Work Text:
(The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly fallin'
The air is still in the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly callin'
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
On this winter's night with you)
Sugawara ran a hand through his fringe, unintentionally tousling his hair as he stared at his University assignment, a 12 page essay that was due in tomorrow. Somehow, despite how organized he was, Suga had lost track of it under the swarm of assignments and projects and tests he already had, and he’d found it two hours ago just as he was about to turn into bed.
Exhaling wearily, he rubs his hands over his face, quietly groaning as he presses his fingers against his eyes. They’re sore and sting, aching like someone poured rubbing alcohol over them. He knows he’s going to have bags under his eyes in the morning. He’s going to feel like death froze over, which is fitting since it’s so cold.
It doesn’t help that he’s straining his eyes, working in the dark. Since his roommate went to bed at a normal bedtime, Sugawara couldn’t have the lights beaming. So here he was, his back crooked as he sat at the uncomfortable oak desk in the room, trying to write his essay in the dim glow of the oil lamp he had. It had been a joke present from the team two years ago when he graduated, an “old man gift for a guy with old man hair!”, and he’d pouted playfully before mumbling that he’d dye his hair black.
He never did. Silver was much better, in his opinion.
Now, after finding out it worked with vodka just as well as with oil, Suga loved his little lamp. He keeps it on the table top for nights just like this, although he never really expected to be up this late. He brushes his fringe back stressfully again, reaching over to twiddle the burner. He can’t turn it up too high, of course, because it makes an awful noise if he does.
He looks back down at his essay, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching up his nose, lips pursed together tightly and pitching downwards at the corners. The words all seem to blur into one, a mass of writing black wriggles on a white page. With a sigh of frustration, he shuts all his reference textbook and pushes himself away from the desk, grabbing a blanket from his bed and wrapping it around his shoulders as he heads into the common room.
He drops himself onto the sofa, facing out the window. It’s snowing. He can see the flakes, large and fluffy softly falling from the sky. It’s relaxing to watch, but… It’s so lonely… The air is still, almost suffocating, wrapping itself around him as if to make a point of how alone he is right now in this moment. The silence almost brings him to tears.
Closing his eyes, he remembers last winter, back before the third year of University, when he and Daichi had spent the first week of the season together, entangled in each other’s embrace, talking quietly, sharing kisses and laughing in the quiet nights on his bed, watching each other instead of the snow falling outside the window. The memory is so vivid, it’s almost like he can hear it…
“Koushi~.” The soft call feels like he’s hearing it, and he opens his eyes with a gasp to look over his shoulder and-
There’s no one there. The room is just as cold and bare as it was before, the blue tones of a winter’s night washing away those fire-glow tones from his memory, the warmth and love he’d been embraced in, Daichi’s arms and legs wrapped around his, their hands smoothing up and down bare arms and backs comfortingly.
University is lonely. Sugawara hands his head low, squeezing his eyes shut as if to painfully clamp any tears shut. He shudders from the chill, hunching his blanket up higher. It’s no substitute for Daichi’s perfect hugs.
“If I could only have you near…” He knows that if Daichi were here right now, they’d be lying on the sofa, Suga using Daichi’s shoulder as a pillow as his boyfriend lovingly played with his hair in one hand, the other holding one of Suga’s hands, fingers interlocked. Daichi would sigh contentedly, breath ruffling Suga’s hair.
Suga would tease him, and Daichi would do it again on purpose just to make him laugh. Hands would squeeze gently, falling into comfortable silence as they melted into each other, holding the hands they love and feeling each other’s heartbeats.
“I wish you were here.” Suga’s whisper into the cold air, accompanied by a cloud of condensation only makes him feel lonlier, because Daichi is not here, on this winter’s night. He tugs the blanket up to cover his face, and sobs.
~
(The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon each page
The words of love you sent me
If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
On this winter's night with you)
In the shadowed corner of the bar, Kageyama sits with a whiskey in hand. If he was still in Japan, it would’ve been juice, but the UK drinking age was 18, so he was pretty clear. He wasn’t the only one here. The entire national team was here, celebrating their win in a practice match against a top UK university, who were showing them around the city as a friendly gesture.
Not knowing much English, Kageyama was finding himself more and more isolated by the minute. Hinata wasn’t here. Hinata should have been here, but he’d sustained a concussion in the practice session one day before their flight here, and had been forbidden from coming with them. It had been 11 days since then.
Kageyama’s eyes watched the smoke from a cigarette curl and bend to the will of the air, rising to the shadowy ceiling, wooden tudor beams and plaster greeting it as it spread out like a spirograph.
He reaches for his glass, noticing the golden pool of Famous Grouse whiskey was down to a few drops. The colour reminded him so much of Hinata’s eyes… He downs it quickly, feeling the burn in the back of his throat.
