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Set, spike, score. Iwaizumi’s hand met nothing but net. It was the third botched spike of the day, and only a practice game within Bluecastle’s own team; nevertheless, Iwa’s blood was boiling. Oikawa’s cheerful voice behind him only heightened his frustration.
“Iwachan, we do have our head in the clouds today, don’t we? Do I need to call it out a little louder?” It was faux cheer and a bullshit question. Iwaizumi swore he heard venom behind it, no doubt left over from the night before.
It had only been a fight. They’d had a hundred more before it, and yet the emotions still lingered. Maybe it was Iwaizumi himself who was holding all the venom, but wasn’t he justified in doing so?
It had only been a fight, he told himself. The problem was, he didn’t believe himself.
All he’d wanted was validation, a confirmation of what he supposedly already knew. Oikawa had always been there - that much was true. They had been together their entire lives, then quietly “official” since their last year in middle school. Now, in their third year at Aoba Johsai high school, graduation looming, was it such a crime to want more? It’s not as if the team didn’t already have their suspicions. Endless jokes and jabs about Oikawa’s “real girlfriend” were met with barks of irritation and the occasional smack on the head. But he and Oikawa’s relationship wasn’t a joke - not to Iwaizumi. It was true that it had initially been his idea to keep their status quiet. Who could blame him? They were only fourteen, getting ready to enter into a prestigious high school and a team with a reputation. He hadn’t wanted people to know back then - to talk, to laugh, to discount their skills due to nothing more than who they chose to hold hands with behind closed doors.
Oikawa, on the other hand, had had a different impulse when he was fourteen. He was excited, practically manic at the idea of an official relationship. It had seemed to Iwaizumi like he’d wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and that made Iwa nervous. He’d talked him out of it, explained his reasoning. It had all made sense to him back then.
But things were different now. How many nights had they spent together in the last three years? How many satellites had they watched for in eager anticipation? How many stars had they kissed under? How many tears had they cried together in the face of adversity, both on and off the court? How many promises had they made?
How many times had they said, “I love you”?
And how many times had they lied? How many careful glances had they exchanged? How many implications of companionship beyond the surface had Iwaizumi shut down without another thought? How many times had Oikawa scoffed in the direction of his teammates for cracking their stupid jokes? Then again, how many times had he teased Iwa, dangled the validity of their relationship in his face just to goad the others into piling on their playful insults?
It was bullshit, all of it, and Iwaizumi was sick of it. They weren’t fourteen anymore. They were practically adults, and regardless of where they stood after Spring Preliminaries, soon they would be graduating and making decisions about the rest of their lives - decisions that were already attached to a thousand tender promises, no less.
It had been Iwaizumi’s decision to keep it all a secret in the first place; naturally, he assumed that it would therefore be his decision to put an end to the charade. But when he’d approached Oikawa the night before - so casual, so calm, as if he knew there wasn’t a single thing to worry about - the boy had shocked him.
First he’d laughed - that bit Iwa had expected. Then, he’d turned to him with a soft smile on his face and said, “Oh, Iwachan. You can’t possibly be serious. Now?”
Iwaizumi was taken aback. “Now”? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Surely it was Oikawa who wasn’t being serious. This had to be some sort of joke, and a massively shitty one at that. A heavy glare settled on Iwa’s face. “Hey, don’t fuck with me, asshole. I’m not just pissing around here.”
Oikawa cocked a brow, all essence of amusement draining from his face. Iwa couldn’t help but feel like he looked irritated, and for some reason, that felt like a knife in his chest. A sudden anxiety made him clench his fists and jaw as Oikawa let out a sigh.
“Hajime,” He started - a name reserved only for private moments such as these, but usually with nothing but affection behind it. All he heard now was bullshit - faux affection, like he was being placated all of a sudden. Iwa felt like slapping him.
Oikawa continued. “Spring Preliminaries are in two weeks. Do you really think we should be distracting our teammates right now with our own personal business ?” He said it like it was obvious, like a teacher telling a child that they should know better. It made Iwa’s nostrils flare in irritation.
“Who cares?” He demanded, all sense of calm and casual having vacated his voice. He was nearly yelling, though that was nothing new. Oikawa on the other hand, remained cool and collected-- No, cold and collected. He stared Iwaizumi down like he was an opponent standing across the net from him. Iwaizumi felt his chest squeeze painfully again.
He never acted like this. Not when they were alone. Even once he was smiling again, Iwa saw that it was empty - more faux affection, almost like a mother in the grocery store trying to prevent a tantrum. “You’re talking nonsense, Iwachan,” he said with a chuckle. “You know I love you. Now go to sleep and quit worrying so much. We have practice tomorrow.”
