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Iwaizumi Hajime slotted his key into the lock of Oikawa's front door, turning it until the latch clicked and the door swung open. Ever since he and Oikawa had started dating two months ago, they had gotten copies of each other’s house keys (with their parents’ permission, of course), since they were always at each other’s houses anyway. It was a Sunday afternoon during the school holidays, and Oikawa’s parents were still at work, so Iwaizumi had gone to his boyfriend’s place for their usual weekly study session (or Sundae Sundays, as Oikawa called them, since they always ended up just eating ice-cream and playing video games). Iwaizumi walked in, confused when the first floor of the house was utterly silent, because Oikawa would usually be sprawled bonelessly on the couch watching some alien show or other while he waited for Iwaizumi to arrive. Today, however, Oikawa was nowhere in sight. “Trashykawa?” Iwaizumi walked to the staircase, pulling his shoulder bag more securely over his back, climbing up the stairs and gliding his palm up the railing. He heard... voices? He picked up the pace and once he got to the top floor, he was certain that some people were arguing. The noise seemed to be coming from Oikawa’s room, so the spiker walked closer. Is he watching a movie?
The bedroom door was ajar, and the closer Iwaizumi got, the better he could hear. It was Oikawa’s voice that he was hearing (which eliminated the possibility of a movie or TV show), and his boyfriend sounded like he was crying. He still wasn’t close enough to hear what Oikawa was yelling about, so he crept even closer.
“—oves you! You’re just an annoying, stupid bitch! Who would love an asshole like you?! Do you really think he does? He’ll leave you eventually. Everybody will. You’re not enough, you’ll never be enough, never be enough, never b-be enough…”
Iwaizumi jerked back in shock as Oikawa burst into tears, heartbreaking, pitiful sobs that would eventually fade into choked gasps. The spiker’s first instinct was to barge into Oikawa’s room and comfort him, but he didn’t know how Oikawa would react. I guess it’s better to let him calm down and then talk to him about it later… Right? He decided to go back outside and ring the doorbell to save Oikawa the embarrassment of knowing that someone had heard him crying (Iwaizumi knew how much the setter valued his pride). He walked downstairs as quietly as he could and waited for about ten minutes before ringing the doorbell. If he had gone into Oikawa’s bedroom, he would have seen Oikawa sitting on the ground in front of his full-length mirror and screaming at his own reflection.
Barely a minute after Iwaizumi rang the doorbell, Oikawa was swinging it open, his signature grin adorning his pretty face. He looked deceptively normal, but if you looked really closely, you would be able to see the puffiness in his eyes, and the slightest tinge of redness on the tip of his nose. Iwaizumi noticed everything but decided to keep his mouth shut, lest he had to deal with a whiny Oikawa all day. “Iwa-chan! Did you forget to bring your keys again? So forgetful, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa chirped mischievously. To anyone else, he would have looked completely natural and relaxed, but now that Iwaizumi knew that he’d been crying, the spiker could see the tension in his shoulders, hear the fakeness of his voice, the blankness behind his brown eyes. He wanted to sweep Oikawa into his arms and try his best to make his boyfriend feel better, but he just didn’t know what the setter wanted. Does he want to be comforted? Or would he rather save his pride? Is he comfortable enough around me?
“Iwa-chan?”
Oikawa’s voice dragged him out of his mulling. “Yeah, I’m so forgetful, I might just accidentally forget you the next time we go to the combini to buy ice-cream.” He hadn’t meant for his reply to come out so sharp, but sarcasm and snark were his default mechanisms whenever he had too many things on his mind. He was about to apologise, but Oikawa just laughed and ushered him into the house. However, the setter still looked sad and drained, like he had the life leached out of him, which only begged the question: who exactly had Oikawa been talking to?
*
For the past two hours, Iwaizumi had been staring blankly at the same two pages of his science textbook under the guise of studying. He had tried to focus, he really had, but he couldn’t get what he’d heard out if his head, and his imagination had started to run a little wild. Oikawa was sitting beside him, flipping through his English file, humming a tuneless song that he had been stuck on for weeks.
