Work Text:
Iwaizumi Hajime did not need anyone to tell him he was an asshole. He already knew.
Sitting back in his chair after a long day of shooting, he contemplated his existence. It was a low point in the day for him, though he’d had good shoots all afternoon - a few models, a teen idol group that had been really sweet and asked him for makeup tips while they chatted with him about their lives. The girls tended to feel comfortable with him. He was safe, after all. They thought he was cute but knew he was gay, so it was the best of both worlds. It had all been going fine until two of the girls started comparing notes about their boyfriends - the Miya brothers, both members of Japan’s national volleyball team.
He’d smiled and nodded like usual, reminded them they were gorgeous, and let them go on their way while he sat back to ruminate about all the reasons he didn’t want to have to think about that team.
Well, not the whole team, just one player in particular; the player that reminded him once again that he was an asshole.
As if he would ever forget it.
Oikawa Tooru had been his best friend for years. Oh hell, if he was being honest, Oikawa Tooru had also been his first love - love at first sight, the kind where you remembered meeting them and exactly how hot your cheeks had gotten when you heard them laugh for the first time. Of course, Oikawa Tooru was also an idiot. He was his idiot, though, and for years Iwaizumi was just fine with that.
It wasn’t like he could actually ask for anything more.
He was, after all, the epitome of what it meant to be a man - at least according to all of his classmates. The boys on his volleyball team all looked to him to set an example, that was obvious. His younger brothers too. His family had expectations of him, and none of those expectations included him being in love with his best friend. His very male best friend.
None of those expectations included him liking makeup either, or wanting to fix people’s hair. His own hair didn’t require anything other than a bit of brushing and maybe some gel. Oikawa, though - Oikawa had great hair, hair Iwaizumi would have loved to run his fingers through and either fix or mess up depending on the moment - but he couldn’t. It was, well, frustrating.
Doubly frustrating because he didn’t have anyone to talk to about any of it. It was just one of those things he kept locked away in the back of his mind, putting on an act so that no one would guess about his deep dark secret, especially his friends. Especially his best friend.
It got to be so overwhelming that he made sure to go to a different university than Oikawa, even though they’d been together forever and his other best friends were joining Oikawa at his university. Instead, Iwaizumi picked another school, one that didn’t conform to his parent’s expectations of him and didn’t have a top-rated volleyball team but that would let him start over, maybe be himself, maybe breathe.
That was how he’d found himself roommates with one Mr. Refreshing-kun, Sugawara Koushi.
Suga had changed everything.
Thinking about him made Iwaizumi smile because Sugawara was the one who’d finally convinced him to really be himself. Sugawara was unabashedly gay and out, with a hot boyfriend to boot.
When Iwaizumi was moving into their dorm room he’d accidentally dropped the box that held his makeup out on the floor. He’d been terrified, but Suga had just taken a look and bent down to help him pick things up, commenting on different brands as they set everything to right. That conversation was the key to unlocking the floodgates inside Iwaizumi’s heart. Suga always listened, never judged, always supported. Daichi became a good friend too, and both of them helped to rewrite Iwaizumi’s understanding of what it meant to be a man. Who he could be without every feeling like he was anything less than a man.
It gave him the courage to actually think about opening up to Oikawa himself.
Then a few months into their university year, it seemed like the stars had aligned. Mattsun and Makki invited him to a Halloween party at their university. At first, Iwaizumi didn’t think he could go; a couple of Sugawara and Daichi’s old teammates, Kenma and Ennoshita, were coming up to visit over the holiday. Then Kenma got sick so the trip was canceled, leaving Iwaizumi free to follow his dream.
Or well, his nightmare.
He’d gone to the party without telling anyone, planning to surprise Oikawa and the others. No one questioned him, though they did laugh a little bit when he said he was wanting to see Oikawa. Iwaizumi just assumed that Oikawa was popular and they were drunk. He still remembered how he’d felt, climbing the stairs toward the room where they said they’d seen Oikawa. He’d been excited, heart thumping in his chest, still second-guessing the decision to come out and possibly confess. He still didn’t know if Oikawa was gay. He’d been talking to Oikawa on messenger through the months they’d been apart, of course, though it wasn’t the same as how things had been in high school when they spent most of every day together. But that was normal, they had both gotten busy with school. Still, Oikawa was Oikawa. His best friend. The guy he’d been in love with since they were kids.
