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It’s a foolproof plan. Oikawa is certain.
And not just because it’s, you know, his plan - he’s not exactly known to have the best ideas at all times (though he resents that assessment). This plan, though? It’s fantastic. Everything fits.
When he stumbled on the poster on the board that morning in passing, it felt like divine intervention or something. Finally, an opportunity.
(He deliberately ignores the fact that almost twenty years of friendship have given him more than enough opportunities. Not good ones, though, not failsafe ones, not convincing ones. Never the right time, the right feeling.)
(He’s tired of running.)
(He’s tired of lying to himself.)
Paid research opportunity, the paper reads. Romantic couple study.
~
“So - isn’t it obvious?” Oikawa spins around to face Iwaizumi, gesturing to the poster. “To solve our financial crisis - we pretend we’re dating!”
Iwaizumi stares at him for a full five seconds - before he throws back his head and laughs.
Oikawa is caught between being offended and staring at the unabashed way Iwaizumi is clenching his eyes shut, hands clasped together as he takes a step back and catches himself, as if Oikawa had just told the joke of a century.
When’s the last time he’s seen him laugh like this? Probably recently, even, but somehow, with the way his mind has been working lately, all thoughts directed at Iwaizumi instead of furtively avoiding his (unavoidable) crush, he’s getting more caught up in it than he should be. It’s as if all his filters are suddenly off, and shit, Iwaizumi’s laugh and the effect it has on Oikawa’s heart should be fucking illegal.
Iwaizumi calms down, eyes opening again as he shakes his head. He holds Oikawa’s gaze for another second - and then he turns and walks away.
Oikawa stares after him, dumbstruck, before he snaps out of it, just a little too late.
“Wha- Iwa-chan, wait!”
Iwaizumi chuckles and keeps walking, heading for the stairs. Oikawa breaks into a jog to catch up with him.
“You can’t just- don’t just walk away from me! Hey! I’m serious!”
Iwaizumi barks out another laugh. “Okay, Oikawa. Whatever, man. You do you.”
Oikawa grabs his arm, frustrated, and tugs until Iwaizumi stops walking.
“No!” he says, knowing full-well how petulant he sounds. “Why aren’t you taking me seriously?”
“...really? You need me to answer that?” Iwaizumi pulls his arm free, already turning away again. “Look, it was funny. Let’s move on now.”
“I wasn’t joking, Iwa-chan!”
Iwaizumi stops of his own accord this time, raising his eyebrows at Oikawa.
“Right.”
“No, listen! I know we’re short on money - this is an easy way to fix that problem!”
Iwaizumi scoffs. “By fake-dating.”
“Nobody would know,” Oikawa insists. “And we’re perfect for this - we’ve known each other all our lives!”
“If you want to participate, why not ask one of your fangirls?” There’s no bite in Iwaizumi’s voice, nothing. Oikawa is just about ready to stomp his foot in frustration. Because they’re not who I want to be dating, obviously. Not like he can actually say that.
“They don’t know me, Iwa-chan! Not like you do! Besides, we live together, everything fits, it’s the smartest move-”
“Oikawa - stop. Just- just stop. I don’t know why you’re still pushing, but at this point it’s just… uncomfortable.”
Oikawa does stop, mouth clamping shut.
Uncomfortable.
Yeah, sounds about right.
“...sorry,” he says, and at this point he knows he couldn’t hide the hurt he’s feeling, even if he tried. Not from Iwaizumi. “I wasn’t aware the prospect of dating me is so repulsive to you.”
“That’s not-”
“It’s fine,” Oikawa says, curt. “I’ll keep it in mind. So I’ll know better than to ask you for real.”
It slips out before he can stop himself, bitter and pained, and he presses his lips together tightly right after he says it, as if he could cut off his train of thought that way. It’s stupid, anyway, there’s no way he would-
Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it again. He blinks.
“...Oikawa, are you… are you asking me to- to fake-date you because you want to date me for real?”
Oikawa blinks, hating the startled tears that are building in his eyes already.
“Of course not,” he says, automatic, fake, because of course Iwaizumi hit that spike dead-center. How could he not. “That- that’d be-”
But his usual frivolous responses and bravado are suddenly gone - Iwaizumi tends to strip him bare like that, without even trying.
“...you wouldn’t,” Iwaizumi says. His voice is… wrong. “That’d be... we’re best friends, after all.”