He reaches into his bag, pulling out a folded scrap of paper, tattered around the creases from how much he’s opened and re-folded it. A very tearful Hinata had shoved it into his hands at the airport, demanding that Kageyama read it every night before he went to sleep. Kageyama read it much more than that.
It didn’t have sweet words of love. It wasn’t sappy, or romantic. It didn’t even have much tone of affection. But that was on the surface. The corners of Kageyama’s lips twitch up as he graces over the paragraph of how they were going to “kick butt” together, a perfect toss with a “badass” spike. It didn’t sound romantic in the slightest to the average person’s eye.
But Kageyama knows. He reads between the lines, seeing the pleading to come back safe, the desire to be together, the whispers of how they were always meant to be together, the encouragement that no matter how far apart, they were still in perfect sync.
“Are we…?” He spreads his fingers out over his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the turtleneck jumper he wears, trying to keep winter’s chill out. He feels so lonely, and his heart aches. He wonders if Hinata can feel it too, if Hinata is at home in bed wishing Kageyama was with him too.
Kageyama’s attention turns back to the letter, glossing over the rest until he finds the part about his hands being too soft when he had such a ‘hard skull’, and how they were squishy and it was ‘weird’ how the spaces between his fingers were right where Hinata’s fit perfectly.
“I want to hold your hand too…” The winter air makes his hands feel dry and stiff, as if the skin will crack in the cold. The back of his hands are already rough, and no amount of moisturizer will give him the same warmth as holding Hinata’s hand.
Ah, the whiskey must be getting to him. Huffing, he pushes himself from the shadowy corner, and walks back towards the hotel the team are staying at.
~
(The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The mornin' light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
On this winter's night with you)
Oikawa had decided not to go to the pub with the others. Instead, he had perched himself in the hotel lobby by the grand fireplace, which was slowly dying down to embers as staff let it burn itself out for the night. What little light he had was provided from a small, ghastly lamp, and the screen of his laptop.
He’d been watching the recording of their matches against all the UK universities they’d played, looking for weakness, bad habits, repetitive behaviour. Not in the other teams, but in his own. When Kageyama had come back from the pub relatively tipsy, Oikawa had done little but to wave him off, chucking the door key at him. Since he hadn’t gone with them, he’d kept all their keys safe.
Glancing over at the window, through the mustard shaded curtains, Oikawa could see the faint glow of what was either moonlight… Or dawn. It certainly wasn’t the same shade of midnight he had been seeing for however long he’d been sat here.
Jaws parting in a yawn, he checks the time on his laptop.
Shit. It’s already 8 in the morning. He’d been up all night. All he can think about is how Iwaizumi would yell at him for being so stupid and not taking care of himself, if his beloved Iwaizumi were here. Oikawa closes the lid of his laptop, hit by a sudden wave of… Of something. Something like heartache, but stronger and more yearning.
He tucks his laptop under his arm, reaches up to turn the dull lamp off and trudges back to his own room. The rest of the team would just have to sleep in the corridor, if they hadn’t already found other places to stay. Knowing Ushijima, he’d probably have herded the others to the nearest safe residence and had them stay there. It must have been like herding cats.
Entering his own room, Oikawa winces as a beam of light hits his eyes, glinting off the snow on the windowpane, frost cobwebbed over the glass, and more snow falling in the background. He wonders if it’s snowing back in Japan too.
He wonders if Iwaizumi is looking at the snow too. It would be… 5 in the afternoon over there now, so there’s a strong possibility. But it’s not the same. It’s not the same as having Iwaizumi here with him, watching the snowfall together as they have every year, until they collapse onto a bed in exhaustion and fall asleep in their clothes, barely awake enough to wriggle under the covers and instead using each other for warmth.
Oikawa feels his eyes flooding with water, and his throat suddenly feels full, like there’s something blocking it. His breathing hitches and he clamps his free hand over his mouth, feeling weak at the knees as he shakes, whimpering. Ah, he’s crying. It feels like something is physically squeezing his heart, tighter and tighter until he drops to his knees, rests his forehead against the hotel bed, and quietly cries into his hand, trying to muffle the sound.
He misses Iwaizumi. He misses Iwaizumi. It would be okay if it were a day or two, and they’ve even managed 5 full days apart before. But they were approaching the end of the second week, and there was still 3 more days to go. They’d never been apart so long before.
Not since they became best friends at 4. Now, almost 21, they’d spent their first week apart and Oikawa felt like he was falling apart. He wanted his best friend back. He wanted his boyfriend, his partner, his soulmate here with him.
He wanted to show Iwaizumi all the wonderful things he’d seen, take him to that fudge shop so they could eat it together, watch him laugh as they played penny games at the arcade, feel how warm and solid Iwaizumi was as they danced around the fake ice-rink, breathe in his scent as they cuddled through the cold winter nights, and listen to him sigh every few minutes as he read a book whilst Oikawa lay a head on his lap.
