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Competition season was over, and with it, all the bustle and hustle in Oikawa Tooru’s life. His flat in Argentina had never felt lonelier, and every day he received at least one message along the lines of, “ take care man, I’m going somewhere and won’t be back until training starts again,” from a teammate, a friend, and even his own coach.
In the five years since he’d left Japan, he’d built himself a new life, full of sand, sweat, sun, and of course... volleyball. He’d thrown himself into his career, refusing to look back and regret or long for something in the past. His high school years faded and crumbled like an old photograph, and old friends became distant memories.
Except one.
If Oikawa had to name the biggest regret from the past five years, it would be not being able to get over Iwaizumi Hajime.
He almost surprised himself when he first realized that it wasn’t the actual act of falling out of touch that made his heart hurt. No, he doesn’t regret letting the text messages dwindle and missing their scheduled video calls, not at all.
Though it took him a little while to come to terms with it, in the end, drifting apart had been better for both of them, to give each other space to find who they were as individuals, rather than the infamous pair of “Tooru and Hajime”.
Forgetting each other, if just for a little while, was good for them.
But.
Instead, what made him grit his teeth at night and hesitate to delete old photos from his storage, was that he never succeeded in doing that.
Neither his memory nor his heart forgot the presence of Hajime, god no, it clung on to images of tan skin and sounds of aggressive yelling, hidden smiles and affectionate fist bumps.
Oikawa had grown up, don’t get him wrong. He spoke a new language, had a different hairstyle, was an Olympian and wore the medals and scars of age.
But some things stayed the same.
He didn’t even try to fight the growing smile on his face when he got a text from Makki, who was arguably the only person in Japan he still consistently talked to.
> Dude, our hs vb team is getting together in a week. everyone’s coming cept for you so far
> You better get a ticket pronto
> I know ur loaded
Oikawa snorted. But honestly...did he even have a choice?
>> Of COURSE, i’ll be there!!
The next day, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he only paid for the trip to Japan and not the one back. After all...maybe he’d end up staying for longer than expected, right?
“
Broke it off, built me up
One look and you got me slipping
Got different clothes, I changed my ways
But, still I don't feel that different
You got me reminiscing
”
Oikawa stepped off the plane and into the too-bright airport, hair mussed and eyes sleepy. Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie (an old, black one from his high school years, still huge and droopy and mildly smelling of nostalgia), he pulled out his phone and checked his notifications.
Empty, except for one message from Hanamaki. “You landed?” 22 minutes ago.
Oikawa quickly typed out a reply and slipped his phone back into his pocket, looking around at the familiar (yet not at all) airport. Some irrational part of him expected to see a figure waiting for him, preferably sporting the same damn haircut since he was 6 and a scowl on his f-
Right. He didn’t even know Oikawa was coming.
And Hanamaki, the only person aware of Oikawa’s trip here, was mature enough now to know better than to meddle, one too many years too old to pull his old stunts and secretly organize an impromptu meetup behind Oikawa’s back..
Oikawa sighed. Guess I’m the one who still needs to grow up, huh.
Shaking his head to himself, he started off towards the exit of the airport, resigned fingers reaching into his back pocket to pull money out of his wallet for a taxi.
“
The weight of your touch when your fingers danced across my shoulder
The change in your voice when you talked about us getting old
”
10 years ago
“Hey, Iwa-chan.”
Oikawa shifted onto his elbow, hovering his body above the bed to look down at his best friend’s sleeping form.
Then, Oikawa was still awkward, all long limbs and off-balance-- long torso without the legs, puffy hair without the slim jaw. Inside, he was the same: hesitancy and insecurity clouded his thoughts, and sometimes the suffocating thought of being not enough was enough to keep him up through the night.
For Oikawa, that humanoid lump on the ground was his only anchor. The only thing keeping him from floating off into the dark recesses of his fears. In a time where everything was new, from the crack in his deepening voice to the creeping feeling of inferiority around his heart… Iwaizumi was the only thing familiar.