Then he’d opened the door and found Oikawa straddling another man - another volleyball player, the captain from Nekoma with the crazy hair - making out like there was no tomorrow.
Needless to say, it was not what Iwaizumi had expected.
He’d made a noise, he thought - must’ve, somehow, because Oikawa turned and looked at him and they were both so shocked -
He’d run away, like the asshole he was, ignoring Oikawa calling his name. Ignoring the texts, the phone calls, the messages. Run away and huddled in a train station bathroom trying to figure out where his head was at, trying to let his brain get control of his heart because he had no right to be upset that Oikawa was making out with another man, he had no right to be heartbroken when he’d never confessed, he had no right -
But it didn’t matter because it hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt in his life. Hurt doubly so knowing it was all his fault.
He’d gone back to his own school that night, trying without success to convince himself that he should answer Oikawa’s texts or at least tell him he was alright.
After a couple days, though, the texts stopped coming.
Sugawara had been subtly disapproving of how he was handling things, but he never judged. Suga always let him do things at his own pace, even if sometimes that was two steps forward, three steps back.
Makki and Mattsun came over the next weekend, though, barging in while Suga was out with his boyfriend. Iwaizumi could still remember it - Makki coming in, yelling at him about being homophobic, about throwing Oikawa away because he was making out with another man. That had shocked Iwaizumi. Why would he care if Oikawa was gay? No, why would he have a problem with it if Oikawa was gay? He’d yelled as much, held back just before admitting that he was gay himself because it was still too new. Too raw.
Mattsun had known, though, had seen right through him.
Then again, Mattsun was always perceptive about things like that.
Thankfully Mattsun hadn’t outed him - he’d just pulled Makki back, said that this was something that Oikawa and Iwaizumi needed to figure out for themselves. Makki had relented, though he couldn’t resist a parting shot about how he “let Mattsun fuck him six ways till Sunday,” and how “Mattsun likes to wear high heels,” like he was expecting Iwaizumi to reject them as friends too.
He didn’t, though things between him and Makki were strained after that for several years (he and Mattsun, on the other hand, started exchanging makeup tips).
But the thing was, he and Oikawa didn’t work it out.
It was easier that way, Iwaizumi had rationalized. Just make a clean break of it. He had new friends, Sugawara and Daichi, Kenma and Akaashi when they came to University the next year, Hinata and Lev after that, and others. He threw himself into his studies, did some makeup vlogging, joined Suga and Kenma’s agency as a photographer after they graduated from University.
They’d built a good life for themselves, but Iwaizumi had never gotten over Oikawa.
That meant he didn’t even really try to date, even though his friends sometimes tried to fix him up. He’d messed around once in a while, joined in the occasional threesome or gotten together with someone who knew the whole story. Never anyone who was looking for a relationship, though. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. Healthy or not, he was still hung up on his best friend and wasn’t ready to let anyone else break through that shell. But that was alright. He and Akaashi hung out in the stag corner while the others hit the clubs and danced the night away. Sometimes he and Kenma chilled on the rooftops at parties and let people assume they were together. It was easier that way.
Easier, of course, until Kenma had snagged the contract for the national volleyball team because one of their star players was an old friend. Now they were fair game for possible photo-shoots - for everyone else. Iwaizumi had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with those shoots. He had enough on his plate with the girls, and everyone respected that. Sugawara and Kenma especially, they knew the full extent of his history and they were the ones in charge of scheduling the shoots.
Iwaizumi could just sit in his corner studio, deal with the models, and never have to look even one of those volleyball players in the face. The closest he came was his models gossiping about which ones they were dating, which ones they had found hot. It was both a blessing and a curse that they rarely mentioned the one man Iwaizumi Hajime could never quite get off his mind.
Enough of this.
Sighing, he sat up and checked his schedule. Just one more shoot for the day and he’d be good to go home, grab some takeout, and watch youtube videos all night with the cats until Kenma came home and kicked him off the couch and back into his own room. Chuckling to himself he checked his mail, frowning when he saw an email that Kenma would be out of the office that afternoon. Huh. Another personal message said that he’d gone home sick with another headache. That was the third one this month. Iwaizumi would have to remember to bring him some applesauce, Kenma always liked applesauce when he was feeling crummy.
