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Iwaizumi was known to be a man of few affections. Oikawa will tell you that his lips said otherwise.
1. THE CHEEK
Iwaizumi was a child. A rambunctious one, of course. One worse than his counterpart, Oikawa, that’s for sure. Their friendship was strong from the beginning, full of shenanigans and fun. The two were never separated, even throughout the bickering and the arguing that they had grown to shrug off within minutes. In a heartbeat, Oikawa knew that he would defend Iwaizumi if he ever encountered trouble. Iwaizumi knew that in some cases, he would do the same for Oikawa.
It started small, so inconspicuously small that even Iwaizumi himself was blind to notice the signs.
It started with a mere kiss on the cheek in Iwaizumi’s backyard, taking place after Oikawa had successfully set a ball. The boys were seven years old, both mildly accustomed to the ways of the world and old enough to know the rules of affection. A boy was to kiss his mother, his grandmother, and his aunties of whom might not actually have been his aunts but rather close friends of his mother’s. But there were no rules when it came to kissing your best friend.
His lips were dry from the sun beating all day long, but Oikawa still felt them well as they quickly touched the hollow of his left cheek.
Iwaizumi was quick to stumble back with a grin. “You did it!” he had said, his smile devious and gloried with the sun’s rays beaming in emphasis. “I’m proud of you.”
Oikawa’s heart began to swell. “Thanks! Throw me another one!”
Soon, kisses on the cheek became more customary to the boys than the rules that they had once been taught.
2. THE NOSE
Oikawa was a gremlin in middle school.
He had received one touch of golden power as he was promoted team captain at Kitagawa Daiichi, and suddenly he was a bully and a god and a poster child of barred gold intentions turned liquid hot. The only one who could touch him (figuratively and literally, sadly enough) was his best friend, Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi was content with following Oikawa around quietly as he acclimated admiration from his female peers and jealousy from his male. He knew nobody would ever come close to the real Oikawa that he knew, so he didn’t worry when Oikawa was approached with a love letter or a popular boy trying to persuade his friendship. He knew any reaction Oikawa would blurt was ingenuine, and he was happy to be the only one that Oikawa trusted.
It also meant that he was the only one that Oikawa felt safe venting to. Oikawa liked to complain often and he liked to complain about everything.
One recurring theme in his whining was of a boy named Kageyama Tobio. Though he would never admit it, Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa saw his younger teammate as a threat towards his position as the volleyball team’s starting setter. Oikawa would spend his days bullying Kageyama at school, then complaining and whining to Iwaizumi later at one of their houses.
Soon enough, Oikawa’s actions caught up to him. Instead of having to endure his standard whining—Iwaizumi also had to deal with his crying, which was a new, eye-opening sight. Iwaizumi wasn’t anywhere near used to seeing Oikawa in such a completely vulnerable state; this was something that he didn’t expect nor know how to react to.
“I just… I feel like a monster,” Oikawa had said one afternoon, his voice cracking under the heavy weight of his words. Iwaizumi kept quiet, but he listened carefully as he waited for his best friend to continue. “Maybe he deserves this position more than I do.”
Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how to respond, but he knew he didn’t like that statement one bit. He sputtered on his words as he said, “That’s not true and you know it! You’ve worked twice as hard as him!”
Oikawa continued to cry, shaking his head. He placed his hands over his eyes as a show of his dispiritment and let his soft setter’s fingertips absorb his tears.
Iwaizumi was thirteen when he first approached his crying best friend with kissing intent. He placed a tiny, evanescent kiss on Oikawa’s nose before stepping backwards.
“You’re the only person good enough to set for me.”
It didn’t take much else to comfort Oikawa after that, though the lingering thought of Iwaizumi someday quitting volleyball rang somber in the back of his mind.
3. THE FINGERTIPS
In their first high school game, Oikawa injured his fingers.
Boys were powerhouses in high school, and Oikawa wasn’t prepared for it as much as he thought he was. He walked into the volleyball club with no idea of how built and strong high school boys truly were. Alas, the team was down a setter since theirs had graduated. Those monstrous upperclassmen agreed Oikawa was going to have to make do.
The setter was quick to fall into a groove with their ingenuity, and Iwaizumi followed close behind. Oikawa spent his first year in the spotlight (alongside the other two years he spent in high school) while Iwaizumi spent his first year on the bench, practising harder and harder than he ever imagined that he could. He was no longer good enough to have Oikawa set for him, and he wanted that to change. He needed that to change.