But as far as Oikawa knew, to Iwaizumi, it was just another chilly Wednesday night, and Iwaizumi hadn’t really wanted to sleep over, but since Oikawa (needy, noisy Oikawa) insisted, and whined that ‘ Iwa-chan, you missed the sleepover last week, so you owe me an extra one this week,’ Iwaizumi reluctantly dragged himself over.
Of course, this wasn’t truly the case. It was a chilly Wednesday night and Iwaizumi hadn’t really wanted to sleep over, but since Oikawa(his best friend, Oikawa) had asked, he dragged himself away from the warm covers of his own bed to settle down on Oikawa’s half deflated futon.
Nudged out of slumber, Iwaizumi rolled over, squinting into the darkness above in an attempt to catch a glimpse at Oikawa’s face. “Yeah?”
“Be honest, okay?” Against his will, Oikawa’s voice came out small and scared, and Iwaizumi’s heart pinched in empathy.
“I always am.”
This got him a small snort. “Do you...do you think we’ll still be friends 10 years from now?”
Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, frowning deeply. “What sort of question is that? Of course.”
There was a pause, pregnant with silence.
Iwaizumi took a deep breath, reached up, and shoved at the hazy shape of Oikawa’s shoulder. “As if 10 years could get rid of someone as clingy as you.”
Easily giving in to the momentum of Iwaizumi’s push, Oikawa chuckled hoarsely and flopped back down onto the mattress. “Brutal, Iwa-chan.”
Dropping his hand, Iwaizumi smiled to himself in the darkness and shifted his blanket up to his chin. “Goodnight, ‘kawa. No more stupid thoughts.”
“Okay, Iwa-chan.
...Thanks.”
The stupid thoughts didn’t go away, but for that night, Oikawa slept peacefully.
“
I was hoping it'd be different when I saw you but it feels the same
Never changed
I was certain I'd flushed you out my system
But you're printed in my DNA
”
The day of the reunion arrived at last. The party would be at Hanamaki’s new flat, Oikawa learned via an enthusiastic text from Makki. It was the perfect opportunity for both a housewarming party and a get-together of old friends, so he better bring a gift, the pink-haired man had warned.
Oikawa had texted back a cheeky winky face.
He’d been in Japan for almost 3 days now, passing the time by revisiting old favorite restaurants and hangout spots, and losing himself in nostalgia (he really shouldn’t be doing this to himself, but he can’t help it).
Sometimes as he strolled down the streets crowded with people, he’d think that he’d see a certain set of broad shoulders or sharp green eyes, and his breath would catch, but upon another glance, would realize that no, Iwa-chan would never wear that, or no, he’s definitely shorter.
One day, he even found himself on the street outside Iwaizumi’s old house (no matter that it was over an hour’s drive away from where he lived), and just stood there for a solid 20 minutes, staring at the window of Iwaizumi’s old bedroom and trying to catch his breath at the rush of memories.
That day, he could almost hear Iwaizumi’s voice in his head, berating about nothing at all, and laughing at the sight of him alone in his driveway. What are you doing, Shittykawa?
Yeah, Oikawa was driving himself insane with anticipation, yet he wouldn’t dare to simply pull up Iwaizumi’s number and send a simple text.
Hey, I’m in Japan.
Hey, I miss you.
“
My heart's pushed into a corner
My brain is out of order
”
7PM rolled around, and Oikawa found himself standing outside the door to Makki’s apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a cake in the other. He’d spent the past hour agonizing over his outfit ( this one is too bougie, this one is too plain, this one has a stain under the armpit), before deciding to go in something casual, but put-together.
He’d stared long and hard at the thick, rimmed glasses on his bedside table (the same ones he refused to wear in public until after graduation) before grabbing them and putting them on. He had a point to prove, after all. He wasn’t the same person as he was at 17.
Then, he’d marched out of the hotel with his head held high, feeling invincible.
I’m ready.
At least..he was, then. Now?
With one hand raised to knock, Oikawa felt his heart start to hammer.
I’m not ready.
“Oikawa-san, is that you?”
He nearly jumped ten feet into the air.