Then there was another message saying that his last shoot had been canceled, which didn’t come as much of a surprise because the girl was a bit of a flake. What did come as a surprise was a message from Lev saying that he’d slotted another shoot into the cancellation. Frowning, Iwaizumi opened the message to see who the model was.
Ice ran through his veins.
“Yoohoo, mister photographer man!”
Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped up to look at the man who’d just opened the door, and they both froze at the same time.
He didn’t want this.
He’d spent the past few years doing everything he could to avoid having this moment.
Fuck, but Oikawa Tooru was beautiful.
“You,” Oikawa said, emotions passing over his face before they were shut off behind a cool facade. If Iwaizumi hadn’t spent years learning how to read Oikawa, he might have never known that the mere sight of him was enough to cause Oikawa pain.
Looking down, Iwaizumi counted his breaths. He was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he had on-point eyeliner and foundation on today, and that he was wearing teal nail polish because he was still hung up about his high school colors. A part of him was transported back there, back to those days when he’d had to hide who he was, the days when he was nothing but a man’s man setting an example for everyone else.
No. He was exactly himself now, and he was still a man, and no one had a right to judge him for who he was. Even if that someone was Oikawa Tooru.
Even if Oikawa Tooru had every right to call him out for being an asshole because he was one.
“Hello, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, heart pounding in his ears as he studied the desk beneath his fingertips.
The door to the studio slammed shut.
For a moment Iwaizumi assumed Oikawa had just left him there, which would have been fair because heavens knew he deserved it. Then he heard the stomp of feet coming over to his desk. Looking up in alarm, Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa would hit him.
It looked like he wanted to.
Iwaizumi wouldn’t’ve stopped him.
“What the hell,” Oikawa hissed, “are you doing here.”
“I work here,” Iwaizumi said.
“You - you work as a photographer at this agency?”
“Yes,” Iwaizumi replied, curling his hands at his sides as he stared up at the glorious man above him.
“Really,” Oikawa hissed, looking at Iwaizumi like he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Iwaizumi had seen that look before. It was the look Oikawa had given opposing team members who had pissed him off, like Ushiwaka. The look he gave when he was mad enough not to hide it behind a fake smile like the one that was crossing his face now. “But Iwa-chan, hasn’t anyone told you? Gay people work here. In fact, I have it on good authority at least one of the guys who runs this agency is gay.”
Iwaizumi blinked, mentally scrambling as to how to respond to such an incongruous attack. Of course, he knew the guys running the agency were gay - why wouldn’t he -
“Oh, I see,” said Oikawa, fingers brushing over the proofs on the side of Iwaizumi’s desk. “You don’t care about that because you get to be surrounded by beautiful girls all day, is that it? Get your rocks off on all the cute little idols who fawn all over the photographer who makes them pretty?”
“Oikawa -” Iwaizumi said, trying to break in.
“Couldn’t get any girls to like you in high school, so you figured out another angle, huh? Do they have special photo shoots with you, huh?”
“Oi -”
“Is that how you can stand being around being all the disgusting, filthy -”
“Damnit, Shittykawa, will you shut the fuck up!” Iwaizumi yelled, standing and banging a hand on his desk.
He was angry. He was too angry. He wanted to - it took everything in him not to move, not to do anything but stare into that distilled rage in Oikawa’s eyes. He knew he was angry because of the bitterness of Oikawa’s words but he was also angry about things that were not Oikawa’s fault. The emotions all swirled together in his head to the point where he didn’t know what was a reasonable response to what Oikawa had just said and what would be him responding to the fact that he still had a broken heart that Oikawa knew nothing about.
He could see the rage crystallizing in Oikawa’s eyes, felt the vulnerability come back when he could read that Oikawa was actually seeing him, trying to sense his weaknesses. Oikawa had always been gifted at seeing people’s weaknesses.
“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa finally said, “why are you wearing eyeliner?”
“Because I like how it makes me look,” Iwaizumi said gruffly, trying to resist pulling his arms around himself for protection.
Oikawa frowned, looking around again at the entire studio, looking down at Iwaizumi’s nails. Iwaizumi forced himself to hold still. He wanted to hide. He wanted to run, just like he had at that party all those years ago. He didn’t want to have to face Oikawa -
Yet here he was, standing in front of him, still stupidly tall and stupidly beautiful and everything Iwaizumi had always wanted.