Another knife to the chest. Of course, Iwaizumi couldn’t take that for an answer. The rest of the night had been explosive, and yet, one-sided. That’s what hurt the most, if he was being honest with himself. Iwaizumi wasn’t necessarily as bad at holding in his emotions as he might have appeared to be, but if anyone could bring them out, it had always been Oikawa Tooru.
It had only been a fight, he thought, but not a normal one. Iwaizumi had yelled, ranted, and raved until he was blue in the face. Meanwhile, Oikawa had been a brick. Casual, calm, as if he knew there wasn’t a single thing to worry about. Surely, this was just another one of Iwaizumi’s episodes. That’s what he must have thought.
They’d fallen asleep eventually. Somehow, Oikawa had managed to talk him down, to lure him back into the bed and back into his arms. Truthfully, Iwaizumi had exhausted himself to the point where he wasn’t even sure if he was in the right anymore. More than anything, he craved a sense of normalcy, the feeling that everything was alright, that major damage hadn’t just been done.
Even so, when he’d woken up that morning, he’d felt completely broken - and now, he was playing like it too.
Set, spike, net.
“God dammit !”
Oikawa’s voice piped up behind him again, this time barely withholding irritation. “What is with you today? Could you try, maybe, hitting the ball? ” He was hissing under his breath, trying to save face in front of the team like always. And that’s really what it all came back to, wasn’t it? Saving face, maintaining control, putting forth an image - one that Iwaizumi apparently wasn’t supposed to be a part of. The conversation from the night before burned behind Iwaizumi’s eyes as he turned to face his supposed boyfriend - unbeknownst to anyone but the two of them, of course. Of course! Of course Oikawa wouldn’t claim him, not if it would hurt his image. Of course all he cared about was whether or not Iwaizumi could spike the damn ball, match his perfect setting, score a point.
‘What’s with you today?’ Of course he wouldn’t know the answer to that question. Of course he wouldn’t care .
Set, spike, score. That’s all Oikawa cared about. It all seemed so clear now - clear enough that Iwaizumi cursed himself for ever believing anything else could possibly matter - not when Spring Preliminaries were right around the corner.
He let out a breath of air, what would have been a laugh if it had any air of amusement to it. “You know what?” He said, reaching down to pick up the ball, and then shoving it roughly against Oikawa’s chest. “Hit it yourself. I quit.”
Iwaizumi turned to leave without waiting for Oikawa’s reaction. Of course, he heard it anyway, a shrill and shocked, “You what? ”
“I quit,” He snapped again, not bothering even to glance over his shoulder. His only mission now was to make it out through the gym doors as quickly as possible without making a scene (more of a scene than he already had, anyway).
“Hey! What the hell are you talking about?! You can’t just quit! ” Oikawa called after him. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if he sounded appalled, astounded, or a mixture of the two. It didn’t matter. He had his hands on the gym door now.
“Watch me, asshole!” He called back, and then pushed through the door and out into the open air. It swung shut behind him just slowly enough that he could hear the half-frantic voice of his former partner still calling out for him.
“Iwaizumi! Get back here, you—”
Silence. Iwaizumi pressed on, stubbornly forcing his feet to move forward, as far away from the gym as he could possibly get without running. He didn’t want to look back, either. It’s not as if anyone would come running out behind him. None of his other teammates had the balls to confront him when he was angry, and Oikawa, well, he had those Spring Prelims to worry about - can’t possibly afford to miss a practice! ‘ Good luck on those prelims without me,’ Iwa thought, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose as he glared forward.
‘Keep it together, dumbass,’ he thought, chastising himself for the emotion he felt bubbling up his throat. ‘This ain’t some stupid fuckin’ love story. No one’s gonna come chasing after you—’
“Hey, dickhead!”
Iwaizumi jumped as he felt someone tug him roughly by the collar. ‘Dickhead? Who the fuck?’ He whipped around with his fist ready to absolutely pound whatever sorry asshole had just grabbed him. Lo and behold, it was none other than the Great King of Dickheads himself.
“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi stared at him for a moment like he’d grown an extra head. Okay, so maybe this asshole was stupid enough to come chasing after him. But why?
“Don’t sound so surprised, geez! What, you think I’d just let you walk out like that?”
Oh. That was why. Because Oikawa couldn’t stand not getting what he wanted, and he certainly didn’t want to lose his ace spiker right before the preliminaries. Iwaizumi took both hands and shoved Oikawa roughly away by the chest. “You should get back to your team, captain ,” he growled. “You’ve got some serious fucking slack to make up for now.”
