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This is, possibly, the lowest point of Iwaizumi Hajime’s nineteen years of life.
He wants to smash his head against a wall. Hard. Stupid fucking Oikawa and his stupid fucking hair and mouth and pianist fingers (he can’t even play piano!) and Jesus Christ, he’s really about to pull his hair out. He’s been staring at the ceiling and thrashing about under the covers for- he checks the time- two hours because this is the first night he’s been alone in his bed for weeks and he’s used to having a limp sack of human making his arm go numb and having to keep a vice grip on the sheets or he knows he’ll end up freezing. He knows he complained about it when he was there, but now he’s not? Head on wall. Hard. Very hard. Maybe he can knock some sense into himself, he’s never been one of those people who gets all sappy and sad over stupid shit and pulls out the Rin from Free! body pillow Oikawa got for him when they were fourteen as a joke and has been hiding in his closet ever since.
This is, absolutely, the lowest point of Iwaizumi Hajime’s nineteen years of life.
He calls Oikawa.
“I hate you,” he says, as soon as he picks up. Rin looks like he’s laughing at him. Maybe that’s Tooru down the phone. He wraps his arms around the pillow tighter.
“Oh, well, hello to you too, Iwa-chan,” he can sense the eye roll and suppresses the urge to click his tongue.
“No, I mean it. I despise you. Why the fuck did you ever buy me this stupid body pillow?”
“I’m sorry?” Oikawa asks through a laugh. “The one I gave you five years ago?”
“Yes! It’s like he’s- he’s laughing at me, Tooru!” Tooru laughs even harder and the urge to break his own skull lessens- just a bit.
“I don’t think he’s laughing at you. I promise I am, though.”
“This is not funny.” Oikawa makes a noise. It sounds like a “Well...” Hajime huffs. “Y’know, if you didn’t get me used to you practically pulling my arm off during the night, this wouldn’t be happening.” He makes another noise. This time it sounds like an “Ah...”
“You can just tell me you miss me.”
“I miss you,” he says, with no hesitation. He talks a lot of tough shit but he’d do it over, and over, and over again just to hear the slight hitch in Oikawa’s breath through the line. “I really, really miss you. I’d take you drooling on my chest any day.”
“Jesus, Iwa-chan, are you sick?” He asks it with a teasing edge, but Iwaizumi knows him well enough to know he’s picking the skin around his fingers and the corners of his lips are turned up in that not quite smile.
“Just tired,” he shrugs. “And, why are you even still awake? You should’ve been asleep hours ago!” Call him a hypocrite.
“So should you!” And so he is called.
“Yeah, well! I’m not hanging up ‘til you’re asleep.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Hajime can’t help but let his lips curl up. He hears Tooru make another noise, this one sounding strongly like, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, dickhead. Go to sleep.”
He grips the pillow even tighter, so tight that Rin’s head looks a little deformed. Good. Serves him right for laughing.