Archive of Our Own

Tooru isn’t sad. He isn’t.
Because he has a good life right now. He has friends who care about him, he has a steady volleyball career, he has his own apartment, his parents approve of his lifestyle, he’s healthy, he’s going to college and getting excellent grades.

Besides, the breakup was two years ago, and he hasn’t seen Iwa-chan since then. Iwaizumi. Not Iwa-chan. Iwaizumi. Shit.
Tooru really isn’t sad.

Tooru has pride after all, and the fact that he never deleted Iwaizumi’s number (or his contact name: Iwa-chan♥) has nothing to do with being sad over a breakup that happened two years ago. And neither does the stupid shirt Iwaizumi gave him for his 20th birthday, or the little matching pin set Iwaizumi gave him the day they graduated.
“Highschool sweethearts” is a stupid sentiment, anyway.

So no, maybe Tooru hasn’t moved on, whatever. Moving on is stupid, especially when you loved someone so deeply. Still love, but he tries to only admit that to himself when it’s four in the morning and he’s standing in front of his stove as he boils water for ramen.

But Tooru still smiles when he goes out with friends, he goes to mixers for fun (though he’s never been interested in anyone else…), when he turned 21, he got drunk off his ass and his friend had to take him home. He’s still living his life and having fun. Life moves on and all that.

And it’s not like Tooru hasn’t had flings in those two years. He’s had a girlfriend once who ended up dumping him because she “wasn’t interested anymore”, and a boyfriend that only lasted a week before he deemed Tooru too busy with volleyball. Typical.

But Tooru wasn’t all that upset when they broke up with him. Maybe it was some underlying anticipation that it was going to happen anyway. Maybe it was that Tooru wasn’t all that interested in the first place. Maybe it was that Tooru still had paraphernalia all over his house from his relationship with Iwaizumi. It’s a wonder, really.

His friends worried about him often, too. Because Tooru would be smiling and laughing and getting drunk one week and then completely disappear from their radars the next.
And he wasn’t trying to worry them, but that just happened to be the way he was coping. Coping with his breakup from two years ago. He’s not sad.

“Sorry Mattsun, I’m busy that week,” Tooru mumbles into the phone.

He leans against the counter, facing his unlit stove.
It’s about 8:13PM according to the stove clock, and Tooru hates how his voice echoes through his empty kitchen. It’s been two years and he still can’t get used to it. Or maybe he doesn’t want to get used to it. He doesn’t really want to think about which it is.

“No, no,” Tooru assures with a light chuckle, “I’m not blowing you off, I really do have a game.”
Mattsun’s inviting him to go drinking with Makki, but this week has worn him thin with practice and college work. Even if he didn’t have a game that week, he’d probably still say no.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it. Go ahead and have fun, I don’t mind,” Tooru says, running a finger along the metal rungs of the cooktop. “Okay. Talk to you later.”

He ends the call and sets his phone face down on the counter. For a moment, he stands in silence over the cold stove. Iwaizumi used to cook for him in the mornings, when he was too lazy to pull himself out of bed. Nowadays, he has trouble pulling himself out of bed for an entirely different reason.

Tooru flicks the stove light off. He’s not even really all that hungry, anyway.

The first hint that maybe he hadn’t been taking the breakup as well as he thought was when Mattsun showed up at his door about a month afterwards. Their highschool friend group was still somewhat intact, in that Mattsun and Makki would still hang out together. But after the break up, Mattsun seemed to take on the role of checking in with Tooru.

It was raining that day, which only dampered Tooru’s mood when he answered the door in his pyjamas, exhausted and worn down.
Mattsun took one look at him, called up Makki, and took Tooru out to dinner.

Ever since then, Mattsun had worked on nursing Tooru out of his downward spiral, taking him out to eat, hanging out with him, he even cleaned Tooru’s apartment for him once. Tooru was grateful, of course.

Mattsun would never talk about Iwaizumi, even though Tooru knew he and Makki were checking in on him too. So Tooru never found out how Iwaizumi had handled the breakup, but he always assumed Iwaizumi was doing fine. It was Iwaizumi who broke up with him, after all.

And it wasn’t for any one reason. They were going to different colleges, it was hard to see each other, Tooru poured himself into volleyball while Iwaizumi eventually ended up quitting. Things just weren’t meshing, they drifted apart, and Iwaizumi brought up the idea of taking time off the relationship.

Maybe Tooru had overreacted. Maybe he could have talked it out better. But the night had ended up with Tooru shouting, Iwaizumi storming out, and Tooru spending the rest of the night in his bed, crying.

Two years later, Tooru likes to think he’s coping a lot better.
He still has days, but he knows if he starts to nosedive, Mattsun will show up at his door again. He doesn’t know if that’s comforting or threatening, actually.

Tooru’s parents had asked about Iwaizumi, too. His parents had always loved Iwaizumi, and even though they were surprised when they found out about the relationship, they accepted it because it was Iwaizumi.

The same Iwaizumi who would take Tooru out to go bug catching when they were kids. The same Iwaizumi who practiced spiking the volleyball on hot summer days with Tooru. The same Iwaizumi who headbutted Tooru in middle school, and the same Iwaizumi who was defeated by Karasuno in highschool with him.

Telling his parents that they had broken up was one of the most heartbreaking things about the whole thing, besides the actual breakup. They didn’t seem to know what to say or do about it, so they simply told Tooru that he’d be okay, and that he should focus on his studies.
As if it were that easy.

Mattsun brought up Iwaizumi once, for the first time in two years, while he and Tooru were sitting across from each other at a small restaurant.
They had been chatting about people they knew in highschool, and what they were up to.