“Oh no I don’t,” Oikawa said, placing his hands stubbornly on his hips. “Because you are not quitting. Not even close, pal.”
Pal? Against every impulse, Iwa refrained from punching him. “That’s not a decision you get to make, Oikawa.”
“And it’s not one that you should make so hastily, Iwaizumi ,” the boy bit back. “What are you thinking? A couple missed spikes and you just walk out? What the hell has gotten into you?”
“What the hell has—” Iwaizumi cut himself off with an incredulous laugh. What the hell kind of question was that ? What’s gotten into him? Was this asshole really going to sit here and play dumb? “Were you fucking high last night?” Iwaizumi demanded. “Don’t act so fucking innocent, you jerkass. You know exactly what’s gotten into me .”
Oikawa looked confused, his brow knitting together and his nose wrinkling like he was trying to do a particularly nasty math problem. The expression would have enraged Iwaizumi entirely if it didn’t look so genuine . Oikawa was plenty good at acting, but he had a pretty distinct expression when something stopped the wheels in his head from turning.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Iwa barked. “Do you want me to beat your ass? Stop acting stupid!”
“I’m not acting!” Oikawa cried out. “You’re still mad about last night? Why ?”
Why? Why? Suddenly, Iwa felt completely baffled, and his expression reflected that. Surely he had to know why . How couldn’t he? “You cannot be fucking serious right now,” he said.
Oikawa let out a huff. “I don’t like all these implications you’re making, you know,” he said. “I’m not lying to you. It was just a stupid fight! What’s the problem?”
There he went again with the stupid questions. The urge to smack Oikawa across the face was getting harder and harder to control. Iwaizumi’s fists clenched at his sides. “Fine,” he said. “You want me to explain it to you? Then I’ll explain.” He took a step forward then, and stuck out a finger to poke Oikawa sharply in the chest. “ You only care about one thing, and I only care about one thing,” he said. “And they aren’t the same thing.”
The puzzled expression on Oikawa’s face only deepened, but when he spoke again, it wasn’t with the same stubborn vigor he’d used before. “What are you talking about?” He asked, voice soft, careful - concerned, Iwaizumi noted especially, which made his heart squeeze painfully as his arm dropped back down by his side. He cast his gaze toward the ground. He couldn’t bear to look into Oikawa’s eyes when they looked this way.
‘Is he scared?’ Iwa thought. ‘Should he be?’
“You know what I’m talking about,” he said to the concrete, voice low now in both volume and energy. ‘This is it,’ he thought. ‘I’m really about to do this.’
“Oikawa,” he started, trying to sound firm with his eyes still glued to the ground. He couldn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see what the next sentence would do to that handsome face he’d come to love more than anything. “I—“
“No!”
Oikawa’s shout startled Iwa, his head snapping up just as he felt a firm, desperate hand grip his arm.
There were those eyes - warm, brown, and shining with desperate, pleading pain. Iwa tried to look away again, but Oikawa grabbed his face with his other hand and forced him to make eye contact. “No,” he repeated firmly, though Iwa could have sworn he heard a tremor in his voice. “If you really think that that’s how I feel, then you’re the stupid one! Dumbass!”
Iwa blinked dumbly. It wasn’t often that he was on the other side of that insult, at least not in any meaningful sort of way. He opened his mouth to argue, but Oikawa continued before he could get a word out (he had always been pretty good at that trick). “If you want to quit,” he said, “then I quit too!”
“ What ?” Iwaizumi heard the astounded sound before he realized he was the one making it. Oikawa? Quit? Volleyball ? Now he really was fucking with him. He had to be! There was no way, not in a thousand years that he’d ever —
“Stop looking at me like that! I meant what I said! I choose you, stupid!”
Iwaizumi stood frozen facing him. ‘ I choose you.’ The words echoed in his head like he was standing in a canyon. ‘I choose you? He chooses…’
“H-hey!” All of a sudden, Iwa was stammering like a moron, his brow furrowing once again in irritation. “You can’t do that! Stop being such a dumbass! That doesn’t make any se—”
“No, you stop!” Oikawa demanded. “You’re insane if you think a stupid game means more to me than you do. That’s not how I feel, and you don’t get to tell me I’m wrong!” He was still holding Iwa’s arm with one hand, his face with the other. Reluctantly, he dropped both arms to cross them stubbornly over his chest with a huff. “I get it, okay? I just didn’t think it was some big deal.”
Iwa only stood there and stared. Last night, this morning, during practice - he’d been so sure of it that he’d already started grieving. It was over, wasn’t it? He’d ended it, right? Then why was Oikawa still here? Why had he bothered leaving practice in the first place? Why was he arguing with him?
