Work Text:
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The soft tapping of pen against paper. The rustling of a million pages of notes. The soft sighs of exhaustion.
Iwaizumi sits alone at the kitchen table, twirling a pen absentmindedly against the notes in front of him. Tap. Tap. Tap. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling with a sigh, and refocuses on the words swirling on the page.
The cardiomyocyte membrane potential depends on a series of pumps…
He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. Tap. Tap. Tap. He looks at the clock on the wall. 00:49 blinks back at him in bright neon green, the glow-in-the-dark aliens flickering on the edges of the clock. The moon is a sliver in the sky outside, and Iwaizumi's little revision planet is illuminated by the weak kitchen light. The dangling fixture sways slightly, and Iwaizumi rubs at his dry eyes.
Do I have any eyedrops out here…? Just one more chapter, then I'll go to bed.
The heavy curtains flutter as a gust of wind blows through the windows. He shivers, burrowing into his hoodie and drawing his jacket tighter around him. Tap. Tap. Tap. He studiously ignores the stack of books next to him, instead rereading through the page in front of him. He feels his eyelids drooping, and he pinches the inside of his wrist, hard, to keep himself from dozing off.
Hyperkalemia — an overabundance of potassium ions in the blood. This leads to a hyperpolarisation of the membrane potential, and increases the difficulty for the sodium channels to open…
Hang on, that's not where he was. Iwaizumi shakes his head minutely and tracks through the page with a finger, finally finding his place.
…on a series of pumps to control the influx and outflux of ions. The concentration of the ions directly affects the membrane potential, which can be determined by the Nernst equation.
"And what, pray tell," he mutters to himself, confused and frustrated and exhausted, "is a Nernst?"
He flips through the stack of notes almost frantically, scanning for the equation in question. His eyes flicker over the words, and he's halfway through the stack when he realises his brain hasn't processed any of the last few minutes, and he flips back to the beginning with a growl.
The SA node controls…
During a signalling clash…
The stroke volume depends on phase 2 of the membrane potential…
He finally finds the page with the equation. It's a jumble of letters and numbers and symbols, and his eyes rake over the examples they went over in the lesson. His brain stubbornly refuses to understand what's going on.
God, I'm so fucking stupid. Fuck, I'm going to fail out, and I'll never find a job, and- In a stroke of almost comedically terrible timing, his eyes fall on the stack of bills and envelops on the far corner of the kitchen table. -and there are bills to pay, but I can't even study, when will I find time to work? I'm such an idiot, such a burden-
He hurls his notes across the room, where they burst apart and flutter to the ground like doves. Iwaizumi can't even be bothered to move and get them. He stays where he is, green eyes staring blankly at the empty table in front of him. He should really get those notes and finish them if he wants to get any half-decent sleep tonight, but his body is just so tired. It won't move.
He grabs his next stack of notes. Might as well—
He doesn't see the bright pink mug balanced on the edge of the table, but he hears the loud crash as it falls and breaks against the wooden floor.
There is a single moment of stunned silence.
Iwaizumi peeks over the edge of the table to see shards of pink ceramic mixing with his abandoned notes, and worse, it's the cup Oikawa got for him when they first moved in and he got tired of Oikawa stealing his cups. He broke Oikawa's cup. He broke it. It is literally in pieces on the ground.
He buries his head in his arms with a quiet groan. Fuck. Why can't I do anything right?
Horrifyingly, he can feel tears rising in the back of his throat even as drowsiness tugs on the edge of his consciousness. Nope, no, he is not going to let himself cry over something as stupid as cardiology and a broken mug, even if it is Oikawa's gift to him, he is not, he is not—
"Iwa-chan?" The soft call comes from the doorway. Iwaizumi lifts his head with great effort to see Oikawa standing there, eyes sleepy and hair mussed up, wrapped in a blanket. For a minute, he thinks that it's a hallucination from his sleep addled brain. Then he sees the way Oikawa is worrying at his lower lip, sees the dark circles under his eyes, and all thoughts of visions fly out the window. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," he says through numb lips. Shit, he's disturbed Oikawa, who barely has time to sleep around balancing work and studies and volleyball. He feels the lump reappear in his throat, and he swallows audibly. "I just- I just knocked a cup over. I'll clean it up."
Oikawa's already blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his stare sharp with worry. "Shit. Iwa-chan, are you okay?"
"Y-yeah," he chokes out, clenching his fists. "I just got a little clumsy. I'm fine."
Oikawa is still staring at him, blanket sliding off his shoulders, and he looks so beautiful, so delicate, so real and so tired, but his eyes are holding concern in a way that Iwaizumi has never seen. He feels the tears rising, and he clears his throat. The sound is too loud in the silence. "I'm alright! I was just going over my lecture notes again. I have to understand this before tomorrow, the professor says he's giving us a project next lesson-"
Oikawa is walking towards him, the corners of his eyes drooping. "Iwa-chan-"
"It's okay." He forces a clumsy smile to his face, and he can feel it wobble, see how Oikawa flinches minutely at that. "I'll come to bed in a little bit, alright?"
And Oikawa is standing right there, and Oikawa is pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him, and Oikawa's warm hand is reaching towards his, lacing their fingers together, and-
"Hajime."
And the damn breaks.
A single tear makes its way down Iwaizumi's cheek, even as his expression doesn't change. A second tear soon follows the first, then a third, a fourth, a fifth, perfect dark spots forming on the fabric where it falls.
Oikawa squeezes his hand gently, eyes wide and warm. "Hajime, you have to take a break."
Iwaizumi shakes his head mutely, green eyes glassy and wide. "I have to clean that up, and finish this chapter. You have to go back to bed, you have class in the morning."