Oikawa wanted all that, but he couldn’t, because he was half a world away. Shakily, he swallows down the lump in his throat, willing himself to stand up and put his laptop back in his suitcase. He should change into pyjamas, at least. They have a day off to recover from hangovers, so Oikawa may as well get some sleep.
As he lays in bed, curled up on his side and examining his fingers, all he can think about is Iwaizumi. He wishes Iwaizumi were here, laying on the bed facing him, holding Oikawa’s hands in his, cupping them delicately as he kisses every callus, bruise, and scuffed patch of skin from practice.
He wants Iwaizumi to hold his hands, in the soft way he always does, making him feel loved and warm no matter the season. He wants to chase away the lingering chill of winter's night with Iwaizumi’s gentle words of love and encouragement, echoed by Oikawa’s croons of how much he adores his Iwa-chan, how they’ll be together forever.
He feels the whine drag itself from his throat again, curling up tighter as his chest feels hollow, his stomach twists, and he throat clenches so viciously that he forgets to breathe. He just wants Iwaizumi with him, right here and now.
~
(And to be once again with you)
“Koushi…?” Suga sobs a little harder, pressing the blanket into his eyes. It hurts, it hurts to remember so vividly and hear Daichi’s voice and-
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay…” There’s the jingle of keys being tossed aside and then warm hands land on his shoulders, rubbing comfortingly as Daichi walks round to the front of the sofa to crouch down in front of Suga, who stares at him through tears in utter disbelief. Concerned, Daichi wipes the tears away with his thumbs.
“What’s wrong, Koushi…? Kou- Mmph!” Daichi’s question is cut off by Suga flinging himself desperately into Daichi’s arms, scrambling as close as possible until he’s holding on like a koala, and his sobs of despair turn to relief, hands gripping the back of Daichi’s shirt as tight as possible.
“I- I wanted you here so bad, Daichi, Daichi, I kept wishing you were here, I-!”
“It’s okay, Koushi. I’m here. I’m here.” Daichi hugs him back, safe and secure in the hold, circling one hand on Suga’s back reassuringly. He can hear how exhausted and frazzled Suga is just from his voice, but there’s also telltale stress lines where he should have dimples, and his eyebrows are pinched too tightly together. University is taking its toll.
“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
“Nooooo… I wanna hug you… Daichi, please, don’t let go…” Shushing him gently, Daichi scoops his boyfriend up with an arm under his butt, Suga wrapping his legs around his hips and arms around his neck suffocatingly. He carries Suga into the bedroom, gently depositing him on the bed and turning off the oil lamp - vodka lamp - before sliding off his indoor slippers next to Suga’s pair and worming in next to him.
Exhausted, Suga is almost passed out by the time Daichi has settled and tucked the covers in around them. He smiles at the sleepy look of content, pressing a kiss to Suga’s forehead and resting a hand on Suga’s back.
“Go to sleep, Koushi. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
~
As the only one of the team to get back to the hotel and get to sleep on time, Kageyama is the first one awake. Still blinking off the haze of sleep, he trudges down to the food hall where a continental breakfast is available, still in his pyjamas. He looks a little like a tube of colgate toothpaste.
Just as he’s entering the hall, families and groups of people having quiet, English conversations, he thinks he picks up a lick of Japanese.
“There he is. Go get ‘im.” He is still half asleep though, so it could just be his imagination or wishful thinking or-
“BAKAGEYAMAAAAAA!!!”
“Oof!” That’s definitely not his imagination, a heavy weight slamming into his front and it’s familiar and he knows this instinctively and he snaps awake with a learnt response.
“Shouyou, you dumbass! Quit trying to break me, you-... Shouyou?!” He stares down at bright, whiskey coloured eyes, twinkling with mischief and full of life to be here with him. Hinata grins as he refuses to let go, tilting his head adorably to one side.
“Miss me~? I missed you tons, and I couldn’t wait to see you, so I came to see you myself!” Kageyama stutters and flusters, too surprised to initially react. And then, he scowls. He grabs a handful of Hinata’s hair in an iron claw grip and ruffles it roughly; but not enough to seriously hurt.
“Idiot! Dumbass! Stupid! You had concussion, what are you doing flying here?!”
“Ow, ow, ow! I got cleared, Tobio! I got medical clearance from my doctor an’ Iwaizumi-senpai was coming anyways so I came too!”
“... Eh?” Kageyama looks up at a chuckle, spotting Iwaizumi standing a little further back, hands in his jeans pockets. He shrugs with a smirk and walks over, giving Hinata’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Iwaizumi-senpai?!”
“He would have come whether I let him or not. Don’t worry, he was safe. Have fun, kids~.” He walks off, looking around at the exit to the food hall, like he’s waiting for something. Kageyama realises what it is as Hinata snuggles into his chest, and Kageyama automatically responds by squeezing him back.