“Woah-careful!” The speaker dove forwards to steady the cake box, which had started to tip precariously. All it took was one glance down at the head of perfectly swept hair for Oikawa to recognize the newcomer.
Ah. His heartbeat slowed, and he chuckled. “Oh, thank you, Haba-chan.”
Yahaba straightened and looked him in the eye, amused. “Still calling grown adults -chan, Oikawa-san?”
Oikawa grinned brightly. Yahaba had always drawn out a good mood from him. “Why of course, Haba-chan!”
Yahaba chuckled lightly and readjusted his grip on the plastic bag full of food in his hand. “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your allegedly ‘charming’ personality.”
Oikawa gasped lightly in mock offense. “Allegedly? Haba-chan, didn’t you know that the second I was born the nurses fell for my natural charm?”
Yahaba rolled his eyes and moved on easily from the topic. “So, are you going to go in?” He motioned at the door.
Oikawa shrugged sheepishly. “I was, yes. Just...preparing.”
Yahaba raised an eyebrow at him. “Preparing?”
How could he explain this in the vaguest possible way? “Well, Haba-chan, I haven’t seen any of you in nearly 6 years. I’m allowed to take a minute to prepare, no?”
At his shoddy excuse, Yahaba’s eyes widened. “Any of us? Not even Iwaizumi?” Oikawa should have figured that Yahaba would be perceptive as always.
It shouldn’t have hurt to hear the surprise in Yahaba’s voice, but a twang sprang through Oikawa’s heart anyways. He gulped. “No, not even Iwa-c, uh, Iwaizumi.”
Overcorrection . Too late, he realized his mistake.
“You call him Iwaizumi now?” Yahaba muttered wondrously under his breath, not meant as a direct question to Oikawa but still equally as piercing.
No, I don’t. ...Do I?
Oikawa glanced up at the ceiling-- a safe expanse of beige. “I...Anyways, shall we go in?” Oikawa forced a bright grin, and without waiting for Yahaba’s response, pressed the doorbell.
Yahaba didn’t say anything more, and merely murmured his agreement. Oikawa stared resolutely at the door, refusing to acknowledge the pitying glances Yahaba tossed him every few seconds as they waited.
Drifting apart was our choice. And it was the right one. It was right...
“ It’s open !” Came a muffled shout from inside the room, sounding vaguely like a deeper version of Makki’s voice.
Oikawa let a soft, “oh,” slip from his lips, waited a few seconds for his embarrassed flush to fade, before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.
Here goes.
He cautiously entered the flat holding his breath, tense and anticipating having to see Iwaizumi immediately, only to let it all out when he was greeted by a narrow hallway and a small kitchen, where Kyoutani and Watari stood, conversing casually.
Upon hearing the door open, both looked over; Watari lit up with a huge smile and bounded over to the two of them, wrapping them in a bear hug, while Kyoutani merely twitched his lips, sliding his gaze straight through Oikawa to Yahaba, whose eyes widened in surprise.
Interesting, Oikawa thought fleetingly, before hugging Watari back enthusiastically. He’d never admitted it in high school, but Watari really did give the best hugs.
He’d talked with Watari for two or three minutes, catching up with the old libero— Watari had more hair now (a buzz cut, but still a step up) and had gained a small belly in the five years since he’d last seen Oikawa. He was still as cheery as ever, though, and Oikawa took a small comfort in that fact.
Meanwhile, Yahaba had wandered over to where Kyoutani was slouched by the counter, and the two had engaged in some sort of conversation, which appeared casual to any normal onlooker, but Oikawa could see that both their postures practically screamed tension.
He smiled to himself and nudged Watari, who had started on a tangent about the cat that he had just adopted. “Sorry, sorry— but hey, what’s up with those two?”
Watari had smirked. “Oh don’t mind them, no doubt having meaningless conversation while trying to figure out whether the other one wants to fuck them just as bad as they do.”
Oikawa blinked, jaw dropping at Watari’s choice of words. “I— wow then. What’s the backstory to that?” Oikawa’s gaze slid over to the pair again.