“Oh yeah, Iwaizumi said he’d seen Kindaichi the other day. I think Kindaichi’s studying mathematics?”
With the way Mattsun’s lip twitched, Tooru guessed it had only slipped out by accident. Tooru sat very still in his seat, almost afraid to move. Mattsun took his silence as a cue to continue the conversation.

It was the first piece of… anything Tooru had gotten about Iwaizumi since the breakup. He wanted to pretend that he didn’t really mind, but it stuck to his mind for the rest of the day.

Mattsun tested the waters of the subject of Iwaizumi a couple times after that. He always brought it up carefully, like he was ready to turn the conversation at even the smallest hint that Tooru wasn’t handling it.

It was when Tooru was sitting between Mattsun and Makki at a bar that Mattsun brought him up again while they were ordering.
He said it tentatively, “Hanamaki, didn’t you come here with Iwaizumi recently? What did you get then?”

Mattsun had flicked his eyes to Tooru’s face to gauge his reaction. Tooru thinks maybe the corner of his mouth had twitched, but he said nothing. Makki shot a glare at Mattsun while still glancing at Tooru cautiously.

But Tooru did a good job of subduing his reactions. It was strange to hear Iwaizumi’s name, but it became less and less of a shock the more Mattsun tried it out.

Actually, that part was the most infuriating part. The way his friends were stepping around it like hot coals, like they’d get burned if they touched too heavily on the subject. Because Tooru isn’t sad.
He’s not so tender that the simple mention of Iwaizumi’s name would unravel him.

They mentioned Iwaizumi in passing a couple times after that, each time carefully supervising Tooru’s reaction to it. Tooru thought to maybe say something about how annoying their carefulness was, but he knew they’d only take his complaint as a sign that it had, in fact, bothered him. Which it didn’t.

His facade slipped once, though.
The three of them had gone out to eat together. The mood was great; everyone was feeling energetic, Tooru had been laughing and smiling.

They had passed by an arcade, and Makki was asking about going there together.
Mattsun had answered, “Yeah! Iwaizumi and his boyfriend have been there!”

It was said without any hesitation, like he’d normally have when talking about Iwaizumi, but as soon as the sentence came out of his mouth, his eyes shot to Tooru.
It was low, barely audible, but Tooru heard the quiet warning from Makki, “Matsukawa.”

It was kind of like a slap to the face. And it shouldn’t have shocked Tooru as much as it did. After all, he’d been on flings before. But it still made his stomach churn with the thought of someone else in a relationship with Iwaizumi.

Mattsun and Makki had watched him carefully, likely trying to check if Tooru was okay in the least obvious way possible. Which would only make it more obvious.
And as much as Tooru wanted to just turn around and brush it off with a smile, he furrowed his brow and clicked his tongue loudly in frustration.

Frustration at what, he wasn’t sure. At Mattsun and Makki for trying to walk on eggshells around the topic, or whoever Iwaizumi was dating; maybe even Iwaizumi.
Or maybe he was just frustrated at himself.

It was the first time he’d had any kind of reaction to the topic of Iwaizumi, and he caught the way Makki elbowed Mattsun in the ribs. They had a whole wordless conversation with their eyes that Tooru didn’t pay much attention to, but he could tell that Makki was chewing Mattsun out.
They didn’t ask him about his thoughts on it, only followed when Tooru kept walking without another word.

But he was up at four in the morning that night, crouched in front of his stove on the floor, trying to stay as still and quiet as he could in his empty apartment.

It wasn’t unnatural for Mattsun to come to Tooru’s apartment when it was obvious that Tooru was slipping into a spiral. But if he wanted to hang out for the sake of hanging out, he’d usually call or text Tooru first.
It was only when Tooru began shutting himself off that Mattsun would appear without warning and drag him off to spend the rest of the day in some cheap fast food place with him.

But Tooru’s been doing fine this week. It’s been about two months since Tooru found out about Iwaizumi’s relationship, and he’s gone back to his (mostly) regular self.
He even went to dinner with Mattsun the other week. He’s fine, perfectly fine.

So when he hears a knock at his door and finds Mattsun, he’s completely dumbfounded.
“Uh, I’m fine,” Tooru says, skipping over any kind of greeting as he steps aside for Mattsun to come in.
Mattsun looks him over, as if still checking, then nods.

“Yeah, you look like it,” he says matter-of-factly.
He wanders into Tooru’s apartment, glancing over it carefully.
“It’s clean,” Tooru assures slowly.
Mattsun nods again. “Mm. Looks like it,” he replies.

Just as Tooru thinks about asking, Mattsun says, “Hey, we’re going drinking. You coming?”
Tooru can’t get a grasp on this conversation. So he repeats dumbly, “Uh, I’m not really… upset.”
Mattsun nods, raising his eyebrows a bit as if to say, Yeah, you’re not.

“You busy, then?” Mattsun guesses, when Tooru doesn’t say anything else.
“Uh, no, not really. Why are you inviting me?” Tooru asks, because he’s not sure how else to ask it.
Mattsun quirks his eyebrows a little. “You’re my friend?”
“No, I mean-”

“Oikawa. Are you coming or not?” Mattsun interrupts impatiently, glancing at his phone’s clock.
He asks the question, but the look in his eyes tells Tooru that he’ll come along either way.

Tooru has a sinking feeling that Mattsun is plotting something, but he can’t put his finger on what. He doesn’t really have a reason to say no, and he’s sure Mattsun will drag him off even if he does, so he agrees to go.

It’s not like Tooru is opposed to going drinking with Mattsun and Makki, anyway. They’re fun to drink with, and Tooru appreciates the times they get to hang out to just hang out, and not because Tooru’s shutting down.

