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Iwaizumi wasn’t sure what woke him first: the sinking feeling of dread that pumped his heart to panicked beats, or his phone buzzing at his bedside table at two in the morning.
Rolling over and patting blindly, he managed to drag his phone to his ear and answer the call. The moment he heard the voice in the other line, the panic in his chest increased two-fold.
“Iwa-chan…”
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Oikawa’s voice was choked up, and before he could reply, a long series of tortured coughs and sneezes came through the earpiece.
“Oi, Trashkawa. Do you know what time it is?”
“6 AM?”
“You’re a whole four hours ahead of me, dumbass.” He waited a beat. “What’s going on?”
“I think I’m down with a cold…”
Iwaizumi scoffed. You think? “I told you I’d punch you if you get a cold.”
Oikawa’s laugh was weak. “You’re four hours too late to do that, Iwa-chan.” He coughed again, then blew his nose. Iwaizumi winced. It sounded pretty bad. “I think I’m going to cut my classes today.”
“Sure and do your whole class a favor by keeping your germs to yourself.”
He could hear the pout his Oikawa’s voice, it was almost funny. “Mean, Iwa-chan.”
“Well I’m not going to cut my classes just because you’re cutting yours. To do that, I need to sleep. Bye.”
“Iwa—”
End call.
Iwaizumi sighed, impatiently raking a hand through his hair. This has never happened to Oikawa before; even if he injured himself from overworking and strenuous training, he never caught colds or came down with fevers. He ate on time, and often ate well. He may not sleep on schedule most days, but he knew how to keep healthy.
Then again, moving to an entirely new country and being separated from his best friend (slash babysitter, if Iwaizumi was being honest) were also things that have never happened to him before. It was almost to be expected that at least one of them would come down with something before long. And apparently, natural selection had chosen Oikawa.
Iwaizumi’s phone buzzed again, this time with a message.
From: Shittykawa (sent 2:38 AM)
[mean, iwa-chan… >.<]
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and punched back a reply before he realized that he said he was going to sleep.
Iwaizumi (2:38 AM): [sleep it off]
Shittykawa (2:39 AM): [i’m tryinggg but i can’t breeeaaathe]
Iwaizumi (2:39 AM): [the hell do you want me to do]
Shittykawa (2:39 AM): […]
Shittykawa (2:40 AM): [weren’t you going to sleep?]
Iwaizumi (2:40 AM): [fuck off then]
And for good measure, he pulled a drawer open and stuffed his phone inside. But even as he pulled his comforter over his head and slowly drifted off to sleep, Iwaizumi’s subconscious was already thinking of plane ticket fares and time differences.
Oikawa woke up feeling like shit.
He had tried to sleep it off, as Iwaizumi said, but he kept waking up multiple times wheezing or clawing at his throat. It got so bad that he decided to sleep sitting up against his headboard, if only to keep his snot from clogging his airpipe.
Morning was slow in coming that day. The clouds hung heavy and gray, and before long, the weather outside his window matched his mood. Oikawa debated getting up and making himself coffee, but his limbs felt like jelly, so he stayed under the covers.
The rain didn’t help at all with his body temperature. He shivered in two layers of t-shirts, a hoodie, his Aoba Johsai track jacket, and a thick comforter. It was a small comfort that he had a dorm room to himself to keep his shameful situation hidden away.
He had half the mind earlier to message what professors’ numbers he already had in his phone. For each of the classes he had no contacts, he texted a classmate. He wasn’t short on friends; it was never a struggle for him to make new ones, after all. And he thanked his lucky stars that the heavens have seemingly crowned him Mr. Congeniality when both professors and classmates messaged him back with “noted” or “get well soon!”
As it were, being sick in the first month of college classes seemed like an unfair tradeback for being friendly.
He didn’t know what time it was, or how long he stayed in bed. Most of the morning looked the same whenever he rose into consciousness, only to fall back asleep. When his stomach finally growled, he got up from bed despite the creaking in his joints and made instant noodles.
I’m too young to feel like I’m 60. Is this what adulting is like?
The noodles were bland to his messed-up taste buds, but it was better than going hungry. He had to eat something. He was also in the proper headspace to gulp down lots of water until he needed to pee before padding back to his mattress and succumbing to troubled sleep.
When he woke up next, it was darker out. The rain had finally stopped, night had come on, and he felt not a smidge better. Even worse, he now had a headache alongside the body pain and relentless colds.
Am I going to die here?
With that thought, he fell asleep again, all through the night and into the next morning.
What pulled him harshly from his heavy stupor was a loud banging on his door accompanied by what sounded like a familiar voice yelling in such flowery language. He lifted his head from under the comforter, confused.
What the hell is that?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“OIKAWA! OI! OPEN THE DOOR DUMBASS! OIKAWA!”
Bang! Bang!
“YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD, DAMN IT! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”
Despite himself, Oikawa managed a smile. Iwa-chan was never one for subtlety.
