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Iwaizumi had expected a call from you that night, but what he hadn’t expected was for you to ask him to pick him up, with obvious tears in your voice. It set something off inside of him; he was at your place in fifteen minutes. Traffic laws be damned.
You were quiet on the drive over. You weren’t crying now, but he could see the signs of shed tears, as much as you fought to hide them. You looked out the window the entire drive, sniffling now and then, toying with the strap of your overnight bag. He felt a familiar airy swell in his chest when he recognized the hoodie you wore as one of his own.
At a red light, he allowed himself a long look at your profile. Your hair shone pale in the dark of his car; the new undercut suited you. He tried to remember the joy in your eyes when he’d seen you with the style for the first time last week, the excitement that lit up your entire visage. He had ideas about what might have stressed you this much; given how you had asked him to take you to his place, he figured it had to do with your family. He decided when he pulled back into the lot outside his apartment building that he wouldn’t press you.
But seeing you so sad, so withdrawn…he wasn’t sure if he could adhere to that the entire night.
The scent of Iwa’s apartment was always the first thing you noticed when you were over: spicy, warm, a little woodsy, without being overwhelming. Soft notes of pine and cinnamon that was slightly subtler than Iwa’s own scent, but just as comforting.
Once inside the apartment, he squeezed your hip and headed for the kitchen counter. As you stooped to slip off your shoes, the knot in your chest tightened, heart thrumming all too fast. Fuck. You stared deep into Iwa’s hardwood floors to contain yourself.
“Want some cider?” Iwa threw over his shoulder. “Oikawa just dropped some off earlier. He said to give you most of it, actually…” He turned, and froze.
You didn’t realize you were still standing just inside the threshold of his place, staring blankly ahead, eyes swimming with tears.
“Hey, hey,” Iwa murmured, going to you immediately. He slipped his arms around you, and you leaned heavily into his embrace, burying your face in his chest. Before you could stop yourself, the sobs restarted, and he walked the two of you to his couch, sitting down with you sitting in his lap. As you cried into his chest and neck, he rubbed your legs to soothe you, lips pressed to your hairline. You shook slightly in his arms, either from the force of your sobs or from cold, you didn’t know. He wrapped his other arm more firmly around you; at the very least, Iwa could always keep you warm.
You cried for five minutes. You weren’t sure whether to feel disgusted with yourself or impressed that you could produce that many tears in one sitting. When your sobs had quieted some, he kissed your forehead and asked quietly, “You wanna talk?”
You sniffled, keeping your eyes trained blearily ahead on the arm of his couch. “I, uh…I just don’t feel like myself.”
Iwaizumi nodded, rubbing your back with his hand. “How come?”
“I just…this body doesn’t feel like mine anymore. I’m just at its mercy. I thought this”—you ruffled the back of your hair—“was going to make me my happiest self. And instead all I can see are the things that I hate, every little fucking thing.”
“Oh, honey,” Iwaizumi breathed. He kissed your cheek.
“And it’s not just how it looks, I’m not even in control of how it feels anymore,” you went on, your voice sharpening under the sobs. The knot in your chest started to burn. “I haven’t been able to stomach meat for the past year. And all my dad and brother cook is meat every single night. I even tell them that I literally can’t stomach it and they just act like my needs don’t matter. Like I’m not worthy of any kind of adjustment. They never hear me or listen to what I need but they have so much to say about my hair and what I do and it’s just—I’m just frustrated and sick and anxious all the time and I hate this, Iwa, I can’t…”
Your voice broke, and the tears returned. Iwaizumi held you closer, and this time you grasped the front of his jacket with your hands as if for dear life. Like you would shiver so hard you’d break into pieces. You hated letting him see you like this. But with all the pressures of your family, your job, your body, your future—you were a strong person, but you could only hold yourself together for so long.
He nudged your lower back, indicating for you to sit up, just long enough so that he could reach over to the coffee table and grab the box of tissues sitting there. You accepted them with a sniffle, cleaning your face silently. You knew Iwa didn’t look at you any differently for crying, but you sure felt different because of it.
“I know none of this has been easy for you,” Iwa began, tentatively, you noticed. He was looking at you, but you avoided his gaze. “And I know that any life different from the one you’re living now seems impossible. But I promise you, babe, this is not forever. Not in the slightest.”
You hummed in reply.
“And I can’t control how your family treats you, but I want to remind you that you’re worth more than what they give you. There’s no excuse for treating you like an after-thought. You’re the most emotionally intelligent tenant of that apartment, you think they don’t know that and shake in their boots?” In spite of yourself, you chuckled, and you could practically hear him grin when he continued, “I’m serious! The strongest, the most emotionally intelligent, and the hottest. It’s a lot of L’s for them to process, I know, but they need to hurry the fuck up.”
You smiled weakly and leaned your head against Iwa’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel in control. Your body is beautiful, babe. You’ve always been the most beautiful person in the world to me, and nothing could change that. Ever. It’s beautiful because it’s a body. And it’s beautiful because it’s yours. Not to mention you look amazing every time I see you. Shit, just having you here in my lap is doing things to me…”
You pinched his tummy, earning a soft “hey!” and then a chuckle.
