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It’s something of a tradition, really, for the first- and second-years to prepare a send-off for the seniors and initiate the incoming freshman to the team. So, Oikawa is not surprised when he finds a formal invite to an end of term Team Bonfire taped to his locker the week of his final exams. He’d trained Yahaba well, after all.
He breezes through his tests, and tries not to focus on how quickly the grains of sand drip through the hourglass. Finals. Graduation. Packing. Leaving. He feels the passage of time pressing against him like an overbearing boss. You have to hurry. Keep moving forward. Don’t stop climbing. Time is running out. As he mingles among his teammates at the farewell party, watching Iwaizumi tease and joke with their kouhai, he feels that sense of urgency thrumming under his skin.
There are things he needs to say to his best friend, to clarify, to understand. For all the jokes their friends make about their supernatural bond and borderline telepathic connections, Oikawa is still uncertain about how Iwaizumi feels about their future. He knows Iwaizumi is proud of him for taking the leap and following Coach Blanco, just as Oikawa is proud of Iwa for following his passion and studying abroad. He doesn’t doubt their separate paths, but he is uncertain about how far those paths will diverge. He is uncertain they will ever converge again, and that terrifies him. He can’t imagine his life without his Iwa-chan and a small, selfish part of him hopes Iwaizumi feels the same.
He really had meant to ask before now. To pour his heart out and ask Iwaizumi not to forget him. He’s not selfish enough to ask Iwaizumi to wait for him. Like the ace had said, he’ll keep going until he’s satisfied, no matter how many years it takes, but he hopes Iwaizumi will still be a part of his future. That future was rapidly approaching and he was running out of opportunities to broach the subject.
Between exams and prepping for their respective international departures they’d actually spent less time together in recent weeks than they ever had before. The four-minute walk to the Iwaizumi household and the ten-minute bus ride to Yahaba’s were not nearly enough time to bring it up before the party, and now that they’re here, they haven’t been able to find a minute alone. He swallows the lump in his throat as he watches the flames dance and flicker in Iwa’s eyes on the other side of the yard where he laughs as Kindaichi and Kyoutani vie for his attention, and returns his own attention to his successor.
“It’s still a little surreal,” Yahaba is saying, sipping soda from a plastic cup. “You guys are really going to be gone.”
Oikawa pokes his cheek with a pout. “It’s not like we’re dying, Yahaba-chan.” The younger setter swats his hand away. “And we don’t live in the stone age, either. You can still text us.”
“You sure you’re gonna have time for us commoners when you’re halfway around the world?” Yahaba grins cheekily.
“I always have time for my favorite protégé,” Oikawa beams, placing his hands on his hips and cackling.
“Ouch. I’m right here,” Watari teases from beside them.
“Sorry Watachi, you know I love you, right?”
“I know my sets aren’t the same caliber as either of you, but I haven’t been slacking off.” His tone is light and airy, and Oikawa knows he isn’t actually offended by his pride in their next captain. If anything, he’s just as proud in his classmate. They slip into more casual conversation about technique and get some final pointers from Oikawa before gushing about his plans and demanding pictures and updates.
He enjoys the time he spends talking to them—this party is as much for the underclassmen to say goodbye as it is for the third years to celebrate their upcoming endeavors—but he can’t help the way his eyes wander over the crowd gathered there. The other seniors have kouhai clamoring around them wishing them luck and asking advice as well, but his eyes keep seeking one person in particular. Occasionally he catches the gruff, spiky-haired spiker glancing his way, too, but before he can make his way over to his best friend, someone else intercepts him.
Makki drapes himself over Oikawa’s shoulder with impressive dramatic flair. “Don’t forget us little guys when you make it big, captain,” he opines with the back of a hand pressed to his forehead.
“As if you would ever let me,” Oikawa laughs, shrugging him off.
“I’m serious,” Makki adds, folding his arms and furrowing his brow to emphasize his seriousness. “When those reporters ask you about your inspiration you better tell them all about your dashing wing spiker from high school.”
Oikawa grins. “But of course. How could I not mention Iwa-chan in an interview about my high school career?”
Makki winces before letting out an airy chuckle. “I walked right into that one, huh.”
“Barely a day out of high school and already getting senile in your old age, eh Makki?” Oikawa shakes his head with a dramatic sigh. Makki swats at his shoulder, but is only deterred for a moment. He immediately recovers and lights into Oikawa, teasing him obsessively about his past mistakes and how they might cause wrinkles in his future plans. He teases him about Iwaizumi too, when he catches Oikawa looking across the yard again.