When their first real game at the Spring Tournament came around, Oikawa knew that he was prepared. Iwaizumi was as well, though he was majorly overshadowed by his best friend who grew more and more beastly by day, his mind growing stronger and quicker with every minute that passed in practice. He was excited, albeit he was new and wobbly. He approached the first team they played with the eagerness of a baby bird spreading its wings to fly. He had no idea of the albatross that would get thrown around his neck the moment he stepped onto the court and into the spotlight.
Iwaizumi watched, though he was helpless to protect Oikawa in this situation. He waited patiently for the aftermath where he would clean up the broken pieces of his best friend, because he knew damn well that Oikawa was nowhere near as good as the other team’s setter, and he knew damn well that Oikawa had no idea and was due for a very rude awakening.
The first set was lost to the other team, the second one was triumphed by Seijoh. Three points into the third set, Iwaizumi watched with a taut heart as Oikawa was forced to face his own downfall head-on.
The first time that he had ever failed a set during a game came fast alongside the loud, interrupting crack of his ring finger as he awkwardly fumbled a bad pass into the air. He held his pain inside of his head in fear that he would be taken out of the game; however, his face was enough to show it all.
He was taken to a nurse and Iwaizumi was close to follow, watching closely and silently as Oikawa held his fingers to his heart. His eyes were shining with unshed tears; he let no water fall. Not as his fingers were bandaged and he was told that his ring finger was broken, not as he was given medicine to relieve the pain, not as he was told he couldn’t finish the game, not even as he was told that his team had to forfeit without a setter.
Iwaizumi sat next to Oikawa on the floor outside of the gym while the team packed up their things.
“You’re allowed to be upset,” Iwaizumi murmured, taking Oikawa’s hurt hand in his own to examine the bruising and bandaging. “But you aren’t allowed to be sorry.”
Oikawa sniffled, then nodded. “I tried so hard.”
Iwaizumi nodded back. “I know. But you’ll hurt yourself if you do stupid shit like that again.”
Oikawa kept silent. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool wall as Iwaizumi lifted his hand closer.
With his eyes closed, Oikawa felt as Iwaizumi kissed each one of his fingertips. He listened for each and every sound Iwaizumi’s lips made against his skin, and he felt himself overwhelmed with disappointment when Iwaizumi put his hand down.
“You’re the best setter I’ve ever seen,” Iwaizumi said, though it was a blatant lie.
Oikawa believed him.
4. THE LIPS
At the ripe age of sixteen, sweat and a solemn friendship was shared between the two boys.
Iwaizumi was growing stronger, his body was filling out and Oikawa was inured to watch as his wing spiker’s muscles grew and his face matured. He was helpless while he followed the chronology of his partner in crime and best friend as he became beautiful. And with it, Oikawa was helpless to stop the poisoned ache that began to beat in his bloodied heart.
He first put it off as resentment that Iwaizumi was growing up. Then, he wrote it as envy that Iwaizumi was becoming so gorgeous. But soon enough he realized that neither were the case when he realized that he had a hard crush on his best friend; and it was making him feel things that nobody else had ever made him feel before.
He thought about it constantly, and soon enough the only thing he could think about was Iwaizumi. His infatuation clogged his mind and ruined a few plays, and soon greed glutted his brain so much that he hated to set for anyone but his best friend.
Iwaizumi noticed as Oikawa became more attached. He noticed as Oikawa continued to brush off the girls who confessed to him, each one he denied quicker and easier. It was becoming a skill, shutting down those who crushed on him. This made Iwaizumi wonder if maybe Oikawa had a crush on anyone.
He decided to ask one day after practice. The pair were walking out of the school parking lot and beginning to walk down the street when Iwaizumi asked the question.
“Do you have a crush on anyone, Tooru?”
It was casual for Iwaizumi, though he felt confused dread in his chest as he awaited an answer. He nervously adjusted the straps of his school bag and sighed, waiting.
Oikawa felt his body burn from the inside out.
“I, uh, no?”
Iwaizumi didn’t believe him, and with good reason. It was a lie, and Oikawa felt terrible. But he was in no position to put himself in between a rock and a hard place—for he had nowhere to escape if his confession was to go wrong.
That didn’t stop Iwaizumi from prying forward on the subject matter. “Is she pretty?” He asked, though it was solemn. It wasn’t in the joking tone that he usually used to rouse Oikawa; he was serious, and he wanted to know.
Maybe his tone was what sparked Oikawa to spill.
“Um, it… it’s not a girl.”
Iwaizumi diverted his eyes from his feet to Oikawa’s reddened face. “Huh?”
“It’s…” Oikawa felt his stomach giving in on him, but he managed to croak, “It’s a boy.”
“Really?”