Oikawa wants to jump on this, wants to agree, wants to let this subject drop and wants the ground to swallow him whole. But just as he’s opening his mouth to agree, Iwaizumi stutters over the last word, and-
Oikawa raises his eyes, searches for Iwaizumi’s, heart rate suddenly accelerating because-
He’s blushing.
Iwaizumi Hajime, strong, confident, incredible Iwaizumi Hajime is blushing.
“Would it be weird?” he asks, an impulse, sudden and immediate. He knows this isn't the place for this, the middle of the hallway on a late afternoon, deserted for now but possibly not for long - if he could choose, he'd have this conversation in the comfort of their shared apartment, or inside an empty locker room, away from possible interference. But when will he get another opportunity? When will he be brave enough to bring it up?
Iwaizumi blinks again, and he can’t seem to look away.
“...would you be disgusted, Iwa-chan? Repulsed?” He pushes past his hesitation, right into his fears, and suddenly, talking is easy again. “I mean - you wouldn’t want that, would you? You know who I am. Whiny, flirty, fake Oikawa-”
“Stop,” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa does, but mostly because his voice sounds so broken. “If this is a joke - it’s not funny.”
Oikawa shrugs, a helpless smile spreading across his face. “Joke’s on me, anyway. I know you wouldn’t. Sorry for making you uncomfortable.”
He lets out a little sigh, willing his heart to calm down - getting so close obviously got his stupid hopes up, but he knows Iwaizumi doesn’t feel the same, and he needs to get rid of that ruinous feeling before it tears him apart, needs to accept that it’s not gonna happen, not ever-
“You should get back to class,” he says, and he can’t look at him anymore, tears prickling in his eyes, “it wouldn’t do to be late-”
This time, it’s Iwaizumi who grabs his arm and forces him to wait, doesn’t let him get away.
“Oikawa- Tooru, wait.”
Tooru. It means I’m being serious. I need you to drop the act for me.
“Forget it, Iwa-chan, it was just a stupid idea-”
“No. That’s not fair. You don’t get to just-” He makes an exasperated gesture. Oikawa still can’t look at him. “Explain this to me, Tooru. Because- because it sounded- for a second it sounded like I haven’t been imagining this, like you really- like you want-”
“I always want more than people give,” Oikawa says, as smoothly as he can manage, “but you know that, don’t you? I’m selfish. I like being the most important person in your life.”
“No,” Iwaizumi says, “it sounded like you- god, just. Can you look at me, please?”
Oikawa bites his lip, caught. He knows he can’t hide. Not like this.
Slowly, he drags his gaze up to meet Iwaizumi’s.
There’s hurt and confusion in Iwaizumi’s eyes, he looks lost and indignant and all the things Oikawa would have hoped he’d never be the cause of, for him.
“...what do you want me to say, Iwa-chan?” he asks, quiet. Uncharacteristic. He’s just as lost, now, probably. And tired of hiding. “I could say I was kidding, and it was a dumb joke to get you riled up. Then you can shake your head and tell me I’m an idiot and we can move on and forget about all this.”
Iwaizumi acknowledges this by an almost imperceptible nod - he knows, too, that this is how they work, this is how they’ve dealt with these incidents ever since they started happening.
Round and round and round.
Oh, shut up. Idiot.
Quit it, dumbass.
Don’t be stupid, Oikawa. I’ll always be here.
Why are you like this.
Yeah, right.
Whatever, nerd.
There’s never any fire there, any real malice. It’s fond. Exasperated, amused. Familiar.
It should be enough, what they have. But then there are moments, moments where Oikawa can feel some sort of shift into unspoken territory, crossing some line, some boundary, in brief glimpses of vulnerability or in the heat of the moment; bodies a little too close, a hand in his hair or an arm around his shoulders, Iwaizumi’s laugh in his ears, low and warm and happy. Comfortable. Safe.
“Or,” Oikawa says. In the name of these moments he can’t describe, and the hope building in his chest. See me. See me, see me, see me. Please, please just look at me.
Iwaizumi holds his gaze, and it looks like his resolve hardens.
“Or… or I say that you’re right. That… that I asked you because I want what I can’t have, even if it’s just for an afternoon. That I want you to look at me differently. Just once. Just to see what some lucky girl is going to get someday, or some guy who doesn’t have the faintest idea that he’s with the most incredible, breathtaking person-”
He catches his breath because he knows he’s getting carried away, knows he’s sinking into the same fear he’s been carrying since he was 14, that one day someone would come and take Iwaizumi away and never realize that he’s the best, the best person and friend and partner, the kindest and gentlest soul, beautiful and loyal and honest and more, so much more than anyone deserves.