When Tooru and Mattsun arrive in front of the bar, they find Makki standing outside, waiting for them.
Mattsun glances around as they approach and gives Makki a pointed look that Tooru can’t place. Those two really seem to have their own language amongst themselves, and Tooru can never understand it.

Street lights flicker on as the sun goes down, and the streets fill with people. The colorful neon lights advertising the bar illuminate the street around them. Tooru has to squint when the lights begin blinking in a flashy sequence.
They’ve been to this bar before, but they’ve been to practically every bar in town. Tooru doesn’t really remember this one in particular.

There’s an autumn chill in the air that Tooru remembers loving years ago. Now, it’s just cold, and he pulls the sleeves of his sweater over his hands.

Makki mumbles something like, “Running late,” to Mattsun.
They huddle together with their backs to Tooru to whisper about something. Tooru can't really catch what they’re talking about.
He can’t help but feel left out until there’s a rumble of a vehicle passing, and Makki looks up and says, “Oh, there.”

Tooru looks up and follows Makki’s gaze to see a motorcycle parked on the street in front of the bar. His immediate thought is that Mattsun and Makki have dragged him to some surprise mixer for fun. A mixer is the last thing Tooru wants to attend, and he’s already thinking of excuses to go back home.

But the motorcyclist takes off his helmet, and Tooru’s entire world comes to a stop.

Because he’s just standing there.

The first time Tooru’s seen him in two and a half years.

And the only completed thought in Tooru’s head is how he’s driving a motorcycle. Because his short hair is somewhat ruffled from the helmet, he’s wearing biker gloves, and he looks incredibly hot on a motorcycle.

Which, Tooru shouldn’t be thinking because they’ve been broken up for two years and a half. But he shouldn’t deny facts, and the fact is that Iwaizumi is hot.
When did he get a motorcycle, anyway? Tooru thinks blankly.

Not that he’s complaining, of course, but Iwaizumi had never showed any interest in getting a motorcycle license when they were together. It makes him feel like Iwaizumi has been living it up in the years they haven’t been together.
Tooru should feel happy for him, but his chest tightens instead.

Tooru stands still - very still - as if that will prevent Iwaizumi from seeing him. He doesn’t even realize he’s stopped breathing until his lungs ache for air.

Iwaizumi’s eyes scan over the group, and linger just a tad longer on Tooru.
“Hey,” he greets Mattsun and Makki. His eyes trail back to Tooru, blinks, and adds a little more quietly, “Hey.”

Tooru can feel Mattsun and Makki’s glances on him. He knows they’re waiting for a reaction. They’ve got that timid atmosphere, like they’re wondering if this was a bad idea after all.
Tooru will definitely chew them out later.

But this is far more than just mentioning Iwaizumi’s name in passing, and they’re all holding their breath, waiting for Tooru to say something.
Tooru wonders what they’d do if he caused a scene. He thinks briefly about doing it, just to spite them, if nothing else.

But he knows better than to be petty right now. And as much as he’d love to get back at his friends, he figures now isn’t really the time to.

So Tooru, still unmoving, whispers, “Hey.”
He quickly tears his gaze away from Iwaizumi’s face, because he’s not sure he can keep looking without doing… something. Cry, yell, run up and kiss him, just something.

“Let’s go in,” Makki says quickly, ushering Mattsun to follow him in.
Tooru’s sure the two will argue about this whole situation. He’s seen their glances in the past couple of months every time they’d bring up Iwaizumi. It was always Mattsun pushing it and Makki chastising him.

But they’ve both been adamant about trying to get Tooru comfortable with talking about Iwaizumi. He can tell that they think they’re being subtle, but their attempts to not be obvious only stands out more.
Tooru doesn’t know if all that build up was to warm him up to tonight, but he’s never trusting his friends ever again.

Tooru realizes that when Mattsun had showed up at his apartment and invited him, he explicitly avoided saying “Makki and I”, like he’d always done in the past. He adores his friends, but what he wouldn’t give to punch them right now.

He and Iwaizumi end up walking next to each other as Mattsun and Makki mutter amongst themselves ahead of them.
It’s incredibly awkward, but Tooru can’t think of anything to say.

(Un)Luckily for him, Iwaizumi breaks the uncomfortable silence.
“What have you been up to?” he asks softly.
Tooru knows his hands are shaking, but he balls them into fists and keeps looking forward.

“Same old, same old,” Tooru mumbles, just loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear. He doesn’t bother putting on a smile. Iwaizumi would know it’s fake, anyway.
Iwaizumi chuckles lightly, but there’s no real happiness in it. Just a sound to fill the silence.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you on TV. Well, you always wanted to be a famous player,” Iwaizumi says, like this isn’t the first conversation they’ve had in two and a half years.

The fact that Iwaizumi still watches Tooru on TV is pushed to the back of Tooru’s mind.
“What about you, Iwa-ch- Iw- Iwaizumi?” Tooru stumbles over his words and catches himself before he can call Iwaizumi Iwa-chan.

But he notices the way Iwaizumi freezes - just for a second - before he replies, “Not much here, either.”
“You came in on a motorcycle.”
“Oh, yeah. I got my license like a year ago.”

They leave the conversation there as the four duck into the bar.
As they’re following Mattsun and Makki to the counter, Tooru’s just thinking about how uncomfortable the silence between them is when Iwaizumi mutters, “Oikawa.”

Tooru’s heart skips at his name.
“Uh, yeah?” he manages to choke out.
“You sound too stiff when you say my full name like that,” Iwaizumi says slowly, carefully. “Just call me what you want.”
“O-oh. Okay,” Tooru shakily replies.
He’s glad the bar’s somewhat dimly lit, because he can feel the heat on his face.

Tooru’s ready to just spend the rest of the night getting wasted so he can forget today even happened.
But his friends seem to have other plans.