“Oikawa-san’s in room 14. You can get a spare key from reception.” Iwaizumi nods in thanks, and then, he’s gone.
Kageyama turns back to Hinata and takes a deep breath, before he grabs Hinata’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together, and leans in for a kiss. It’s not gentle.
It’s desperate. As their teeth clack together and their lips bruise, it speaks of how much they missed each other, how much they wanted to be together again, it speaks of how they value each other. Kageyama pulls away first, never having had Hinata’s monstrous stamina.
“I missed you too. I read your note whenever I could.”
“Good! I would’ve stepped on your feet if you didn’t!”
“I wouldn’t even notice. You’re so small and light, I wouldn’t have felt it.” The tease, delivered in a deadpan tease with a smirk earns Kageyama a stomp on his left foot.
He was wrong. He did notice it. And it hurt. Squabbling like always, he leads Hinata over to the continental breakfast table, stacking up plates for both of them. When they get to the table to eat, they have one hand under the table each, holding each other’s hands and squeezing gently as they playfully insult each other and Kageyama recounts their university matches.
He’s still annoyed Hinata came here without telling him first, but as they fall into their normal routine, he feels warm despite the winter cold.
~
“Tooru?” Iwaizumi unlocks the door cautiously in case it’s the wrong one, whispering into the room to check. But there’s no answer. He pokes his head in, and his cautious expression melts into a soft smile. He’d know those neon green pyjama pants anywhere. The top that goes with them is grey with an alien face on, although Oikawa never really wears the top half.
That much is true once again when he shuts the door behind him, spotting Oikawa’s bare arm above the covers. Then his smile fades. Not only is Oikawa shivering, but his nose is red and there’s tear tracks down his face. He’s been crying. Seriously crying.
Iwaizumi shuffles over, slowly and gently tucking Oikawa’s arm back under the cover to try and regain some warmth, then grabs a tissue from the side to wipe away the remnants of last night. Oikawa shuffles with an uncomfortable groan, eyelids fluttering like he’s about to wake up.
“Shh… Shh… Sleep, Tooru...” Oikawa’s features smooth out at the voice, Iwaizumi purposely putting on the tone that always used to send Oikawa to sleep when he was nervous about matches. Whether that was back in middle school, or even in high school, it seemed like it still worked in University.
Iwaizumi’s lips twitch into a smirk before he settles himself on the floor, legs tucked beneath him and resting one arm on the bed, his cheek pressed against it. His other hand strokes gently through Oikawa’s hair, petting him in the way Oikawa used to demand when he was feeling insecure.
“You’re so beautiful, Tooru… I love you so much… Although you’re an idiot for not taking care of yourself. You deserve the world, dear, so treat yourself to it… God, I adore you.”
“I love you too, Hajime…” Iwaizumi blinks, blushing as he pulls his arm away slowly and averts his gaze. Oikawa smirks, one eye opening just a little.
“You thought I was asleep, didn’t you~?” Clearing his throat, Iwaizumi nods. And then he pouts angrily, knocking his knuckles against Oikawa’s forehead.
“Why weren’t you looking after yourself?! Dumbass!”
“Ow, Iwa-chan! I was, I was, I promise!”
“You’ve been crying!”
“Because I needed you!” Iwaizumi is taken aback slightly, rubbing the back of his head as Oikawa draws in a long, shuddering breathe.
“Because I needed you, Hajime.” In an instance, before Oikawa can blink, Iwaizumi lunges forwards and wraps his arms tightly around Oikawa, burying his face in his shoulder. Oikawa doesn’t think he’s imagining the desperation in his hug.
“I needed you too. I couldn’t sleep… Couldn’t stop thinking about you… I know it’s pathetic because we’re in our 20’s, but I- I couldn’t cope without you for a whole two weeks…” Oikawa frowns softly, wrapping his arms back around Iwaizumi to pull him in closer, nose pressed against his neck and breathing in his warm, comfortable scent. He presses a small kiss there before speaking.
“It’s not pathetic. I was the same. One week is okay, but two… Two whole weeks, I couldn’t see you, hear you, feel you… All I wanted was to be once again with you.”
“Me too, Tooru. I love you.”
“I love you too~.” Slowly, the two of them shuffle into Oikawa’s bed, not caring for the covers as he wrap themselves together so intricately that it’s hard to tell where one of them begins and the other ends. Oikawa huffs gently, smiling with an expression so full of love, resting his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. He yawns, the lack of sleep making him physically ache.
“Sleep, Tooru… I’m here now.” Iwaizumi squeezes one of his hands, kissing the knuckles where finger tape usually is, his affection on Oikawa’s precious hands as the setter hums with content and drifts back to sleep.
The last thing he feels is rough, dry lips brushing over his own.