More than Oikawa deserves, for sure. And everything he wants. To be the person who gets to be held by him, who gets to wake up with him, who gets to pepper kisses all over his face whenever he damn well pleases.
He wants to be the reason behind his laughter, and the one to dry his tears. He wants everything he's so close to but so sure he'll never reach, and it's killing him.
“I'm sorry,” he says, into this strange, loaded silence he's created. “I'm sorry, Hajime.”
Iwaizumi lets out the tiniest of laughs, humorless.
“...sorry for finally telling me the truth? Sounds about right.”
There's no bite to his words though, nothing upset or disappointed. It startles Oikawa into looking up.
Iwaizumi’s expression is… so raw and open that it catches Oikawa off guard completely, so out of sync with the sound of his voice. He's blushing and barely fighting back tears, but his gaze is determined, strong. Like he's found an opening in the opponent's block.
“So which is it?” he asks with half a shrug. “Is this the part where I shake my head, you're an idiot, Oikawa and walk away? Or… or is this where I finally get to kiss you?”
Everything just sort of stops. Oikawa is left staring, breath stuck in his throat, blood rushing in his ears.
“...don't run away from me,” Iwaizumi whispers. “Stop running for one second and look at me.”
And oh, it's so familiar.
See me, see me. Please, just look at me.
“Iwa-chan.”
He reaches out, fingers finding Iwaizumi’s.
At the touch, Iwaizumi’s shoulders seem to lose some of their tension. Not much, but some, almost impossible to tell. He squeezes back.
It's out in the open now, said in every way except the actual words. Is this where I finally get to kiss you?
Is this where we finally change, where we're finally brave enough to take the leap?
There's no going back.
“It's… safer,” Oikawa whispers, because he needs to be sure, “if you just… walk away from this now.”
Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I'd never forgive myself if I let you get away.”
Oikawa feels the fingers on his free hand twist into the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt, feels his heart thrashing against his ribs.
“...then… you think I'm worth chasing, Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi lets out a laugh, a little too raw.
“I've been chasing you all my life.”
Look at me.
And Oikawa does, because he'll always be drawn to him, to his smiles, to every word he says. Iwa-chan. Hajime.
Iwaizumi is looking at him - really, openly, unabashedly holding his gaze, and suddenly it feels like everything's on fire.
Is this where I kiss you?
Oh, please, please, please-
Iwaizumi reaches out, with the hand that's not holding Oikawa's, and carefully brushes his fingers over Oikawa's hip, moving up to rest against his waist. Tentative. Oikawa wants him to be less careful, wants Iwaizumi to grab him and pull him close and kiss him senseless, until he forgets his own name and everything he was ever worried about.
But Iwaizumi takes his time. Deliberate. Like Oikawa is precious and fragile. It makes his heart clench painfully in his chest with a longing he has no words for, that takes over everything.
Can't you see, I've always, always-
“Tell me you don't want this,” Iwaizumi says, suddenly so close, Oikawa can feel his breath ghost over his lips.
“...and if I do?” Oikawa breathes back. “Will you finally kiss me, then?”
“Finally,” Iwaizumi echoes. He's holding Oikawa in place at his waist, and gently tugs his other hand free to move it up and brush through Oikawa's hair, fingers coming to rest gently cupping his face.
They get lost in each other's eyes for a moment, and nothing else exists. Not the sound of a door somewhere on a different floor, not the distant chatter of students out on the campus grounds.
“Hajime,” Oikawa says, “Hajime, please-”
“Close your eyes,” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa finds that he's been left breathless once again just by the tone of Iwaizumi’s voice, by how close he is, by standing at the precipice of a monumental change.
Close your eyes. Do you trust me?
His eyes flutter shut, and he's hyper-aware of Iwaizumi’s grip (light, careful) around him, of the hand tilting his face just a tiny bit, of the breath he feels against his lips-
There's a second, a second where nothing happens and Oikawa is ready to burst; so, so close to what he's always wanted, mind and heart racing, holding his breath, it feels like years-
And then, Iwaizumi closes the distance.
Oh, Oikawa never stood a chance.
