Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The First Notebook: Origins

Kriiiing! Kriiiing!

In the midst of a peaceful silence, the alarm clock that was resting on my bedside table blared tumultuously. I let out a long, groggy groan, my hand reaching out to feel the wooden table for the alarm clock, silencing the alarm clock with one tap of a button. I reluctantly sat up from my plush bed, my eyes half-lidded with sleep. I rubbed the sleep off of my tired eyes with the back of my hand before staring at the wall clock of my room.

Realization soon dawned upon me that today was our last day of college, a significant day that I couldn’t possibly miss just because of the mere idea of oversleeping.

Languidly, I climbed off the bed and took slow steps towards the bathroom door to begin my usual morning routine. I twisted the door knob and pulled the door open, stripping off my clothes as soon as I took a step on the moist tiles of my bathroom. A brief shower, a hot breakfast, and thirty minutes of styling my unparalleled gorgeous hair quickly passed until I had finally regained my usual energy, making my way out of my humble home. The morning symphonies of the birds surrounding me and the ambience of the verdant leaves dancing with each blow of the wind filled my ears, but it felt as if there was only one thought repeatedly echoing in my mind over and over: I’m leaving college soon.

Despite the palpable feelings of nostalgia, I was instantly pulled out of my introspection when a familiar figure entered my field of vision. In the vicinity was the sight of my childhood best friend, my comrade, my vice-captain—Iwaizumi Hajime.

With a renewed sense of excitement, I hastily jogged over to Hajime’s direction, and waited for the perfect time to strike. I waited for a moment’s hesitation, slowing down my steps as I neared him from behind. With a final, cheeky glint flashing across my expression, I pounced on Hajime and wrapped my arms around him from behind, causing a surprised grunt to escape his lips. “Mornin’, Iwa-chan!”

I chimed. Hajime’s eyes shot wide open in surprise, but it quickly morphed into a look of recognition and annoyance at the same time. He attempted untangling himself from my grip, only for it to end up being in vain. My weight slowed down his movements, and Hajime went into a brief coughing fit from the exertion.

“Ooh, look who’s pretty weak today,” I taunted, my eyes narrowing playfully at him.

“God, Shittykawa, it’s too early for you to be doing this!”

I gasped dramatically, finally pulling myself away from Hajime but leaving an arm lazily draped around his shoulder. “Iwa-chan, that hurts. You know it’s never too early to be blessed with my presence. Besides,” I looked at him with a fond smile, “you wouldn’t last a day without me.”

Hajime scoffed and didn’t say anything more. Instead, he continued walking and allowed me to cling onto him like a koala, his expression softening subtly. I chuckled cheekily and returned my gaze to the road. After all, I took pride in the way I could make Hajime relent and resign to my playful antics. We strode along the neighborhood, our steps unhurried and instinctively taking us to the direction of our shared university. “So,” I began, “you ready for the last day of school?”

He let out a low hum in response to my question. “Yeah. What about you, though?”

“You bet,” I averred, confidently puffing my chest out and lifting my chin up to see the sky for the dramatic flair. “I feel like I’ve grown mature over the years, don’t you think?”

When I returned my gaze to Hajime, I was met with his half-lidded, almost disbelieving look. “Wow,” he said sarcastically.

“Wow? The heck is that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know that I’m the epitome of maturity,” I shot back defensively, my bottom lip sticking out into a pout as we walked. However, my mock offended act dissipated as quickly as it came, giving way to a series of chuckles. I tightened my grip on Hajime, my expression softening into one of appreciation.

“But I know you’ll be there to take care of whatever crap I get into anyway,” I added, to which Hajime responded with a small, almost imperceptible smile. He gazed at me, both our expressions holding years of friendship and memories.

He lifted his fist slightly, gesturing for a fist bump. “Always with you, Oikawa.”

I glanced down at his fist, immediately returning it by lightly tapping it with my own. “Always.”

With that, we went on with the journey to our campus. Our playful banter and petty teasing filled the air, accompanied by a feeling of familiarity and something deeper. The day passed by in a blur as soon as we arrived at our university. We both mingled with our friends and peers, spending each and every second with laughter and jokes as this is the last day most of us would see each other until graduation comes. It sent a bittersweet feeling straight to my core—the thought of parting ways with people you’ve molded great memories with, with the final phase before you fully reach adulthood. It was an insuperable fate, but I was determined to continue moving. Why? Thanks to two main things; my dream of becoming a professional volleyball player… and my favorite person in the whole wide world.

Soon, the last day of college came to a close, and the students dispersed, giving each other sweet farewells and goodbyes. The atmosphere in the courtyard was bustling with life, but Hajime and I shared our own little world as we walked towards the university gate.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” I nudged his elbow lightly. “Wanna go train at that outdoor court we always go to? I wanna practice our attacks."

For a moment, I saw a flash of hesitation on Hajime’s face, but it was short-lived. He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

I lit up as soon as I had gotten Hajime’s permission, but I couldn’t brush off the feeling in my chest that there was something wrong with him today. In the end, I discreetly shook my head and tried to get it off my chest. “Alright then. I’m gonna show you just how much my sets have improved!” I smirked, but as we continued walking, I couldn’t help but notice how Hajime’s pace had slowed slightly. His breath seemed just a bit uneven, but I didn’t say anything—after all, Hajime had always been the more reserved of the two of us, even when it came to things like that.

Arriving at the court, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees mixed with the familiar echo of our shoes meeting the ground. We set up quickly, eager to get to work. I was already bouncing the ball in my hands, grinning, "Let’s go, Iwa-chan!”

"Yeah, yeah, I’m on it," Hajime muttered, already stepping onto the court with an easygoing air that implied he wasn’t bothered.

The sun had shifted across the sky, dipping lower with every passing minute. I could feel the weight of time pressing on me as I continued to set up each play with more energy than usual. We’d been practicing for hours, but it felt like a blink had passed between the serves and the jumps, the repetitions slowly mixing together into a continuous motion.

Hajime wasn’t complaining—he never did—but I could tell he wasn’t in his usual rhythm. The way his body moved was just a little off, the way he would sometimes take a sharp breath in between plays, or pause for a fraction of a second, his lips pressed tight as if he was trying to hold something back. “Maybe he was just feeling lazy?” The thought echoed in my mind.

