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"A boy met a boy.
They were in flush of youth.
They were in love that felt like a dream,
like a sparkling soda pop.”
― Asumiko Nakamura (中村明日美子), Classmates (Doukyuusei)
"We really shouldn't be doing this."
"Right?" Oikawa replies, playful excitement bleeding into his voice, smile dancing across his face. It's charming, as it usually is, but the way he smiles closed, instead of showing his teeth, with one side of his lips pulled higher, slightly tighter, exposes his nervousness.
Iwaizumi isn't sure if this excites or frightens him, sneaking away during their graduation ceremony into an empty classroom. Neither he nor Oikawa are the type to skip their classes, and this first time along with Oikawa's infectious mischief thrums his adrenaline high.
Closing the classroom door shut, he locks it, just in case.
Oikawa already has himself seated at a desk, his upper body able to plop on the table given his height. Iwaizumi takes the seat in front of him, body pressing against the back of the chair to face his childhood friend.
"I'll miss this," Oikawa says, eyes distant and far. He no longer looks at Iwaizumi, and the smile that had graced his lips slipped off its place.
In the empty classroom, with only a table that separates them, Iwaizumi feels it in miles. He decides he doesn't want any regrets.
Hand flat on the table between them, he shifts his weight, rises, tentative.
"Iwa-chan—"
"Don't stop me," he says, leaning over, closing the gap between them. Oikawa meets him halfway.
Their lips meet softly, a barely-pressed kiss. For Iwaizumi, it tickles, but it ignites his skin on fire all the same. It's blood-racing, and head-spinning, and every bit as good as he's imagined kissing Oikawa to be.
Eyes still closed as he pulls away, he tries to find the words to explain.
"I, uh, I—"
Oikawa's long, lithe palm cradles his jaw, pulling him in for yet another. Iwaizumi has never denied him of anything, and again he chooses to deliver.
Hands tangling into Oikawa's hair, he brings his first love closer, and their lips meet and meet until Iwaizumi feels he has claimed the other boy as his own; heart already given away long before this day has come.
He traces the bones of Oikawa's face, his high cheekbones, down to his strong jawline, and Iwaizumi feels Oikawa take his lower lip between his own and thinks, this is what forever feels like. This is what he wants eternity to be.
When they finally part, with coy longing carved into their bones, Oikawa's quiet, bashful laughter and fingers intertwined with his leaves him with the warmth of the sun in his chest. In his hands, he holds his very own forever.