Watari snorted loudly. “Hell if I know. They never explain it to me, just complain when the other one starts dating someone or something equally as stupid.”
While he didn’t completely get it, Oikawa smirked. “I guess we’ll have to do something about that, Wattachi.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried? They’re both so stubborn it’s impossible. Kind of like you and Iwaizumi.” Watari rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.
Oikawa blinked, the sound of Iwaizumi’s name catching him off guard. “What do you mean, kind of like us?”
Watari waves his hand in the air. “Oh, you know, dancing around each other and refusing to admit that you like each other and all of that.”
Oikawa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We never did that!”
This just elicited another snort, and then, a disbelieving stare. “You’re kidding.” Two seconds later. “Holy shit, you’re not kidding!”
Watari started to chuckle. “You two aren’t together yet?”
A sort of hopeless desperation churned in Oikawa’s stomach. “Why is that surprising? You know, I haven’t even seen him in a few years.”
Watari’s eyebrows flew into his hairline. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.” Oikawa snapped, finally fed up.
“Wow.” Watari shook his head. “Sorry, that’s just crazy. You two were so close. Attached at the hip, as some would say.”
Oikawa just shrugged. What could he say to that? It was true, after all. But 5 years was plenty of time for that to change.
Watari clapped his hands together as something clicked in his mind. “Oh, you know he’s already here, right?”
Oikawa gulped. He had figured so (Iwaizumi was never late to anything, and he doubted that habit had changed over the years), but hearing the fact confirmed aloud made it all the more real. Finally…
Watari peered at him for a second, knowingly, before clapping him on the shoulder with a sense of finality. “Well, he’s in the living room, which is down the hall to the right. So…”
Merely 10 steps away…
Oikawa released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah.”
The former libero gently took the plastic bags from Oikawa’s hands, and with a final friendly shove from Watari, Oikawa started down the hallway.
“
Swear you messing with the time 'cause every time you look at me that way
Nothing's changed.
”
It only took 30 seconds in the living room for Oikawa to come to the conclusion that the whole party was illegal. It was illegal .
He was illegal.
He had absolutely no right to casually lounge on the couch with Matsukawa, in faded jeans and a loose T-shirt that somehow still left nothing to the imagination- exactly the type of outfit he would have worn back in high school.
It was like seeing the same person from 5 years ago, in the flesh. Oikawa stood frozen, stunned.
At second examination, though, Oikawa realized there were differences. A sharper jaw, a softer grin. Same green irises, bright and beautiful, but wearier eyelids. For all Oikawa’s jokes about wrinkles, it looked like Iwaizumi had actually gone and gotten a few.
They suited him, though.
Oikawa didn’t get to stare like a creep for too long, because Matsukawa nudged at Iwaizumi’s side, slyly grinning, and jerked a chin in his direction and oh- he’s looking at me, and shit, I missed that smile.
Oikawa’s legs itched to run away back where it was safe but he stood rooted in his spot as Iwaizumi swung forwards, placed his palms on his knees and pushed himself up, easily making his way over.
How can you look at me so casually?
He stopped almost 6 feet away ( too far ), a wry smile on his lips.
Oikawa had a million things to say but not a single word.
“I-”
“Hey.”
Right. Oikawa’s breath left him in a swoosh. “...yeah. Hey.”
I’m so fucked.
“
Another time, cross my mind
Second that I get near you
”
All things considered, Iwaizumi should have been furious. He had no choice but to accept the missed phone calls and listen to Oikawa’s irritating voicemail. No choice but to sit and double tap on Oikawa’s instagram posts when they popped up in his feed, hover his thumb over the comment button, decide against it, and scroll on.
All things considered, he should have been bitter, should have looked away when Oikawa walked into the room, and definitely should not have smiled like a damn fool.
But he was. A damn fool, that is.
All things considered, Iwaizumi should have moved on from Oikawa Tooru.
But he hadn’t.
Because Iwaizumi had never really been able to resist Oikawa’s magnetic pull, and no matter how much he pretended to be immune, it was obvious to everyone that he was the most affected.