Still, we kept going. One more serve. One more spike.

The sound of the ball echoing off the court was like music, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing as I hit the perfect toss for Hajime’s set. He jumped, his figure cutting through the air in that effortless way he always did, but there was a slight hesitation in his landing. A sharp inhale when he came down, like something wasn’t quite right.

After another successful set, instead of Hajime spiking the ball effortlessly, it fell to the stone ground, making my eyes widen out of surprise at the sound of the rubber ball hitting the ground. “Iwa-chan? Hey, are you alright?” I asked, my voice laced with the slightest hint of worry as I looked at his sweaty state.

“I’m… fine,” Hajime replied breathlessly, running a hand through his hair. “Let me… Let me take a break real quick, yeah? You keep practicing.” He took a few short steps to a nearby wooden bench, sitting down immediately and letting out a relieved sigh as he melted into his seat, seeming as if he finally got some rest after an entire 100-meter marathon. My brows furrowed out of worry and confusion, but I allowed the thought to fade into my subconsciousness instead.

I continued practicing alone as Hajime watched from the side—my sets, serves and spikes occasionally wringing out a slight sound of approval from my best friend. In a bit, the setting sun casted a warm, radiant glow over the outdoor court. The faint sound of cicadas lounging by the surrounding trees blended with the occasional thuds of volleyballs landing on the other side of the net, building a comforting atmosphere I could only truly share with one person. At the very end of the right side of the court, I stood there, running a hand through my impeccable locks while the other bounced the volleyball from the stone ground back to my palm.

“Iwa-chan!” I called out, glancing at Hajime’s figure sprawled out the bench, his chest heaving with each breath, possibly due to how long we’ve been practicing our attacks. “Watch this. I’ve been trying to make my jump serve ten times better than when we were back in high school.”

I faced the opposing side of the court, a glint of determination flashing across my features. I could feel Hajime’s gaze on me and, albeit tired, I knew he was most likely cheering for me in silence. But the silence felt like it was more than just because of fatigue.

Determined to impress him, I mustered up all my concentration and focus, and set the ball into an upcast. I sprinted towards it and jumped into the air, my movements sharp yet graceful as I slammed the ball with powerful force, propelling it across the court and perfectly hitting the nonexistent opponent’s side with a loud thud, successfully executing a skillfully herculean jump serve. I landed back to the ground, a proud grin forming on my lips. I instantly shifted my attention back to Hajime, my eyes sparkling with the relishment of the knowledge that my skills were continuously improving.

“Did you see that, Iwa-chan? That was way more accurate than before, right?” I squeaked excitedly. Hajime opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly interrupted with a playful wiggle of my pointer finger. “Ah, ah, ah. You don’t need to say anything. I know I’m getting better,” I boasted, dramatically placing a hand over my chest. Hajime rolled his eyes at my antics, but the slight smirk on his usually stern expression betrayed a hint of fondness. “You shouldn’t have asked then, bastard…” he retorted, a hint of breathlessness in his voice, eliciting a soft, sheepish chuckle from me.

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I like your attention.” I winked playfully at him, earning a scoff from the spiky-haired man. I then jogged to the side to grab another volleyball from the basket. “Come on, Iwa-chan! Let’s practice more of our attacks if you’re feeling better. Can’t practice without my favorite spiker—”

“Oikawa?”

I paused in my movements, the volleyball already resting on my hands. “Yeah?”

He looked at me with a slightly guilty expression, averting his gaze from me for a moment and stared at the dimming sky, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint where this sudden behavior was rooted from. “I’m a little… bushed today. Let’s tone it down a bit.”

I blinked twice out of confusion, but then I concurred with Hajime's decision anyway. “Ooookay then.” I threw the volleyball over my shoulder for it to land right into the basket before taking long strides in his direction. I plopped myself next to him, mirroring Hajime’s pensive expression as I looked up at the sky. I didn’t even realize that my actions were being parallel to his. Instinctively doing exactly what he does… it seemed to grow on me like a natural habit now.

I glanced at him from my peripheral vision, my gaze lingering on his face illuminated by the sunset glow before tearing my gaze away. The silence lingered for a moment longer, with only the soft sound of the summer breeze and Hajime’s heavy, tired breathing interrupting the silence. But even as the mood changed, any atmosphere with Hajime in it would make me feel a certain sense of belonging.

I then decided to break the silence.

“I can’t believe we’re graduating college in a few days.”

Hajime let out a soft hum of agreement, his shoulders slumping slightly at the thought. “Yeah.”

That same silence pierced through our conversation once again. The unspoken words and messages that lingered between the two of us ate up an enormity of my thoughts, waiting for one of us to break the silence once again.

“You know, Crappykawa,” Hajime began, and I lifted my gaze off the ground to face him completely.

“This may seem a bit cheesy, but I’m glad we became partners.”

I raised an eyebrow at how quickly the atmosphere changed judging by the way Hajime looked quite sentimental. “What? Why are you telling me this all of a sudden? You sound like you’re giving your last words or something. Should I be worried?” I joked, trying to keep the situation light, which only earned me a slight smack on my arm. “D’ow! Hey, watch it!” I protested, sticking my tongue out at Hajime as he rolled his eyes at me. I wanted to shoot back with some sort of invective, but I simply quieted down instead, rubbing the area where he had just deliberately smacked me.

“But in all seriousness, I’m glad too,” I replied, my gaze distant. “I mean, it’s not everyday I’d find someone who knows how to ground me and deal with my petty insecurities. Let alone someone who could deal with my ridiculous antics on a daily basis.” I snickered at the last part, and Hajime simply smirked. I then continued, “It honestly feels…nice.”

“Mmm… Yeah,” Hajime responded, his expression contemplative as we both stared up at the sky.

“...Let's not change, alright?” I muttered.

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, don't be stupid, Iwa-chan,” I insulted playfully. I then thought for a moment, a small pout growing on my lips. “You know how people who used to be best friends drift away after college most of the time? That's what I mean, and I don't like it. Not one bit.” I continued, facing Hajime completely once again, my voice laced with a bit of conviction.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, basically. We’re gonna keep playing volleyball together even if we’re both old and wrinkly. And we’re gonna keep staying by each other’s sides without any complaints. You’re stuck with me now, Iwa-chan, and I’m stuck with you, got it?”

