Work Text:
From Tsukuba’s Peak
water falls down to become
the Mina River’s flow
Just as my love for you has grown
into a deep, quiet pool.
It’s a little-known fact that Oikawa Tooru is a hopeless romantic and an absolute sucker for traditions (but well, no one really has to know).
i.
On New Year’s day every year, Oikawa visits the shrine with Iwaizumi to usher in the new year. They always start the new year together; may this year be good for us.
It’s tradition; it’s routine; it’s familiar.
They meet outside Oikawa’s house before heading to the shrine together for hatsumode. Iwaizumi insists each year that Oikawa’s parents should at least join them too since it is traditionally a family affair, but they only offer knowing smiles as they tell him that it’s fine, that he and Oikawa should enjoy the new year together. It goes unsaid, you’re practically family anyway.
It’s routine; it’s familiar.
They walk side by side as they always do, shoulders bumping. They pass through the gate of the shrine, bowing in perfect sync. Cleanse their mouths and hands. Ring the bell. Slip a 5-yen coin into the offering box. Bow twice, clap twice, make a prayer, bow once. Four plus one. It is said that 5-yen coins are the luckiest because it’s pronounced the same way as destiny—a relationship brought together by fate, meant to be.
It’s familiar.
Oikawa isn’t really sure when it happens over the years but it just does; it’s quiet and subtle, creeping up on him until he realises. There aren’t any sparks or fireworks, loud and flashy and sudden. It is almost like it has been there all along. It makes sense. Iwaizumi has been a constant in his life all this time after all. It—loving Iwaizumi—makes sense.
As Oikawa watches Iwaizumi fish for an omikuji, tongue poking out slightly and his brows furrowing in concentration as he reads his fortune for the year, he feels a blooming warmth in his chest. It spreads, like the warmth from the sake he drank with Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi on New Year’s Eve, until he feels it throughout his entire being. He sees Iwaizumi look up at him and grin, as he feels the warmth reach the tip of his ears.
This is what loving his Iwa-chan feels like, he supposes, warm, safe, familiar.
It’s different this year.
As Oikawa opens his own omikuji now he does not check his main fortune, barely acknowledging the section for academics or health, gaze immediately flitting to the section for love, then the person you are waiting for instead.
He reads each word slowly and carefully, then lets out a soft huff. The wispy tendrils of his breath rise and dissipate into the air, a silent prayer to the gods. Oikawa prays that the fortunes printed on the tiny slip of paper will come true this year. He prays that, at the very least, he will finally be able to muster up the courage to tell his best friend that he’s been in love with him since forever.
Oikawa looks over at Iwaizumi, feeling a small smile starting to tug at his lips. He can only hope that the cryptic fortunes mean what he thinks they mean. The gods—and love—are fickle, after all.
It’s different this year.
Oikawa does not believe in luck. Or rather, he would prefer not to rely on luck. Instead, he believes in hard work and effort and earning things through one’s own volition. Which is why he really, really doesn’t know why he is standing in front of the tiny makeshift shop selling omamori, good luck amulets, and handing over 600-yen for one.
Iwaizumi—no thanks to him, the very cause of Oikawa’s problems—is standing beside him looking incredulous, but his face breaks into a smirk when Oikawa picks out one of the amulets that supposedly grants luck for finding love. He teases Oikawa about finding love and the perfect girl who will be willing to see past his shittiness and volleyball obsession.
It’s all Oikawa can do not to throttle his best-friend-slash-longtime-crush-slash-oblivious-idiot right then and there.
It seems like he’s going to need all the luck he can get after all.
It’s different this year.
Eleven years ago, seven-year-old Oikawa had scrawled on his ema: ‘I wish that I'll be able to meet aliens one day!!! And play volleyball forever!! With Iwa-chan!!!’.
Three years ago, fifteen-year-old Oikawa had written on his ema: ‘I wanna beat Shiratorizawa and stupid Ushiwaka-chan. I wanna become better at volleyball than stupid Tobio-chan’.
One year ago, seventeen-year-old Oikawa had written on his ema, in neat confident strokes: ‘I want to go to Nationals and win, and play for Team Japan one day’.
It is different this year.
Maybe, he thinks, there are some things that are more important than volleyball, if only just.
He rubs his omamori as he pens down his wish for this year, for extra good luck. He doesn’t let Iwaizumi see what he has written as he hangs up his ema, and Iwaizumi probably thinks his wish is related to volleyball as usual, or something really embarrassing maybe, but doesn’t pry more than he should.
But it is different this year. So if there now hangs a single ema with Oikawa Tooru’s hesitant penmanship with the wish: ‘I hope he loves me back’, well, no one has to know.
ii.
On Valentine’s Day Oikawa receives confessions and gifts and he pines. Iwaizumi—damn him—thinks Oikawa is being a self-centred asshole as usual but that doesn’t stop him from being there when Oikawa needs him anyway.
They’re lovely; they’re heartfelt; they’re beautiful.