Oikawa nodded, leading the two into a long silence that reached all the way to the doorstep of Iwaizumi’s house where Oikawa stood awkwardly as he watched Iwaizumi walk in.
The latter asked, “...Are you coming or not?”
Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat. “You… You aren’t mad at me?”
Iwaizumi scrunched his eyebrows, holding his front door open wide. “Why would I be?”
“I thought…”
Iwaizumi smirked from where he stood in the doorway. “I’m not mad at you,” he interrupted, swinging with the door’s hinges. He held his hand out to help Oikawa inside.
Oikawa took his hand and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Soon after, he followed Iwaizumi to his room.
“Can I ask you one question though?”
Oikawa’s eyes lit up as they met Iwaizumi, who threw himself down on his bed. The former stood still and straight in the middle of the room, scared his sexuality might infect that of his best friend’s things if he were to touch them.
“Uh, yeah. Go ahead.”
Iwaizumi grinned. “Who’s the boy?”
He watched with a continuous smile as Oikawa’s face grew scarlet, a blush coming over his cheeks and spreading down the skin of his neck. He watched as his best friend looked down at the carpet.
“Well…,”
“Yeah?”
“It’s…”
Oikawa stopped though, his heart picking up speed as Iwaizumi slipped off his bed and slunk towards Oikawa’s trembling frame. He took Oikawa’s hands in his and watched as Oikawa’s blushing turned even brighter.
This is when Iwaizumi knew.
He put his lips to Oikawa’s ear and whispered, “I think I like you too,” before departing and creating a deep eye contact between the two.
He watched as Oikawa softened, then hardened again as his face inched closer and closer. Iwaizumi was the first to close the gap between them, enveloping Oikawa in a kiss. His first, true kiss.
Their hands remained interlocked as Iwaizumi pressed on, his lips hot against his best friend’s. Oikawa closed his eyes tightly; they still stayed shut when Iwaizumi took his lips away.
Kissing came easily for Iwaizumi. However, true love didn’t.
5. THE COLLARBONE
Oikawa was seventeen years old, but he felt as though he was an adult. The weight of his decisions ruled on him heavily and he wasn’t prepared for it.
The only console he found was in his boyfriend Iwaizumi. When he was tired, Iwaizumi was there to hug him close. When he needed to vent, Iwaizumi was there to listen. When he needed to let loose, Iwaizumi was there to run alongside him. And when he needed affection, Iwaizumi was there to give it.
Oikawa loved his affections most of all.
They weren’t out to anyone except each other—but it was okay that way. They were content arguing and pushing one another around at school like old friends, because afterwards they were able to escape back to Iwaizumi’s house and do whatever they pleased in the safety of Iwaizumi’s room with a lock on the door.
Oikawa loved Iwaizumi’s room better than his own. He found himself occupied in Iwaizumi’s bed more often than his, and he was fine with that. Because it meant he was able to surround himself in the scent of his best friend, his boyfriend, and his first love. It calmed him down when nothing else did—and it led to Oikawa often taking sweatshirts, pants, and even underwear from Iwaizumi’s drawers to wear as his own.
Iwaizumi was fine with it. It made Oikawa happy, and to him that was all that mattered.
Oikawa would sometimes come to Iwaizumi’s room with him just to immediately shut the door and change out of his school uniform into a full set of Iwaizumi’s clothes. Iwaizumi would close his eyes to give his boyfriend the privacy of changing, but when he looked back to see a big smile plastered to Oikawa’s face—he was helpless to stay away.
“You look cute in my sweater,” Iwaizumi breathed into Oikawa’s neck, leaving small kisses along the skin as he giggled. He loved to poke fun at Oikawa for stealing his clothes.
“Am I yours too?” Oikawa giggled in reply, smiling brightly as Iwaizumi continued to shower him in soft kisses. They were reluctant to mark one another’s skin in fear that someone would see it—but Oikawa was beyond the point of caring about anyone other than Iwaizumi. He wanted someone to know that he was taken.
“Yes. You’re mine.”
“Really?” Oikawa teased, yanking down on the sweater he wore to expose the skin of his collar. “Show me then.”
Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow as Oikawa smirked at him, still showing off his smooth skin. “You want me to give you a hickey?”
Oikawa nodded. “No one will see it here,” he said, pointing to where his collarbone jutted out. “Unless they're looking at me in the locker room.”
Iwaizumi bit his lip. “The guys might ask questions.”
Oikawa shrugged. “Let them. Least then they’ll know I’m taken, and you’ll have the pride of knowing you were the one to leave such a pretty mark on me.”
Iwaizumi grinned. “Okay,” he whispered, placing his lips back on Oikawa’s neck.
