Chapter Text
The curtain was slightly drawn open, dark gray clouds painted the sky in a color similar to that of the rug on Iwaizumi’s floor. The soft pitter patter noise of rain on the tin roof filled his small bedroom, further urging him to stay in bed for just a little longer than normal. The darkened sky made it so easy for him to take a deeper breath than normal, like he finally had found a dark hiding spot to catch a break. Iwaizumi must’ve left his window open slightly, he smelt the fresh scent of rain over Sendai and a gentle breeze whispering to him to pull the covers up further and dive into them. He couldn’t help but feel like a certain presence was missing from his bed in the morning. An unusual coldness swept up around his body and chilled him right to his bones. He was used to waking up to an empty bed, an empty home for a while now; why was he now letting a sinking feeling of misery crawl up his spine? Usually Iwaizumi wasn’t one to spend his mornings laying around in bed. He had a routine he enjoyed sticking too, it made his days feel just a bit more bearable. Iwaizumi had surprised himself when he realized he stayed in bed until 2 pm.
Finally dragging himself out of bed, Iwaizumi finally realized why he had stayed in bed for more than just a few minutes. Shattered glass laid skewed out across the hardwood floor, along with a dismembered picture frame with a piece of cardstock flipped over. An immeasurable guilt flooded his body. Nothing could’ve really pissed him off enough to do that. Not enough to destroy the one thing he had left. Nothing would do that except the person in the picture himself, Oikawa. Iwaizumi found himself picking up the once pristine piece of cardstock and flipping it over gingerly in his hands. Looking back at him was the stupid picture of Iwaizumi and Oikawa that he had kept forever. It was a simple picture, one from their middle school graduation. It was sweet, innocent, and everything Iwaizumi liked to remember about Oikawa.
A deep hole had been left in Iwaizumi once Oikawa had finally renounced his citizenship to Japan., like something of his very soul had been stripped away. Oikawa had molded Iwaizumi to be the person he was now. The career he picked was because of Oikawa, his hobbies were still those of what he did with Oikawa. Iwaizumi hated that he couldn’t give up even the little things. He used anything he could to cling onto just the idea of Oikawa, even if he tried to convince himself that he harbored some kind of hate for him. Oikawa lingered in every single part of him, his earliest memories were with Oikawa. Their first days of school together and every single one after that., the countless volleyball matches and practices they had together, the unspoken looks of understanding they always shared, even the meals and drinks they shared together. It filled Iwaizumi with a burning jealousy for Oikawa. How could he move on and not let anything affect him? How could he just leave Iwaizumi like that? Did Oikawa never think of the rift this would put between the two of them? Why would he have though? It was always Iwaizumi and Oikawa, never apart, always one. They would always work things out just like they always had, right?
Iwaizumi’s fingers tightened around the small picture in his hands. He felt a white-hot searing pain seep through his whole body, causing him to swallow the vomit that threatened to escape from his mouth. Trying to suck in as much air as he could with a deep breath (that was really nothing more than a failed attempt at a shallow one), he set the picture down onto his desk. Stepping over the glass shards and out of his room to get a broom, a deep silence fell over the whole apartment. Iwaizumi walked slowly through his one-bedroom apartment in the city he grew up in. As he took a glance across the walls of the unusually dark hallway, he never realized how empty the walls were, or how empty the whole apartment was generally. Iwaizumi was a simple man who had minimalist furniture and simple decorations. A couch, a few books here and there, maybe one window plant that was probably crying out for water. Simple black towels in the bathroom, a single toothbrush with a single tube of toothpaste. It was far too boring for Iwaizumi even though he had decorated the apartment himself. He missed the soft colors of his mother’s couch at home, the scent of home cooked meals when he walked through the door. The familiar cologne smell that lingered in his room, the soft warm lights that poured into the hallway from his sister’s room. Iwaizumi missed the feeling of home . Sure he had keys to an apartment that he slept and lived in and had called it home, but he knew there was something missing. Iwaizumi wasn’t dumb to figure out what he was missing too, he would never say it to his face though.
Finally cleaning up the broken glass after a much too long trip to get the broom, Iwaizumi disposed of the pieces and the tattered frame, opting to buy a new one later. He decided he felt gross and desperately needed a shower when he heard a ping noise from his phone on the bedside table.
Iwaizumi’s face turned into a scowl when he saw the text.
Shittykawa
hey, u make it home okay? : 11:34pm
iwa-chan? : 12:01am
Not one, but two missed texts from Oikawa last night. Iwaizumi mentally cursed himself for being ignorant.
Shittykawa
2:16pm: Yeah I did, sorry I forgot to respond
2:17pm: Fell asleep pretty fast last night.
oh! :2:18pm
well glad to know you’re okay :2:18pm
can’t wait for dinner tonight!! :2:19pm
Iwaizumi mentally cursed himself once more. Did he really have to see Oikawa two nights in a row (as if he didn’t want to)?
Shittykawa
2:20pm: Yeah, see you tonight.
Iwaizumi promptly ended the conversation there before he could begin to spill his guts to Oikawa.
Oikawa smiled softly at the text from Iwaizumi.
His heart filled with a warmth that he couldn’t just dismiss. Seeing Iwaizumi last night awoke everything Oikawa had seemingly forgotten about him. He didn’t miss the opportunity to soak in every little thing about Iwaizumi during their time together. Everything was enhanced in Oikawa’s memory; he caught the little glances, the way Iwaizumi looked him up and down and scanned his face, his body language throughout their drinking, the blending of words and sentences. But, Oikawa had also seen how different Iwaizumi was now.