He crawled off the bed, wincing at the cold linoleum beneath his thickly socked feet, and slowly made his way to the door. The metal handle sent stabbing pains up his hand, but he managed to unlock it.
And there he was, his one and only Iwaizumi Hajime: red in his deeply tanned face, sweat running down his jaw, and mouth opened to yell another obscenity.
“Oi—”
“I heard you the first time, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa with a weak chuckle. “Pretty sure the neighbors did too.”
“You wouldn’t answer the door or your phone—”
And because he was there, because everything was alright now that Iwa-chan has arrived, Oikawa promptly lost consciousness and pitched forward.
Iwaizumi really thought it was just a passing cold. Maybe Oikawa inhaled something that triggered an allergic reaction, and he would be fine if he just sneezed everything out.
But late in the afternoon, way past what Iwaizumi usually expected as the time Oikawa called or even texted, there was nothing on his phone. It took another hour of waiting before Iwaizumi shot him a text. It was a long stream of messages before he decided to call.
The phone was ringing, but no one was answering. Iwaizumi rationalized. Maybe he’s asleep. Yeah, that’s the way of getting rid of a cold. But that didn’t stop him from calling again, and again, until the phone finally stopped ringing.
And that was when he knew something was wrong.
Oikawa never forgot to plug his phone. He was constantly messaging people, calling his friends and family, or even scrolling through social media, for goodness’ sake. He never lets his phone die.
So, right after his last class, Iwaizumi threw both caution and reason to the wind and headed for LAX.
When the dust settled, he was on a plane heading to Ezeiza Airport, Argentina, a country dabsmack in the middle of South America. He had booked a plane ticket earlier in the day to fly all the way to a new fucking continent that cost most of his allowance for the next couple of months (and then some) as a precaution.
He didn’t know he was actually going to use it.
Only because his fucker of a boyfriend wouldn’t answer a damn phonecall.
For some reason, he saw both Matsukawa and Hanamaki in his mind’s eye as he tried to sleep on the flight. In his imagination, they were losing their shit and laughing at him for being such a sucker for his childhood friend.
Not exactly a mood booster.
It felt like longest trip of his life – from Friday evening to Saturday morning – and definitely the most ridiculous one as well. More than seventeen hours later, the plane finally landed in Ezeiza. Iwaizumi took a shuttle to the closest subway, following instructions of a travel site. All the while he prayed to all the gods who would listen that he wouldn’t get lost.
Partly by luck, and mostly through the help of some locals (after a number of painful interactions using his half-assed English), he managed to find himself in Oikawa’s university dorm. Somewhere in their thread of messages, Oikawa had randomly suggested that they exchanged addresses and room numbers.
“So we can surprise each other!”
Iwaizumi had smacked him in the head for that, muttering something about it not being much of surprise if you knew it was a possibility. Right then, he had to thank the knucklehead for suggesting it in the first place.
The door was locked, naturally, but it was strange that no one answered it after Iwaizumi almost knocked it clean off its hinges. It was past nine in the morning; if Oikawa was alright, he should at least have been awake. Already the neighbors were peeking out of the doors to see what the ruckus about, when the door finally swung open.
He looked worse that Iwaizumi imagined. His nose was red and dripping, and he was wrapped in a comforter like a proper sushi roll. His smile was loopy, his stance unsteady.
“I heard you the first time, Iwa-chan,” he said in a painfully hoarse voice. “Pretty sure the neighbors did too.”
“You wouldn’t answer the door or your phone—”
Suddenly, Oikawa fell forward, and impulse had Iwaizumi dropping his things to catch him before he broke his nose on the floor.
“Oikawa. Oikawa!”
He was out cold, his skin feverishly hot. Sighing, cursing, and kicking his shoes off, Iwaizumi hauled the taller boy’s frame through the door, down the short hallway, and into the bedroom. Only then did he return for his other things: a backpack filled with books (with absolutely no clothes for an overnight stay because he was an idiot like that), and two plastic bags filled with whatever snacks he could find along the way.
It wasn’t exactly a planned trip.
Dropping them all off on the floor beside their shoes, Iwaizumi took quick stock of Oikawa’s dorm room. It was a small, square area divided into three parts: the bedroom to the left, the bathroom right beside it, the kitchen toward the right of the door, and the rest of the entire empty space for the living room.
He quickly checked the fridge and found it near empty. He saw the used instant noodle cup in the trash can and knew that was all Oikawa had to eat in the past day. Well, soup, no matter if instant or not, should do the trick for now.
Finally, he went inside the bedroom.
Oikawa had curled into a corner, huddled under his blanket and shivering. Iwaizumi grit his teeth as he walked over and kneeled by the bed, in front of his face.
“Why do you make me worry all the time, Crappykawa…”
When he rose up to try and make something edible of what he had brought, Oikawa’s fingers pulled at his jacket.