He let his lips guide him downwards, softly leaving wet kisses from neck to nape to shoulder and eventually down to collarbone where he hovered over the patch of skin that Oikawa had pointed out to him.
“You sure?” Iwaizumi whispered, looking up at Oikawa but still keeping his lips against his skin.
“Please,” Oikawa whispered back, sliding his hands up Iwaizumi’s back to entwine in his dark hair.
Iwaizumi listened, biting lightly into the skin of Oikawa’s collar. He sucked on the bone and left a mark of sweet ambrosia in its place—listening for the honeyed sounds of Oikawa’s pleasure all the way.
The mark was pretty, that’s for sure.
Pretty enough for his teammates to notice—though Oikawa never shed light on his relationship with Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi preferred secrecy anyways. It made him feel less guilty for the lack of true affection that he showed.
6. THE KNEE
Oikawa was devastated when in his third year his team had lost their chance at fighting against Shiratorizawa to go to nationals, all because a dump of a ragtag team managed to take down the fortress that he had built of six fortified, strong players.
He cried all night after the loss, his tears sunk into Iwaizumi’s pillow and saturated the fabric cover with shame, guilt, and lost glory.
Iwaizumi stayed solemn as he watched Oikawa cry, icing his hurt knee with frozen peas. He felt pity for his boyfriend who wanted nothing more than to finally show how strong and bolstered he really was—just to be defeated by a shaky-legged team having a good day.
It wasn’t fair. It was cruel.
Iwaizumi sat beside Oikawa and wrapped him into a tight embrace, resting his chin atop his boyfriend’s soft hair. He listened to Oikawa’s sobs and used his fingertips to wipe them away.
“You did so well. You’re so strong,” Iwaizumi whispered into Oikawa’s hair, using his thumb to stroke Oikawa’s cheek gently. “I’m proud of you.”
“We lost,” Oikawa cried. “I made us lose.”
Iwaizumi shook his head. “There’s six of us. If you were the only player making choices and facing the consequences then we would have been doomed from the start.”
Oikawa sobbed harder. Iwaizumi held him tighter.
Eventually, Oikawa calmed down and laid his head down to rest. Iwaizumi sat across from him, holding his feet in his lap. He took the frozen peas from Oikawa’s hand and set them aside.
Oikawa cocked his eyebrow, but asked no questions. He was tired and sad, he didn’t care enough to see why Iwaizumi had taken his ice pack away.
Oikawa closed his eyes with a sigh, and didn’t open them until he felt Iwaizumi’s soft lips pressed against his hurt kneecap.
“What are you doing?”
Iwaizumi murmured into Oikawa’s skin before kissing again, “I’m trying to heal you.”
Oikawa scoffed. “That’s not how it works.”
Iwaizumi left a third kiss on his knee. “You’re going to outsmart them all soon enough. They’re going to wish they didn’t underestimate you in high school because you know what? You’re stronger than they are. You always have been. And you always will be.”
Oikawa stayed silent. He knew the truth well.
7. THE PALM
High school ended like a punch in the face for Oikawa, but the real world hit even harder.
Iwaizumi was blossoming. He had become masterful—in volleyball, in intelligence, in sociability, in reliability, and in love. Especially in love.
He learned the word ‘love’ quickly. It was tightly wrapped around his finger like the taut red string that connected him to his boyfriend, Oikawa. However, he learned that others fell quickly in love with him. Iwaizumi found it much more difficult to reciprocate.
Oikawa was supposed to be leaving the next day for Argentina, a place that was far away. Iwaizumi wasn’t ready to see him go, he wasn’t ready to think about the distance that would separate them.
They laid together on Iwaizumi’s childhood bed as they used to do almost every day after school, and Iwaizumi breathed as Oikawa wept. It was difficult for the both of them, regardless of how each one dealt with it.
“I don’t want you to leave,” Iwaizumi whispered into the harsh air surrounding them, filled with the promise of long distance and the scary thought of a breakup lingering. “But you need to do this. For you. You shouldn’t revolve your life around me.”
Oikawa shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you. I can’t.”
“You can. We will meet again.”
“You make it sound like you’re breaking up with me.”
“No!” Iwaizumi yelled, then jumped in surprise of his own voice. His worst fear was falling out of love. He sighed, saying, “I will still be your boyfriend even if you’re in Argentina and I’m in Japan.”
“You’re going to stay here?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Iwaizumi looked to the floor. He felt like complete shit, and he didn’t know how to fix that terrible feeling in his gut that told him to make Oikawa move on. It was difficult for him to fight the monster gnawing at his gut that told him he wasn’t going to be worth Oikawa’s time once he was on another continent.