“You like how it makes you look?” Oikawa asked, more of a statement than a question, really. He looked lost, confused.
“Yes.”
“Nail polish too?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not too gay for you?” asked Oikawa, a strange tone in his voice. It was almost like Oikawa wanted to make it sound sarcastic and failed.
Iwaizumi sat back down, huffing a laugh. “Gender presentation is not the same as sexual preference,” he said, reciting a line he’d learned by heart from Suga. “Though that’s kinda beside the point. No, it’s not too gay for me.”
“But -” Oikawa said, dropping down into the chair by Iwaizumi’s desk, “but I thought -”
Iwaizumi knew what he’d thought. Oikawa had made assumptions - he’d seen them when he’d finally gone back to look at the text messages Oikawa had sent, after Makki and Mattsun had left and he was finally in a place where he thought he could deal with them.
Oikawa had made assumptions, but Iwaizumi had never corrected them.
“I thought that gay guys sickened you.”
Iwaizumi shook his head, looking to the side. “No.”
“But - but I thought - at the party -I thought you were disgusted with me,” Oikawa whispered. “Because I was making out with another man.”
Iwaizumi sucked in a breath, tried to find the words to answer him with. He’d been trying to find the words for years, tried to figure out how to navigate through all the shades of responsibility and blame. “I never said that,” he finally muttered, looking down at his hands because it was a cop out of an answer and he knew it.
He was an asshole. He’d let his best friend believe he hated him because inside he was just a petty child trying to deal with a broken heart.
“Well yeah, and Mattsun said he didn’t think you were like that, but I figured he was just making it up. The way you looked at me that night, and you didn’t answer me back, I just thought you were like the other guys.”
Other guys?
“You blocked my number,” Iwaizumi finally muttered, “and you changed your skype name.”
“Well not because of you - the skype, I mean, someone gave it out and I kept getting these contact requests you couldn’t believe.”
“What?”
“But the number - it had been two weeks. Two weeks, and you didn’t say a word to me. I just - I guess - after all that time -”
“What?” Iwaizumi asked, looking over at the man who had once been his best friend.
Oikawa shrugged, looking very small. “I was afraid of what you were going to say. I was dealing with so much bullshit from strangers after coming out that I just - I didn’t want to read the words that said you hated me too.”
Oh, fuck.
“I didn’t know,” Iwaizumi whispered, feeling like he wanted to crawl into the deepest hell, the one reserved for the worst human beings on the planet, the people who abandon their best friends during the worst moments of their lives.
“Maa maa,” Oikawa said, waving his hand. “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”
It was a lie though, and they both knew it. The truth was staring them both in the face as they looked at each other with eyes full of scars so thick and deep they’d shaped both their hearts.
Oikawa sighed and leaned back, looking down at his hands.
The silence stretched between them until Iwaizumi said, “I never hated you.”
It was almost true. In his deepest darkest hearts, he had, but he’d pushed it away because he knew it was unfair, knew it was just the flipside of this jealous love he had that had shattered his heart into pieces.
“I hated you,” Oikawa admitted, giving a hollow laugh and rubbing his arm. “Oh, I hated you so much. For a while, you were the face of all my hate. I wished you’d just disappear off the face of the earth.”
He deserved that.
“It was easier to have a face,” said Oikawa. “Easier when all the messages were anonymous, easier to focus on someone who was miles away when I was scared that someone would break into my dorm room, shit. I don’t even know why they bothered me so much and not Kuroo. We never could figure that out, you know? Maybe because I’m so pretty.”
Oikawa said the word with an edge of bitterness. It made Iwaizumi inexplicably sad because Oikawa had always been proud of his looks.
“We showed them, though. Won, and won, and won again. I had friends, Iwaizumi. Friends who were there for me. Who make sure I didn’t do anything crazy, who kept me from injuring my knee again, you know, the type of friends who take care of you. Other volleyball players who didn’t care that I liked dicks and not pussy, who didn’t freak out because I shared a locker room with them. Friends who answered my texts.”
Iwaizumi swallowed.
“And then you,” Oikawa hissed, the words so sharp Iwaizumi couldn’t look up from his own hands. “Then after I get past all that, and become a setter for the national team - who the hell do you think you are to show up in my life after all of that, wearing makeup and nail polish and acting like you aren’t one of those homophobic assholes who tried to make my life a living hell?”