Mattsun and Makki take a seat next to each other at the end of the bar, forcing Tooru to sit next to Iwa. They don’t say anything about it or even look in Tooru’s general direction to check if it’s okay.
His friends are terrible, either way.

But if Iwa minds, he doesn’t say so.
The bartender slides over to them and begins taking orders from the two assholes at the end of the bar first.

A thought dawns on Tooru.
“Uh, Iwa-chan?” he says, and the name sounds just right on his tongue. “You drove here, right? You’re not planning on drinking, are you?”

Iwa waves him off dismissively. “Nah. When Hanamaki invited me, he told me, ‘We’re going drinking, and we need someone to be our chauffeur in the event we get wasted.’ But neither Hanamaki or Matsukawa ever get hammered, so I assumed someone else was coming,” he explains.

“I don’t get wasted all that often!” Tooru protests instinctively.
Iwa chuckles, and this time it’s genuine. “You’re only making it sound like the opposite,” he says.
“I really don’t!”

And the bartender comes to take their order.
It was only for a couple seconds, but their conversation felt so natural. Like all the tenseness was gone. Like they’ve been talking like they always have. Like they never broke up.

Okay, so maybe despite Iwa’s warnings all throughout and Tooru’s better judgement, he still got wasted.

His friends watch him as he downs another glass, and Iwa’s groaning at him.
“Oikawa, take it easy,” he advises, then turns to Mattsun and Makki, “You guys, too! That’s your fourth one!”

Mattsun and Makki share a grin and give him a thumbs up.
“Sure, mom,” Mattsun teases, draining his glass.
Iwa shoots them a glare, earning chuckles.
“Iwaizumi, want a drink of mine?” Makki adds with a joking lilt, holding out his glass.

Iwa playfully swats Makki’s hand away, grinning as he chides, “Stop trying to get me drunk! One of us needs to stay sober!”
“What are you talking about?” Mattsun laughs, “I’m extremely sober.”
“No sober person would ever say that,” Iwa snorts.

Mattsun leans over Makki as he grins and says, “Hey, I wanna sip of yours, Hanamaki!”
Makki complies, offering his glass.
Mattsun takes a huge drink and wraps an arm around Makki’s shoulders as they laugh when Iwa groans at them.

Tooru’s face is pressed against the counter, and everything feels extremely loud.
The chatter of the bar, the clink of Mattsun’s glass as he sets it down, the scrape of barstools against the floor, his friends’ laughter. All the sounds mesh together and slur in his head.

He’s not really sure how many drinks he’s had at this point, but he knows it’s enough to give him a headache.
He’s extremely familiar with the feeling, of course, but he still hates how even the smallest movement can echo around his head and ricochet and fill every crevice of his mind like a cornered roar in a narrow tunnel.

But his drunken state has made Tooru hyper-aware of the closeness between him and Iwa. He feels the way Iwa’s arm brushes against his, and he feels the space between them more acutely.

There's less than a foot of space between them, and he thinks about the way the hairs of Iwa’s arm will sometimes tickle against his arm. He can sometimes feel the slight shaking when Iwa laughs, or when Iwa shifts in his seat.

And it’s getting to him. He knows it’s probably just because he’s drunk and this isn’t the first time he’s gotten emotional while drunk, but it’s getting to him.

Because dammit, he misses Iwa. He wants nothing more than to reach over and just run his fingers through Iwa’s hair, or to bury his face in Iwa’s neck. Even just holding his hand would be enough.

He misses the easy conversation between them, he misses the hugs Iwa gives that completely envelops him, he misses watching Iwa’s face as he drifts off to sleep from the other side of the bed, he misses waking up to the smell of Iwa making him breakfast and knowing how loved he is.

But there’s those words. He heard it months ago, but it still lingers in the back of his mind.
Iwaizumi’s boyfriend.

Tooru doesn't even know if they’re still together, doesn’t even know if this is the only one he’s had since they broke up, but the simple thought pushes and presses itself against Tooru’s skull.

And it hurts.

It hurts more than the time Tooru cut his arm when they were kids. Iwa had told him much later that he had felt bad because Tooru had cut it trying to get a beetle for him. It wasn’t fatal and they had stuck a band-aid to it hours later, but Tooru had cried, thinking he was going to die.

It hurts more than the time Iwa headbutted him in middle school, metaphorically hauling Tooru from his tattered state of mind. His nose had bled at the time, and his head was spinning, but Iwa’s words had sliced through the fog in his head. A bump had formed on Iwa’s forehead too, after that.

It hurts more than Tooru’s knee injury in highschool, when he sprained it and couldn’t play for weeks. He had been beyond aggravated that he was forced to sit out of practice, but Iwa would tell him that he needed to let it heal. When Tooru would try to practice in secret, Iwa always knew, and would chastise him.

Tooru tries to not want too many things in his life. He may have a flippant attitude most of the time, but he tries to stay humble underneath and appreciate the things he has.

He wants victory and success in volleyball. While it was rocky at first, with the way he’s going now, he’ll achieve that.

He wants people to trust him. He’s sure he’s always had that. He’s incredibly lucky to have the wonderful friends he has.

And he wants Hajime Iwaizumi. And it’s selfish, sure, but it’s the only selfish thing he’s ever really wanted.
He must have always wanted Iwa, actually.

With Tooru’s popularity, more girls flocked to him. He didn’t mind until some of them turned their attention to the person who hung around him most, Iwa.

Tooru had always been good at hiding his jealous nature behind a mask of arrogance and immaturity.
But when he saw girls talking to Iwa, there’d be a dark, dark churning in the pit of his stomach.

And Tooru tried to date girls to get the feeling to go away, but he was too focused on volleyball to fully commit, and he was quickly dumped.
He feigned grievance over the breakups, and Iwa would reprimand him every time.