But it was far from the truth. Beside him on the bed was Oikawa, dried tears scattering his cheeks and clogging up his reddened, puffy eyes. He hadn’t showered in a few days, he was sick of eating and talking, and he wanted nothing more than the comfort that Iwaizumi’s strong arms and masterful love provided.
“I love you so much,” Oikawa sputtered out amidst a new, lighter wave of tears.
Iwaizumi’s head shot up and towards Oikawa, his eyes widened and mouth agape.
It was the first time that sentence had been uttered between the two of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
“Oh.. Oh my God…,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Shit, Tooru. I love you too. Come here.”
Iwaizumi took Oikawa aggressively into his arms and kissed his head as hard as his soft lips allowed him, then trailed down to his forehead and nose and eventually kissed his lips hard and well, hands curling in the waves of Oikawa’s hair. Oikawa cried into the kiss, but let his cruel mind go and kissed back, head a blank slate for Iwaizumi to write all over.
As they separated, Oikawa collapsed on the bed and shook his head. “I can’t leave you now.”
Iwaizumi fell down on the mattress beside him. “You need to go fulfill this dream of yours. You’ve wanted this for years.”
Oikawa shook his head as Iwaizumi picked up and held both of his hands tightly. He replied to himself, “Yes, you have to.”
“I’ll miss you so bad.”
Iwaizumi brushed the back of Oikawa’s hands against his face, leaving small kisses on his knuckles. “I’ll miss you too. But we’ll call every day. And we’ll visit each other on holidays and in a few years we’ll be back together again.”
Oikawa nodded, blinking away the tears. “I’m scared.”
“I know. Me too,” Iwaizumi replied, taking one of Oikawa’s hands and unlacing it from his to reveal the palm. He watched it softly with a smile before pressing a warm, tender kiss to the lifeline running in a ring around his thumb. “But we can do this. I know we can. Because I love you. And you love me. And that’s all we need.”
Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel that he was telling a lie.
8. THE SHOULDER
Two years passed, Iwaizumi was gone but not in Oikawa’s heart. His heart was still very much full.
Oikawa had gone to the United States; that meant Iwaizumi was closer to him. A million miles apart, yet Oikawa felt his boyfriend’s heartstrings still wrapped around his fingers like brittle twine. He was afraid that each one would slowly snap from the taut distance, eventually leaving him with nothing but broken tendons and empty veins on the floor before him as the bloody entrails of a relationship that went so, so right—but oh, so wrong.
Oikawa was afraid, but he still spoke to Iwaizumi every day. Whether it was a call, a simple text, or a live chat that lasted hours into the late night where their thoughts sobered their love into its rawest, truest form. Of course there were going to be struggles, they saw each other in person about once a year total. But Iwaizumi was trying, and Oikawa was trying even harder.
He boarded a plane to the States to visit Iwaizumi over the American New Year, it’s Eve a day full of drinking and cheer and fireworks (as Iwaizumi described it). Oikawa was excited to see his lover once again.
He sat restless on the plane, staring at his phone’s wallpaper that depicted a selfie he had taken with Iwaizumi. One where Iwaizumi had admitted defeat and smiled nicely, where his eyes weren’t on the camera but peering into a rose-colored lens that he watched Oikawa through. His eyelashes were long and pretty, his teeth shining despite their imperfections. It was Oikawa’s favorite picture of the two of them.
When the plane landed at the station at 4 in the morning, Oikawa practically jumped off. He buzzed along, a smile stuck to his dopey face. If anyone asked, he told them, “I’m going to see my boyfriend!” with a giggle.
He ran towards baggage claim and then towards the lobby where Iwaizumi would be waiting for him. He hadn’t seen Iwaizumi since last New Year, and he wanted nothing more than to run into his lover's arms and break apart, leaving his collapsed, tired body in the safety of Iwaizumi’s strong and healing touch.
Upon reaching the top of the escalator down to the lobby, Oikawa felt his heart throwing itself up, unwrapping the shell it was in and leaving itself vulnerable and bleeding without any repercussions. He was so excited to see his lover once again, his body was beginning to attack itself. He waited patiently for the stairs to reach their apex, then begin to descend for him to see his lover in the flesh once again.
Waiting at the bottom of the escalator was Iwaizumi in all of his love. He wore a soft smile and his muscular body, watching the world around him and his boyfriend standing at the top of the escalator.
Iwaizumi stood, his smile growing bigger as Oikawa stepped onto the moving stairs and looked forward. His eyes met with Iwaizumi for a split second before his mouth dropped and he and his skin began to gleam with joy and ecstasy.