Iwaizumi fidgeted in his seat. Say it. No! Come on, you know you want to… No! Oikawa would never. Do you really know that? Hasn’t he seemed bored of you? Iwaizumi stilled, thinking back. He has been more distant lately…… His darker side grinned evilly. Exactly. So ask. Don’t you want answers? You deserve better. What’s the point in holding on if he’ll only leave you behind? Iwaizumi swallowed hard. “...If you got bored of me, you could have just told me, you know,” he muttered, his eyes burning holes into his textbook.
Oikawa stopped humming, turning from his file to look at his boyfriend with wide, confused eyes, brows drawing together slightly, his lips pressed into a small pout that he wasn’t even aware of. “What do you mean, Iwa-chan?”
The spiker swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “You were breaking up with someone just now, weren’t you?” The paper of his textbook page beneath the flat of his palm suddenly felt cold, so cold.
Oikawa shifted his chair sideways so he could face Iwaizumi fully. “Iwa-chan, there was no one else in my room!” He startled and flinched when Iwaizumi slammed his textbook shut, all pretence of calmness gone.
Iwaizumi almost felt bad. Almost. “Stop. Just stop, Oikawa. I don’t appreciate being strung along.”
“But I’m not— I’m not seeing anyone else!”
“Yeah, because you just broke up with them, didn’t you? If you didn’t love me anymore you should have just said so. Did you even love me at all in the first place?” Iwaizumi scoffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and crossing his arms. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice whispered, Oikawa would never do this. He loves you. That dark, twisted monster inside of him only allowed him a mere second of doubt before it made him remember the sound of Oikawa’s voice echoing angrily out of his bedroom, pushing the uncertainty down. Iwaizumi hadn’t meant to get so angry, but he was on a roll. He had driven himself crazy for the past two hours thinking about what he’d heard, and his imagination had admittedly ran more than a bit wild. Deep down, he had always been terrified of not being enough for Oikawa, of the talented, brilliant setter leaving him behind, and all his collected self-doubt was exploding outwards like a shrapnel bomb.
“Iwa-chan, of course I love you! Why—” Oikawa didn’t understand. He thought Iwaizumi was happy. He thought that he made Iwaizumi happy. But he fucked up somehow, didn’t he? He always did.
“Did you just want me as some kind of— of trophy? Some acquisition? A boy toy that you could just toss aside once you got bored?”
“No! Iwa-chan, where’s this comi—”
“I heard you! Just now! Who were you yelling at?”
“I wasn’t talking to anyone! I—”
“Oikawa, who were you yelling at?!”
“Nobody, I swear! I—”
“STOP LYING TO ME!”
Oikawa cried out, his hands clapping over his ears as he shrank back into himself, shoulders curling inwards, and only then did Iwaizumi notice the tears dripping down his face. Only then did he realise what he had done, realise that he had let his insecurities manipulate him into turning the boy he loved into this terrified shell. It hit him like a slap to the face, his anger draining out of him in a split second as he watched his boyfriend’s delicate features twist up. He immediately lifted a hand to wipe away Oikawa’s tears, but the setter flinched back violently, chin tucked to his chest, his forearms instinctively moving forward to shield his face. Iwaizumi’s mouth went dry, his chest growing uncomfortably warm. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I— fuck.” He reached towards Oikawa again, slowly this time, gently covering his long, slim fingers with his own, pulling his hands away from his ears. He brought Oikawa’s hands to his lap, his bigger palms encasing them in a protective shell, calloused thumbs tracing patterns on soft skin. “I didn’t mean to yell, I— Did you think that I was going to hit you?” His voice was nothing more than a horrified whisper, his eyes shocked and wide. Oikawa mumbled something under his breath, softly enough that Iwaizumi couldn’t catch it. “Tooru? I’m sorry, I didn’t— I would never—”
“I was yelling at myself.” Oikawa’s voice was low. Calm. Too calm. Like the resounding silence before a crack of thunder. When he finally looked up from his lap, Iwaizumi could see that there were still tears falling from his lashes, but the rest of his face was completely blank.
Iwaizumi swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “...What do you mean?”
