Work Text:
there's no world when i'm with u
When the ball hits Poland's area with a powerful cross spike, the immense stadium falls into a second of intense silence before the crowd unleashes waves of euphoria, drowning out the final whistle that signals the end of the match and heralds Argentina as the undisputed victor.
Gasping for breath, Oikawa’s heart pounds in his throat, sweat trickling down his face like rivulets, cheeks flushed with exhaustion, arms numb, legs burning with fatigue. He’s in a state of assimilation that last only a bit when his entire team throws upon him in a collective embrace joined by the entire coaching staff. He’s engulfed in sweaty arms, sobs of joy, tousled-damp hairs, heartfelt praise and we won, we won the gold.
And Tooru returns the hug, overlaps the sobs with laughter, returns the compliments and adds that obviously we won, you idiots, aren't we the strongest team?
But there is a void in the celebration. Someone is missing. His arms know it and have been missing him for months. His name repeats in his mind on a loop like the lyrics of an old song.
Hajime. Hajime. Hajime. Hajime
His teammates begin to disperse, Oikawa breathes a little easier, and his eyes immediately scan the stans restlessly. He knows Iwa-chan is there. Throughout the match, he felt his gaze on him, giving him the push he needed to make one of his best settings that led them to victory. Amidst the cheers, he heard Iwa-chan’s voice, rallying him with every serve, his hit ‘em until they break! And during each break, he saw his figura in the crowd, laughing with his family, Mattsun and Makki.
"Tooru!" Oikawa's head whips around at the sound of the familiar voice to his right, and his lips tremble as he sees Hajime leap over the advertising boards and run towards him. Iwaizumi’s wearing his Argentina national team shirt, with the flag on the chest and the number 13 in the middle, snug fit around his broad shoulders and chest, but also a little bit long, the fabric bunching up at the waist of his dark jeans.
With shaky steps, Oikawa begins to move towards him, his legs trembling beneath him until he collapses under the weight of his emotions. But there, as always, is Iwaizumi, ready to lend his support, his arms reaching out just in time to envelop Oikawa in a comforting embrace. Oikawa stifles a sob, tears threatening to spill over as he buries his face into Hajime's shoulder.
He’s here. You are here.
He feels Iwaizumi's arms wrap around him as an angel's wings would; one at his lower back, another between his shoulder blades, clutching him tightly, keeping him upright. And then, shortly after, a hand in his hair, gentle fingers sinking into the tangle of his locks. The weight of Hajime's chin on his shoulder, his warm breath caressing his ear as he repeats i'm so, so fucking proud of you, my love, you did it over and over again in a voice charged with affection, with pride, with adoration. And Tooru laughs through his tears, sinking deeper into the embrace, wanting to melt into Iwaizumi until he fits into the hollow between his heart and soul and stays there for eternity.
"We did it" he marks because is unable to think of a victory without Hajime.
Iwaizumi was with him since his hands wrapped around a volleyball for the first time, he was with him through every victory and every defeat at Kitagawa Daiichi and Seijoh. He never allowed him to plummet to despair, never enabled self-loathing or blame to take root within him.
Hajime is the clean air of the Miyagi’s hills, the fresh earth after the rain, the final surge toward the finish line, the resolute headbutt, the voice of reason and calm, the sound of undisturbed river, the firmness of a rock.
"Idiot" Oikawa hears him smile, feeling his big hand caress his back now. "The gold, you’ve clinched the damn gold" He breaks away, just a little, just enough to interlock gazes, bright and glittering as if they've stolen all the stars from the sky.
His hands cradle Oikawa's face, his thumbs wipe away his tears and Tooru nods, laughing again.
"But now my whole-body hurts, Iwa-chan" He protests childishly, but his voice sounds genuine, happiness imbuing each word.
"Whiner brat" Hajime teases, pinching his nose gently before leaving a soft kiss on his lips. "You're my proud," he whispers against his mouth, low and sharp tone that resonates deeply within Oikawa’s soul. He fights back tears, whispering an earnest i love you so so much and hugging him tightly.
Hajime is what he has made Tooru to be, the silent guardian who has nurtured Tooru's growth.