Hajime blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice, before he was finally able to process my words. He snickered for a few seconds, until those small, suppressed noises turned into a bark of laughter. My brows furrowed and my cheeks flushed, unable to tell if he found my little proposal touching or just utter bullshit. I was about to protest when Hajime’s laughter started to die down, his expression replaced with his usual stoic one. It held a hint of fondness this time, though, and something else I couldn’t quite place.

“That's exactly what I love about you, Oikawa.”

The words hung in the air between us, and for a heartbeat, the court seemed quieter than it had in hours. It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard him say things like that before—praise, teasing, a bit of that gruff affection he always hides behind his sarcasm. But this—this was different. My heart fluttered, a stark contrast to the casual way I’d usually brush off anything he said. I tried to swallow down whatever feeling had started to bloom in my chest, but it wasn’t cooperating. There was a tension now, like an invisible line pulled tight between us, stretching the space where words once filled the gaps.

I glanced at Iwaizumi again. He was still scanning the now-dark sky above us, avoiding my gaze. Fuck. Was it always like this, or was I just too oblivious to notice?

For once, I couldn’t even bring myself to say anything to break the silence. We just stood there, silently causing some unspoken understanding, neither of us willing to move first. And the tension, the weird, heavy thing between us, settled in deeper, as if it was always supposed to be there.

Just when the words finally started to come out of my mouth, my phone rang, interrupting the tense stare-off Hajime and I were having. I inwardly sighed, reaching into my pocket to check who was calling. The caller I.D. displayed my mother’s name, and that was when I realized I still had errands to run back at home. I stood up abruptly, stretching my arms over my head casually as if nothing had happened just now. “Well, I’ll be going now, Iwa-chan,” I announced, grabbing my bag from the stone ground and slinging it over my shoulder. Hajime nodded and followed suit, lifting his bag with more effort than usual.

“Yeah, alright,” he replied as we walked towards the gate of the outdoor court. We stepped out before facing each other simultaneously, as if there was some sort of telepathy between us.

“See you on graduation day, alright?” He placed a hand on my shoulder and tapped it lightly. “Yeah, see you, Iwa-chan. I want you to be the person right by my side when we graduate, so don’t stay up late thinking about me too much,” I teased, placing my hand over his that was placed on my shoulder.

With that, we gave each other one last wave before we parted ways. The lingering tension remained fixed in my mind, and I took a deep breath as an attempt to calm my racing heart throughout the entire way back home.

The days flew by quickly, and in just a blink of an eye, it was finally the day Hajime and I have been waiting for these past few weeks—graduation day.

The entire venue was packed with students from Hajime and I’s university. Around me, voices rose and fell in a mix of laughter and applause, creating a soft symphony that blended into the distant beat of the ceremonial music playing from the speakers. The polished wood of the podium gleamed under the light, its edges sharp and well-defined. My fingers twitched at my sides, restless, as I took in the sight of my friends and classmates, their faces bright with a mixture of joy and nervousness, some holding tightly onto their diplomas, others chatting animatedly. However, glancing around the entire place, there was one person who was simply the only thing missing from this day.

Names from our class could finally be heard from the speakers, signalling that it was our turn to climb those stairs and stand on the grand stage. Hajime was nowhere to be seen, and I knew I had to do something. He had always wanted to graduate, but the thought of him being unable to attend made me feel nervous for him.

Hurriedly, I took my phone out of my pocket and started spamming messages into our chat thread. Nothing. I took it a step further and dialed his number and see if his phone would ring. Nothing. I tried multiple times more. Still nothing. Finally, I took one last chance to call Hajime before I ultimately give up. This time, his phone rang for a few long times, my fingers impatiently tapping the sides of my phone. Finally, Hajime picked up.

“Iwa-chan, where the hell are y—”

“Hello? Yes, hello. I apologize.” An unfamiliar voice rang out from the phone, immediately silencing my words. “I believe you are looking for Iwaizumi Hajime?”

I remained silent for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation. “Yes… Yes, that’s right.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor replied, “but Iwaizumi-san is currently in a critical medical state as of the moment. If you’d like, you could visit him in our hospital…”

Those words echoed in my mind. They felt like knives being stabbed straight to my heart, and at that moment, every motion that surrounded me reduced to a blur. The doctor’s words blended into the faint sound of everything else as he continued talking, the only sound I was able to hear being the sound of my racing heartbeat while I gripped my phone like a vice.

Without even gaining a chance to think rationally, I stood up from my seat and immediately jolted towards the exit of the venue, not even caring about the confused looks I was getting. Nothing else mattered. Not the graduation ceremony I’d just left in the middle of. Not the applause. Not the smiles or the pride of my classmates. As I ran out and past the evening hustle and bustle of our town, I was only focused on one thing: making it to wherever Hajime was, wherever I could see that he was safe and sound. I didn't care about anything else.

How could I?

How could I when caring about no one else but my wellbeing was all Hajime ever did?

The streets blurred as my feet hit the pavement, my mind a whirlwind of disbelief. Critical state. I couldn’t even understand what that meant for him. I could still hear his voice, gruff and unrelenting, telling me I was stupid for worrying about him. He was always strong, always in control. So why—why now?

I hated this.

I pushed harder. Faster. Until the hospital finally appeared on the horizon. The sense of urgency in my veins only grew as I barged in through the sliding doors of the facility, my breathing growing heavier with each step I took, approaching a female nurse.

“Iwaizumi Hajime. Where is he?”

The nurse at the front desk stared at me, blinking a few times before giving me a shaky nod. “ICU, Room 312. But you—”

I didn’t wait for her to finish. My legs moved faster than my mind could catch up, my feet pounding on the linoleum floor as I rushed down the hallway.

Room 312. ICU.

Each turn felt like an eternity. Time stretched and broke in those moments. All I could think about was him—Hajime. His gruff words, his stubborn attitude, his presence. That strong, unshakable force of nature that kept me grounded when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

After what felt like a century, I reached the door.

I pushed it open, and I was met with a sight I desperately hoped wasn't true.

The sterile white light of the ICU felt suffocating, almost too bright. And there, in the bed, was Hajime. His body was still, too still. Machines beeped steadily beside him, a dull hum that made my heart stop with each sound.

