Work Text:
“Iwa-chan~”
The front door shuts with a click and the young man can hear packages drop on the kitchen table. The sound of rustling and excited rambling continues for a minute before it pauses.
“Iwa?” the call is louder this time and the sound of footsteps follow. The light shining in from the kitchen fades as he steps into the hallway. When Oikawa stops in front of Iwaizumi’s room, he pauses and surveys the scene in front of him through the halfway-open door.
A pair of tired brown eyes meets Oikawa’s own before slowly blinking, as if only now recognizing the other’s presence.
The setter can’t help but notice how swollen Hajime’s eyes are, how tightly curled in on himself he lies, how he’s wearing that one particular shirt he always wears when he needs comfort – the Godzilla one that Iwaizumi’s mother had given him as a present for his birthday.
The room is deathly quiet, none of the usual ambient noise from the fan nor the soft notes of the old-school rock songs that the ex-wing spiker loves to play on repeat so much.
Without a word, Oikawa turns on his heel and heads to his bedroom. He opens his cupboard doors, pushing his clothes haphazardly aside before reaching in the back to get his old worn Aoba Josai sports jacket. He sticks the jacket under his shirt, hugging it close to get it warmed up as he walks back to Iwaizumi’s room.
He slowly walks over to Iwaizumi’s corner bed, swings his leg over and hoists himself over before lying down closest to the wall. He tugs the jacket from under his shirt and wraps it around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, shuffling closer as he does before wrapping his arms around him too.
He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t question the intention. He won’t request an answer. He never does. Because he knows Iwaizumi isn’t one who would be able to share until he’s ready. He knows Iwaizumi would rather deal with pain alone instead of burdening anyone else. He knows Iwaizumi would rather suffer in silence than ever speak up.
The fact that, for the first time ever that this happened, that Iwaizumi had left his door open, did feel like a step towards progress though. The open door, not locked nor shut to keep the world out this time, spoke volumes to Oikawa. The open door said loud and clear, for the first time ever in their relationship, ‘I’m in pain and I need help’.
People misread Iwaizumi’s intentions whenever this happened. They thought he was trying to be brave, enduring stress and pain alone. They thought he was trying to not become a burden to those around him. Which is, not incorrect.
But the true reason was far more simple and Oikawa Tooru knows this, better than Iwaizumi wish he did. The true reason was trust. Right now, Iwaizumi was stuck in a place in his mind, where his heart was laid bare on top of fragile glass. And words, well-intentioned though they might be, had cut into his heart before.
Deeply.
“You’ll do better next time.” , all Iwaizumi heard: you didn’t try hard enough.
“It doesn’t matter that much.” ….. we know you didn’t even put effort in.
“You’re so tough. I can’t imagine you crying.”… so please don’t put on a show.
“You need to stay strong.”….. because that’s all you’re good for.
“You’re so committed, you’ll get the hang of it.” ….all that hard-work won’t mean shit.
That was the one thing that Iwaizumi feared above everything else. That all the work he’s done, all the pain he’s gone through, all the effort he put into everything … that it will all be for nothing.
And Oikawa knows this.
It didn’t have to be a bad test or even a bad day to trigger it, at times it was just the lingering thought at the back of his friend’s impressively stubborn head. The switch would flip and like a flash-flood, all the confidence and self-assurance would be swept aside. So, Tooru had learnt over the years, how to build a fort to which Iwaizumi could escape to. One that’s strong enough to hold out the invasive self-doubt and one that’s soft enough to comfort him until he’s ready to move out again.
People always asked Tooru why he chose to go to Aoba Josai. A school that was known for its mediocre training, when compared to that of Shiratorisawa. Fact is, he was hoping to prove Iwaizumi right. To prove to him that commitment and hard-work will pay off. That, even though you might not be chosen to go to an elitist school, you’re still amazing and worthy. That’s why. Even when Iwaizumi had insisted him to switch, he stayed. That’s why. He stayed for Iwaizumi.
Slowly he pulls Iwaizumi closer, a soft sigh escaping the other as he does. He tucks his knees behind Haijime’s and rests his forehead on his back. He’s content to just be there for Iwaizumi, for as long as the other allows him to.
He doesn’t know if this was like the last time this happened. It could be for a number of other reasons – Iwaizumi’s current state. From all the signs though, the setter’s quite certain Iwaizumi’s just overwhelmed with stress. Everyday problems are fine, but they do build up after a while. It does get under the wing spiker’s skin when it’s not something he has control over. Unfortunately, those are usually the exact problems that seem to tether themselves to Iwaizumi, the problems that he hadn’t initiated yet still they plague his existence. Tooru is one whom can accept the hands that fate had dealt him, Hajime not so much. Which was, in part, why they respected each other so much.