When he reached the bottom of the escalator, he took to a sprint and flew into Iwaizumi’s arms. As he had planned, he allowed himself to turn to dead weight in his lover’s embrace. Iwaizumi held him tight.
“I missed you so bad,” Oikawa said first, his voice soft and light. Iwaizumi smiled.
“I missed you too.”
Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi placed kisses on his head, then took his hand and intertwined their fingers.
Iwaizumi took the opportunity to land a languid kiss on Oikawa’s lips, caressing the palm of his lover’s left hand. He murmured into Oikawa’s lips, “Let’s go home, Tooru.”
So they did. Iwaizumi drove the two of them back to where he lived for the time being, and Oikawa was quick to make himself at home. He dropped his suitcase and bag on the floor once in the door and stripped of his jacket, dropping that onto the tile as well.
Iwaizumi took Oikawa to his bed quickly, and there he laid down with a sigh. It was still early morning, and he was still tired. Though in foil, Oikawa was practically glowing with energy and smiles. Iwaizumi found it cute.
“Come on. Lie with me. I want to go back to sleep for a little while longer.”
Oikawa pouted. “I don’t. I want to mess around with you.”
He pounced on the bed and kneeled over Iwaizumi like a spider capturing its prey, though that might have been a bad analogy if you saw how radiant of a smile Oikawa wore as he looked down on his sleepy boyfriend.
“Tooru, I want to sleep.”
“Mmm… Nope,” Oikawa replied, suddenly allowing himself to collapse on top of Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi groaned loudly with the weight, but reacted quickly by wrapping his arms around Oikawa so tightly that he wouldn’t be able to move or escape.
“Mmm… Yes.”
Oikawa huffed, his plan of staying up until the morning fooling around and having fun now thwarted. He grumbled in reply, “At least let me take my shirt off. I don’t like sleeping with my clothes on because you sweat so goddamn much.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Okay.”
He loosened his arms to patiently wait, gazing softly as Oikawa stripped of his shirt and his jeans, then threw them on the carpeted floor of Iwaizumi’s room; it was small and it smelled like his cologne. Oikawa felt as if he was at home.
“Alright. You can go to sleep now, I guess.”
Iwaizumi split a grin, scoffing. “Thank you for the permission,” he said, embracing his boyfriend once again. “Wake me up in a few hours.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be awake in a few hours.”
“Well, just wake me up if you get up before me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Sleep well. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Oikawa murmured back, smiling to himself as Iwaizumi snuggled closer and attached his lips to the skin of Oikawa’s shoulder. He left a languid kiss in its place, one that Oikawa could feel tingling all the while he fell asleep.
9. THE SPINE
Another year away was another year for Iwaizumi. It was nothing more, nothing less.
Oikawa was back in Japan now, but Iwaizumi stayed in America. He had grown used to the distance, he had even become somewhat comfortable with it. Of course, the obligatory holiday visits to Oikawa always cheered him up a little bit.
Iwaizumi visited over the New Year as he did every year. That seemed to be the only constant in Oikawa’s mind, while it was nothing but a simple visit for Iwaizumi.
Meeting Oikawa at the airport was always interesting enough, but Iwaizumi’s stomach would always churn upon seeing the amount of excitement on his boyfriend’s face and the glow in his eyes. His heart would always sting upon realizing that he had no vivid expressions to reply with. All he could do was take Oikawa’s love in stride, and wait for the few weeks they were together to end.
Now, Iwaizumi laid with Oikawa at his house in Tokyo. They cuddled together on his bed, their half-naked bodies covered by a thick duvet as snow fell outside the window. Iwaizumi peered through the glass to watch the snowflakes fall with Oikawa cuddled into his chest, embracing his muscular abdomen and rubbing his back with his short fingernails.
“I’ve missed you,” Oikawa whispered into hot skin, his breath lingering nicely upon Iwaizumi’s collarbone. The latter tightened his grip upon his lover and placed a short kiss atop of Oikawa’s fluffy hair.
“I’ve missed you too,” Iwaizumi murmured in reply, his palms resting against the scorching skin of Oikawa’s back. He slips one hand up to cradle the boy’s neck, and the other one down to slip below the band of his boxers.
“I have something to tell you,” Oikawa whispered, feeling Iwaizumi’s fingertips grip his ass tightly. He didn’t really mind, and in return playfully bit the skin on Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi yelped in protest, but then laughed as Oikawa smothered the bite mark in wet kisses.
Iwaizumi then hoisted Oikawa on top of him, looked up at the boy sitting with his legs straddling Iwaizumi’s thick waist. He grimaced and asked, “What’s that, Tooru?”
“I’m going back to Argentina.”
Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. “Are you really?”
Oikawa nodded. “I am. I’m going to play for their Olympic team, I’ve already been scouted and accepted. I’m leaving after you move back here.”
“I…,” Iwaizumi started, followed by his mouth clamping shut. It wouldn’t be fair to Oikawa for him to complain about his being so far away, especially when he lived in America, so he kept his selfish feelings on the low. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
Oikawa bit his lip and brushed his hands over Iwaizumi’s broad chest. He sighed, then let himself collapse into his boyfriend’s comforting embrace.
“I wish we could see each other more often,” Oikawa said a few minutes later, having moved onto his stomach to watch out the window above his bed. Iwaizumi sat beside him fighting with the drawstrings from a hoodie that he had just previously slipped on.
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replied, though it was half a lie and he knew it full well. But he wasn’t about to tell Oikawa about how bittersweet he found their relationship, and how slowly he was falling out of love and more into boredom and pure lust.
Oikawa let his face fall into the pillows. Iwaizumi watched, then smirked as he moved to straddle Oikawa’s back—sitting atop of his tailbone.
Iwaizumi leaned his arms into Oikawa’s shoulders and breathed into his ear, “You up for some fun?”
“I always am when it’s with you,” Oikawa said, giggling as Iwaizumi dug his face into his boyfriend’s neck to leave an assortment of colored bruises much like a bouquet of blood-stained flowers.
Oikawa hummed softly as Iwaizumi continued kissing his neck and shoulders, leaving bites and marks all over him. Oikawa didn’t mind, he liked when others knew that he was taken.
“I’ve missed your body,” Iwaizumi groaned, moving backwards and leaving a trail of long, sucking kisses down Oikawa’s back. He left a bruise on each and every poking bone of his spine, aligning his love with his vertebrate and stopping at the sacrum where he then turned Oikawa onto his back.
Oikawa hummed with pleasure all the while, feeling the love sink through his skin and bubble in his heart. He bit his teeth together tightly to keep his composure until Iwaizumi reached below the belt, taking deep breath after deep breath.
Iwaizumi spent only twenty four days with Oikawa before he left Oikawa’s house in Japan for good. Twenty four days, much like the twenty four vertebrae of Oikawa’s spine that his love-emptied lust had made a home upon.
10. THE OTHER CHEEK
The last time that Oikawa spoke to Iwaizumi was the day that he was supposed to return to America. Oikawa wasn’t prepared to say goodbye, but he knew it was bound to happen.
It was early in the morning, Oikawa could hear birds chirping outside the window as he sat eerily quiet at the kitchen table. Iwaizumi drank black coffee from across his lover, looking everywhere but into his eyes. Oikawa knew something was wrong. Not only did Iwaizumi never drink black coffee, but mornings with Iwaizumi were never this quiet. Doubt was coming in waves, shrouding Oikawa’s worried mind with self-hatred and guilt. All he could ask himself was: is this my fault?
He felt it deep in his gut like a growing pain, he knew that the next step was to grow distant and far. His body was gnawed raw with kisses, he could barely stand without collapsing in on himself. He felt sick, waiting for the turning to come where suddenly he would sprout thousands of miles away from Iwaizumi.
A break up . Oikawa wasn’t ready for it.
The morning was wrong. The clock was moving too quickly and Oikawa felt himself moving too slowly, following Iwaizumi around his apartment as the two each thought individually about their impending departure from here in a few hours. Oikawa tracked Iwaizumi like a child kept an eye on its mother. Iwaizumi slugged around the house, waiting impatiently for the time to come where he would be able to leave.
“You don’t have to take me to the airport, I’ll take a bus,” Iwaizumi whispered at some static point in the morning, looking sympathetically down at Oikawa sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of cold coffee before him. Oikawa had put creamer into his coffee. He never did that—and Iwaizumi noticed. He took it as a sign that Oikawa was ready to move on too, though it was far from the truth and he knew it. Alas, lying helped him feel less guilty.
“No, I’ll take you,” Oikawa responded, a numbness he had never felt overwhelming him. He always felt like shit when he and Iwaizumi had to leave one another, but he knew deep in his heart that today was different. Today would be the last time.
Iwaizumi pursed his lips. “I said that I’ll take the bus. You don’t need to busy yourself with taking me. I’m sure you have other things to do, anyways.”
That was the end of that conversation. Iwaizumi walked out of the room as a few tears fell from Oikawa’s sunken eyes because once he thought about it long and hard, he realized that he really didn’t have any other things to do. Iwaizumi had been the bane of his life since they were kids. Who else was he supposed to preoccupy his time with?