When he thinks he’s found an opening in the teasing to excuse himself to snag a moment with Iwa-chan, Mattsun is there at the ace’s side, sending Kunimi and Kindaichi Oikawa’s way with a loaded look. He is fully aware Oikawa wants to talk to Iwa, and he’s determined to prank him in his own way.
Oikawa swallows his sigh as the first years come to pay their respects. He’s always been fond of the pair anyway, their shared history with Kageyama tying them to him in unexpected ways. They thank him for his hard work and guidance. He reminds them to work just as hard, sparing a pointed look to Kunimi to emphasize the order. “Even when I’m gone, I’ll still have faith in you all.” Their faces light up under the praise and they babble more thanks and wish him luck in South America.
As if deciding Oikawa has suffered enough, Matsukawa finally relinquishes Iwaizumi and moves on to mingle with other groups. Oikawa excuses himself to finally get a moment with Iwa-chan. He isn’t sure why his heart is beating so hard when he sidles up to his best friend. “Yahoo, Iwa-chan. Did you miss me?”
Iwaizumi regards him with a raised eyebrow. “How can I when you literally never go away?”
“Rude!” His pout earns him a fond smile and his stomach does a funny little dance. He doesn’t want to think about how soon he’s going far away from that smile.
“It’s fine. You’ve been busy passing on your wisdom,” Iwa teases.
“Well someone has to,” he sighs. “It’s very tough being so loved, Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi knocks his shoulder with his own and shakes his head with an exaggerated eyeroll. “I’m sure they’re all grateful for it.”
They fall into a comfortable silence as the party carries on around them. Oikawa watches their younger teammates laughing and roughhousing across the fire. Mattsun and Makki wrap a rambunctious first year up in their clutches while Yahaba scolds the boy for running too close to the flames. Kyoutani stands off to the side behind him, glaring at the freshman for good measure. Some of the incoming freshmen stiffen, but the other second-years smirk at Yahaba’s first attempt at his Captain’s voice.
“They’re in good hands,” Iwaizumi says, low enough that only Oikawa can hear him.
Oikawa nods. “I’m gonna miss everyone.”
Iwaizumi snorts. “Don’t get all sentimental on us now, asshole.”
“Can’t help it.” There’s a messy knot of emotions tangling in his chest as he watches the next generation mingling together, the older players welcoming the younger ones as they wish their senpais luck after graduation. His hands twitch idly at his side, his knuckles barely brushing against Iwaizumi’s. The fire under his skin rises to meet the heat of the flames dancing in front of him.
“You alright?” He opens his mouth to apologize, but then Iwa’s fingers are slipping between his own and squeezing gently. “You’re kinda hot.” Oikawa gapes at their linked hands, only closing his jaw shut with a snap when he meets the fire in Iwaizumi’s eyes and realizes the double meaning in the words.
The laughter and chatter fade out of his hearing, leaving only the crackling wood, Iwa's breathing, and his own pulse resonating too loudly in his ears. Sweat slides down the back of his neck despite the coolness of the late spring evening. It's now or never, he realizes. The thought should terrify him, but with Iwaizumi still gripping his hand, it doesn't. "I'm gonna miss you," he says, voice barely a whisper.
Iwaizumi stares at him, emerald eyes intensely serious, yet also serene like summer grass glistening with morning dew. He feels the same, Oikawa realizes with relief. "It won't be so bad," he says, assured and confident, every bit the ace Oikawa has come to rely on over the years. "There won't be an ocean between us for long. And then we'll only be 4 hours apart."
Oikawa chews his bottom lip. "That's 4 hours more than we've ever been."
"You're gonna be so busy kicking ass on the court you won't even notice it. I'm not gonna slow down either." He tugs gently on their joined hands. "We'll be back here before we know it."
Oikawa blinks tears from his eyes—it's just the smoke, he's not crying—and nods like it's a promise. "Best partners, right?"
Iwaizumi smiles, promising right back. "Best partners."
A loud cry pierces the bubble they’ve created for themselves and draws them back to the party around them, reminding Oikawa that they are anything but alone. Matsukawa has Yahaba in a loving headlock while Hanamaki chases Kyoutani to similarly smother with affection. Watari laughs from the cover of the younger players, no doubt assuming himself safe if he blends in well enough. Oikawa shakes his head at their antics. Iwa grins with a shrug as if to say “what can you do?”
He laments the absence of heat in his palm as he slips it out of Iwaizumi’s grasp to rejoin the rest of their teammates. Tonight is for the team, after all, so one last time, they’ll lead together. They'll talk about the other stuff later. They still have time, the rest of their lives, really. Four minutes, four hours, four thousand miles, it makes no difference. They’ll always have each other. As he watches Iwaizumi rescue Kyoutani from Makki’s relentless hug attacks, a fond smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and Oikawa feels no uncertainty about the future at all.