Words stuck in Iwaizumi’s throat again as he tried to figure out a response to that. It hurt - this whole thing hurt, especially hurt because of how glaringly obvious it was that his best friend hadn’t known him at all.
Then again, in some ways, he’d been just as bad. He remembered nights in high school where he was terrified Oikawa would catch onto the fact that he’d just jacked off to him in the shower, the immense fear of rejection if he ever came out. He remembered being scared that Oikawa would find him disgusting for being gay, too. And the makeup - well, that was the worst.
Suga had helped him not be so afraid of that, but it had been cold comfort when he’d found the man he loved on another guy’s lap.
Life was so fucking complicated. That was why he’d wanted to let sleeping dogs lie.
Well, that wouldn’t work anymore.
“I was never disgusted with you for being gay,” Iwaizumi said slowly. “I was just -”
Shit. How did he say this without making it completely obvious that he’d run away because of his petty envy and his broken heart.
“What.”
“I was just upset, ok?”
“Why?”
Fuck fuck fuck. What could he say without giving it all away? Without ripping his heart open and shoving the bloody thing into the hands of the man who’d made it very clear that he hated Iwaizumi now, no matter how he’d felt about him at the time.
“It’s personal!”
“Damn right it’s personal, you fuck -”
“Damnit, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi yelled, slamming his hand on the desk again and looking up into the other man’s eyes.
His red eyes. Oikawa was crying. His Oikawa - his person who’d been the most precious person in the world, most precious, most dangerous, the one who could rip him to shreds without even knowing he’d done so -
“It hurt,” Iwaizumi said, sealing his fate. “It hurt to see you like that with another man. I didn’t know how to handle it, and I fucked it up, and I’m sorry.”
And there. That was that. He’d hammered the nail into his own coffin, he was done.
“What?” Oikawa asked, eyes wide.
Iwaizumi had no more words, though. He’d used them up, bled himself dry. His fate had finally caught up with him. Oikawa would leave, Iwaizumi would go home and steal one of the cats from Kenma, maybe call up Akaashi - no scratch that, Akaashi had turned traitor and found himself a boyfriend -
“You’ve got to be -” Oikawa whispered. “Iwa-chan?”
He wouldn’t cry. Iwaizumi bit his lips, suddenly mindful of random facts, such that his eyeliner was waterproof and that he looked a hell of a lot nicer when he cried than Oikawa did, even though Oikawa looked so much better overall.
A hand curled around his wrist, making him jump.
“Iwa-chan? Please, please tell me, please, don’t shut me out this time -”
Oh, and dammit, he was going to cry himself.
Looking away, he whispered, “I didn’t know - didn’t think you were, I mean, that you’d like boys. And I know I never said anything, so it’s not your fault at all. I know that, I knew that. But Suga - I just - I wanted to surprise you, and tell you in person that I - well - and maybe if things went well, I just -”
“Tell me you were gay?” Oikawa asked, voice soft.
“Yes,” Iwaizumi murmured, glancing over to see how the other man was taking it. It was still Oikawa, his Oikawa, the boy he’d known and loved forever - Oikawa without the mask.
And so, he took a chance, and said what he would’ve said - might’ve said - all those years ago, if things had gone differently.
“And maybe tell you I liked you.”
That he’d always liked him. Loved him, wanted him, that Oikawa were the only one in Iwaizumi’s life. Those words crowded in the back of his throat but he didn’t say them, couldn’t say them. What he had said was already too much.
“Shit,” Oikawa said.
“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi.
He felt like the words hung between them, twisting in midair with enough truth to tear him apart. In a way, it almost felt good to say them out loud, but they also tasted like ashes in his mouth because they were years too late. The timing was all wrong. They were words of his past, his past with an Oikawa who wasn’t this man sitting here, staring at him and pulling back with an expression that Iwaizumi couldn’t read.
Iwaizumi felt like he was made of glass, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces as soon as Oikawa ripped into him. There were so many things he could say, after all - words Iwaizumi had imagined in his mind, words that were fully justified, words that would tear him apart.
Oikawa said none of those words, though. Instead, he pulled away, burying his face in his hands, breaking out into out angry ugly tears. In some ways, it hurt worse than the words Iwaizumi had dreamed up, because the last thing he wanted was to cause Oikawa more pain. All he wanted to do was wrap him in his arms and calm those sobs.