In their third year of middle school, Tooru had dated a girl that he actually liked a little. Admittedly, she was kind of out of Tooru’s league and he had been lucky to have been able to date her, but when she broke up with him, she said her reasoning was that he was too centered on Iwa.

It was a sort of a wake-up call for him, and it was the first time Tooru had fully accepted his attraction for his best friend.

But he let his attraction fester.
He wanted to confess, but every time he and Iwa were alone together, his words got caught in his throat.

One day, he overheard a girl confessing to Iwa in their second year of highschool. She was an underclassman and fairly cute; there wasn’t really any reason for Iwa to turn her down. Tooru was convinced Iwa would accept, but he politely declined.

It had made Tooru’s stomach churn when he had initially heard the confession, but it made it twist even more when he watched the way the girl had walked away, tears in her eyes.

So when Tooru finally worked up the courage to confess in the middle of their third year of highschool, he was fully prepared to go out in the same way as that girl. But Iwa had sheepishly confessed back, and Tooru felt like he had finally gotten everything he could ever want.

Everything fell into place just like that. He was happy, the happiest he’d ever been, in the almost four years they were together.

And then they broke up, and everything shattered.

And he still has the gall to selfishly want Iwa.
But when he thinks about someone else also wanting Iwa, someone else having Iwa...
Shit. Shit shit shit.
Tooru is sad. He’s really sad.

Tooru stands up suddenly, wobbling a bit as he does. Iwa’s eyes follow him, as do Mattsun and Makki’s.

Tooru’s doing everything he can to keep it down. His feelings, his tears, his stomach.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Tooru mumbles as he stumbles away, somewhere in the direction he thinks the bathroom is.

He doesn’t quite catch the conversation he leaves behind, but he thinks he hears Mattsun murmuring something and Makki telling Iwa something about how Tooru’s an emotional drinker.
Not that he’s wrong, but Tooru feels like he would be offended if he weren’t staggering away.

Tooru finds himself hovering over the bathroom sink, eyes unfocused at the water flowing down the drain.
Every time he goes drinking and ends up like this (usually in his own bathroom, granted), he always tells himself it’ll never happen again.

Only for it to happen the next week.
Okay, so maybe Tooru does get wasted pretty often.

He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, his breathing ragged. His throat still burns, but he ignores it.

There’s the sound of the door opening, but he doesn’t move. He stays where he is, wondering how weird it would be if he dipped his head into the sink to run water over his neck.

“Oikawa.”
Tooru’s breath hitches and he finally lifts his head. Iwa steps into the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind him.
He speaks quietly, like he’s trying not to scare Tooru away, “Are you okay?”

The corners of Tooru’s eyes sting. He doesn’t have enough time to think about how he doesn’t want to cry for the first time he’s seen Iwa in two and a half years before he feels tears slide down his cheeks.

He can’t even really pinpoint what it is he’s crying about exactly. The breakup? His deep longing? The fact that he can’t even tell what’s wrong only frustrates him.
His face feels hot with embarrassment as he avoids Iwa’s eyes as best he can.

Iwa’s eyes widen slightly, and he blinks as he steps forward. Tooru steps back in turn, lowering his head and using his arm in a meager attempt to hide his face.
Iwa doesn’t seem fazed at Tooru’s retreat from his advance, but Tooru didn’t think he would be, anyway.

Tooru sniffs pathetically and vigorously scrubs at his face with his open hand. All the emotions are bubbling up and over and spewing out, and he has to crouch down to the floor so he doesn’t fall back.

“Hey,” Iwa says softly, and Tooru hears him crouch next to where he’s squatted on the floor.

When Iwa reaches out to rub Tooru’s back, Tooru’s weak sniffles evolve into embarrassing whimpers.
Because it’s something Iwa used to do when he knew Tooru needed the support. It was his nonverbal way of being there for Tooru, when words weren’t enough.

And while Tooru appreciates the gesture immensely, it’s the worst possible time to do it, because it just makes him miss Iwa more.

But he can’t choke out the words to ask Iwa to stop, but he doesn’t even think he wants Iwa to stop.
Iwa’s touch is like fire on his back, leaving searing prints, but even though it burns, it’s so, so warm, and Tooru’s been freezing cold for two and a half years.

The door to the bathroom swings open and a tall man pauses in the doorway to glance over them before he attempts to squeeze past.

Tooru tells himself he doesn’t really care if a stranger sees him sobbing in the bathroom of a bar, but he knows it's a pathetic sight. It’s already humiliating to do it in front of Iwa, and the last thing he wants is to gather an audience.

But before he can force himself to stop crying, Iwa clears his throat at the intruder loudly, and Tooru doesn’t see it but he’s sure Iwa throws a glare at the stranger, because the latter flees quickly with an agitated grunt.

Tooru would maybe feel bad for getting the stranger kicked out but… well, he’s sobbing on the floor of the bathroom of a bar, he could care less if the guy has to find somewhere else to pee.

“Oikawa, how about I take you home?” Iwa says quietly, and it echoes around the bathroom and all Tooru can hear is Iwa’s voice.
It’s different than the way the noise reverberated around his mind before, but he can’t explain how. He forces himself to breathe just enough to nod.

After grabbing a generous amount of paper towel from the dispenser by the sink and rubbing his face raw of tears, Iwa helps him stand, pulls his arm over his neck to hold him up, and walks him out of the bathroom.

Stepping back out into the bar makes Tooru’s head spin, likely from the alcohol. Despite the bar being dimly lit, it’s still too bright, and Tooru squints his eyes as they approach the counter.
Makki and Mattsun are pressed together, huddled like they’re whispering to each other again, but they look up when they spot Tooru and Iwa.