“I was yelling at myself,” Oikawa repeated, looking undaunted into his boyfriend’s eyes and drawing in a shuddering breath. Iwaizumi clutched the setter’s hands tighter, still not comprehending what he had said.
“What—”
“I said that I was yelling at myself! I WAS YELLING AT MYSELF! ARE YOU DEAF?!” Oikawa wrenched his hands out of Iwaizumi’s grip, his voice breaking. The setter felt suddenly short of breath, and a small, pained sound escaped his lips, like someone had slipped a knife between his ribs and was now twisting it softly. Oikawa took another deep breath. “Out.”
Iwaizumi didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore, not when Oikawa’s weren’t between them. “Tooru, I—”
“Get out.”
“No, please, let me—”
“What part of get out do you not understand?!” Fear had turned to anger and anger had turned to hurt and Oikawa broke, letting a sob slip from his chest, his face scrunching up as he tried to force himself not to make a sound. “Just go. Please.”
“No. Not when—”
“Just go, Iwaizumi. I don’t want to see you right now.”
Iwaizumi sucked in a shaky breath through his nose, letting the air fill his lungs to bursting, letting it burn. He quickly gathered up his stationery and study materials, haphazardly shoving them into his backpack. Oikawa was curled up in his chair, knees tucked up to his chest, silent tears dripping off his trembling jaw. With one last pleading look, Iwaizumi was gone, shutting the door softly behind him.
Oikawa could feel himself cracking, like an egg’s shell under pressure. The sobs started, the first one little more than a soft, animal peep, the second a choked wail, and by the third, he was bawling his eyes out into his knees, rocking back and forth in the chair, arms wrapped around his shins. Great. Just great. Now Iwa-chan’s going to leave me… He’s gonna replace me with someone else, and I’ll be all alone. I just had to fuck up again, didn’t I? Why can’t I do anything right? He cried, and cried, and cried until he didn’t have any energy left, until his head felt waterlogged and way too heavy. He dragged himself to his feet, barely aware of his own body, and stumbled over to his bed, flopping down and burying his face into his pillow, hot tears already soaking into the fabric. And it was like that that he fell asleep, sinking into a heavy, dreamless fog, his mind still too distressed to get any proper rest.
*
As previously mentioned, Oikawa was the type of person who would be sprawled out on the couch on a Sunday night, especially when it was now 10 p.m. and one of his favourite alien shows was on. So when his parents came home and found the house in complete silence, they were immediately worried. “Could he be in his room?” his father asked.
His mother nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully and dragging her husband to the stairs. “Maybe, come on.” It became obvious that Oikawa was indeed in his room, because of the soft glow from his bedside lamp that shined out of the crack under the door. “Tooru?” his mother called out.
Inside his room, Oikawa startled awake, instantly in a horrible mood. “Go away!”
Her husband chuckled. “Well, someone’s on their man period.”
He wheezed as she whacked him solidly in the stomach with the back of her hand. “Oh, hush. He obviously doesn’t want to talk, let’s go back down first and I’ll check on him later.” She ushered her husband back down the stairs, their voices fading as they got further away.
On the other side of the door, Oikawa had started crying again, smushing his face into his pillow to muffle the pathetic sounds he was making. It hurt so bad, to think that he was going to lose one of the people he loved the most in his life.
A while later, Oikawa’s mother came back. She gently cracked open his room door, holding a plate of her son’s favourite milk bread, only to find Oikawa still sobbing into his pillow. “Oh, Tooru…” She walked over to the bed and sat down, setting the plate on his nightstand and stroking a gentle hand through his messy hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Oikawa sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, shaking his head with his face still buried into the pillow. “N-No. ...I’m sorry I yelled.”
“It’s okay, baby.” She dropped a kiss onto his temple. “I’m guessing that you didn’t have dinner, so eat this and get some more rest, okay?” She gestured to the milk bread.
“...Okay. Thanks, mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, honey. And whatever happened… You’ll get through it. You’re a fighter, Tooru. It’s gonna be okay.” Oikawa looked extremely doubtful, but he still dragged himself up to kiss his mother on the cheek before she left.
