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Going to California for his education...it had a lot of pros and cons.
Pros included him now being able to study under the great Takashi Utsui. He was also able to get a far more advanced education here in the so-called “land of opportunity” than he could of gotten at a Japanese university or college.
The cons is everything else.
The people in his class, they’re helpful, and his mom gave him a smartphone so they could video call from across the ocean. It’s also useful with it’s translator app, allowing him to learn the english words class never could of prepared him for, to translate textbook pages, to look whatever confusing words he hears his professor lecture.
And it...adds up. A lot.
He gets less and less sleep everyday as he tries to navigate his way through America. Trying to make himself fit in, improving and polishing his english, learning words he had seen and translated the day before only to forget it. Pulling at his hair over his essays because his tired mind mixed up english and japanese grammatical structure. There also weren’t a lot of Japanese on the campus, and the few who di, their knowledge of the language was limited due to growing up in California or some other state.
He managed to save up enough from his part-time job when he was still at school in Miyagi to buy a small apartment a twenty-minute walk from campus. It’s far, but it’s price and rent are good, it may be small but it’s not too small, and it’s in nice condition (once he was able to conquer the mold in the bathroom with the power of bleach and manage to persuade the landlord to pay for new floorboards to replace the water-destroyed carpet in the living room under the condition that Iwaizumi himself had to pay for installation, which he decided to do himself).
So maybe his experience in Irvine, California isn’t the best, but it isn’t the worst. He gets by. He managed to score an internship (another pro) and also a friend. He rubs his eyes carefully lifting his head from where it planted itself on his empty textbook, peeling the page away from his cheek while making sure that the surface of the thin sheet doesn’t come with his face. He yawns, pawing for his phone. His eyes want to close again- they feel so heavy. But he manages to unlock his phone, wincing at the brightness. He squints at the screen, forcing his eyelids to widen when he sees the texts he’s gotten. Without fail, he always gets texts nearly everyday from two people:
There’s a few texts from Oikawa. Two of them are selfies, a summary of his breakfast, and then a good morning. He replies with a good morning, looking at the time and seeing that it’s seven o’clock. So he got four hours of sleep. That’s a good number. For some reason, his smile becomes widen when he sees the next text:
Good morning, Iwaizumi, although it would be good night over here. I hope you watched the match last night. Your continuous advice has helped me improve greatly.
And that, that was sent not from Argentina but from Japan. From someone he never saw himself talking to, much less texting daily.
good night to you too, Ushijima! Great game last night- the falcons put on a good fight. your form is good, but you’ve been slacking on your shoulder stretches.
And once again, his daily-morning routine has started.
He switches his phone off of silent and starts cleaning up his small dining table while his phone pings with a new text. He stops what he does to read and reply before going back to packing. Sure, it slows him down, but he always feels like having his mornings work like this makes him feel more productive.
This texting thing, though, it kind of makes him feel like a cheating husband. In the morning and sometimes at night he texts and or calls Ushijima; he texts or calls Oikawa at the other times of the day, never telling the latter about his communications with the former, the only indication of their interactions being the picture he sent of the two of them meeting when Iwaizumi went to meet Takashi a year ago.
It’s been a whole year. So almost a year and a half since he’s come to California and still hasn’t fully adjusted.
On a daily basis, he gets an average of zero to five hours of sleep. On the weekends, he gets ten or more hours of sleep. This has been his life for about two months now. Before that, everything used to be fine, but then the new term started. He heard that the first year of university is supposed to be the hardest to weed out the people who don’t want to try, but it just got harder for him. The vocabulary increased in intensity, he had to learn things that natives learned in grade school. It was his second year that it became obvious to him that adjusting is going to harder, and he’s have to work harder to be able to match the pace the world has set for him.
So once again, after he says goodnight to Ushijima, after downloading the clips of the Red Falcons vs Schweiden Adlers match that Ushijima had requested him to look at again, he down a caffeine pill, sticks the bottle in his bag and starts his walk to campus. He doesn’t have a lecture yet so early in the morning, but he can grab breakfast, a hot chocolate perhaps (even though it’s summer that just started), and then head to the library to do some homework in a location where he isn’t at risk of falling asleep.
