Work Text:
Ding!
Oikawa’s phone screen lit up in the dark. He was on the verge of sleep, eyelids heavy with fatigue, but the light and notification sound stirred him. He always kept the alert sounds on, an old habit from years ago he used to showcase and boast his popularity to his best friend, Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi. The name felt so foreign. He was always “Iwa-chan” or “Hajime” to Oikawa. But those names, their relationship, all of that was ages ago. They were never going to get that dynamic back. Distance and miscommunication had taken their dear bond away like it was nothing. It had been years now. Oikawa likes to pretend that it doesn’t bother him, but the mere idea of his Iwa-chan had been the source of infinite sleepless nights. Every passing minute without him felt like another wound he wouldn’t bother to take care of, similar to the pangs of discomfort he felt in his right knee. He felt the familiar sting of nostalgia and regret thinking about it all. He didn’t understand why he even kept the alerts on anymore; it’s not like Iwaizumi would tease him anymore, or ever would again for that matter. Snapping back to reality with a small shake of his head, Oikawa huffed and grabbed his phone. Squinting at the light, his heart promptly shriveled and sank to the depths of his body.
FROM: Iwaizumi Hajime
01:06
Hey. I’m getting married next month. I miss you a lot and I want you at the weddng. Please come
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Oikawa breathlessly whispered in the light of his phone. “Is he drunk?” His body felt frozen as his eyes scanned the message over and over. He quickly noticed the misspelling of the word wedding. He cocked his head slightly in thought, tufts of his already forming bedhead swishing in the air like dandelions. Iwaizumi was always diligent about spelling, faulting Oikawa for his emoticons and abbreviations (“You sound illiterate when you text like that, Shittykawa,” he would sometimes say).
Following those pleading words was an
elaborate “Save The Date” invite attachment, featuring Hajime and a young man in each others’ arms. They looked disgustingly in love, smiling and gazing at each other like there wasn’t even a camera pointed in their faces. Oikawa felt his face twist into a complicated expression, as if his muscles were trying to convey the war occurring in his mind. He had rarely seen Iwaizumi appear so happy, and if he had, it had been with him. “Unfair,” Oikawa said to no one.
Staring into the pixels, Oikawa began to understand the depth of the situation. Iwa-chan was getting married. His Iwa-chan. The same man that would cackle at the idea of marriage so young, the same man who once made a fleeting joke about marrying Oikawa, because he was the only one who really knew him. Drunkenly, of course, but how could Oikawa ever forget that? Everything about this felt ridiculous, and the man wanted to kick himself for how his heart raced.
Oikawa couldn’t forget a lot of the passing moments over the years. He felt a small rush at the idea that he still crossed Iwaizumi’s mind after all this time. Or was he just being polite? Either way, Oikawa felt the familiar bumping rapidly in his chest. It felt like old times.
★★★
“Shit, I…I think he’s dying, Tooru. I-I don’t know what to do, shit, shit—“ Iwaizumi cut himself off as he could hardly breathe, panicking and crying at the sight of his father before him. He was breathing shallowly with a newly puffed up face. “I shouldn’t have called you, Oikawa. I’m sorry, I just don’t—ugh. I don’t know what to fucking do.”
Oikawa was already slipping his shoes on, “I’m coming over.”
Oikawa was at Iwaizumi’s house in less than 10 minutes, available and willing to offer support and love and whatever else his best friend may need. When he entered the foyer, Iwaizumi rushed to him and wrapped his arms around his slender torso. Oikawa could feel a faint wetness from Iwaizumi’s tears on his shirt, and it broke his heart into a million small pieces.
He reached around Iwaizumi’s shoulders and took deep breaths, signaling him to follow suit. After a few minutes, he had regained his composure and stepped away from Oikawa. Oikawa immediately missed the warmth.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I’m just…I don’t know.” Iwaizumi looked at the taller boy, eyes glassy and bloodshot.
“Don’t apologize, Iwa-chan. I’m here. I’m always here.” Oikawa tried his absolute hardest to convey all the love he held for him in those few words. He did not think it possible to ever properly describe the absolute devotion he felt for the boy standing before him. He could try, at least. He exhaled, “I promise.”
Iwaizumi just gazed back at him, a faint smile gracing his usual harsh features. A tear fell from his eye as he slowly came down from the heightened emotions of the night. He steeled himself and walked towards the living room where his father was laying, Oikawa trailing closely behind.
Around an hour later, the situation with Iwaizumi’s dad had been resolved with the on-call doctor. It had been a freak allergic reaction to an ingredient in the dinner Iwaizumi had cooked, thus properly sparking another breakdown from the boy. Oikawa stayed with him through it all. Every shuddering breath and irrational thought—he was there with him. Just like he promised.