For much of his life Iwaizumi felt like the moon: stuck in orbit around a planet that needed him but not nearly as much as it needed the sun-- glory, success, and the thrill of volleyball.
Maybe that was why, underneath the hurt and jealousy, Iwaizumi had felt a tinge of relief that Oikawa was gravitating away from him.
But that was years ago.
All things considered, it was no surprise that Iwaizumi felt nothing but a burning joy when Oikawa walked into the room, and that he stopped six feet away. Any closer and he’d surely tackle the other with a bear hug, and maybe a punch or two.
Probably.
“Hey.”
And honestly, fuck, because how did Oikawa still make Iwaizumi catch his breath like a 13 year old?
He still had the same gorgeous eyes with the eyelashes that should be a sin, and the same pink skin that never blemished. And how did his hair, which was different than it had been but not that different, still suit him so well? Iwaizumi wanted to bury his fingers into it, but just as it was 5 years ago, he couldn’t.
The glasses perched upon his nose didn’t go unnoticed, either. Iwaizumi tried to keep the pride from shining out from his irises. He was glad that Oikawa was no longer trying to shield his blind-bat tendencies from the world.
“Yeah...hey.” Oikawa opened his mouth, and closed it. Open. Close. Blink.
Iwaizumi fought the urge to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing. How did they go from closer than family to... this ?
He decided right there that Oikawa was never someone that he wanted to be “normal” friends with.
“Let’s talk later,” Iwaizumi decided to say, slowly. Safe words, but with the promise of something more. I need to talk to you.
Oikawa’s eyes filled with understanding, and a little bit of ease. His shoulders relaxed a smidge.
I do too. “Okay, Iwa-chan.”
“
And I almost forgot that you've
Seen me naked, I've seen you break things
Know all our imperfections
Things that we never mentioned
”
Hours tick by, and the tension in Oikawa’s shoulders melted away in the face of familiar laughter, team antics, and the warmth of the wine he was sipping on.
Still, anticipation built up inside of him, and it wasn’t long before he couldn’t seem to focus on Watari, who was telling a story of a blind date gone wrong, because his gaze kept slipping to Iwaizumi’s form, leaning against a counter next to the former libero, smiling subtly in the way that he did.
When the edges of his vision began to blur, Oikawa set his glass down, mumbled something about getting fresh air, and headed out to the small balcony.
His head was buzzing too loud to hear the sound of a bottle of Bud Lite (Iwaizumi’s favorite) being set down, nor the footsteps that followed him out.
Oikawa slouched down into a chair on the balcony, gazing out into the bright lights that made up the Tokyo night scene. His head, thankfully, started to clear, and he felt like he could finally hear his own thoughts again.
Unfortunately, his own thoughts were just as chaotic as the air inside Hanamaki’s apartment, and consisted of a bunch of tangled thoughts littered with words like “Hajime” and “Iwa-chan”.
The wind decided to pick up at the moment, brushing over Oikawa’s bare arms. Maybe he should have brought his jacket, he thought, shivering slightly at the chill.
A suspiciously large denim jacket landed on his head, and Oikawa yelped.
“Put it on, dumbass.”
Oikawa looked up, into the smiling face of his best friend, and nothing in the world could have stopped the beam that stretched across his features, backlit by the glittering night lights of Tokyo.
“Still as gruff as ever, Iwa-chan.” The fond nickname slipped out before Oikawa could stop it, catch it and hold it back-- not that he ever stood a chance of preventing it.
He stiffened for a moment, fearful that Iwaizumi would find the nickname inappropriate and awkward.
But Iwaizumi took it in stride, as if it was expected, and sunk into the chair next to Oikawa, looking out into the distance. “Shut up.”
Oikawa relaxed. Not fully, but ever so slightly. He felt as if he’d been handed a gift-- silly to think that a mere word, “Iwa-chan”, could be a gift, but to Oikawa, the name was a lost, stolen gem, more precious than any material thing he owned. And Iwaizumi had pressed it back into his arms with a single gesture.