There’s worry in their eyes, but with the way they glance between Tooru and Iwa, Tooru imagines there’s something else in their expressions, but he’s having a hard time holding onto any single thought, let alone any inkling of what they’re thinking.

“I’m taking Oikawa home,” Iwa says, “Are you two good to make it home yourselves? I can come back if not.”
Mattsun quickly waves him off. “No, no, we’re fine. We really aren’t actually wasted,” he says with a reassuring smile.
Makki adds, “Yeah we’re good. Go ahead, you two. Be careful on your way back.”

Iwa nods and turns, keeping that scorching hold on Tooru. As they’re walking away, Tooru thinks he catches Mattsun muttering to Makki about some kind of plan, but he can’t hear what he’s saying exactly.
He’s too sad and tired and drunk to linger on it, though.

Iwa wears the helmet, apparently the only one he has, so Tooru’s left with wind ruffling his hair.
Tooru doesn’t really mind; it gives him an excuse to cling to Iwa’s warm body and hold on a little tighter than needed.

Tooru’s never ridden on a motorcycle before. He’s never even thought about it, but when he wraps his arms around Iwa, leans his head against Iwa’s back, and lets the rumble of the bike lull him into relaxation, he thinks of how he wouldn’t mind doing it again.

He’s on the edge of falling asleep, actually. He’s sure the alcohol isn’t helping.
“Hey,” Iwa’s voice breaks him out of his half-asleep daze, “Don’t fall asleep yet, dumbass. You’re gonna fall off. We’re almost there.”

By the time Iwa pulls into the parking lot of Tooru’s apartment and cuts the engine, Tooru’s barely conscious. He feels Iwa shift as he pulls his helmet off, kicks up the bike stand, and turns to look over his shoulder at Tooru, but neither move from where they sit.

“Hey,” Iwa says into the quiet night. “You’re still upset over our breakup, aren’t you?”
Tooru stays as still as possible, briefly wondering if he could just pretend he fell asleep. He’s not really sure he wants to have this conversation drunk, but he worries that it might be the only chance for it to happen.

“Mm,” Tooru confirms, burying his face into Iwa’s shoulder. “I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it,” he murmurs, words slurring together a bit.
The chilled wind still ghosts his face as he feels his eyes sting with the threat of tears.

Iwa scoffs lightly, without any malice, “You’re wearing my sweater, stupid.”
Tooru lifts his head slightly to check, and sure enough, it’s Iwa’s beige sweater. Ugh. He doesn’t even remember putting the dumb thing on.

Tooru rests his head back in Iwa’s shoulder, groaning. “I’m such an idiot,” he grumbles.
“How did you not notice this whole time?”
“Iwa-chan.”
“Hm?”

Tooru sits up, unwraps his arms from Iwa’s waist, and stares down at his lap. He feels Iwa shift to look at him more clearly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
There’s a pause of silence, and Tooru shudders as a slight breeze brushes his face. He feels incredibly small, his voice even smaller, in the quiet parking lot. His own voice feels foreign in his ears suddenly, like someone else said the words for him.

Iwa answers, just as quietly, “Yeah. Me too.”
He stands, swinging his leg over the motorcycle and holding out his hand to help Tooru off. Tooru stays in place, his mind groggy and tangled. He feels like crying again.

“Hey, Iwa-chan…” Tooru starts, and it pours out of his mouth before he can stop it, “Do you have a boyfriend right now?”
Iwa freezes in place, hand still held out. He blinks once, twice, before asking, “What?”
Tooru lifts his head, sober enough to panic and scramble to explain himself, “Uh! I mean, Mattsun mentioned something like that a while back. Not that I’ve been thinking about it, I just now remembered it. It’s not, uh, important. Just asking. You don’t have to answer. I don’t really care.”

Smooth, very smooth.

“We broke up pretty soon after we got together,” Iwa says softly. “I haven’t really been able to stay in a relationship recently, I guess.”
“Oh,” is all Tooru can answer.

Iwa eventually pulls him off the bike, practically lifting Tooru’s entire body to stand up. He lets Tooru lean on him as they walk up the steps of the building and stop in front of 401.

Tooru absently digs into his pocket for his keys… to find none. That wakes him up a bit as he pats around his pockets to no avail. In his foggy memory, he vaguely remembers setting them down… at the bar, when he began drinking.

“Goddammit,” Tooru hisses, “I left my keys at the bar.”
“It’s fine,” Iwa says, digging in his own pocket and pulling out a key ring with multiple keys attached.

Tooru watches hazily as he fans the keys out and picks out one, successfully unlocking the door. It takes Tooru a couple blurry moments to realize that it’s the spare key Tooru gave him years ago.

He doesn’t have time to really ponder that, because Iwa’s reaching to open the door, and Tooru suddenly remembers that he still has all of Iwa’s things still out and around his apartment.
Despite Iwa already confirming that he’s aware that Tooru’s not over the breakup, as far as he knows, Tooru’s only at an accidentally-wears-his-clothes-on-occasion level of hung up.

In reality, Tooru’s at a never-put-away-any-of-the-things-Iwa-left-at-his-house level of hung up, and Tooru’s not eager to let him know that.
So he does his best to stand up properly (he wobbles a bit, but tries to play it off) and grab Iwa’s wrist before he can push the door open.

“I can take it from here, Iwa-chan,” he says, willing his voice not to slur or shake.
Iwa eyes him up skeptically, but shrugs as he steps back.
“Okay. I’ll call Hanamaki about your keys. And… I’ll text you in the morning to check on you,” he says as he watches Tooru twist the doorknob.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, looking at Iwa over his shoulder.
Iwa nods, then turns to leave down the outdoor hallway.