They settled in Iwaizumi’s bedroom and sat close on the hardwood floor. They looked at each other, truly peered into what felt like the souls of the other. They inched closer, breaths matching pace, chests heaving in unison. Oikawa risked laying his hand on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck, tentatively pulling his forehead to his. He easily complied, sighing at the contact and relaxing his shoulders. When he moved his olive eyes to meet Oikawa’s chocolate ones, Oikawa’s resolve broke and he leaned in, kissing the other softly. It was brief but electric, igniting Oikawa’s entire being. It seemed to be the most enthralling and all-encompassing few moments of his life, an irreplaceable and long-awaited feeling. His and Iwaizumi’s lips fit together like puzzle pieces in his mind, slotting together with a satisfying click. The sound was deafening in his mind. He pulled away as soon as his brain caught up with his body, jolting away from his friend like he’d been shocked by the electricity he was just reveling in. Iwaizumi gaped slightly at him, eyes wide and cheeks barely blushed pink.
Oikawa could hardly believe what he had just done. “Oh my god, Iwa-chan, I’m so sorry—“ He panicked and avoided eye contact, wanting to run away and never return.
“Tooru.” Iwaizumi’s voice was steady.
Oikawa looked up behind his bangs from his spot against the bedroom wall. Without realizing, he had retreated all the way there, hoping to find an escape beyond the wallpaper. His mind incessantly raced. Would Iwaizumi hurt him? Could he possibly? They were that age where boys were plain mean to each other just for the purpose of being mean. Surely not, surely not his Iwa-chan. Right?
“Hajime, I never meant to—“
“Let’s just, uhm…” Iwaizumi trailed off, glancing around the room for something to fixate on. When his eyes caught a band’s poster on his wall, he said something he’d never say to anyone else on this planet. But it was Oikawa. His Oikawa. “Let’s dance?”
Oikawa blinked at him in utter and complete surprise. Iwaizumi felt a small smile reach his face as he stood and strided to Oikawa’s place near the wall. He grabbed his hand and awkwardly twirled the taller boy, struggling to maintain control of his body. Oikawa just let his body be led and spun, relishing in the fact that Iwaizumi had thought to do this with him, to do this at all. There was no music to follow, just the sound of shuffling feet and small bouts of laughter echoing against the walls. The pair stumbled around Iwaizumi’s bedroom, tripping over laundry and magazines and a volleyball. After a few minutes of this nonsense, they both were smiling unabashedly and laughing at each others’ ridiculousness. Iwaizumi smiled the smile he had only ever smiled with Oikawa, and Oikawa laughed the only way he ever could when he was with Iwaizumi. In this moment, neither boy wanted to be elsewhere, neither wanted to know any other person in this world. They could be the final two people on Earth and be perfectly content. It was feelings like these that were reserved for each other only. These feelings were world-shattering and gut-wrenching. Irresistible and impossible. Beauty and perfection.
Maybe Oikawa was in love. Or Iwaizumi was just nice.
Neither Iwaizumi nor Oikawa mentioned the kiss ever again.
★★★
Oikawa’s eyes pricked at the memory, remembering the tenderness and intimacy shared between him and Iwaizumi that night. He knew that could never be replicated, so why bother?
Oikawa toyed with his phone, tossing it lightly between his hands. Why did he invite him in the middle of the night? He knew that if he actually accepted the invitation, he would just be the cause of another person’s tears as well as his own. He would just feel painful regret and disdain seeing how his Iwa-chan sparkles with his new partner, and that new man would grow confused at the random man who could barely hold it together during the ceremony. “It should be me,” Oikawa would think, effectively curating his own destruction. In any case, it would be an utter disaster.
So, he said nothing.
Oikawa swiped to delete the message from his inbox, selecting “Confirm” when asked if wanting to proceed with the harsh action. He watched it disappear from the screen, watched Iwaizumi Hajime disappear from his future. He truly wished the best for him. Oikawa grabbed a fistful of his bedsheets, taking out his emotions on the unsuspecting white linen. It was better this way. This way, Iwaizumi could remain a beautiful and kind angel in Oikawa’s mind, something unattainable and faraway. It was the only way.
He set his phone to silent and laid it face down on his bedside table. No more drunken disruptions that sparked hope in Oikawa’s fragile heart. He stood and walked to his closet, digging through hangars and making a mess in the process. He then reached his destination—Iwaizumi’s old sweatshirt. Oikawa had worn it to death in the early days of their ending, but had not dared so much as to cast a glance at it in recent years. Tonight, he grabbed it and threw it on quickly, pulling it over his head harshly. He seemed to be angry at the fabric, and maybe he was. He climbed back into bed and turned towards the wall. Without any type of realization from the man, tears had begun to stream down his face.
“Goodbye, Iwa-chan,” he whispered into the clothing he adorned, effectively shattering his heart and soul.