Of course, he should of known that somehow his plan of having an unhealthy lifestyle would be ruined somehow. And the source of ruining comes suddenly and without warning.
It’s the day after his birthday. Technically, it’s the day of his birthday in Japan but everyone he knows took into consideration him being in California, so they called or texted technically twelve to twenty-four hours ahead of time, but for Iwaizumi, it’s just the date that matters, no matter where in the world he is.
And once again, he barely got any sleep. More than usual, six hours in comparison to last nights three, but all of those lack of hours have been adding up. He has to take a cold shower, nearly an ice bath, each morning. He takes two caffeine pills and they work pretty quickly but less effectively now, his veins quickly running with energy and he guesses that’s kind of what it feels like to be high? His hearing sometimes give out to ringing, everything becoming muffled besides that. His vision blurs and sometimes he’s just plain disoriented, his thoughts feeling clouded. He adjusts the straps of his backpack, huffing as he continues walking. He doesn’t have class today and Takashi gave him the rest of the week off for his birthday “and to get some rest” the older man had also added while ruffling Iwaizumi’s hair. He decides he’ll take the time to, as usual, go to the cafe and then head to the library to study some more. He was thinking about going to the gym but he feels like if he did, then his muscles would give up.
It’s a pleasant surprise upon entering the near empty cafe he spies a familiar face. His eyes widen.
“Ushijima!? What the hell are you doing here?” He exclaims in English before switching to Japanese. “Sorry, no offense.” He rushes over to the man, quickly sitting down and grinning at the man. Ushijima has a small smile on his face. He has grown more muscular since a year ago, his jawline somehow even sharper and eyes more intense. And is it just him or has he grown taller as well? It must be the time, then.
“I came to wish you happy birthday” Ushijima says. Iwaizumi feels his cheeks warm.
“W-well” he stutters “you shouldn’t of wasted your money on that.” Ushijima frowns.
“It wouldn't of been a waste of money. You are a dear friend to me. And my father sent me the ticket” he adds as an afterthought. Iwaizumi can’t feel it in him to feel even a little bit annoyed. Iwaizumi waves the waitress over and somehow manages to yield to Ushijima who manages to haggle him into letting him pay, since it’s his birthday so he shouldn’t be paying. Iwaizumi realizes that Ushijima is staring at him a lot, especially when he thinks he isn’t looking (taking a bite of his food).
“Is something wrong?” He brings himself to ask after their next segment of conversation finishes. Ushijima continues to stare at him, eyes narrowing just a bit.
“You look tired. Have you been getting enough rest?” Concern is evident in Ushijima’s voice, no matter how slightly it naturally shows. The pills in his backpack feel heavier.
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“You look very tired. And you occasionally haven’t responded to any of my questions.” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. That’s new.
“Huh. I must of been distracted then. My bad. Anyway, since it’s my birthday, I get to chose what we do, right?”
Iwaizumi chose, in the end, for them to go to the zoo. There are just some things that America has that Japan doesn’t, and one of those is the space to have what he has heard is good zoos. Especially petting zoos inside of a zoo instead of as a separate establishment.
They never make it, though.
Iwaizumi has to drop his backpack back home first so that he doesn’t have to lug textbooks around. They’re walking up the stairs when it suddenly hits him. It comes in a certain order: first his own voice becomes more muffled, the ringing coming; his vision distorts; his grip loosens on the railing without him wanting it too; his body just… gives up.
His eyes close and he feels his knees and arm hit something with somehow clouded pain, eyelids sliding shut. He feels something slide under him, keeping his head from hitting something. He doesn’t know what happens afterwards but when he comes to, it’s to his ceiling with the glow-in-the-dark stars Oikawa had given to him as a joke hanging from ceiling and gently swaying from the ceiling fan produced wind. Ushijima sits at the edge of his bed, phone in hand, face contorted into a deep frown.