He couldn't, though - it wasn’t his place, he’d forfeited that right years ago, but still - he couldn’t just sit there and watch -
Standing, he moved to the other man, patting his shoulders awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry -”
Arms wrapped themselves around his stomach and Oikawa sobbed into his stomach. It was completely unexpected, and fuck Oikawa was strong. Iwaizumi lost his balance, cursing softly before he fell into Oikawa’s lap. Oikawa didn’t seem to mind, though. He just hugged him close, and Iwaizumi did the same, remembering the last time they’d cried together like this.
Well, not like this.
They’d never held each other like this.
He felt like this wasn’t really Oikawa holding him, though, so much as Oikawa needing someone to hold and him being present to fill in the gap. If Makki had been there - or maybe Kuroo, because he knew he and Oikawa were still good friends even if they weren't dating - Iwaizumi would never be allowed this close.
He knew it and knew it was all his fault. He hadn’t been there when Oikawa really needed him, after all. He’d turned into a nonperson in Oikawa’s life.
That fact hurt enough to keep him dry-eyed during the whole thing, even as all the old half-healed scars inside reopened like splinters of glass had been caught in his heart. Here he was, in the arms of the man he loved more than life itself -
But love was a giving thing, and he’d do whatever he could to help Oikawa through this, even if it meant being left on the side of the road after it was done.
Slowly, slowly, the sobs started to cease.
Oikawa still held him tightly, face buried in the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck.
Idly, Iwaizumi realized they’d never ever complete any type of a photo shoot that evening.
Words were mumbled against Iwaizumi’s skin, and he frowned, trying to make them out.
“What?” he whispered.
“I said,” Oikawa muttered, “Iwa-chan is heavy.”
Iwaizumi blinked. “I can get up if you want,” he said, starting to push away.
“No!” said Oikawa, arms tightening even further still. “No leaving me. No running away this time.”
“What?” Iwaizumi said, utterly dumbfounded.
Huffing, Oikawa leaned back, looking up at him. “Iwa-chan is an idiot,” he said, using that baby-talk voice that used to annoy the crap out of Iwaizumi back in high school.
It still did, but mainly because he wasn’t sure anymore what it meant. Looking into Oikawa’s puffy red eyes, though, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure it mattered for him to try and figure it out. It was true, so he just nodded. “Yes.”
“But,” Oikawa said, biting his bottom lip, “I’m also an idiot.”
“Yes - ow!” Iwaizumi said, scrunching up his forehead and looking down where Oikawa had pinched him.
“You didn’t have to agree so quickly!” Oikawa said.
There was a ghost of the old Oikawa in the words, and Iwaizumi loved it. Loved the fact that he could banter with Oikawa for even a moment. Still, he was confused. “Why are we both idiots?”
Sighing, Oikawa looked down, fingertips playing with the hem of Iwaizumi’s jeans. “I’m an idiot because I never thought that Iwa-chan would - hey, are you wearing a thong?”
“What?” Iwaizumi asked, cheeks heating up, shifting when he felt Oikawa’s thumb hook into the ribbon side of his underwear that rode high on his hip. “No, fuck it’s not a thong, look - stop that - say what you were going to say!”
“Iwa-chan wears women’s underwear,” Oikawa said, something like wonder in his voice.
“What?” Iwaizumi yelped. “No, fuck, no. They aren’t women’s underwear, they’re my underwear you dumbass! If you don’t shut up and get to the point I -”
“I was in love with you,” Oikawa said, shocking Iwaizumi into stillness. “In high school, I mean. Wanted to confess to you every afternoon as we walked home. Tried to waylay every girl I thought might like you - which got me more chocolates, but hey, all’s fair, right? And then when you went to a different university, well. I tried to get over you.”
“Oh,” Iwaizumi said, looking down at him.
“I was scared you’d figured it out, you see, and that was why you went to a different school,” Oikawa continued. “When things happened at the party, well, I knew I was right. Or well, I thought I was right, eh? How fucked up that was.”
Oh. Shit. “Yeah,” Iwaizumi muttered. Seriously fucked up.
“And you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, looking up at him.
They were adults now, and it showed in Oikawa’s face, in his own heart. Adults who still held the children they’d once been.