Oikawa knew that things were going to be different from now on, watching as Iwaizumi walked through the kitchen with his suitcase and his jacket, knowing that Iwaizumi definitely had other things to do than sacrifice a few more hours by letting Oikawa drive him to the airport.
The latter ignored the thought and in the hallway, he enveloped Iwaizumi into a tight, loving hug. Iwaizumi hugged back only half as embracing.
Oikawa knew that things were going to be different from now on, but what he didn’t know was that things were going to now be extremely different. Oikawa never thought about having to live a life without Iwaizumi, he never had to. Not until now.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Iwaizumi breathed into Oikawa’s ear, a hand curled into his hair. He left a lasting kiss on Oikawa’s right cheek, then he was gone.
He left the door wide open for Oikawa to watch as he walked down the house’s porch steps and left to the street where a bus stop sat on the corner.
Flash forward three years, Oikawa still feels the sting of that last kiss on his cheek.
He grew up from the rambunctious child he once was, the selfish teenager, and the hopeless romantic. He had shed those layers like the skin of an apple and now exposes the world to his pure muscle of which continues to grow back in thickets to cover his once kiss-raw skin.
He stands tall in the doorway to the gymnasium, he notices it’s bigger than any other he’s been in before.
He scoffs, thinking: Of course it’s bigger. This is the Olympics, and I’ve become used to Argentinian gymnasiums .
Fifty feet away stands Japan’s killer Olympic team. The wind faces towards them, blowing their hair around. Oikawa takes it as an omen that he’ll have the upper hand.
He laughs. He doesn’t need an omen. He already knows that he’s going to win. Someone told him long ago that it was inevitable. Oikawa remembers vividly what he had said.
You’re going to outsmart them all soon enough. They’re going to wish they didn’t underestimate you in high school because you know what? You’re stronger than they are. You always have been. And you always will be .
It’s the only thing that had escaped his ex’s lips that Oikawa knows to be the complete truth. He grimaces. He thinks: I’m going to crush Japan under the weight of my fingertips .
As each team approaches either side of the net, Oikawa takes a moment to scan each and every individual. He remembers most of them from high school, though not vividly. Faint memories start to poke at his mind, but he strips of them in cords and drops them on the ground beside his feet. He deems them unimportant.
Behind the bulk of the team, though, Oikawa notices a familiar figure staring at him with steely eyes. The pro-player smirks, he notes that those eyes will never puncture him again. He looks down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact.
Oikawa thinks: Iwaizumi doesn’t deserve closure. Not when he refused to give me any .
The teams move forward to shake hands, Oikawa leading the pack and grinning deviously as he firmly shakes the hand of Japan’s national team captain. The latter’s fingers are weak—Oikawa takes that as an omen.
He doesn’t need omens.
As the two teams step back into their spots, Oikawa feels eyes heavily set upon him once again. He rolls his eyes, feeling somewhat sorry for Iwaizumi.
Oikawa glances up briefly, seeing his ex-lover standing by the bench with the coach. He wonders what Iwaizumi’s role must be in this, but he doesn’t question it for long. He lights a cigarette butt of a smile Iwaizumi’s way, then puts it out as he starts the game with a service ace.
Argentina wins three straight sets.
The crowd roars in protest, in enthusiasm, in all different types of emotions that Oikawa reminisces on having felt before.
He isn’t watching when Iwaizumi approaches him.
“Tooru—,” He begins, but isn’t allotted to finish. As soon as Oikawa hears the first inflection of his name spoken through Iwaizumi’s loveless lips, he turns around and walks towards his team, away from the boy who used to be his lifeline.
He clenches his fists at his side, hearing Iwaizumi gasp quietly from behind. He can’t shake the anger that swells in his chest. He tastes the residue of a rotten kiss on his tongue, no matter how hard he has scrubbed he’s never been able to relinquish the ribald saliva that Iwaizumi had left in his mouth long, long ago.
He hopes that he’ll be able to avenge his taste buds once again, spitting onto the gymnasium floor where his childhood friend stands behind him.
Oikawa lifts his head high, taking a deep breath. He drops his hands to his side, allowing his golden touch of power to vibrate throughout the room in heart-shattering waves: waves that attack Iwaizumi at an alarming frequency.
The gym is full of static with a few nuances of anguish speckled throughout. Oikawa is impenetrable. He feels nothing disconcerting as he walks through a giant set of swinging doors, only satisfaction clinches his heart. He is met by a gust of wind. As it blows him forward into the light, he smirks.
Iwaizumi was known to be a man of few affections. Oikawa will tell you that his lips said otherwise.
He, however, decided from now on that to Iwaizumi his lips would say nothing at all.