She didn’t say anything, but Oikawa’s mother knew that her son had fought with Iwaizumi, because the last time that he had cried like this was when he was five. He and Iwaizumi had fought then, too, because Oikawa was hungry and Iwaizumi refused to share his milk bread. It had been their only serious fight, at least until today it seemed. In the end, they made up and Iwaizumi gave Oikawa half of his milk bread anyway, and that was how the setter’s love for milk bread started. They made up then, I’m sure they’ll manage it now. But this is probably a hundred times more complicated…
Oikawa had absolutely no appetite whatsoever, but he still forced himself to finish all the milk bread that was on his nightstand because he didn’t want his mother to worry about him even more. Flipping over onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, his mind still unable to shut down. I’m never good enough. All my teammates are better than me, and now the one person I depend the most on is leaving me too. Sometimes, Oikawa really wished that he could rip his tear ducts to pieces, so he would never need to show weakness again. In his eyes, those traitorous teardrops that dripped down the sides of his face were what made his vulnerability obvious. He had spent years training to school his expression into exactly what he wanted it to be, when he wanted it to be; if his tears could be controlled too, his facade would be perfect. He would fool everyone. If only I could fool myself… Turning onto his side, Oikawa closed his eyes, feeling himself sink slowly into a sort of haze, not fully awake but still painfully unable to escape reality.
*
For the nth time, Iwaizumi Hajime asked himself what he was doing with his life, sprinting to his boyfriend’s house in nothing but his plaid pyjamas under a dark blue windbreaker. His answer was still the same as it had been every time; he had hurt the boy he loved and he needed to apologise. Simple as that.
*
Feet thundering against the dirt, chest heaving, arms pumping wildly, sweat beading on his brow. As soon as Iwaizumi stepped out of Oikawa’s room, he had felt the overwhelming urge to run. Anywhere, just as far away from that place as he could. The atmosphere was suffocating, the air too thick to breathe. He scrambled down the staircase and closed the front door as quietly as he could afford to, before breaking into a jog that soon sped up into a full-out sprint. He ran all the way home without stopping even once, slamming open the front door and racing straight up to his room, ignoring his mother’s shocked exclamation. As soon as he got to his bedroom and locked himself in, Iwaizumi flung his bag away, collapsing to his knees, sitting back on his heels and panting hard. He was fairly sure that the salty liquid dripping down his face wasn’t just sweat. For the next three hours, Iwaizumi cried so hard he nearly asphyxiated himself. He was scared out of his mind, because Oikawa was hurting, the boy he loved was hurting because of him, and the worst part was that he couldn’t do anything to help or comfort his boyfriend because the setter didn’t even want to see him. The spiker was disgusted with himself. It hurt so bad, not being able to tell Oikawa how sorry he was. This was the first time he had cried in years. The last time was when he was five, when he and Oikawa had their first real fight. This was exactly like then, just about... a million times more serious, give or take.
After crying and moping around and generally just being a sad pathetic mess for quite a while longer, Iwaizumi finally realised that crying wasn’t going to get him anywhere (although he did feel marginally more optimistic). And so he scraped his shit together, grabbed a couple of sheets of paper and a pen, and sat down at his desk where he would spend the next few hours writing.
*
And here he was, running at full speed to Oikawa house in the middle of the night (morning?), that piece of paper covered in lines and swirls of ink and tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket that he wrapped tighter around his torso, shivering in the cold night wind that whipped against him. As Oikawa’s house came into view, he sped up, vaulting over the fence and stopping just beneath Oikawa’s window. He scaled the slim metal water pipe that hugged the side of the building, the adrenaline in his veins dulling the fear he had of falling to his death from two stories up on his boyfriend’s lawn. Looking through the second-floor window into Oikawa’s bedroom, he could see that the setter was fast asleep on his bed, facing away from him. Iwaizumi didn’t want to disturb him, but he had no idea how long the metal pipe would hold his weight, and he honestly wasn’t quite ready to die yet, so he knocked on the window.