Although it hadn’t been objectively that long since they had spoken, so much seemed different about Iwaizumi. He was more guarded than ever, which Oikawa couldn’t blame him for. He had never been this hard to read for Oikawa and he couldn’t tell if Iwaizumi was doing it on purpose or if he had actually changed. His hair had been longer than it ever was, he was more muscular, he seemed stressed or maybe busy was the more correct term, his voice was softer, generally, he seemed less prickly. The unresolved tension that hung between them the entire night left a lingering sour taste in Oikawa’s mouth even the next day. He wanted nothing more than to apologize and take everything back if it meant he and Iwaizumi could go back to normal. Oikawa would do anything for Iwaizumi, no matter the consequences. All he ever wanted in life was to see Iwaizumi happy, his smiles last night seemed like a good filler for the moment but the more Oikawa thought about it, the more he knew they weren’t real.
Oikawa had seen a glimpse into his past life with Iwaizumi last night. It was bittersweet to be with the first person he had ever truly trusted and loved. It didn’t seem like he deserved it though when he remembered the look Iwaizumi gave him on their last night together.
“You’re really leaving?” Iwaizumi blurted.
Oikawa sighed to himself and glanced out the large floor to ceiling windows of the airport into the night skyline of Tokyo. How could he bring himself to admit this to Iwaizumi? Of course he was leaving. There was a whole other life waiting for him in Argentina, where he could play at the national level for his newfound home. How could Oikawa pass this up?
That look.
That’s how Oikawa could pass this up. He could leave everything he had built in Argentina behind because of the dumb look on Iwaizumi’s face. Oikawa never actually found the glance dumb though. It broke his heart to see it, and it broke his heart to know he was willingly doing this to Iwaizumi. His Iwaizumi, his best friend, his ace, his partner in crime, his drinking buddy, his everything, his Iwa-chan. How could Oikawa ever do something like this to him? The only person who had shown Oikawa the kindness of the world, the only person who could make him see things through, the only person to love him unconditionally, the only person to trust him. And once again, Iwaizmui was Oikawa’s second choice, like always, even when Iwaizumi had always, always put Oikawa first before anything. It felt like a truck hit Oikawa with the sudden realization. But now, it was too late. Now, Oikawa had already renounced his citizenship to the country that would hold the people most important to him. He had already made the decision before even thinking about it.
“Of course I am Iwa-chan.”
Oikawa hadn’t meant to sound so blunt but the damage had already been done when he let his thoughts slip from his mind to his mouth. The words contorted Iwaizumis face into a scowl, one that wasn’t comforting to Oikawa anymore. He cursed himself for letting himself fall into old habits, telling Iwaizumi the truth had become too easy.
Volleyball was Oikawa’s everything, and it took losing Iwaizumi to realize that there was more to life than chasing his dreams. It took him a painfully long time to realize that there was more to his meaning than playing volleyball. Oikawa was capable of loving people, of taking care of them and talking to them. He was capable of anger, sadness, happiness, loss, and he was more than capable of living. The familiar calluses on Oikawa’s hands from a lifetime of volleyball suddenly seemed poisonous. He wanted to rip them off and scrub his hands clean from the actions he had truly committed.
“Stay.”
Oikawa wanted with his whole being to stay, wanted to stay and apologize, stay here in Japan with Iwaizumi and play clubs, to stay and possibly get the chance to play in the Olympics for the country that nurtured his passion and the people around him, to stay and visit his sister and see his nephew, to call him mom and stay with her for a few days, to stay and make a life with Iwaizumi, call his house a home and bring new life to it, to stay and reconnect with the people of his past, watch them make a name for themselves and be there for them. Oikawa knew that if he stayed, he would regret it for the rest of his life but he knew that he would also regret leaving. And Oikawa knew in his heart that he didn’t want to stay, he wanted a chance to make something of himself, no matter if he knew that he could do the same without leaving.
“Stay and we can make this work. You can still play volleyball, you know the national team would love to have you. We can live together, I’ll cook you anything you want, sleep with you every night, watch every shitty drama you want. Stay Oikawa, don’t leave me.”
Now that was something Oikawa would’ve never expected Iwaizumi to say. Iwaizumi was never one to show his true feelings in words, especially not to Oikawa directly. Oikawa’s heart shattered at Iwaizumi’s begging. It was something unexpected and the tears welling in his eyes broke his heart just a little more than before. Oikawa felt tears of his own beginning to form in his eyes along with a large lump in his throat that made it difficult to speak.
“You know I can’t, Hajime.”
Iwaizumi looked down, Oikawa swore he saw a tear drip down from his face to the cold floor.
“I know you can’t… I just… wish you would.”
The cracking sound of thunder scared Oikawa from his reflection. He didn’t want to remember that anyways, it was far too painful. The rain that covered Sendai left Oikawa in a puddle much like the ones forming on the streets. His second cup of coffee with far too much sugar had turned cold a long time ago and the blanket around his shoulders offered no warmth. The sound of a TV was filling the empty living room but Oikawa still sat in a crushing silence. He closed his eyes for a break from the reality of the real world to only be met with an image of olive green eyes pouring into his soul, ones he saw too much of himself in.