Valentine’s day is no simple affair for Oikawa and, by association, Iwaizumi. If Oikawa getting hounded by his fanclub and cornered whenever he is left alone is bad on a daily basis, it’s definitely ten times worse on Valentine’s Day.
Girls stop him almost every five minutes, bowing and blushing as they hand him chocolates and letters and gush about their love for him. Oikawa grins sheepishly as he accepts them and thanks them for the gifts, but never says that he feels the same.
The gifts eventually pile up and he has to get Iwaizumi to carry some of them for him. Iwaizumi, all too familiar with this routine, simply rolls his eyes and slaps Oikawa’s arm before sharing the load, telling him that he should really do something about his fangirls and their excessive gifts. Oikawa merely sticks out his tongue and teases Iwaizumi about being jealous since he’s an absolute heathen who would never be the object of any girl’s affections.
Oikawa appreciates the gifts that he gets, because they truly are lovely and it doesn’t hurt his ego to know that these girls want to be with him, but he selfishly wishes that he could trade all of them for a single gift from the one he loves instead.
They’re heartfelt; they’re beautiful.
It is traditionally girls who give the guys chocolates on Valentine’s Day, but that doesn’t stop Oikawa from making a big deal of giving Iwaizumi a box of chocolates anyway.
He tells Iwaizumi that he should be grateful to be the only one receiving chocolates from him. He tells Iwaizumi that he should really appreciate the giri-choco that oikawa bestows upon him as a ‘thoughtful best friend’, since no girl would want to give him chocolates.
Oikawa does not tell Iwaizumi that he had spent hours in the kitchen with Hanamaki trying to make them perfect, because Iwaizumi deserves nothing short of the best. He does not tell Iwaizumi that he wishes that they could be given as honmei-choco instead, a heartfelt confession to the only person he truly loves.
They’re beautiful.
As much as Oikawa loves to poke fun at Iwaizumi’s appearance, it’s no secret that Iwaizumi is handsome. He’s not attractive in the same way that Oikawa is, but with his sharp features and tan skin and well-defined muscles, it’s not a surprise that he has both girls and guys confessing to him as well on Valentine’s Day.
Iwaizumi receives six confessions this year: five girls and one guy.
Oikawa catches all of them as they play out, and seethes quietly as he watches his best friend receive the confessions.
There’s something about the way Iwaizumi responds to confessions. He ducks his head down and blushes, an uncharacteristically gentle smile gracing his lips. Nothing about it is fake, unlike the way Oikawa responds to confessions.
Oikawa is angry and jealous. He is jealous of the girls who can confess so easily to Iwaizumi, wishing he could do the same. He is angry at the boy who confesses, but also at himself, for not having the courage to do so. He is angry and jealous when Iwaizumi does not react differently to a guy confessing to him, treating the boy as genuinely as he did the girls, accepting the boy’s gift and thanking him politely.
Oikawa grits his teeth and clenches his fist, wishing that he could stop being a coward and do the same. Iwaizumi, ever perceptive and attuned to Oikawa’s emotions and body language, stops him later during the day and asks him what’s wrong.
Oikawa puts on his usual façade, laughing hollowly as his voice goes shrilly and he brushes Iwaizumi off, instead commenting on how the girls who confessed to Iwaizumi were cute.
They’re beautiful, you should date one of them, he says. You’re beautiful, I wish you could be mine, he thinks.
Oikawa goes home and opens his gifts and reads the letters.
They all repeat the same sentiment: that they’d watched many of his games and found him cute and they were hoping that they could go out some time to get to know each other better. The language is flowery and superficial and hopeful and wrong. Oikawa doesn’t want these. He wants someone who has been right there beside him during his games, someone who calls him an idiot, not cute, and someone who doesn’t need to get to know him because they already know each other so well.
On Valentine's Day Oikawa Tooru is usually the one who breaks hearts at school, but if he spends the night at home heartbroken crying to himself over a boy who does not love him back the same, well, no one has to know.
iii.
On the day of their graduation Oikawa cries and it’s a messy affair, filled with tears of joy and sadness that are loaded with three years’ worth of sentiment and memories. He can’t help it really, he’s always been overly-emotional. He’s thankful that Iwaizumi, as always, is right there by his side.
He tells himself: he’s steeled himself for the wave of emotions; he’s prepared for this; he’ll make sure that the memories are good ones.
Oikawa is prepared, which is why he has his post-ceremony celebrations all planned out.
First priority goes to the parents, so he lets himself get pulled away by his overly-enthusiastic parents and offers his widest (genuine) smile as his parents and Iwaizumi’s parents take photos of them, beaming proudly at their boys, now all grown up.
He and Iwaizumi find Matsukawa and Hanamaki afterwards, and the four of them take keepsake selfies and make promises to make an effort to stay in touch, especially since all of them will be going to universities across different prefectures. They hug afterwards, and Oikawa has to choke down tears as he wraps his arms around his friends tighter. All of this suddenly seems way more real.