Oikawa jolted upright as he heard the sharp rap of knuckles on glass, nearly falling off the bed. His head whipped towards the window, and his first immediate thought was a burglar! ...But burglars don’t knock… Iwa-chan?! The setter kicked the blankets off his legs, scrambling over to the window and pushing it open as Iwaizumi leant precariously to the side. He reached out and grabbed his boyfriend’s elbows, hauling him inside. As soon as he closed the window, Oikawa turned around, gripping the lapels of Iwaizumi’s jacket. It was painfully obvious that he had been crying in his sleep; his eyes were red and puffy and his nose was red too, and his usually perfect hair was a mess. “I’m sorry, Hajime, I’m sorry I got mad at you, please don’t leave me. I love you, please—”
“W-What— Oika— Tooru, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was my fau—” Iwaizumi gripped the setter’s slim wrists, gently trying to unclench the fingers which had clamped down hard on the dark fabric of his windbreaker.
“I yelled at you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me—” Oikawa looked desperate, hysterical almost, clutching onto the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt with tears and snot running down his face. It was obvious that this had been destroying him since his boyfriend left, and his voice was getting more and more frantic with each syllable.
Iwaizumi was shocked as hell, his eyes wide, lips parted slightly. He— Why— How the hell does he think that this is his fault?! At this point, Oikawa was crying so hard that he was incoherent, and Iwaizumi felt something twist up in his chest. Against his will, a tear slipped down his cheek, because it physically hurt to see the boy he loved so distressed. Out of instinct, Iwaizumi reached out, wrapping strong arms around his boyfriend and tucking him close, letting Oikawa cry into his neck. The spiker whispered sweet nothings into his ear, running soothing fingers through his bed head, petting his hair gently. A couple of his own tears fell into the dark, fluffy locks. “Shh... Shh, I’ve got you, I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving, Tooru. Never. I’ve got you.”
Iwaizumi’s voice was kind of shaky (not that he’d ever admit it). He usually thought out every single sentence he wanted to say before actually saying it, but his instinct to comfort Oikawa was overriding all of his Standard Operating Procedures, and the words came pouring out like a waterfall. “I’m the one who should be begging you not to leave me. I jumped to conclusions without clarifying things. This is my fault, I should have trusted you, I do trust you, it’s all my fault. So please, please don’t blame yourself. I’m sorry, Tooru. Please forgive me.” He hugged Oikawa tight and they sank to the floor on their knees, gently rocking back and forth as Iwaizumi started to cry harder, his nose pressed into Oikawa’s hair, still unable to shake the fear that his Tooru was going to leave him when he spent hours running the possibility around his brain. Neither of them would have ever dared to cry like this in front of anyone else other than each other, but here they were, sobbing in each other’s arms while sitting on a hard wooden floor. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have stayed, I should have—”
Oikawa shook his head in Iwaizumi’s shoulder, shifting himself into the spiker’s lap. “No, no, it’s alright, I wanted you to go, then. I didn’t— I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“Like what?” Iwaizumi sat back on his heels, slotting his arms into place around Oikawa’s waist like they had always belonged there.
“Crying. Ugly. ...Weak.”
“Ugly? Weak? ...Tooru, you’re beautiful, and one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.” And Iwaizumi wasn’t saying that just for show. True, Oikawa’s eyes and nose were swollen and red, and his entire face was blotchy, but as he sat sideways in Iwaizumi’s lap, stripped bare down to his rawest, truest form without any facades of confidence or strength, completely vulnerable in the setter’s arms… He was beautiful, and this was true strength; it took a special brand of courage to be able to show people your vulnerable side.
And yet Oikawa shook his head weakly. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. And I had a feeling that you would try to argue with me, so I… I made this. That’s why I was so late, or I would have gotten here earlier.”
Iwaizumi leaned back a little and pulled out the folded piece of paper from before, passing it to Oikawa who took it inquisitively. “I’m... ah... not that... eloquent, which I’m pretty sure you know by now, so…” He wordlessly gestured to the paper in Oikawa’s hands, looking to the side.