"Hajime, it's Saturday." Oikawa's other hand comes up to cup his cheek, swiping a tear away with his thumb. "Come back to bed with me. C'mon, sweetheart, look at me."
Iwaizumi's damp eyes are still blank and unseeing. Oikawa forces his brow to smooth out, running his thumb over Iwaizumi's cheek. "I'm right here, okay? It's okay. C'mon, Iwa-chan, I thought it was my job to make you worry?"
Green eyes finally focus on brown, and Oikawa smiles tenderly at him. "What's wrong?"
"I broke your cup." Iwaizumi stutters out, breath hitching. "The cup you bought me when we moved in, I didn't see it there, and I knocked it over, and it broke—" His voice cracks.
"It's just a cup."
"But it's a gift from you, from when we first moved in together. And- and I made such a mess, I got shards everywhere, it's a miracle that you didn't cut yourself."
"Iwa-chan, I wear slippers, remember?" Oikawa lifts a foot and wiggles it, the fluffy bunny shoe wiggling with the movement. "I'm fine. But you're so obviously not fine, come on."
"It doesn't matter. I have to understand this chapter first-"
"You can't go on like this," Oikawa points out. "You're going to break from stress."
"But I have to study! I have to understand this, I have to be smart, or I'm failing myself, my family, I’m so dumb, how did I even get into this school? Am I robbing someone worthy of their spot? I can’t even understand an equation—"
"Hajime. Breathe." Oikawa's hand is on his chest, gently rubbing circles. "It's okay. Take a deep breath."
He forces air into his lungs. "And the bills are due and I can't juggle a job on top of all this, I can barely juggle lectures and volleyball, but what if we can't make rent? What if we can't pay the water bills? I can't understand any of the material, and I'm so cold."
There is a sudden weight and warmth on his shoulders. Oikawa has stood up, and he drapes his blanket across Iwaizumi's shoulders. He smiles. "Better?"
He nods weakly, drawing his knees to his chin.
"Just stay here, okay? I'll clean everything up. It's going to be okay." Oikawa presses a soft kiss to his forehead and stands, walking towards the broom.
Iwaizumi sniffs, muttering a thanks, and curls in on himself, tears still streaming silently down his face, as Oikawa putters around in the kitchen, sweeping up the shards, collecting the notes,
Oikawa sets his mug down in front of Iwaizumi. "Drink."
"What-"
He fixes him with a glare that was definitely picked up from him. "I said, drink."
The honey is sweet and soothing, and the tea warms him down to his frozen feet. He drains the cup, setting it back down with a quiet clink. He does feel better, and he can feel his shoulders loosening up.
Oikawa takes the seat across from him again.
"Better?"
"Yeah."
"Good. You know what? You're right, you really are dumb."
Iwaizumi's head snaps up in shock.
"You're so dumb for thinking that you're not smart, not hardworking, not going to be a good doctor." Oikawa's eyes are dark and serious. He reaches out and clasps Iwaizumi's hand. "Seriously. You're even more of a dumbass than I am."
Iwaizumi would croak out a sharp retort, if he could get his tongue to work.
He sighs. "Iwa-chan, you got into med school while balancing training on my insane schedule. Medical school! On that kind of studying! Just because you're a slow starter doesn't mean you're dumb, you just need time to warm up, to adjust to a new environment. It's like suddenly switching to beach volleyball. You need time to find your footing and adjust your plays. Besides, Kyoutani needs time to warm up, and you wouldn't call him a bad player."
Iwaizumi sniffles, hand tightening around Oikawa's.
"You don't have to be worried about the bills, okay? I'm here on a sports scholarship. My saved tuition goes towards our bills, and we can always find a part-time job at the konbini by the station if it's an issue."
"As for the cup," he shrugs, one corner of his mouth going up. "I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you as many cups as you like."
That's what does it, that semi-joking statement. Oikawa's eyes barely hiding his concern, that familiar half-twist of his mouth, and Iwaizumi's walls crumble like sand. He pitches forward and Oikawa catches him easily, and he finds that his face still fits perfectly in the crook of his neck. He sniffles. God, he is tired, but he's got bills to pay and notes to finish, and-
And Oikawa's hands are running through his hair, fingers barely trembling, and Oikawa is humming softly, murmuring quietly to him, and the concern and warmth and love is radiating off him in waves.
This time, when the tears rise again, he lets them fall freely, lets them slide hot and wet down Oikawa's neck, lets himself shake apart in his lover's arms.
And when Oikawa tugs at him softly, when he whispers please, hajime, take a break. come back to bed, he lets himself be tugged along and tucked between downy quilts and cedar-scented sheets
Oikawa curls around Iwaizumi, one hand interlocked with his, the other tracing circles across his skin. Slowly, Iwaizumi feels the tension leaching out of his muscles, feels the stress fall from his mind, feels the warm black fog of drowsiness creep up on him.
"Is this how you felt when I did all that practicing in high school?" Oikawa murmurs softly into his hair. "Being on the other end of the worry is not as fun."
Iwaizumi huffs out a wet laugh. "Serves you right. Karma's a bitch."
"Mmm." Oikawa presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "Sleep. Take a break, Iwaizumi. You deserve it."
Iwaizumi will wake up to sunshine and blue skies, pigeons cooing outside his window. Somewhere, a car will honk, and the traffic lights will trill. His mind will be empty, relaxed, calm.
Oikawa will be sprawled across him, still asleep. He will be illuminated by the morning sun, hair glowing honey-gold, and Iwaizumi will smile softly, pull him closer, and drift back to sleep.