Work Text:
Iwaizumi Hajime has never liked Mondays. He’s never quite understood the appeal of it, really - of brand new weeks filled with droning voices in classrooms, of burning the midnight oil after a relaxing weekend. Still, he knows that it is just the way of life, and grits his teeth before working his way through the miserable Mondays he has come to despise. (No morning practices - just piles and piles of unfinished homework that he has no choice but to tackle before and even after lessons. The word ‘hate’, he thinks, is an understatement.)
But then Oikawa starts receiving love confessions and letters, and Hajime’s hatred for Mondays reaches a whole new level.
_
“Why Monday?” Hajime mutters to himself irritatedly, pointedly kicking a stray pebble out of his path, as a blissfully unsuspecting Oikawa talks his ear off next to him.
“Huh? Were you listening, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa pouts dramatically, cutting his story short. Hajime vaguely recalls that he’d been talking animatedly about Shiratorizawa, but Oikawa continues before he can get a word in. “Our match against Ushiwaka is on Thursday, not Monday -”
“Okay, okay,” Hajime says, and he’s ashamed to admit that he comes off a little more snappish than he’d wanted. “You’ve been talking about it for a week now, Shittykawa. I think I’d know by now.”
Oikawa frowns, concerned.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” Hajime replies finally as they walk into the school compound. “Just something about Mondays, that’s all.”
_
It isn’t just ‘something’, Hajime realises as Oikawa checks his locker, only to realise that he’s been bombarded with confession letters yet again. It’s a new kind of hell.
“Man, those fangirls are really getting out of hand, aren’t they?” Mattsun says offhandedly as Hajime glares daggers at the wall opposite them. They’re both standing next to the lockers, waiting for Oikawa to finish looking through his letters. (Makki is nowhere to be seen. Hajime wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stopped to get cream puffs from a shop near their school.)
“It’s astounding,” Hajime answers. The letters seem to have increased tenfold, and it’s hard to hide his annoyance. It’s hard to believe it, too, but Hajime thinks that it may have something to do with Oikawa’s recent feature in the Volleyball Monthly magazine. He’s seen girls clutching it and gushing over Oikawa, which is fair, because Oikawa is conventionally attractive. It’s hard to really empathise with them, though, when he’s seen Oikawa complain about those exact pages, grumbling about how “They didn’t get my face right, Iwa-chan!”. Although, he admits, it is nice to see Oikawa smile as he places the letters carefully into his bag. Even if, for some reason, he can’t help feeling a slight amount of anger when thinking about it.
(It’s just because it’s Monday, he tells himself. But subconsciously, he knows that the confessions are the problems with Monday in the first place.)
_
The confessions don’t stop. It’s turning out to be a truly horrible Monday, for his standards. Really, he feels like he should’ve earned an award by now, what with everything he’s been through. “Fifty,” he mutters under his breath. “Fifty fucking confessions, and there still isn’t an end to it.”
Class has been over for a long time now, and Hajime is still reeling over how he’d gotten scolded for ‘not paying attention during lessons’. How the hell is anyone supposed to pay attention in lessons with Oikawa sitting right there, smiling to himself about the confessions?
Mattsun gives him a pat on the back later as he passes by Hajime, looking exhausted after yet another gruelling practice. Hajime scoffs - he can feel the pity radiating off the other boy. Suddenly, he is one step closer to committing murder. Or maybe just punching the wall. Either would be fine.
Minutes later, he does punch the wall as he watches Oikawa overwork once again - his uncharacteristic behaviour startling Oikawa, who takes one look at Hajime’s bloody hand and stops practising immediately.
“Iwa-chan?”
“I’m fine,” Hajime lies immediately, before wincing at the pain. “Fuck, that hurts.”
He prepares himself for another one of Oikawa’s interrogations, but Oikawa looks more concerned than anything. “This isn’t like you, Iwa-chan. Are you really okay?”
Hajime nods, and watches as Oikawa bandages his hand. One of the pros of being an athlete is that they’re all well-versed in first aid. Hajime rarely loses his temper like this, but when he does, he’s always grateful for Oikawa, who fixes him up as gently as Hajime would’ve for him.
“Just a little stressed, that’s all,” he says eventually.
Oikawa looks disbelieving at first, but Hajime can’t bring himself to say anything else. Fortunately, Oikawa ends up letting him off with a, “What a good ace, Iwa-chan! No worries, we’ll annihilate Ushiwaka on Thursday - just wait and see.” and Hajime smiles agreeably. It’s funny that he thinks Ushijima Wakatoshi, of all things, was a problem. Hajime is not as bloodthirsty as Oikawa, but his desire to beat Shiratorizawa is far greater than any nervousness he has subconsciously acquired. Still, he is grateful for the excuse. It’s better than the alternative, which is ruining their friendship, anyway.
Hajime’s hand throbs as he walks home, but he sees Oikawa not-so-subtly dodge a flock of fangirls for his sake and smiles slightly.
_
However, his patience soon starts to run thin - not with Oikawa, who still gives him worried looks that sends shivers down Hajime’s spine - but with himself. Seeing the confessions and piles of letters rise exponentially is annoying in itself, but it also reminds him of how cowardly he is.
Of course, he’d already figured his feelings out. A few weeks after the bloody hand incident, as a thoroughly amused Makki had named it. (Mattsun had chimed in, calling it the Revelation. Hajime watches in silent satisfaction as the other two boys are made to run extra laps for, according to the coach, gossiping unnecessarily during practice.)