“Don’t go…”
His eyes were closed; no way was he saying that knowingly. Huffing, Iwaizumi knelt back down, only for Oikawa to pull him closer.
“If you pass that damn cold to me, you’re really gonna get it.”
Despite that, he tugged his jacket off and stretched out on the bed. The sick boy folded himself into Iwaizumi’s arms, and he had little choice but to wrap himself around him.
Well, when it came to it, body heat usually works wonders.
With half of him thinking that he was also going to come down with a cold, and the other half tired as hell from the sudden trip, Iwaizumi let himself fall asleep.
Oikawa woke up feeling a lot lighter, contrasted with a weight resting on his waist. The sun was already high in the sky, and the clouds from the previous night had gone.
And, wonder of wonders, Iwa-chan was sleeping right beside him. His mouth was open and a line of drool went down the corner of his lips, as it often happened when he fell asleep extremely tired. One of his arms rested under his spiky hair, while the other rested on Oikawa’s waist.
That wasn’t a dream?
Oikawa saw his phone dead on the floor beside the bed, but to plug it in meant moving a sleeping Iwa-chan, who already travelled more than half a day just to get there. He wasn’t that heartless.
As it was, Iwa-chan was already stirring awake. He immediately narrowed his eyes into a fantastic glare. “You’re alive then.”
“And you’re here.”
Iwaizumi scowled. “Shut up, dumbass.”
Never missing an opportunity to tease his own personal tsundere, Oikawa grinned. “Oh? So you did come here because you were worried about me. Aw, that’s so sweet, Iwa-chan!”
He really should have expected the box to his ears. Rubbing the pain out, Oikawa finally got up to plug his phone before sitting back on the bed.
Iwaizumi shifted on his side. “Are you still sick?”
Oikawa took quick stock of his body. His nose still felt scratchy and his throat felt rough, but he could breathe properly and his body didn’t feel like heavy as a boulder. Iwaizumi leaned toward him and felt his forehead.
“Well, you don’t have a fever anymore,” was all he said before stretching and getting up from the bed.
Oikawa followed him out to the living room, where he squatted beside his things and plastic bags, taking out eggs and instant rice and coffee.
“Where are you going?”
“You haven’t eaten anything but noodles since last night. There should be something I can make here.”
“Iwa-chan.”
“What?”
Oikawa took his boyfriend’s arm and drew him up until they stood facing each other. The taller boy placed a soft kiss on Iwaizumi’s forehead that the latter was too tired to refuse.
“Lunch is on me, Iwa-chan. Go sleep some more.”
Iwaizumi wanted to protest if not for the yawn that tore itself from his lungs. Grumbling, he disappeared back into Oikawa’s room. Well, it really was the least the dumbass could do.
It was only a couple of hours later when Iwaizumi woke up feeling more rested. Oikawa was on the couch outside, reading. On his small dining table was a plate of omurice covered in plastic wrap. Oikawa got up when he heard Iwaizumi sit at the table.
He unwrapped the meal. “Did you eat?”
Oikawa resisted a teasing retort; instead he nodded and joined Iwaizumi on the table after making them both instant coffee. Iwaizumi attacked the meal as Oikawa watched him, joy evident on his face. When their eyes caught, Iwaizumi fixed him a glare.
“Whatever you have to say, stuff it.”
“I wasn’t!” He waited until Iwaizumi finished, then took the plate to the sink to wash it. “We can go out for dinner later, if you’re up for it. Delivery service here isn’t as good as home.”
Iwaizumi snorted and took a gulp of the coffee. “Got that right.” When Oikawa joined him again, he fixed his boyfriend a judging look. “I was going to call you out for faking a sickness just to see me.”
Oikawa pouted. “I’m not that good of an actor!”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Iwaizumi got up and took his mug to the windows. It was just a little after midmorning, and the day outside was fresh and bright. Oikawa had thrown his curtains open, and warm sunlight spilled into the small room.
From his vantage point, he could see what he assumed to be Oikawa’s university campus. Little by little, it sunk in on him that he was in another country on a school week. Hell, he was in a whole other continent. It may be Sunday tomorrow, but the thought of braving another seventeen-hour flight back already stressed him out.
Oh well, it’s worth it. But Oikawa doesn’t have to know that.
Oikawa on the other hand admired his boyfriend’s back. For someone shorter than him, Iwa-chan has always had such a wide, reassuring back. The perfect ace, he thought. Oikawa walked up to him, wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist. Rested a cheek against his black hair and breathed deeply, contentedly.
Right here in his arms was the piece of home he has been craving since the moment they left Japan, the moment they said goodbye in LAX not even a month before.
“Thank you for coming all the way here.” For me.
Iwaizumi didn’t smile; he hardly ever did in such circumstances. He didn’t say a word either. But he reached up and caressed Oikawa’s arm, rubbed gentle circles on his skin absentmindedly as he drank his coffee.
And, Oikawa thought, he didn’t have to say a thing.