Sliding his arms into the sleeves of Iwaizumi’s jacket, and relaxing into it (it was still warm, oddly, but Oikawa wasn’t surprised), Oikawa responded with a light laugh.
It was silent for a few seconds, both of them sitting still, staring out into the vast cityscape, and soaking in the other’s long-missed company. Oikawa was probably just imagining it, but he swore he felt Iwaizumi’s eyes flickering to him every once in a while.
But he didn’t dare turn his head to check.
“So, Iwa-chan,” he stumbled ever so slightly around the “chan”, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. “What have you been up to recently?”
Iwaizumi huffed a little. “Oh, you know. Trainer work.”
Ah, right.
Out of old habit, Oikawa held his breath, waiting for the bitter twinge that came with thinking of Iwaizumi on a team without him, but it never came, and Oikawa remembered. I’ve moved past that.
The thought gave him enough courage to speak again. “Oh? And how’s Tobio-chan and Sho-chan?”
“Good. Really good.” The pride and confidence in Iwaizumi’s words were plain as day, and Oikawa bit his lip.
“I’m glad.”
And he was glad. But he still wished…
Iwaizumi shifted in his seat, the fabric rustling under him. He glanced at Oikawa, eyes serious and shimmering, and Oikawa was lost to staring at all his beautiful angles.
“It’s not the same as playing with you, though.”
Iwaizumi knew him so well.
Oikawa would always wish . For a million different lost moments and a million different alternate realities.
He would never stop wishing, but he could at least be starstruck at the present truth.
He wasn’t expecting Iwaizumi to say that. But his best friend had changed too, and no longer could Oikawa expect the expected.
“Of course not, you weren’t a trainer then, you played ace-” Oikawa started, not really knowing why he had begun such an obvious and pointless tangent, but Iwaizumi cut him off.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Oikawa pressed his lips together. Did he dare? He opened his mouth, ready to begin yet another fruitless thread of small talk that would surely drive him insane because all he wanted to do was--
His next words tumbled out of his mouth as easily as his breath.
“I missed you.”
“
But you never told me that you couldn't handle the pressure
I guess that I noticed how late that you need all attention, mmm
”
Cringing, Oikawa screwed his eyes shut. It was probably too early to say such a thi—
“Me too.”
Oh. He could hardly believe his ears, so his eyes moved to Iwaizumi too, barely catching the movement of his lips as they closed around the word “too”. Was this real? Or was Iwaizumi, so close and yet so distant, just a product of his starved brain? The Iwaizumi that Oikawa knew would never let such a statement slip so easily from--
He’s not the same, Oikawa reminded himself.
And yet… “You..did?”
This begets a bemused grin, white teeth glinting in the dark. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
Oikawa shrugged his shoulder, suddenly feeling much smaller and much more grateful for the cover of night. “You got a break from me.”
The words were hardly in the air before Iwaizumi brushed them away. “I never asked for one.”
“I...yeah.” Oikawa pressed his lips together, heart squeezing painfully. That much was undeniable. But at 19, he was both arrogant and fragile, self-assured and insecure, and he thought he knew his best friend better than Iwaizumi knew himself.
Iwaizumi sighed. “But, guess I can’t say that it wasn’t nice, in some ways.”
Oikawa should have felt better, knowing that his efforts to ruin their codependency had paid off, “in some ways”, but he just felt worse.
“I-I’m glad.”
“No thanks to you.”
Oikawa inhaled sharply. He felt as if he was getting hit, over and over, giving him no room to breathe or get his hands up to fend himself from the blows. He’d been thrown into the boxing ring, without a warning nor will to fight.
“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone like,” Iwaizumi waved his hands wildly at Oikawa, still stubbornly glaring into the distance. Oikawa stared with bated breath. “--You? With your presence and,”
He sighed, the sound echoing loud.
“It was like...my life was suddenly empty.”
Oikawa gulped. “Iwa-chan, I-”
Iwaizumi snorted. “Well, not suddenly. But it felt sudden. Like one day, I had you, and all your stupid texts and kaomoji and selfies and then, I blinked, and I didn’t have...that. Anymore.”