But how could he not? He knows he’s oblivious, or ‘as dense as a rock’, as his teammates tactfully put it, but he’s not stupid. Okay, so maybe it took Makki and Mattsun meddling for him to put the pieces together, but he likes to think that he’s always had it in him.
Now, all he has to do is to figure out what to do.
_
Hajime is, well and truly, stuck.
“This is hopeless,” he tells Mattsun over the phone.
Mattsun replies disgruntledly, sounding tired of the entire affair, “Just let Oikawa know. He’s gotten so many confessions by now that he’s not going to be surprised. Besides, our poor captain is already throwing himself at you.”
Watari, more kindly, shouts in the background (what was he doing with Mattsun, anyway?), “We believe in you, Senpai.”
The call cuts off before he can ask about it, and Hajime falls onto his bed miserably, landing with an undistinguished thump.
At the back of his head, he knows that Mattsun is right - while he doesn’t want to admit it, the confessions were what made him realise his feelings for Oikawa in the first place. Oikawa would definitely take it in stride, and then probably tease Hajime endlessly for months afterwards. But the stubborn part of Hajime, the one that knows Oikawa’s love for drama and obsession with stupid romantic comedies, refuses to take such a typical route. Even if Oikawa does accept his confession, which is highly unlikely, he’ll still complain to Hajime about it for months afterwards, about the lack of thought and extravagance. Hajime can hear Oikawa whining, “You’re such a caveman, Iwa-chan!” and flinches at once. He is not going to risk that.
Besides, a small part of him (the competitive one), doesn’t want to be outdone by Oikawa’s fangirls. Especially when he knows that confessing in a special and unique manner will probably be tough. After all, he’s been forced to watch rewinds of the cheesiest rom-coms known to mankind (and a ridiculous number of alien movies), and has seen first-hand what Oikawa’s admirers are capable of. Flowers, chocolates, and love letters were just the tip of the iceberg - Hajime’s pretty sure that he’s seen full-on firework displays from his house. He hates to admit it, but outdoing them would practically be impossible. He just needs something memorable - and when he looks at the items on his desk, something strikes him.
It probably isn’t the most extravagant idea. But Hajime knows that, while Oikawa does love big displays of affection, they aren’t everything to Oikawa. He knows, from personal experience, how happy Oikawa gets when he receives a well-written confession letter or a meaningful token of appreciation - not a surface-level one from someone after his looks, but from someone that genuinely admires and likes him. Besides, Hajime figures that he’s known Oikawa for far longer than anyone else. It’s worth a shot. (Sure, there’ll always be the fireworks, but honestly, Hajime doesn’t have the money for that. He just needs something meaningful, on a slightly bigger scale.)
_
He surrenders the last of his pride and asks for a few favours, and he’s honestly more relieved than anything else when he enters school the following Monday.
The entire school is already all over it, he notices immediately. Well, Arikuro-san is always dependable.
He shrugs. As long as it conveys the message.
Next to him, he can already sense Oikawa getting overly curious. Hajime realises that this is probably the first time he’s been thankful for Oikawa’s nosy nature.
“Iwa-chan, what do you think it is?” he whisper-shouts to Hajime as they walk towards the school building. “I wonder if Makki and Mattsun have gotten into trouble again…”
“You know, Captain, it’s not good to gossip about others,” Makki’s teasing voice jokes from behind them. Hajime stifles a laugh when Oikawa jumps about five feet in the air, before freezing abruptly upon seeing Makki and Mattsun’s all-knowing looks.
“Iwaizumi, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Mattsun grins - but it looks slightly sinister. Hajime takes one look at the newspaper in Makki’s hand and pales rapidly. “What are you talking about,” he says, but he knows that there’s no denying it.
“Oikawa, you’ve got another admirer,” Mattsun tells Oikawa instead, completely ignoring Hajime. Hajime ‘tch’s to himself.
“Huh? What’s going on, then?” Oikawa asks, looking more confused than anything else. Hajime suddenly has the urge to punch him.
“Here,” he replies gruffly, ignoring Oikawa’s, “You know about this, Iwa-chan? No fair!” and shoving the newspaper he had just gotten from the Editorial Club into the other boy’s hands.
“At the bottom,” he adds quickly, but Oikawa is already staring at it with rapt fascination, eyes scanning the words in disbelief. Then his eyes widen comically, and Hajime suddenly regrets all the shitty decisions he’d made to get to this point, to stoop to this level -
“Iwa-chan, I can’t believe you actually wrote something in our school newsletter for me! Guess that caveman brain of yours does hold some romance in it after all -”
Hajime winces.
(It's okay, of course he'd think that it's all a joke. I haven't said otherwise, after all. It's fine. I'm fine.)
But then -
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Oikawa asks, head tilted to one side, and Hajime blinks. Even when he’s confused, Hajime thinks that he could be a model - not all sharp angles and piercing eyes like Hajime, but dangerously charming in a way Hajime himself can never be.
“I didn’t think you’d like me,” he replies, but for some reason his throat feels hollow. He can’t think of why. Nerves, maybe, his brain supplies. He swallows forcefully.
(He can hear the not-so-soft muttering from the other students, and he's suddenly aware of the fact that they weren't alone. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, that fact had completely slipped his mind, and he hopes that Oikawa will let him down gently.)
"Hajime…"
"It's fine if you don't like me back," he says quickly, as if trying to salvage the last of his already gone dignity.
But Oikawa laughs, all bright and genuinely happy, that he stops talking. "Silly Iwa-chan, I've liked you for ages."
And as Oikawa pulls him in for a kiss in front of all of his schoolmates, he thinks faintly to himself, Maybe Mondays aren’t so bad after all.