaizumi, and Kunimi was way too clever and observant for his own good, figuring it out on his own, though Oikawa still trusted him not to tell.
Iwaizumi tapped Oikawa’s shoulder when they reached their seats, signalling for Oikawa to let him go first, taking the window seat. Oikawa waited, slightly dazed, while Iwaizumi settled his training gear and then raised the armrest, patting the free seat left.
Oikawa took the silent invitation and sat beside Iwaizumi, scooting down a little so he could snuggle into Iwaizumi’s side, partially resting on his friend’s chest, Iwaizumi’s shoulder the perfect pillow. Iwaizumi’s strong arm came to rest over Oikawa’s chest. When the bus parted, Iwaizumi took his phone from his jacket’s pocket with his free hand and started texting.
Oikawa grunted at the movement, opening his eyes to complain, but the words died on his lips when he saw the contact number Iwaizumi was writing to. But Oikawa didn’t mind, not really. Not now, when he was the one in Iwaizumi’s arms.
…
Oikawa had smiled and comforted their team at dinner and afterwards; despite all agreeing they should head home, the third years had found themselves at Seijoh’s gymnasium. His teammates had made it easier in an inexplicable way –the relief of not needing to pretend perhaps. A sudden urge to acknowledge that had invaded Oikawa; there weren’t many teams like Seijoh, there weren’t many people that mean that much to Oikawa.
‘Thank you for the last three years!!’
The words had forced them all to remember why they’d been there: they’d been defeated during their last tournament together. They’d cried but they weren’t all sad tears.
Before parting ways, Oikawa had believed –wanted to believe– Iwaizumi’s words.
‘I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner, and you’re the absolute best setter! Even if we end up in different teams, those facts will never change.’
Now, alone in his house, his resolve cracked and Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder if that was really it. Oikawa had told Ushijima nothing was over yet, not his volleyball career, or his worthless pride. But maybe, after all, that had been all he had to give. Could he really keep going without second thoughts, like Iwaizumi had told him?
Without his friends’ distraction –without their help– Oikawa could no longer ignore the painful throbbing sensation spreading up and down his body because of the bruises on his back and his knee. The painkillers he’d been prescribed had also worn off.
Exhausted, Oikawa leaned heavily against his bedroom door, training gear falling off his shoulder. He didn’t remember what happened after saying goodbye to Iwaizumi, but he’d somehow managed to make it home and up the stairs without noticing the pain.
Oikawa bent forward, right hand clenched into a firm fist, and hit his right knee over the brace repeatedly.
At that moment, there was no one to pull him out of the darkness. Dateko’s Iron Wall was perfectly rebuilt around him.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
His vision was blurry from the tears and again breathing became a struggle, his lungs burning and his throat hurting. Oikawa heard someone’s screams. After a few moments, he realised his throat was sore and aching because he was the one screaming.
Bitterly, his favourite motto came to his mind.
How did it go? Ah, right... If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.
There ought to be more to it, right? What happens after one breaks it –after someone breaks? How does one put the pieces back together?
Alone in his bedroom, Oikawa broke.
He was hurting, though Oikawa wasn’t sure where exactly, or if it actually hurt everywhere. At some point, he slid down the door and curled in on himself, knees protesting being pressed to his chest, pounding forehead throbbing over his aching knees. His back resented the position too, bruises and tension aching.
But could one feel pain if one couldn’t breathe?
Dateko’s Iron Wall finally crushed him, and it was Ushijima and Kageyama’s images that Oikawa saw before darkness swallowed him whole.
***