He had steeled himself for the wave of emotions, told himself that the future wouldn’t be as bad as he'd made it out to be, that they would still be able to keep in touch and stay friends, but he can’t help feeling as if his time is running out.
He tells himself: he’s prepared for this; he’ll make sure that the memories are good ones.
Oikawa was expecting this, to be honest. After all, confessing on graduation day isn't uncommon, and the tradition of giving someone the second button of your uniform as a form of confession is also a big deal, even more so if you’re popular.
So, neither he nor Iwaizumi are even moderately surprised when a group of girls start to approach Oikawa the moment the foursome separate and Hanamaki and Matsukawa leave. It’s nothing out of the usual; they’re blushing and nervously clutching various gifts as they approach him: letters, flowers, chocolate.
Those with gifts offer them to him, staring down at the ground with cheeks dusted pink as they profess their admiration and supposed love for him. All the confessions are the same to him, he thinks; nervous stuttering with voices too high, a fleeting brush of hands with fingers too soft. It’s not what he wants.
Regardless, Oikawa smiles politely with feigned enthusiasm as he accepts the gifts from the girls and thanks them, as he’d always done. They’re looking at him eagerly, and one of them finally musters up the courage and blurts out the question asking who he is planning on giving his second button to.
Oikawa hears the click of a tongue and his eyes flit to his side to see Iwaizumi leaning against a tree with his arms folded, rolling his eyes. Oikawa can almost imagine Iwaizumi chiding him not to be a jerk and leading the girls on as he flicks Oikawa’s forehead to get his point across. He does not allow himself to dwell on the deep baritone of Iwaizumi’s voice or the familiar touch of his best friend’s fingers—rough, yet filled with inexplicable warmth and affection—in his daydream.
Instead, he turns his gaze back to the girls and he plasters on his biggest, sugary-sweet (fake) smile as he apologises, sorry, I don’t really believe in the second-button tradition, it just seems a little silly, and sorry, but I don’t like anyone at the moment, and sorry, I really do appreciate your gifts to me. I wish you girls the best for the future.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Sorry I can’t reciprocate your feelings, sorry I didn’t mean to break your heart.
He’s prepared for this, to tell them sorry, but he just isn’t prepared to be on the receiving end. Sorry, he whispers to himself, I fell in love with my best friend.
He tells himself: he’ll make sure that the memories are good ones.
Iwaizumi somehow manages to save Oikawa from the group of girls surrounding him who look like they’re seconds away from full on bawling, and the two of them hurry out of the school as quickly as they can before the situation gets out of hand.
Iwaizumi smacks Oikawa on the back of his head and tells him that he’s the absolute worst, and Oikawa scoffs a haughty reply back telling him that he’s just jealous of his popularity. They bicker and laugh as they walk alongside each other down the familiar path, and for a moment Oikawa lets the pressure and reality of their futures slide away, pretending that this—them—can stay the same forever.
He invites Iwaizumi back to his place to sleep over for the night, for old times’ sake, Iwa-chan. Iwaizumi teases him for being a sentimental old man as he ruffles Oikawa’s hair and agrees to go, and Oikawa tries not to think too much about how good Iwaizumi’s touch feels. Subconsciously, he wonders whether tonight will be the last night that he gets to feel this way.
Later that night, they’re lying beside each other on Oikawa’s roof, something they hadn’t done in ages, not since they were in middle school. Neither of them speak, and it’s mostly quiet save for the soft hum of the night, muted noises coming from the neighbourhood, but the silence is more comforting than awkward.
It’s almost midnight. Oikawa closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He had told himself: he’ll make sure that the memories are good ones.
Oikawa thinks back to today, the tears, the strange feeling of anxiety like there is something that needs to be done, the lies he told the girls.
No, he has to make the memories good ones.
Oikawa thinks back to Valentine’s Day, the heartache, the desire for Iwaizumi to be his, the courage he did not possess.
He turns to face Iwaizumi, and finds that the dark-haired boy is already looking at him with curious eyes, a silent question, like he’s anticipating Oikawa to say something. Of course he is. Iwaizumi has always known Oikawa better than Oikawa knows himself, their bond so special and strong even oblivious little Tobio-chan could sense it.
Oikawa thinks back to New Year’s Day, the promises he had made when he prayed for good luck, for love, for Iwaizumi.
The hand in Oikawa’s left pocket is nervously stroking the good luck charm he’d bought on New Year’s Day three months ago, with a prayer on his lips and his best friend in his mind. The hand in his right is gripping the second button, which he had hastily ripped off of his uniform.
Oikawa thinks back to all these years, with Iwaizumi beside him; his best friend, his partner, his only love.
Loving Iwaizumi has always been quiet and subtle and warm, familiar and genuine. There aren’t any sparks or fireworks or shooting stars, there has never been any need for that with Iwaizumi.
So if it is on a quiet and ordinary night where two best friends lie watching the stars, when Oikawa Tooru whispers hushed confessions and I love you’s, gently pressing the second button of his uniform into his best friend’s hand and his lips against Iwaizumi’s, well, no one has to know.