“Aww, is Iwa-chan blushing?” Oikawa asked (or at least tried to ask) teasingly, even though his voice was still thick with tears and nasally since his nose was blocked. He unfolded the paper, revealing lines and lines painstakingly written in Iwaizumi’s messy scrawl, and the spiker watched his expression closely as he started reading.
100 REASONS WHY I LOVE YOU
1. Your hair. Your stupid, bouncy, fluffy hair. It’s impossible not to want to touch it every time I see it.
2. Your hands. Your dumbass pretty setter hands. They’re so pretty it’s unfair.
3. Your whiny-ass voice. Every time I don’t hear it in the morning I can’t function for the rest of the day and I don’t bloody know why……
4. Your determination. You stop at nothing to get what you want, even if it’s trying to convince me to watch a dumb alien movie with you.
On and on and on the list went, every single reason written out by hand, all the way until the end.
99. Your stupidly pretty face. I just want to kiss you every time I see you, goddamit, Tooru.
100. You. Just you, Tooru. I love you because there is nobody else like you in this world. I love you because you are the person who I know I can always count on at the end of the day. I love you because you are the one who’s stuck with me through thick and thin, and I want to wake up every day for the rest of my life with your stupidly beautiful face as the first thing I see. I love you, Oikawa Tooru. Always.
A small droplet landed on the paper, and Oikawa wiped it away before it could make the ink bleed, realising that it was one of his own tears. He looks up and to the left where Iwaizumi was definitely blushing, his cheeks, neck and the tips of his ears glowing a warm scarlet. The lithe setter launched himself at his boyfriend with enough force to send them to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs. “Oof— Oi, Heavykawa—” Iwaizumi shut himself up when he met Oikawa’s eyes. There was something new burning behind them, or rather a fire that had been previously put out, and had now been rekindled. Oikawa just stared at him, the both of them bathed in soft moonlight, the spiker lying flat on his back, the setter quiet and subdued. Docile, Iwaizumi thought, for once. “Come here,” he hummed, gathering Oikawa into his arms and helping him up. He brought them both to the bed, still half-carrying his boyfriend, and they lay down side by side above the covers. Oikawa pressed his forehead to Iwaizumi’s collarbone even though he was taller, and Iwaizumi put one hand on his boyfriend’s hip and wove the other into his hair. “Tooru, I… Just now, I— I didn’t mean to yell, I just got mad, and—”
Oikawa smiled sleepily. “I know, Hajime. I know.”
Iwaizumi took another deep breath. “No, I need you to understand this. When you flinched back… Tooru, I would never hurt you. Ever. I love you. And even if you are an annoying, stupid bitch, you’re my annoying, stupid bitch, and if anybody has a problem with that, they’ll have to go through me.”
“Wow, Iwa-chan. So chivalrous,” the setter snorted, trying to hold back a yawn.
“I’m serious, Stupidkawa. I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let anyone take you away from me. I won’t leave you, Tooru.” Iwaizumi rubbed firm fingers into Oikawa’s scalp and lower back, kneading away the tension from his body.
“You can’t promise that, Iwa-chan. What if an accident happens? Would you kill yourself to be with me, if I die?” Oikawa rolled his eyes slightly, but he looked back at Iwaizumi in shock once he heard his answer.
“Yes.” No hesitation, no contemplation, just a straight answer and the hard truth. “Do you really still doubt my love for you?” He stared hard at Oikawa, eyes travelling over his stupid, pretty hands, and his stupid, pretty hair, and that stupid, pretty face.
And with that stupid, pretty voice, Oikawa replied with absolute certainty, “No.”
The two boys twined around each other like the vines their volleyball club was named after, weaving together until they were inextricably entangled. “Hold me, Hajime,” Oikawa breathed into Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling his legs up to his chest, and in response the spiker pulled him even closer, arms wrapping tightly around his boyfriend’s body. They fell asleep that way, Iwaizumi curled protectively around Oikawa, and needless to say, it was one of the best rests they’d had in a long time.
*
Oikawa’s mother gently cracked her son’s bedroom door open, her eyes travelling over the two boys fast asleep in Oikawa’s bed, cradled in each other’s arms. Her lips ticked up in a knowing grin. Like magnets, those two. They always come back to each other in the end.