He knows Iwaizumi is strong. Strong enough to endure anything. So, when he wraps his arms a bit tighter, he knows he’s not holding Iwaizumi together, no, he’s just making sure that all the pieces of Iwaizumi know that he’s there for him. Tight enough that those pieces can re-align into place, and like a compass, Oikawa will patiently keep showing the way. No matter how long it takes.
A shaky breath comes from Iwaizumi’s chest.
Then another.
A deep breath, as if to reinforce the lock that keeps his emotions in check.
The exhale shudders again.
So, instead of saying, as desperately as he truly wants to: Let it go, you can fall apart. I’m here for you. He doesn’t give it a voice though. He just nods against Iwaizumi’s back once. A soft nudge, a silent acknowledgement to his best friend’s pain.
A slow movement up makes Oikawa adjust his hold. He hears the brush of Iwaizumi’s hand across his face and knows for certain now, Iwaizumi’s crying.
An audible gulp and sniffle sounds, the other’s shoulders flinch as he does.
He breathes again, deep, shivering when he reaches the limit of his breath. He breathes out.
Oikawa breathes with him. Feeling the pressure in his lungs as he does. There’s a knot in his throat now too . Because he can feel how often Iwaizumi moves his arm now in order to wipe more tears away.
A cough follows now, with more agitated movements of his hand as he furiously brushes tears away. Iwaizumi’s face turns to his pillow, crushing himself into the downy softness as his form twitches uncontrollably as he cries. It’s silent and painful.
For a few moments he simply stays curled in on himself, breathing erratically, shuddering violently as he keeps silent. It’s clear he’s used to dealing with pain alone, crying in a way that no-one would hear, breathing into his pillow as he tries to muffle the sound.
So, Oikawa just keeps holding on. Breathing along with him.
Quick breaths, close to hyperventilation, as the young man twists into himself. A cough and sniffle barely breaking the intense pattern his breathing had taken.
In, out.
In, out.
It makes his ears ring after a few minutes, but the setter remains true.
In, out.
In, out.
Silently Oikawa breathes with his friend. Feeling his chest twist painfully with each pained breath the other takes.
Abruptly, Iwaizumi starts franticly patting his hand across his chest and stomach before finally landing on top of Oikawa’s, and he immediately laces fingers with him in a crushing grip. It’s the first time he’s done this. His hand is feverishly warm and sweaty and holding on as if he’s afraid that Tooru would disappear.
So, Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi even closer before securely tucking both their hands, still interlaced, halfway underneath Iwaizumi’s form. The tight grip, the weight of their arms, finally seems to tie Iwaizumi to reality again.
When Iwaizumi finally takes in a deep breath, even though he still breathes out unevenly, it’s slower than before, Oikawa finally relaxes.
To take the lead, the setter takes in a deep breath, slowly tightening his grip on Iwaizumi’s hand to help him focus. He exhales just as slow, loosening his grip as he does. He does this four times before he feels the tell-tale twitch of recognition from ex-wing spiker’s form.
Iwaizimi slowly slips into that rhythm, slowly tightening their grip as they inhale together, together relaxing as they exhale.
Inhale, fingers laced tightly. 1…. 2…. 3… 4….
Exhale, loosened grips. 1…. 2… 3… 4…
Inhale. 1…. 2… 3…. 4….
Exhale. 1…. 2… 3…. 4…
A cough and sniff makes them pause before picking right up again. Even slower this time. Even calmer. Even more sober than before.
Inhale. 1…. 2… 3…. 4….
Exhale. 1…. 2… 3…. 4…
Another soft sniffle breaks their pattern. Iwaizumi tugs the jacket over his face, rubbing it fiercely, unintentionally using it as a tissue.
“I’m going to have to put that jacket in snot quarantine now,” Oikawa whispers, the first to break their silence.
A puff escapes Iwaizumi before a chuckle follows. He sniffs again, intentionally using the jacket this time.
“Eewwww….” Oikawa moans softly, keeping his tone light as he does, still aware of the fragile return to normalcy.
“Sorry,” Haijime offers with a chuckle, clearing his throat thickly after a moment. This time, his voice sounding more aware, laced with guilt and gratitude all in one, “… sorry…”
“Can I get you anything?” Tooru asks softly. He doesn’t ask how the other is, he knows what the answer will be.
“…. Water… maybe.”
“What about vodka?”
The statement makes the other chuckle once more.
The young setter slowly manoeuvres himself off the mattress, making sure to adjust his jacket once more, tucking it in tightly around the corners, “I’ll be right back.”
A tired nod comes a response, but by the time Tooru does return with a glass of water, Hajime is fast asleep, wrapped tightly in his jacket.