You’re really twisting the knife in, aren’t you, Iwa-chan. Oikawa thought bitterly.
“I really wanted to hate you, but five years gives you a lot of perspective.” Iwaizumi continued to muse.
Oikawa really didn’t want to hear any more. A moment of weakness, and he rushed to run away, turn the conversation, shut it down: “Iwa-chan, I think this is the most you’ve ever said to me in one g-”
“But it was my fault, too.”
Alright, that’s it. In the boxing ring, Oikawa stood, put his hands up, and landed one himself.
Twisting his fingers into the fabric of Iwaizumi’s warm jacket, Oikawa gritted his teeth. “Stop.” He spit, as sharply as possible.
Faltering, Iwaizumi glanced at him, finally.
“Just stop. Stop treating this like it was some sort of careless mistake . I thought about it really hard, Iwa-chan. I pushed you away on purpose. You have to know this much.”
It was Iwaizumi’s turn to blink, his eyebrows pinching just a little, hurt passing through those jade eyes. The wind picked up, a chilly breeze blowing Oikawa’s hair into his eyes.
He shook it out and blazed on. “I wanted to be stronger, Iwa-chan. And I am. I don’t overwork myself anymore. I eat right. I sleep well. I don’t fuck around with strangers. I don’t drink. I have good, healthy friends. I-”
Oikawa’s voice cracked. “I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need anyone to depend on like that anymore.”
Iwaizumi’s eyes flashed and his jaw flexed. “What, so I was holding you back?”
Oikawa's eyes widened. What? How was that anything like what he’d said? “No, I was the one-”
But Iwaizumi wasn’t done. “As soon as you didn’t need me anymore, that’s it?” His voice crumpled. “Like I’m some fucking tool?”
Oikawa’s words caught in his throat. So that was Iwa-chan’s landmine of insecurity. Everyone had one, Oikawa knew now, but five years ago, Iwaizumi had been the picture of strength and perfection. A marble wall with no cracks.
A wall wouldn’t fall simply because a person stopped leaning on it, right?
Oikawa bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard enough to taste copper. “ No. I- you- ”
Yet, knowing what kept Iwaizumi up at night was not enough to overcome Oikawa’s own insecurities, like sleeping poison buried deep in his chest.
One look at the way Iwaizumi stared at him, accusatory and painful, was enough to push Oikawa past the boundary, into the thoughts he thought he’d hidden away from the light of day.
“You know what? What about you, huh? If you really wanted to keep in touch that bad, how come you never made an effort?”
Eyes wide, Oikawa hardly believed the words his own tongue was forming. He thought he’d laid these insecurities to rest.
Iwaizumi’s entire body tensed. “You-”
“Yeah sure, I texted you less, but I still texted you more than you texted me. Ever heard of sending the first message, Iwa-chan? Or calling me for once?” Oikawa’s voice began to pitch up and wobble.
“I didn’t see you as a tool—I- I can’t believe you. I thought I was just a burden, and you’d be just fine without me. Better, even!”
Iwaizumi gaped. “No, I— I’ve always been like that! Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Oikawa gazed at him sadly, the fight draining out of him as once again, he arrived at the same conclusion as he had at the age of 19. “I didn’t want you to change for me, Iwa-chan. So I had to change for myself.”
Iwaizumi opened his mouth, looking like he was about the protest, but closed it after a second. Thought better. He relaxed back into his seat, a storm in his eyes. He put his fists down.
“You’re such a--” Iwaizumi cut himself off, but Oikawa felt the familiar word fill the space.
Idiot.
Oikawa rolled his eyes. That makes two of us, then.
An eternity passed before the other spoke again.
“Well, looks like you did. You know, change. You did pretty well for yourself in the last five years…”
At this, Oikawa smiled a little, pride swelling in his chest. “I’ve come a long way, haven’t I?” It was a simple statement, loaded with pride, but the humble kind, where it wasn’t adorned with anything unnecessary and was merely the truth, bare and simple.