Tooru steps into his dark apartment, sighing at the overwhelming silence. He takes one step forward and immediately trips over his own feet, slamming onto the floor with a huge thump and a yelp of pain.

Almost instantly, his door flies open and Iwa flicks on the light to find Tooru sprawled in front of the door, holding his elbow from where it banged into the floor.
“You oka-” Iwa begins, but stops as he takes in Tooru’s childish whining.

“That hurt!” Tooru wails pathetically. At most, he’s bruised it, but his awful night only enhances his emotional state. He’s tired, and all he really wants to do is crash on his bed.
Iwa sighs resignedly.
“You’re completely hopeless.”

Tooru wakes up with a headache and a gross taste in his mouth. But he recognizes his own bed. He vaguely remembers the events of the night prior, but most of it is fuzzy.
He stares up at the ceiling, trying to recall things he said or feelings he felt. He hardly even remembers what happened after Iwa gave him a ride to his apartment.

Tooru sits up slowly and is startled by the smell of food. He can’t tell if he’s imagining it, so he stumbles out of bed and his room, clipping his shoulder on the door frame when he hobbles out.

He hears sizzling as he enters the living room, and his heart stops when he sees Iwa at the stove.
He can’t even find words in his throat to say anything, opening and closing his mouth.

Iwa sees him and speaks first, “Hey, ‘morning.”
Tooru blinks, eyes trailing the pan that he’s scrambling eggs in, to the shirt that had definitely been hanging in Tooru’s closet the day before that he’s wearing, to his nonchalant face.
“What are you…” Tooru mumbles, words quickly dying in his throat.

For a split second, Tooru could believe that the past two and a half years were just a bad dream. He could believe he’s just woken up and Iwa’s making him breakfast like always, and they’ll kiss each other good morning and sit on the couch together, legs entangled.

But Tooru knows better than that.

Iwa pours the eggs on a plate by the stove, a piece of toast already set on it.
“I made you breakfast. Here. Need some aspirin or anything?” he asks, picking up and offering the plate to Tooru.

Tooru stares down at the plate, already sniffling.
But Iwa pats his shoulder and says, “Hey, don’t cry first thing in the morning. Just eat. We can talk after.”

Iwa scoops up a spoonful of eggs and holds it up for Tooru. Tooru swallows the lump in his throat and takes a bite.
It tastes the same as it did two years ago.

“Good?” Iwa asks, pushing the plate into Tooru’s chest.
Tooru nods quietly, avoiding eyes, and takes the plate. There’s a tear lingering in the corner of his eye, but he does his best not to let it fall.
Satisfied with that response, Iwa stretches his hands over his head and yawns.

“We need- you need to get a new couch,” Iwa says, and Tooru catches the way he corrects himself. “Yours is incredibly uncomfortable.”
Tooru glances over at the couch in the living room and sees the blanket and pillow set up on it.

“Did you…?” Tooru murmurs, blinking.
Iwa shrugs. “After seeing your sorry state last night, I figured I should stay,” he explains, hand on his hip.

“Oh god, last night,” Tooru groans as he remembers his breakdown in the bathroom. “I’m so sorry.”
Iwa shakes his head and puts his hands on Tooru’s back, pushing him to sit at the kitchen table. “We’ll talk after you eat. Does your elbow still hurt?”
“My elbow?”

Iwa grunts a short laugh. “You don’t remember? You fell, like, as soon as you stepped into your apartment. Scared the shit outta me when I heard the noise, I thought you seriously hurt yourself. But with how much you were whining afterwards, you coulda fooled anyone,” he says as he sits across from Tooru.

Tooru… vaguely remembers something like that happening. He remembers breaking down in the bathroom of the bar last night, and Iwa taking him home, but the details are blurred.
Tooru lifts his arm and realizes the bruise on his elbow. It does hurt, but his hangover is kind of numbing the pain a bit.

He rubs his elbow as he hesitantly asks, “Uh, so I didn’t like, say anything stupid last night, right?”
“You always say stupid things.”
Tooru breaks into a grin. “How mean,” he says with a light chuckle.

Once Tooru finishes his food, he sits back in his chair and faces Iwa. Better to have this conversation now, he guesses. He takes a deep breath-
But Iwa beats it to him.

“I’m still in love with you, Oikawa,” he says softly. “I don’t think there was I time I ever wasn’t, actually.”
Tooru blinks, the words taking too long to make sense in his head.
“Wh- Wha- I- wa-wait a second, Iwa-chan,” Tooru stammers, heat quickly warming his face.

Iwa raises his head and meets Tooru’s eyes. He’s serious, Tooru realizes, and his heart is beating so fast he can’t even tell if he’s breathing at all.
He probably isn’t.

“But!” Iwa cuts in before Tooru can get a coherent sentence out, “I think… before anything happens, I want to try to just… be around each other again. Without the dramatics of being in a relationship. For now, at least.”
Admittedly (and embarrassingly), Tooru’s only half listening right now. He’s still too caught up in Iwa’s confession to really comprehend anything else.

“I can’t help but feel like I caused all that last night,” Iwa says evenly. “Hanamaki had told me a couple times that you were in a bad way, but I didn’t realize you’d have that kind of reaction after seeing me after all that time.”

Tooru’s mouth finally catches up to his thoughts and his stutters out, “I-I was really happy to see you!”
Iwa raises an eyebrow, and Tooru clammers to continue, “Well, I mean, I was sad, but it was relieving to see you after so long. I… I missed you, I mean. I missed being around you. Alcohol doesn’t do my emotions well.”

Iwa barks a laugh as he rocks back in his chair. “I see that.”
Tooru sighs, tilting his head back as he grumbles, “But, no, Makki was right. I self-destruct practically every other week.”