The rise and fall of his chest was shallow, his face pale, and for the first time in all the years I’d known him, he looked small. Fragile.

I took slow, small steps towards him, my motions shaky in disbelief. I sat down on a small stool next to the hospital bed, placing my hand on the stone cold metal of the bars. For a moment, I simply stared at him, my heart clenching in time with the beeping of the nearby machines.

“Iwa-chan…” I murmured, my voice lower than a whisper as I took his hand, feeling how weak he was. How tired he actually felt. “Don’t you dare fucking leave me. What happened, Iwa-chan? What happened to being stuck with me? Don’t forget that, okay? Don’t forget what we talked about…” I whispered, my grip on his hand tightening instinctively.

“You're always with me, right? Always. You promised.”

Suddenly, the door to Hajime’s room was pushed open, revealing what seemed to be one of his doctors. His eyes widened in mild surprise at the sight of me, while I only looked at him, not feeling remotely good enough to be speaking at the moment.

“Ah, you must be the man I spoke to on the phone,” the doctor greeted, taking in the sight of my figure clad in a graduation gown. The man’s brows furrowed for a moment, as if assessing the situation, until his expression softened, a hint of understanding flashing across his features.

“This must have taken you by surprise, sir.”

“...What happened?” I inquired, my eyes soft yet demanding an explanation.

The doctor sighed, lifting up the clipboard he was holding so he could browse through it. He seemed to be all too aware of these kinds of situations—sudden accidents leading to clueless individuals such as myself. “Very well. Let me provide a brief explanation.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he began, “is suffering from a very rare lung disease called, ‘Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis’.”

The sound of the illness rolling off the doctor’s tongue sent a shiver crawling on my skin. Hajime had always been a strong one, but here he was—unconscious and fighting for his life on a cold, lonely hospital bed. My heart clenched in my chest, as if it was being tortured by repeatedly slashing it with the sharp piece of glass that was reality. I nodded, signalling for the doctor to continue.

The doctor went on, “It’s a progressive lung disease where the tissue in the lungs becomes scarred over time, making it harder for the lungs to work properly.” He paused for a moment, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Unfortunately, IPF is a disease that develops over time, and its exact cause is not well understood—hence the term 'idiopathic'. There’s no known trigger, and sometimes it just appears without warning. The scarring in his lungs affects his ability to breathe and can lead to fatigue, shortness of breath, and even coughing. I was informed that he passed out on the street just around an hour ago. Our test results showed that his body was unable to provide sufficient oxygen to his brain due to the damage in his lungs, which caused the fainting.”

I remained silent despite the horrible feeling of my heart being ripped out of my chest from the news. So that’s what explained it—his sharp breaths, his weaker state, his coughs. It all added up now. His actions lately were atypical to the usual Hajime, but I was completely oblivious that those actions were signs. Signs that he was in danger. Symptoms of this damned disease.

I clenched my hand tightly on my side, while the other remained gently wrapped around Hajime’s.

Shakily, I spoke up, bracing myself for the worst.

“Is there a cure?”

The doctor hesitated. “I’m… sorry, sir.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

The Second Notebook: Dreams

“No!”

I quavered, immediately sitting up from my bed after the memory played in my head in such vivid frames. I glanced around, finding myself in the silence of my room. It was a dream. The sun’s rays seeped in through the windows, casting a soft light onto the cotton sheets of my bed. Despite the solemnity of the atmosphere, the lingering sense of unease from the nightmare remained. I let out a resigned sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. Fate was so cruel that it had to replay the memory of finding out Hajime was suffering from IPF, and it undeniably caused a maelstrom of mixed emotions within me.

I brought my phone—that I apparently fell asleep holding last night—to my vision, checking the time. 7 A.M., an hour before the time I would usually pay my best friend a visit at the hospital. Realizing I shouldn’t be moping around in grief, I huffed in determination, standing up from my bed and getting ready to start the day.

It was Hajime’s birthday today, and I was determined to walk in his room with the best gift—my presence. Taking a step out of my home with vigor, out for a search for the perfect present… besides myself, of course.

It had been a year since we had graduated and since Hajime had been stuck in the confines of the hospital. His family had wanted to manage him at home, but his condition was unluckily a tad bit too severe for his family to handle. So we all had to settle with these unfortunate circumstances, with each of us having our own scheduled visits, mine being from 8 A.M. to 1 P.M. There was never a time when I would walk into Hajime’s room without something to see a smile on his face. His smile. A sight that I would never get tired of seeing, even as I struggle to see it through the ventilator over his mouth 24/7.

Throughout the past year, I’ve been able to provide for myself by modelling in magazines, earning significantly more than just a pittance of money. Left and right, there would be offers for me to model for a specific magazine issue, and any one that involved me in it would usually be quite the hit. Though, it was a far cry from what I truly hoped for, being a professional athlete. 

However, I couldn’t take that career path. Not yet, at least. Not when I had Hajime waiting for me on that hospital bed every single passing day.

I strolled along the city vivaciously teeming with people. The sound of my steps lightly tapping the stone pavements quickly dissipated into the much louder city ambience of people having lively conversations with one another as a few cherry blossoms fell onto my brown locks. Summer sales were at an all-time high this year, and so I used this as an opportunity to find just the right birthday gift.

Soon, I came across a specific store of bedroom essentials and accessories. It was a strange choice, but I found myself drawn to it.

Curious, I gently pushed open the glass doors of the store, my gaze immediately trailing over to the different essentials displayed on each nook and cranny. There were bedsheets, nightlights, entire mattresses, but they weren’t quite what I was looking for. 

I continued my search, until I managed to lay eyes on a blanket carefully folded on one of the display tables. I picked up the soft fabric, feeling the texture beneath my fingers. It was thick, and the fabric held just the right balance of fluff. Its color was a beautiful, azure blue. It came close to the sky that Hajime would long to see but couldn’t because of his bedridden state.

With that, I have finally made my decision. I brought the blanket to the cashier and instantly paid for it, tucking it inside a smooth paper bag and heading out the store with long strides. The blanket reminded me of those cold, sleepless nights Hajime would go through.

“Don’t leave yet, Shittykawa. You’re my only rest.”

That was what Hajime would say, his lips slightly restrained by the confines of the ventilator. It was a painful sight each time I would see him yearn for comfort in such a difficult condition, and I wanted to provide that sense of comfort even if I wasn’t around.

