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The rain fell thick and slow and turned the world grey. Even from inside Oikawa could feel the thickness of it all, the way the summer rain turned the morning air to haze that pulled at everything and begged it to go slower, slower . From where Oikawa sat, pressed close to the only window in his tiny room with Iwaizumi close beside him, time moved half a beat below its normal tempo. Together, they’d watched the storm for the better part of an hour, their silence as heavy as the humidity. It draped over them both like a heavy, well-worn quilt, swaddling the pair in sturdy familiarity and easy trust. Under its weight, Oikawa’s heart swelled, filling everything from the ends of his fingers to the tips of his toes with tender warmth. The pressure eased after Iwaizumi suggested a game and Oikawa’s attention turned outwards. Even so, the feeling lingered, painting each word and gesture with something that seemed akin to magic.
Oikawa jabbed at the glass, targeting a falling raindrop. It trailed dots of water as it ran, growing smaller and faster. “That one.”
“You can’t pick one that’s already falling, dumbass.”
He squinted, scanning the window. Raindrops littered the pane, each one zigging and zagging its way towards the bottom as if they knew about the game Iwaizumi had devised moments before and wanted to be the first to reach the finish line. “They’re all falling!”
“Not these. Look.” Iwaizumi took Oikawa’s hand and guided it to the top of the window. There, individual drops gravitated towards each other, forming puddles on the glass that shuddered in place for a few moments before breaking apart and dancing downwards.
“Ha! There’s a bug floating in this one,” he smiled at Iwaizumi. “Looks like you.”
“Very original. Just pick one.”
After a quick inspection, Oikawa pointed at his final choice. Iwaizumi leaned over to consider it, frowning as Oikawa covered it with his hand. The setter grinned. “No cheating.”
Iwaizumi claimed his own puddle and sat back to wait for the results of the race. Oikawa leaned forward, eyes focused on the glass even as he shoved his opponent, pushing his way closer to the center of the window. A second competition began then, with Iwaizumi fighting to reclaim his place and Oikawa dividing his attention between blocking violent jabs at his sides and watching with gleeful desperation for the runners to make their first moves. Iwaizumi’s went first, colliding with other drops as it traveled and slowing under the weight. Oikawa laughed as his puddle broke apart and crossed the finish line as Iwaizumi’s continued to attract its watery burdens.
“Haha!” the victor grinned, sitting up on his knees. “The great Oikawa-san wins, as always.”
The loser shoved him over. “You only won because this is your window.”
“Don’t try to taint my victory with bad sportsmanship. Come on, shake my hand.”
He did. Their hands met with surety and familiarity, as they always did. Though they did not see, Iwaizumi’s choice reached the windowsill as they shook. It traveled across the ledge, colliding with Oikawa’s. Together, they danced among hundreds of other drops, finally spilling off the window and into the rain, thick and slow and almost magical.