Work Text:
“In two years,” Oikawa says, his expression falling into one that Kunimi’s only ever seen on the court. It’s the same one that first caught Kunimi slacking, even before Coach Mizuguchi did, and didn’t tell him off for it. Only promised that Kunimi will work harder, even harder than the rest of the team because Oikawa knows things. “You will be captain.”
“And if I refuse it?” Kunimi’s voice didn’t betray how breathless his lungs feel, or maybe that’s because it’s all in his head. Maybe the way Oikawa’s face is so close to his own is all in his head because there’s no way someone like Kunimi could compete with someone like Oikawa, not against everyone else.
“You won’t,” his captain grins. “You’ll see.”
Kunimi doesn’t move from where he had been backed against the lockers, even when Oikawa moves away himself, stooping low to grab his bag.
“Kindaichi deserves it more,” Kunimi says, right before Oikawa grabs the doorknob because he owes it to Kindaichi, owes it to himself to get the words out before Oikawa leaves, for the last time. Because there are so many reasons, too many words and just not enough time, not when it’s already spring and days are being counted down like a broken clock that runs too fast. “He works harder. He’s more dedicated.”
“That’s what vice-captains are for, Kunimi-chan,” Oikawa smirks, glancing at Iwaizumi’s locker that’s already been cleaned out. “I trust you to make a good choice, when the time comes.”
Kunimi barely hears the click of the door, finds that Oikawa doesn’t wait for him because his keys are on the ledge of the window.
There’s still seven more days to go, Kunimi wants to tell him, so don’t slack off just yet. That’s his job. Oikawa’s is to be the captain, even if it’s for only seven more days.
But he waits until his captain’s silhouette disappears and grabs the ring, studies the alien head that hangs off of the key labeled VBC and folds it in the palm he’s hit countless of Oikawa’s tosses with.
Tomorrow, he’ll pass it on to Yahaba and in two years, he’ll get it back. Until then, he’ll play, even if it’s only for two more years.
Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a sideways glare when he comes out of the clubroom.
“Don’t do this to him,” he warns, a slight scowl marring the corner of his lips. “If you’re just playing around.”
Oikawa’s features settle into one of smug confidence when he realizes that Iwaizumi isn’t going to hit him, even smirks as he folds his arms behind his head, strolling away.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he sings. “Kunimi-chan is too important to me.”
Iwaizumi snorts, fixes his glare at his best friend’s back and hope that’s enough, that they’ve both done enough.
Oikawa sticks his hands into his pockets, out of habit, and finds them lighter, empty. He wants to look back, see the clubroom against the navy dark sky but he thinks he might cry knowing it would be one of the last. So he settles on Iwaizumi instead, dressed in shades of light blue and his chest feels brighter too.
“He’ll be fine,” Iwaizumi nods. “They’ll all be fine without someone as shitty as you, Oikawa.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, bumping their shoulders together, feel the familiar way Iwaizumi’s spiky hair brush against his ear. “I think so, too.”