Eventually, the hospital came into view, and the sterile white of the facility loomed over me. It was a sight I got all too accustomed to, but it never ceased to send an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I gently pushed through the door and the sea of activity in the hospital, but not until stopping by a food stop to bring Hajime something to eat. I walked along lonely hallways and passed by painful sights until I finally arrived at the door of Room 312.

I took a deep breath and huffed, bracing myself for the sight of the birthday boy. I pushed open the wooden door and was met with the familiar scent of medicines and the familiar beeping of machines. Hajime was already sitting up on his bed, watching the window in silence with a disgruntled appearance.

He slowly glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening. He took in the sight of me, and his expression seemed to have softened, his furrowed eyes now raised in recognition, and his lips weren't forming a tight line anymore.

“Goooood morning, Iwa-chan,” I sang. I lifted up the two bags I was holding in my hand for Hajime to see and grinned proudly. “I brought something for you.”

He let out a long sigh against the ventilator, shaking his lips pursing in mild disapproval. “Didn’t I tell you not to bring me any gifts? You’re wasting your hard earned money on me again,” he chided, but his voice held a mixture of his usual gruffness and a bit of softness.

I chuckled. “Well, it’s not wasting if I get to spend them on you. It’s my love language, Iwa-chan. Let me have my fun.”

I sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, making the mattress dip slightly. I rested the paper bags on the bedside table, rummaging through one of them to bring out a piece of milk bread inside a plastic wrap. Hajime raised an eyebrow in curiosity and confusion. “Milk bread? Seriously?”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” I teased, tearing open the plastic wrap and taking out a small plate from the same bag I rummaged through from earlier. “You started liking it after seeing me eat so much of ‘em.” 

I propped the milk bread on the small plate, gently placing it on top of Hajime’s lap. I slowly stood up from my seat and assisted him in removing the ventilator mask, my gaze occasionally glancing to the side to look at the nearby machine to ensure that his oxygen levels were still adequate. Successfully removing it, I smiled fondly, my touch lingering on Hajime’s cheek before tearing my hand away and letting it rest to my side.

For a moment, all I did was just look. Each time I would remove the ventilator during my visits would always send a surge of warmth and pain through me. To be able to see Hajime’s face without all the equipment reminded me of the days we would practice together, bond together, and even sleep side-by-side beneath the moonlight every time he came over to my place. At that moment, everything else seemed to be a blur, and it seemed as if looking into his eyes was the only thing I ever wanted to do anymore.

“You're staring.”

I snapped out of my reverie at the sight of Hajime, his head tilted slightly to the left, and a weak smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, right,” I squeaked, rubbing the back of my neck in a sheepish manner as I continued busying my hands. 

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and brought out a toy candle, flipping the switch to watch it illuminate.

“What… the hell is that for?” Hajime wondered, bumfuzzled.

“It’s for your birthday cake, of course!” I said in-a-matter-of-factly, hovering the toy candle over the bread and allowing it to sink in the soft texture. I gestured to the fully set up birthday cake pridefully. “Ta-da~!”

Hajime blinked. “I don’t understand why you need to do this.”

“I have to be careful with you, you know. If you blow on an actual candle, you could lose some of your air,” I replied with a shrug.

“You could’ve just… not put a candle?”

“That’s boring,” I dismissed. “Now go on, Iwa-chan. Blow your candle.”

“How am I supposed to do that exactly?” He inquired.

I rolled my eyebrows playfully and nodded to the candle. “You make an O shape with your lips, silly.”

Hajime scoffed slightly, but he didn’t make any further protests. He leaned in closer to the mini bread cake, making an ‘o’ shape with his lips like how I instructed him to. Just when he did, I flipped the switch behind the candle off once more, creating the illusion that he had blown the candle. “See? Not so hard, was it?”

I picked up the other paper bag and repeated the process of rummaging through it like I did with the first one. This time, I brought out the azure blanket I bought from the store earlier and wrapped it around Hajime’s figure, his eyes widening at the sudden gesture. “There,” I said. “Now whenever you feel cold during the night, you can pretend that I’m this blanket.”

I suddenly pulled him in for a gentle embrace, burying my face into Hajime’s shoulder, inhaling his scent like it was my oxygen. “Happy birthday, Iwa-chan,” I whispered, not letting go of Hajime’s figure. It felt slightly different compared to back when he was strong, but it was still Hajime, and that was the only thing that was keeping me from pulling away. I heard a soft sigh escape his lips, his arm coming up to wrap around me despite the IV drip weakening his hand.

“Thanks for… you know, taking care of me. It must’ve been hell trying to deal with me,” he mumbled.

I finally pulled away after a long time, a small, tender smile on my face. “Are you crazy? It’s never hell when it comes to you.”

We continued chatting as I helped Hajime finish the small bread cake in front of him. The room was silent, save for the sounds of me sharing stories and quick anecdotes and the faint background noise of beeping hospital equipment. The small plate was now empty, and Hajime’s ventilator was now back on his face as soon as his breathing grew heavy and he had to take sharp breaths with each movement. After a few moments of chatting, the TV flickered to life with one press of a button as I picked up the remote control. I positioned myself next to Hajime, my body instinctively leaning into his touch, making sure it was gentle enough not to hurt him.

A volleyball game displayed on the widescreen television, and the cheers from the audience in the gym rang in my ears like echoes. Watching the game, I felt a sense of nostalgia. Standing on the court, conducting the court with seamless plays as sweat trickles down my skin—it was all an experience I badly longed for.

“Man,” Hajime suddenly said, leaning back against the raised bed, his voice still hoarse from the morning’s coughing spell. “That setter’s got nothing on you. Look at that toss—too low for the outside hitter.”

I grinned, mimicking Hajime’s movement with my arms crossed. “Oh, I know that, Iwa-chan. But thanks anyway. It always sounds better from you.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. The dim light from the TV reflected off his pale skin, making the dark circles under his eyes seem more pronounced. 

The match played on, each spike and block echoing faintly from the TV speakers. My eyes discreetly followed the ball, the rhythm of the game tugging at something deep inside me. The sharp squeak of shoes against the court, the thud of the ball against the wood floor, the triumphant shouts of the players—it all felt so distant and yet so familiar. My fingers twitched slightly, like they were trying to mimic the toss I’d just seen.