Iwa leaned in to kiss your temple, then the spot just behind your ear. He gripped your thigh with one hand, and you practically melted into his touch. “ I love this body. And I hope you do too. It’s gotten you through so much, honey. I know the kind of person you are, and I know you have it within you to feel like yourself again. And however I can help, you know I’m here.” His thumb rubbed the inside of your knee. “You mean so much to me and I never want you to feel this hurt if I can help it.”
You placed your hand on top of his, and he turned his over, palm up. You entwined your fingers, appreciating the closeness. You took a deep breath and managed to steel yourself enough to speak. “You have a weird way of making me feel better, you know that?”
“Well, I better. What else am I good for?” Another kiss to your temple.
You grinned and leaned into his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled so nice. You couldn’t imagine how you smelled yourself. You yawned, and Iwa chuckled.
“You wanna go to bed?” he asked. “I’m feeling pretty beat myself. I can go start the water for you if you wanna shower first.”
You turned to peer up at him, finally meeting his eyes, losing yourself in the hazel-green. “Join me?” you asked.
Iwa smiled and leaned in to kiss your lips. “Good,” he murmured against your mouth. “Like hell you’re using all my hot water.”
Any other day, you would have liked to take more advantage of the intoxicating warmth and spaciousness of Iwa’s shower. Tonight though, neither of you were looking to make the experience any hotter than necessary.
You closed your eyes and let your shoulders sink, relaxing into the feeling of Iwa’s hands rubbing conditioner into your hair. There was far less hair for you to worry about nowadays, but that didn’t make you enjoy his closeness or the scrape of his nails on your scalp any less. You turned and tipped your head back into the water when he was done, reaching up to rinse thoroughly. Showering with Iwa meant getting your hair washed and your back scrubbed, in all the places you could never reach. He took his time lathering you with soap, massaging your shoulders as he went, achingly slow as he knelt and worked from ankle to inner thigh. You kept one hand on his shoulder for balance, blinking away the droplets of water falling from your hair.
Later, you watched Iwa quietly as he dried you, taking in the careful set of his jaw, the gray-green glint of his eye. His look of concentration was all too similar to how you had seen him look mid-tournament, completely dedicated, locked in. You could appreciate being the center of that kind of focus.
Once you were dried, moisturized, and smelling softly of vanilla, the two of you stood side by side facing the bathroom mirror, assembling the necessities for your nighttime rituals. Brushing your teeth together felt the most domestic of all. It helped that you were wearing one of his T-shirts to bed. You glanced over at Iwa in the mirror, watching him swirl mouthwash around his teeth. He leaned to spit into the sink, and locked eyes with you as he stood up, washing his hands.
“What?” he asked, brow furrowing.
“That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was,” you muttered around your toothbrush.
That earned you a splash from the sink. You batted him away with a laugh.
Like washing your hair, your skin care routine helped to ground you a bit. As you moisturized, you let your fingers slow, rubbing up and down from your temple to your jaw. The motions were simple, but the repetition and the feeling of your skin beneath your finger pads had a soothing effect. Slowly but surely, with hair washed and skin dewy and soft for bed, you could feel like yourself again.
Iwa had always taken good care of himself, but meeting you had expanded his skin care routine beyond a simple cleanser and moisturizer. Seeing him now, massaging an oil cleanser into cheeks and chin in tight circles, you almost giggled. He looked so serene, dark brows knitting together now and then as he squinted at himself in the mirror. His hair stuck out in every direction, still dark with water. He looked soft in his T-shirt and sweatshorts, ready for bed. Whether you were in the mood or not, gray sweats were always a plus. You silently prepared yourself for the full body cuddles to follow.
Iwa leaned in to kiss you once before shutting the light off behind you. You led the way to his room and curled up immediately beneath his comforter. When you peered up at him, he was staring at you with a lazy smile. Once the lights were off, he slipped under the covers beside you, opening his arm to you expectantly.
You scooted closer, draping one leg over his hip and one arm over his middle. You loved lying with your head resting on his chest, listening to him breathe. It helped slow your own breathing, steadying your heart when it threatened to speed up. Nighttime anxiety seemed like a distant memory when you had your cheek on Iwa’s chest.
Iwa’s hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “You feel better?” he asked, his voice breaking with a yawn.
“Mhmm.” You snuggled closer, burrowing against him. “Thanks to you. And your water pressure.”
He laughed. “Just think, the minute you move in with me, shower’s all yours. I like having you here with me.”
You nuzzled his neck sleepily, kissing the spot just above his shirt’s neckline. “I like being here with you. You bring me peace.”
“Good. Stay as long as you want.” Iwa stroked your hair away from your forehead and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Goodnight, babe.”
“Night, sugar,” you hummed back. His breathing slowed, and you allowed yourself to relax, drifting off the moment your eyes slipped shut.