“Ushijima?” He rasps, placing his arms under him to sit up. “What happened?” His movement is stopped by a hand to the shoulder and he’s slowly pushed back onto the mattress. It’s so comfortable, so warm. He feels like curling up into a ball, but they were supposed to go to the zoo. He remembers the staircase and- ah. He passed out. He can tell that much, at least.
“You fell unconscious” Ushijima confirms his thoughts. The small amount of pleasure at being mentally correct is wipes away at the blatant worry and concern on Ushijima’s face. It makes him look, surprisingly, younger. “It was...frightening. You told me you were getting enough sleep.”
“I am” Iwaizumi sighs. Then he internally winces at the lie. “Sorry, it’s just, I, just” he lets out a frustrated noise and it doesn’t help that Ushijima is staring at him like this so he turns on his side so that his back is facing the volleyball player. “I thought this year would be easier. I’m just having a bit more trouble than I thought I would. I’m sorry I ruined your visit. I can go to the living room and sleep there. I have a futon in my closet which I can use. You can have the bed-”
“No.” Ushijima cuts him off. “I care for you greatly, Hajime.” Iwaizumi’s eyes widen at the sudden use of his given name. “The time of your replies has always caused some concern, but I thought it was only an occasional occurrence. But then my father called me wondering if you had seemed any different. I had been planning for a while to visit you on your birthday- my father’s investigation simply made it more pressing that I came.”
Iwaizumi’s hand tightens on the edge of the blanket, staring at the second pillow.
“I-I’m sorry” Ushijima stutters, actually stutters . “If you don’t want me here, I’ll-”
“Stay.” Iwaizumi says. “Just stay with me.” There’s a few seconds of silence. Iwaizumi feels Ushijima stand up only for him to come into his line of sight, the man lying down on the bed next to him, rolling onto his side with his arm cushioning his head so that he’s staring at Iwaizumi, face less than a breath away. Their noses nearly touch. Iwaizumi has never noticed those two blemished above the curve of Ushijima’s right cheek or the small scar on his bottom lip.
A hand comes and rests on his cheek. Iwaizumi’s breathing slides to a halt as Ushijima’s thumb strokes his cheek. He feels something prickle behind his eyes and something wet slides down his cheek, then another, and another. The hand moves from his cheek to his back and Iwaizumi is drawn to Ushijima, head tucked under the other man’s chin, breathes starting to come out uneven and hiccupy.
“My friends have told me that if I ever needed to cry, then I should simply allow myself to properly cry.”
“Wh-why are you here?” Iwaizumi sobs. “I don’t, I can’t, I-I-”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ushijima asks, cradling Iwaizumi closer to him. “Everyday, it is seeing a message from you on my phone which makes it easier for me to smile. It is the knowledge that you are someone I know, someone who I know a great amount about, which allowed me to be who I am in the present. You are different than anyone I have had the chance to befriend, Hajime.”
“Y-you sap ” Iwaizumi sobs. “This isn’t the right time to say I love you in metaphors.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You did ask.” Iwaizumi cries even more. The hold on him tightens. Iwaizumi moves his arms so that he’s also holding onto Ushijima. The last person he’s hugged anything like this was his mom and Oikawa. Compared to them, he feels so small holding Ushijima. He cries and he cries until he can’t even more. And even when he reaches that point, he trembles and keeps his eyes squeezed shut until more come out. And then until he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, he feels refreshed, like he slept for a whole day. And then it hits him- what if all this were a dream ? But he realizes, as his senses some back to him, that whatever his head is on is to hard and there’s something heavier than a blanket around his waist. His head is on Ushijima’s chest, the man’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him in place. One of his arms are also wrapped around Ushijima’s body- well, more like flung.
He lifts his head up, the movement causing the grip on his waist to tighten. He stares at that face, fast asleep, and the tears prickle at Iwaizumi’s eyes. The thought of Oikawa learning about and freaking about this doesn’t even enter his mind. He sniffles and smiles, placing his hack on Ushijima’s chest.