“It’s been a while since I played,” I added, a soft sigh escaping my lips. My usual confident posture sagged slightly at the thought. “Like, really played. On the court, with a team… I kinda miss it.”

Hajime went silent for a moment. From the corner of my eye, I could see and feel his gaze analyzing my features. “Why haven’t you joined a team yet, anyway? With your obsession for volleyball, I hardly think you’re okay with being stuck with modelling for magazines."

I pursed my lips momentarily, feeling as if I was sinking further and further into the plush mattress of the hospital bed, but I was actually sinking in my own unspoken thoughts. I glanced at Hajime—weak, struggling, vulnerable. “I couldn’t. Not when you’re here,” I replied, attempting to keep my tone casual when the sadness in my voice was quite clear.

Hajime noticed this, of course, but he knew how I had the tendency to avoid showing vulnerability as much as possible. Rather than pressing the matter further, he kept his mouth closed, shifting his gaze back to the television. 

“I won’t stop you, Oikawa,” Hajime said. “As long as you tell me when you decide to pursue your dreams, I’ll be right here to cheer for you.”

Hearing Hajime’s words, I smiled, the corners of my eyes crinkling from the action. I chuckled, the sound deep and rich which echoed across the room. I gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder, my thumb tracing involuntary circles on his hospital gown clad skin. “That’s my Iwa-chan. But that won’t happen anytime soon. You’d miss me too much.” The banter continued on, but the thought of pursuing my goals of being a professional athlete lingered in my subconscious mind. But for now, I made sure to spend the rest of my visit with my attention on Hajime and Hajime only, no matter how many thoughts threaten to cloud my mind. He was first. Over anything.

Later that night, when the moon was full and the stars twinkled in the night sky, I was faced with my laptop, scrolling through notifications. My eyes were half-lidded with sleep, the only thing keeping me up being the distant noises of cicadas outside. Damn cicadas. Always everywhere but away.

Abruptly, I was snapped out of my sleep-filled state when a specific email crossed my vision.

“Exclusive Opportunity: Train with Argentina’s Elite Volleyball Program”

I was drawn to it, of course, and I found myself positioning the cursor onto the notification and clicking it, the sound sending a rush of anticipation through me. My eyes immediately brushed across the words on the screen, commiting each one to memory.

“Subject: Exclusive Opportunity: Train with Argentina's Elite Volleyball Program”

Dear Oikawa Tooru,

We are excited to extend an invitation for you to join Argentina's National Volleyball Training Program in Buenos Aires. We are informed of your exceptional skills as a setter, and we believe you have the potential to thrive in this elite training environment.

This program offers world-class coaching, international tournament exposure, and opportunities to train with top athletes. You are given the opportunity to train under José Blanco, another excellent athlete such as yourself. The next session begins on August 23rd, and we’d love to have you with us.

Please let us know your decision by July 15th. If you have questions, feel free to contact us at [email protected].

We look forward to hearing from you!”

An offer? Argentina? A fucking offer to train under José Blanco? It was a chance too good to pass up. José Blanco had been my idol since my middle school years. Hajime and I even attended a match between Japan and Argentina. Was this even real? I took a second look. I reread the entire email with my eyes fixated on each word, my face practically inches away from my laptop in the middle of my dimly lit room. 

“No way…” I mumbled under my breath, my eyes wide with disbelief as I tried to process the words plastered on the screen. After a few seconds of silence between myself and my thoughts, I abruptly jumped from my seat and started punching the air, making quiet exclamations of joy and excitement. “Yes, yes, yes! I can finally play again. I can finally—”

The image of Hajime then flashed through my mind, cutting my words short like a knife. His weak smile, the way his pale skin would shimmer beneath the sunlight, those lighthearted insults that wouldn’t make Iwa-chan Iwa-chan without them. Accepting this offer meant leaving the one person I vowed to myself that I would take care of. My expression dimmed instantly, flopping back onto my chair with my shoulders slumped against the backrest.

“Right. Iwa-chan,” I sighed, my brows furrowing in mild frustration. I glanced at the laptop once again, a small, expectant smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Then, my gaze shifted to a photo of Hajime and I right next to the laptop. Within a few seconds, I found myself in a difficult situation, grappling with the two most important things in my life.

“We’d love to have you with us,” I muttered under my breath, reading the line again for what felt like the hundredth time. I tapped the screen off and leaned back, resting my forehead against the cool wooden texture of my desk, letting out a soft groan. Outside, the world carried on, oblivious to the war raging inside me. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” I whispered to myself, trying to make the words feel real. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the joy that should have come with this opportunity was nowhere to be found.

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. I wiped them away angrily, frustrated with myself. I am Oikawa Tooru, after all. The Great King. The ace setter who never backed down. So why did this decision feel so impossible?

“I can’t just leave you, Iwa-chan,” I whispered. But the words felt like a lie, because deep down, I wasn’t sure if staying was the right answer either. To think that Hajime must’ve been back at the hospital, wrapping himself around the blanket I gave… while I was here, making a decision I never knew would cause a whirlwind of emotions in me.

The email’s words echoed in my mind: “We’d love to have you with us.”

I shut my eyes tightly, clenching my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

The Third Notebook: Decisions

The morning came by in a blink of an eye, far quicker than I had anticipated. By the time my eyes fluttered open and I stirred from my restless sleep, I realized I had dozed off while thinking about the email from last night, my face firmly planted against the cold, unyielding wooden texture of the desk. A groan escaped my lips, low and frustrated, as my arms stretched above my head in an attempt to ease the ache radiating from my neck and shoulders—a result of the horrible sleeping position I had found myself in. Yet, despite the dull throbbing sensation coursing through my body, only one thing occupied my mind: the decision I was fated to answer.

With a sigh, I slung my legs over the edge of the mattress, the familiar green alien slippers waiting just below me. Sliding my feet into them, I lingered for a moment, letting the remnants of sleep fade from my body. Before I could stand up, however, the abrupt buzz of a notification sounded against the quiet stillness of the room, startling me out of my compunction. My gaze snapped toward the source of the sound—my phone—its artificial glow illuminating the dimly lit room, save for the sunlight filtering through the edges of my bedroom window.