Oikawa had come a long way.
But I’m not the only one, am I, Iwa-chan?
As if reading his mind, Iwaizumi snorted softly. “I guess we both have.” He sighed softly. “Don’t need me, huh..”
It was barely a mumble, but Oikawa heard it anyway. His heart dropped.
Wait. No. I do.
He sat upright, chair squeaking under him. The need to contradict what Iwaizumi must be thinking blazed in his eyes, and he figured that he’d already dug himself into this conversation, so he might as well take it all the way.
Fear gripped at the edges of his heart, but he shook it off.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Hoped it’d be different but it feels the same”
“You know that it didn’t work, right?”
Iwaizumi turned to him, confused. Oikawa locked onto those jade eyes like a lifeline.
“Trying to forget about you. Or stop thinking about you. Wanting...” Oikawa could feel heat building up behind his eyes, and the second thoughts came flooding in like the tide.
Was he seriously doing this? Not even 24 hours after seeing Iwaizumi again? Maybe he shouldn’t-
“You left my system but you’re stuck in my, DNA”
Iwaizumi exhaled shakily, proceeding with caution. He hesitated at the doorway, one foot in, one foot out. “Well yeah, I guess, we were still best friends-”
Were.
“That’s not it.” Oikawa gasped. “That’s not it.”
There’s no going back now.
Words failing him, he had no choice but to stare at Iwaizumi, willing him to read the emotion in his eyes. Willing him to read his thoughts.
“My heart’s pushed into a corner”
Decades of friendship. Highs and lows. Closer than family.
You know what I’m trying to say, Iwa-chan.
“My brain is out of order…”
Iwaizumi let out a strangled noise and looked away, burying his head in his hands, fingers combing through his hair aggressively.
“Geez, shut up.
I know. I know.”
It was muffled by the wind, but it was loud and clear to Oikawa’s ears. The setter relaxed back into his seat, face flaming.
A few seconds passed before Oikawa heard, “...Me too.”
With that, he grinned up at the twinkling sky, stretching his hands up towards the dark expanse in euphoria. Something in between a laugh and a sob crawled out of his throat, and he felt the first tears spill over.
After all these years...
He heard shuffling, and Iwaizumi stumbled into his line of vision, crouching down in front of Oikawa. Big, warm hands gripped at his arms.
“Oikawa.”
Oikawa reached out, put his hands on those strong shoulders that he’d missed for so long. Felt the iron in his bones, but also felt the softness in his best friend. Dare he say, more than best friend.
“Tooru.”
Oikawa looked at him, through the warped wall of saltwater in his eyes, unable to squash his smile in the face of everything beautiful in his life.
“Hajime,” He managed to choke out in response.
Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, opting instead for a matching teary grin and lifted his hand, gripping the back of Oikawa’s neck. And Oikawa thought he might have ascended, because all he wanted was for Iwaizumi to touch him and his fingers in Oikawa’s hair was more than he asked for.
In a second, their foreheads were pressed together and they cried and laughed into each other, the wind surrounding them in a smooth cocoon, the city lights a sea of winking onlookers.
And Oikawa felt fully found, like he’d finally picked up the last piece of himself that had been sitting next to him, waiting, waiting until he had put the rest together and--
It wasn’t perfect, but perfection was no longer what Oikawa Tooru desired.
He’d found something better.
Eternity.
“
Swear you messing with the time 'cause every time you look at me that way
Nothing's changed.
”
The next day, when Oikawa launched himself into Iwaizumi’s arms in the early morning, ready for a new day with his other half, Iwaizumi peered at him thoughtfully, seriously. “You know, Oikawa…”
As if the universe had sensed the gravity of his next words, there came a lull in the city’s noise, a pocket of silence where cars once honked and factories churned. Even Oikawa’s breath hushed, and he remained silent, hooked on what Iwaizumi would say next.
“I’d like to get to know you again.”
And Oikawa stood still.
~
Nothing’s Everything’s changed.
~
But not us, together.
“Yeah. Me too, Iwa-chan.”