Iwaizumi kisses him like he's fragile; slow and soft and unhurried, pressing their lips together in something chaste and sweet and wonderful, so careful it makes Oikawa's chest ache. His thumb brushes over Oikawa's cheek and Oikawa can’t help the broken whimper that forces its way out of his throat, tiny and wrecked, or the tears that immediately shoot into his eyes because oh, oh-
Iwaizumi pulls back with a small gasp, overwhelmed, breathless, just like Oikawa is, and they’re staring at each other, eyes locked, neither of them ready to look away.
“Oh,” Oikawa whispers, and the tiniest of smiles, instinctive and honest, tugs at the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips.
“...yeah,” he agrees, gently brushing a strand of Oikawa's hair behind his ear.
Oikawa bites his lip, because he wants more, wants Iwaizumi to hold him like he means it, wants to be pushed against a wall and taken apart - wants Iwaizumi more than he's ever wanted anything.
He has no words to ask Iwaizumi to have his way with him, to tell him to please, please, take me, I'm yours-
So he does the next best thing. He brings his own arms up and closes the distance between them, pressing into Iwaizumi’s chest and claiming his lips a second time, more impatient, more forceful, more desperate than before.
And Iwaizumi, he falls into place instantly. He tugs at Oikawa's hair to bring him closer, lets Oikawa part his lips and deepen the kiss with a low moan, and pulls him in, finally giving Oikawa some of the possessive pressure he's craving.
Oikawa loses track of time, breaking them apart just to gasp down a breath of air before their lips are connected again, wet and warm and so, so much better than he could ever have imagined. Finally, Iwaizumi kisses like he craves it, like Oikawa is all he's ever wanted, like he'd choose him every single time. Like he's just about ready to shove him up against a wall and leave hickeys all over his neck.
Oikawa really, really wants him to. He wants the world to see that he's finally, finally-
They break apart, and Oikawa immediately chases Iwaizumi’s mouth, but he stays just out of reach with a breathless laugh, pressing their foreheads together.
“...hey,” he whispers, and Oikawa’s heart skips a beat.
“Iwa-chan.” It's more a whine than anything else, why did you stop and kiss me again.
“Just,” Iwaizumi says, with another soft laugh, “just- before- before we get carried away and we can't go back, I just-”
He stops, holding Oikawa's gaze, and Oikawa realizes that his eyes are damp, too.
“I just need you to know. This - this isn't a spur of the moment decision. I don't- I don't want it to be a one-time thing.”
Oikawa tightens his grip on the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt, heart clenching in his chest.
“Oikawa, I- I'm in love with you.”
Iwaizumi is the only person Oikawa knows who could pull off a confession like this and leave him completely and utterly speechless, breathless and on the verge of tears.
I'm in love with you.
I want this to mean something.
“Oh,” Oikawa whispers, “thank god.”
They're both winded, incredulous, relieved, and Oikawa really, really wants to kiss him again. He feels like he's on fire, like the places Iwaizumi has touched are burning in the best possible way.
Iwaizumi is searching his face, and Oikawa slides into a smile - the one he's always been trying to hide because he knows how his feelings bleed out into it, and how Iwaizumi can read him like an open book.
He doesn’t fight it now - not the smile, and not the stupid, honest tears that are starting to trickle down his cheeks. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that his knees suddenly feel like they can't hold him up anymore, because Iwaizumi is right there to brush away the tears, and to catch him in his arms.
Right now he seems a little busy with laughing though, small chuckles that slowly build into something bigger.
“...what?” Oikawa asks, not really worried, just slightly bemused. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” Iwaizumi says. “You- you wanted to fake-date me.”
Oikawa pulls his face into the most indignant pout he can muster, revelling in how it makes Iwaizumi snort.
“No fair, Iwa-chan. I had to do something ! I was going crazy, okay?”
“Oh, yeah?” He’s pulling him close by his hips, grinning.
“Yeah,” Oikawa says, eyebrows furrowed somewhere between for show and actual concern. “I just- I was… I don’t know. Too afraid to ask directly.”
Iwaizumi goes quiet for a moment, pensive. “...I get that,” he says slowly, fingers playing with the hem of Oikawa’s shirt.
“...yeah. Sorry it... took so long.”
Iwaizumi shakes his head and smiles. “No. It’s- it’s okay. This is… this is good, right? We don’t have to… think about missed opportunities.”
Oikawa knows he will, because he always gets hung up on what if, no matter how many times he tells his brain to shut the hell up. But maybe- maybe, with Iwaizumi, it’ll be okay. So he grins, and tightens his own grip.
“...I think we’ve got a lot to make up for.”