Reaching over to grab the device, I felt my heart skip slightly as my eyes brushed over the small, bolded words displayed across the screen. My gaze finally settled on the source of the message: Seijoh Boys r the best!!!

It was our old group chat from high school—the one Hajime and I had shared with the rest of our teammates back then. Seeing it now, after all these years, stirred memories I treasured dearly.

The message came from Makki, followed by another sent by Mattsun.

Makkiii (7:16am JST):

Heyhey what happened? How come WE never knew about this??

mattsun☆ (7:17am JST):

yeah, we heard about the news. what the hell happened? how’s iwaizumi?

Just when I read the messages, the group chat instantly stirred to life, as if they were corpses dug out of their graves. Despite my brooding thoughts—the thought that once one or two of us starts a conversation, it will end with all of us in it—amused and slightly touched me.

SHIGE-CHAN ON TOP (7:19am JST):

What r u all talking about? What happened to Iwaizumi-san? Huh??!

Just like that, the once-dead group chat flooded with a barrage of new messages, each of us catching up with each other after a long while we’d been apart. I explained everything and gave them an entire recapitulation about what had happened last year, but the pang of mortification I would feel at the memory struck me every time my fingers flew across the screen, the grip on my phone tightening almost instinctively.

SHIGE-CHAN ON TOP (7:34am JST):

Oh my god thats horrible…

Makkiii (7:34am JST) :

And to think we all had to find out just after his birthday

A brief pause occurred in the chat, leaving me alone with my thoughts for a few long seconds, until I suddenly perked up, as if a small light bulb went off on the top of my head.

The best setter in the whole wide world~♡ (7:35am JST):

Hey, what about we give Iwa-chan a birthday surprise? :D

Makkiii (7:36am JST):

Oh yeahhh that’d be great

I tilted my head to the side, the bedsheet crinkling beneath my weight as I sat up from the bed. A sense of anticipation started welling up in my stomach. My lips curled into a small smile, excited that Hajime would get the chance to see and feel the sensation of daylight against his skin after so long.

mattsun☆ (7:37am JST):

and how do you suggest we do that huh?

The best setter in the whole wide world~♡ (7:37am JST):

Oh you know~

The best setter in the whole wide world~♡ (7:37am JST):

We could go out for a game of volleyball tomorrow if I could bring Iwa-chan out of the hospital

SHIGE-CHAN ON TOP (7:38am JST):

Oh definitely, and he can watch in the sidelines. Sounds pretty fun right?

My expression lit up at the mention of volleyball, and the sight of them agreeing to my idea. Months have passed since I last played. The sound of volleyball shoes squeaking against the gymnasium’s polished wooden floor, the cheers from the audience in the bleachers, the feeling of dominating the court with my team like a maestro seamlessly conducting an orchestra… they were all things I’ve greatly missed, and I was sure Hajime felt the same sentiment. With a renewed sense of enthusiasm, my fingers started moving across the screen once more, not realizing the goofy smile on my face when I imagined Hajime’s eyes lighting up from watching us play.

The best setter in the whole wide world~♡ (7:39am JST):

Alright then its settled~! Ill try to get Iwa-chan to come along

The best setter in the whole wide world~♡ (7:40am JST):

There should be a gym near the hospital hes in. Im gonna send the address to you guys in a jiff.

Over the next few minutes, we started meticulously planning Aoba Johsai’s reunion, making sure the place and time were fit for all of our busy schedules like a puzzle piece. I, especially, wanted to make this the perfect birthday gift for Hajime other than the blanket I gave him the other day. But to do that, I had to find a way to get him out of the hospital. Just like usual, I started my day with my morning routine before heading over to the hospital to visit Hajime. The only difference being the lingering plans in my head as I hitched a ride toward the hospital.

It only took twenty minutes until I arrived at the hospital and in front of Room 312’s door. I lifted my hand against the door, followed by a knock. I then gently pushed open the door. “Iwa-chan, guess who—”

I halted my words and actions at the sight of Hajime lying there in his usual hospital bed, caught in a silent sleep, his breathing heavy but his expression peaceful. My expression shifted from playful to something else, my feet moving towards the sleeping Hajime like I was being drawn in by an invisible string. And the best part? He was wrapped around the blanket I gave him. 

I knelt down next to the bed and rested my hand on the cool metal railing attached to it, my other hand reaching out to his face but faltering, a thought striking my mind:

“We look forward to hearing from you!”

A deep sigh escaped my trembling lips from the thought, causing me to lower my hand back down to my side and grip the railing tighter with the other. “Why does it have to be like this?” I murmured to myself. A tight line formed on my lips as I felt a painful sensation in my heart.

Suddenly, a nurse walked in the room, disrupting my fleeting turmoil. Her eyebrows raised in recognition. “Ah, good morning, Oikawa-san,” she greeted, her lips curling upwards into a smile.

I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of her voice, putting on my signature charismatic smile despite the fact that the lingering remnants of my decision-making clouded my mind. “Good morning.”

The planned outing then suddenly hit me. I stood up from my kneeling position, crossed my arms over my chest, and rested a bit of my weight against the railing. My eyes trailed off to Hajime, my gaze lingering a bit too long on his sharp features softened by the effects of his deep slumber. I felt a momentary thump in my chest, but quickly dismissed it by shifting my attention back to the nurse.

“Ah, that’s right,” I began. “Is there… any way to bring Iwaizumi out of the hospital?”

The nurse tilted her head to the side in confusion and curiosity. “Well, of course,” she replied, her tone professional yet friendly. “But that would need additional requirements to ensure the patient’s safety. Such as a wheelchair and an extra oxygen tank to bring along.”

The nurse paused and walked over to the oxygen tank next to Hajime’s bed, checking its condition and making sure to adjust it accordingly. “If I may ask,” she spoke up suddenly, pulling her hands away from the oxygen tank to move on to sorting out Hajime’s meds. “Why do you ask? A date, maybe?”

“W-What?”

I choked out, my voice rising in pitch. I then ran a hair through my brown locks, trying to regain my composure. Yet, my cheeks felt slightly warmer despite my attempts. “No. No, not a date,” I replied sheepishly.

The nurse chuckled knowingly at my response, having known the two of us for a year already, but decided not to comment on it further.