Iwa felt the other boy’s hand again, this time lacing with his own. “Come with me,” Oikawa said, tugging firmly on Iwa’s arm.
“Wait, what?”
Oikawa was already walking, and without having realized it, Iwaizumi had already started to follow. They were moving toward the gym, Oikawa turning is head over his shoulder to say, “You’re tired of hiding, right? So just say that, dummy. Yelling is different than telling, you know.”
“Wait, I— Oikawa, stop,” he tried to protest, though even he had to admit that it was a feeble attempt. His mind was still reeling from a conversation that had barely even started, let alone ended. For as much as Iwaizumi followed him, Oikawa really could be hard to keep up with sometimes.
“Nu-uh-uh. We’re going to tell the team,” he said. He was looking forward again, tugging relentlessly on Iwa’s arm as he stumbled behind him. “We’re quitting anyway, right? So who cares?”
What was that tone of voice Iwaizumi was hearing? It wasn’t the same as when Oikawa threw a petty tantrum. It sounded determined, like a cheerful taunt before an earth-shattering serve. It made the hairs on Iwa’s arms raise and his face go hot. He was serious about this - really serious.
“Wait— Hold on, hold on a second!” Iwaizumi finally managed to stop himself and pull his arm back from Oikawa, though the other boy held on like a piranha, whipping around to glare at him.
“What?” He demanded. “You’re not breaking up with me, so. Let’s tell them.”
“But you said—” Once again, Iwaizumi’s opportunity to speak was cut short.
“I said a bunch of stupid stuff, probably! It was like 2am, stupid!” He was huffing again - pouting, really, though Iwaizumi certainly preferred that more than the fractured expression he’d seen only minutes earlier.
“Listen,” Oikawa said, finally releasing Iwa’s arm again only to reach over and take the boy’s face gently in his hands. “I love you, asshole.” His words were harsh, but his expression was tender, earnest, fearlessly genuine in a way that only Iwaizumi had ever seen. It made him feel like he was melting all at once, and before he could stop himself, he felt his hands come up to grip desperately around his companion’s wrists, if only to keep himself cradled in Oikawa’s hands a little longer.
He didn’t want Oikawa to let go. He didn’t want to let go. Not really.
“Maybe I don’t say it enough,” Oikawa continued. “And no, I don’t really want to quit the team, but I will if that’s what you want.”
“That’s not what I want,” Iwaizumi was barely whispering, but Oikawa heard him - he always heard him. “I just want—”
“I know.” Now Oikawa was whispering too. He smiled at Iwaizumi, placed their foreheads together. “So let’s go.”
“But—”
“Stop,” Oikawa said, a gentle command. “I’m sick of hiding too. It’s stupid, right?” He pulled away then, laced his fingers with Iwaizumi’s, and nodded toward the gym. “Come on. We have an announcement to make, hm?”
Even with his anxiety building, Iwa followed without protest. This is what he’d wanted all along, right? And Oikawa was going for it - he was actually going for it . Even after every harsh word that had come out of Iwa’s mouth the night before, he was going for it. Here they were, still together despite everything, and now they were finally going to confirm all the suspicion, own up to their relationship for the first time in three years - they were going to tell the team .
Oikawa pushed through the gym doors first, Iwaizumi’s hand still grasped firmly within his own. “Ahem! Attention everyone!” He started. The team stood before them, half frozen in whatever positions they’d just been playing in. ‘Good on them for continuing practice, I guess,’ Iwaizumi thought idly.
All eyes were on them now. Despite the skin on his face feeling like it was about to burn off entirely, Iwaizumi held his head high and kept his gaze firm. He would never dare cower in front of his team. “We have an announcement to make,” Oikawa continued.
Before he could finish, Kunimi spoke up, staring blankly at the couple with a volleyball in his hands. “Did you guys break up or something?”
The couple froze, exchanged a glance.
‘They knew?’ Now Iwa definitely felt like an idiot, but in spite of everything, he felt a smile crack open on his face as Oikawa’s whole body straightened like a board next to him.
“Uhm,” the captain said, clearing his throat. “No. No, we did not.”
It took everything in Iwa’s power not to start laughing. ‘I really am the dumbass, huh?’
Oikawa took a moment to gather himself, then gave two loud claps. “Alright, everyone! Back to work! Spring Preliminaries are in two weeks , remember! So give it your all!”
Bluecastle took their places back on the court with Oikawa and Iwaizumi in position.
Set, spike, score.
Iwa’s hand met the ball with outstanding force.