“I wasn’t much better,” Iwa says with a shrug.
Tooru lowers his head to look at Iwa and blinks in shock. He had always assumed Iwa was taking the breakup fine. From the way Mattsun and Makki would talk about him, they made it sound as if he was having the time of his life, hanging out with them, dating other people, going out to arcades and such.
At the very least, Tooru assumed he was in a better state than waking up and silently sitting in an empty kitchen at four in the morning.

Iwa catches Tooru’s gaping expression and cracks a grin.
“You probably didn’t notice because you were drunk. Remember that pin set I got for us for graduation? My side is on the jacket I wore last night. I never took your apartment key off my key ring. I still have that stupid selfie you gave me as a gift for Christmas that one year in my wallet. I’ve been on countless flings, but I couldn’t keep any of them up because I still love you. I’ve still got most of your stuff in my apartment, too. The list goes on.”

Tooru’s jaw drops. Though, there’s a kind of satisfaction in knowing Iwa was hung up on him too. It almost makes him feel justified.
“Wait,” Tooru says, breaking eye contact and backtracking, “Can you say that again?”
“What?”
Tooru’s face is completely red, he’s sure. “...That you still love me?”

Iwa chuckles as he crosses his arms.
“I’ve said it twice now. You haven’t said anything back, you know,” he teases.

Hadn’t he? Tooru thinks to himself, but he realizes he’s been too shocked to say anything back. He’s thought it a million times in his head. It’s just a fact, anyway. It’s like saying the sky is blue; of course he’s in love with Iwa.

“Of course I still love you,” Tooru assures, “I’ve always been in love with you.”
Saying the words out loud stirs something visceral in Tooru’s chest. He’s been waiting to say those words again for a long time.
Oh god, he thinks as he feels the stinging in his eyes, I’m gonna cry again.

Iwa stands up and circles the table to approach Tooru.
“Hey, just for the record, you’re single right now too, right?” he asks as he bends down, hands reaching towards Tooru’s face.
Tooru nods wordlessly, keeping his eyes trained on Iwa’s face.
“And you’re sober?”
Tooru rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” is the only warning Iwa gives before he leans in.
Tooru doesn’t need the warning. He cards his fingers through Iwa’s hair and pulls him closer and this is everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s been waiting for.

He allows himself to be selfish, just this one time.

“So,” Mattsun clears his throat as he glances between the two from his side of the booth. “You two… fixed stuff, I imagine?”
Tooru’s pouting at him, arms crossed. He huffs, “You and Makki are the worst! I can’t believe you!”

Makki grins and shrugs. “It worked, though, didn’t it?” he says, stealing fries from Mattsun’s tray.
“I barfed in the bathroom,” Tooru complains. “I cried an entire ocean!”
Mattsun interjects, snatching a chicken nugget from Makki in turn, “You getting drunk off your ass was not part of the plan. That’s on you. We only wanted you two to make up.”
“Besides,” Makki adds, “Iwaizumi valiantly came to your rescue.”

Iwa-chan’s quiet, sipping on his milkshake next to Tooru. He watches the conversation, but doesn’t add much to it.
Tooru jabs a finger at Mattsun. “You deliberately didn’t tell me about Iwa-chan coming!”
Mattsun argues back, “If I did, you would have refused to come!”
“I still would have appreciated the warning!”
“Everything worked out in the end!”

“So are you two actually back together now?” Makki interrupts, eyeing them both up.
Tooru glances at Iwa-chan, who shrugs at him in a nonverbal, Do what you want.

Tooru sits back in their booth. “Nah, but we will be,” he says with a grin.
Mattsun and Makki share a glance. “You… what?” Makki asks skeptically.
“Well!” Tooru says dramatically, “After deep evaluation and a long night of consideration, I have concluded that I was maybe kind of depressed.”

“Kind of?” Mattsun huffs.
“Ahem!” Tooru clears his throat pointedly, “So Iwa-chan and I are taking it slow this time. But once I’m better, we’ll officially get back together.” He smiles, bumping his shoulder into Iwa-chan’s.

“That’s a very… ‘you guys’ thing to do,” Makki says around a mouthful of fries.
“Oikawa’s like a child,” Iwa-chan says with a shrug, “He throws a fit if things don’t go his way, so I’m just teaching him a little patience.”
“What a rude way to put it!” Tooru protests, but he laughs. “And don’t make it sound like I didn’t agree to this!”

“So what, are you two on reserve for each other now?” Mattsun asks, reaching across Makki to take his soda and sip it.
Makki huffs a laugh. “It’s not like any of their flings after they broke up worked out. They’ve probably always been on reserve for each other.”

“So they’re basically already dating,” Mattsun says, nodding. “They just won’t say they are.”
Makki shrugs. “Well, we only planned to get them to be friends again, but I guess they were bound to end up dating again.”
Mattsun sighs, taking another sip of Makki’s soda. “As long as it worked, I guess,” he says.

“But if they start making out when we all hang, we quit inviting them out,” Makki warns.
“Agreed. That would just be annoying,” Mattsun concurs, nodding sagely.

“We’re right here!” Tooru snaps. “We’re not dating! Yet!”
Makki sighs, leaning an elbow on the table. “Man, it feels like we’re back in highschool, with you two being lovebirds all the time.”
“I know, right? It’s hard to watch them,” Mattsun agrees, nudging Makki.

“We haven’t done anything!”
“Oikawa, we can tell you two are holding hands under the table. We aren’t idiots.”
“Shut up!”

But Tooru feels warm for the first time in years. He’s not freezing cold, and he’s not burning up, he’s just… warm.
Iwa-chan squeezes his hand, knees bumping, arms brushing, and it means more than either of them have words for.

And Tooru is happy.