A part of him wanted to hide that child and protect him from anything, even Oikawa. But if Oikawa had been honest, the least he could do was be honest in return.
Taking a deep breath, Iwaizumi said, “My first love was this kid who called himself a great detective. Well, ok, my first love was probably Godzilla, but after that -”
Oikawa gasped, pinching Iwaizumi’s side and making him smile involuntarily.
“After that,” he said, letting himself sink into Oikawa’s arms, “I fell in love with my best friend. But it felt like I wasn’t supposed to. Felt like I wasn’t supposed to be who I was, that I was supposed to be someone else, the guy everyone else expected me to be. I thought - well - in high school, I thought that’s what you wanted me to be, too.”
Oikawa huffed. “Idiot,” he muttered.
Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Then in college, well. I made some friends that helped me see it was ok to be me.”
“I should have been that friend,” Oikawa murmured, and there were tears in his voice again as he hugged Iwaizumi close.
“I should have trusted you,” Iwaizumi replied, tightening his arms around Oikawa’s neck. “I should have answered you back when you texted, should’ve been there for you when people were being assholes.”
“I’m sorry,” Oikawa whispered, pressing his face against Iwaizumi’s shoulder again. “I’m so, so, sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't be yourself with me, I -”
“It’s ok, it’s ok. It wasn’t you, it was everyone. My own head most of all, I think,” said Iwaizumi, brushing his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. Stupid, beautiful hair. “We were dumb kids trying to figure this out, you know?”
“Dumb stupid idiots, yeah,” Oikawa said, laughing a hiccuped sob and then rubbing his nose against Iwaizumi’s shirt.
“Hey - are you - is that snot -”
“It’s not snot,” Oikawa said, laughing again. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.”
“You always were an ugly crier,” Iwaizumi muttered.
“Hey! Rude!”
Chuckling, Iwaizumi said, “I’m pretty sure I got makeup on your shirt though.”
Huffing, Oikawa looked up at him. “Yeah, but your eyeliner is still pristine. Must be really good stuff.”
“Of course,” Iwaizumi said.
“It makes your eyes look really pretty,” Oikawa murmured, making Iwaizumi feel suddenly self-conscious. “Makeup, fancy underwear - what other secrets has Iwa-chan been hiding, hmm?”
Suddenly, Iwaizumi’s heart was pounding with something that wasn’t quite fear. Surprise, desire - hope.
Oh, hope.
Hope that maybe they could take the shattered pieces of their hearts and put them back together into something -
No, that was getting ahead of himself big time.
But still -
“Maybe - maybe you could try to find out?”
There was a shadow in Oikawa’s eyes at that, one that made Iwaizumi want to pull back and hide away again. But then Oikawa smiled, a soft smile, a real smile, even if it was a smile with a hint of sadness in it.
“Maybe we could,” he murmured. “Maybe we could, um, get to know each other again?”
Yes. That sounded reasonable.
It hurt a bit, because Iwaizumi was still in love with him - would probably always be in love with him, if he was honest - but still. There was too much pain between them for it to be washed away by this small river of tears, even if it was a good start.
“Do you want to - I don’t know - get dinner or something?” he asked, looking around. “Since I’m pretty sure this photo shoot is a bust.”
“Hmm,” Oikawa said, nodding. “Though Iwa-chan said I look ugly right now.”
Chuckling, Iwaizumi said, “I just said you - look - your coloring isn’t right for you to look good when you cry. It’s ok, though. I’ve got makeup for that.”
“You do?”
“Of course, I’m a professional,” Iwaizumi said. “And I have extra clothes you can borrow if you need them.”
“Wow! Iwa-chan is full of surprises!”
“Yeah, ok so,” muttered Iwaizumi, starting to get up. “We can -”
“I wanna hold you a little bit longer, is that ok?” murmured Oikawa, pulling him back and pressing his face close as he inhaled. “Want to hold Iwa-chan.”
His Iwa-chan, Iwaizumi thought he heard. He might’ve been just imagining it, but -
“Yeah,” he whispered, hugging Oikawa back and taking a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Oikawa. It was different than he remembered, some new spicy perfume, but the rest -
The rest was all his Oikawa.
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi murmured, letting himself relax into arms that felt better than he’d ever imagined. “We can wait. We can wait as long as you want.”