The rest of the day flew by quickly. I gave Hajime some good food as soon as he woke up, and assured that he was well taken care of. Of course, he couldn’t resist throwing back some snarky remarks at me. Making sure Hajime didn’t know, when I announced that I would be heading home, I stayed and paced around at the hospital for a few more hours to make the right preparations: the wheelchair, the oxygen tank, and an entire bag of medications—they were all ready.

I may have seemed over-prepared to the eyes of many, but that was just me making sure I would see my best friend smile again, despite the painful truth that it had to come out from behind a ventilator.

Soon, the sun, slowly dipping down, gave way for the moon to rise, casting a soft glow on the stone streets while I walked back home. My footsteps against the stone ground created a soothing backdrop to the sound of the cold wind, my thoughts still filled with my plans for tomorrow. 

I crashed down onto my bed with an anticipatory sigh, staring at the ceiling as the fatigue slowly started to urge me into a deep sleep.

The night passed in a blur, blending into the day of the planned outing.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hajime asked gruffly, followed by a cough as his gaze followed me around the sterile white hospital room, unable to stay in one place out of the excitement I was feeling.

“Oh, you’re gonna love it, Iwa-chan,” I chimed happily, a slight skip in my step as I slung the bag of medications over my shoulder and walked out of the room. I could tell Hajime was probably questioning my strange behavior, judging by the utterly bumfuzzled expression on his face, but that was exactly what I was going for.

I reappeared into Hajime’s room, now pushing a wheelchair with an oxygen tank attached to it on the side, a goofy grin plastered on my face.

A flicker of surprise flashed across Hajime’s features. “Hold on— A wheelchair? Wait, where are we going?” he tiredly sat up with a light grunt, supporting himself with his weakened arms. I immediately rushed over to his side, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I chided gently, a mix of concern and playfulness in my tone. “Let me help you. You’re getting some VIP treatment today.”

Hajime let out a small, exasperated huff. “You’re acting weird,” he muttered, but he didn’t resist when I reached for his arm.

I scoffed. “Weird? No. Generous? Absolutely.”

Carefully, I slipped an arm around his back, supporting his weight as he shifted toward the wheelchair. His breath hitched. Whether it was from exertion or something else, I wasn’t sure. I pretended not to notice, choosing instead to smile as I set him down onto the seat.

“There we go,” I said, adjusting the oxygen tank. “Now, are you ready for the best day of your life?”

Hajime gave me a flat look. “That depends. Are we breaking any hospital rules?”

I gasped, placing a hand over my heart in mock offense. “Iwa-chan, please. Do you think so little of me?”

“Yes.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Come on, just trust me for once.”

With that, I grabbed the wheelchair’s handles and maneuvered him toward the door, my heart pounding with excitement. Hajime still had no idea what I had planned, but that was the best part.

Today, I was going to give him something to remember.

The wheels of Hajime’s wheelchair quietly squeaked against the familiar streets, the soothing smell of fresh air filling his senses. I could tell from the look on his face that he was slowly starting to warm up to whatever we were doing, even if he didn’t know it yet.

“I could just walk on my own, you know,” Hajime said, his pride slightly wounded from the position he was in.

“Really, Iwa-chan?” I asked teasingly. “Well then, if that’s the case, don’t come to me if you run short of breath.”

Hajime simply remained silent, looking up at me over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, knowing that he had no fight against my point. “Come on, Iwa-chan,” I drawled. “Like I said, this is VIP treatment.” Hajime sighed, but in the end, he simply accepted his fate as the VIP of the day.

The hospital building faded behind us, replaced by the distant echo of a volleyball bouncing against a gymnasium floor. Hajime perked up slightly at the sound, his eyes widening out of curiosity and surprise. 

“Wait… what is this, Shittykawa?” he inquired, the sight of the gymnasium slowly looming in front of us.

“A gym, duh,” I replied vaguely, a cheeky, excited grin outstretching on my face as I moved the wheelchair toward the gymnasium. “Found out just recently there was a gym near the hospital, so we should check it out, yeah? Who knows? There might be some… interesting players there.”

My cryptic words echoed in Hajime’s mind, and he couldn’t help but shake his head out of resignation instead.

Finally, I took a step away from the wheelchair for a moment to slide open the gymnasium’s doors, immediately returning behind him to push him inside and allow him to inhale the scent of volleyball.

“Surprise!”

A symphony of simultaneous cheers erupted from the court, revealing the familiar faces of one of the most memorable aspects of our high school life—our precious volleyball team, Aoba Johsai. Everyone was there.

“You… You guys…” Hajime stammered, his stern demeanor momentarily crumbling.

At that moment, I glanced at Hajime to gauge his reaction from the surprise, and it was evident on his face that he was in complete bliss. The way the corners of his lips twitched into a barely-suppressed smile, the way his fingers were itching to reach out to our teammates, and the way his gaze traveled all over the wide space of the gymnasium… it all sent a flutter through me.

“Man, Oikawa really wasn’t joking,” Hanamaki commented, a small frown forming on his lips as he took in the sight of Hajime practically glued to the wheelchair.

A sharp smack landed on Hanamaki’s back, eliciting a pained yelp from him. “Are you dense? Of course he wouldn’t joke about that,” Matsukawa retorted. Hanamaki simply responded with a roll of his eyes, but the smile on his face betrayed his true thoughts.

A small, breathless chuckle escaped Hajime’s lips. “What are you guys doing here? Why are you all…” he trailed off, his attention shifting to the jerseys each of them were wearing.

“We wanted to surprise you, Iwaizumi-san,” Kindaichi joined, leaning in closer to the wheelchair, but not enough to invade his personal space. “As a late birthday gift.”

Yahaba then chimed in, wrapping an arm around Kindaichi’s shoulders, making him stumble forward slightly. “Yeah! We thought we should wipe that gloomy frown off your face, so here we are right now. We wanted to bring you along so you could watch us play volleyball again. Surprised, are you?”

“God, you guys are fucking relentless,” Hajime muttered, the appreciation evident in his tone. “Thanks, you guys.”

“Don’t thank us, Iwaizumi-san,” Watari added. “We weren’t the ones who suggested this idea.”

The entire team turned their gazes to me, and I immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere. My eyes widened in mock-surprise, and I dramatically placed a hand over my chest. “Who? Me? I have no idea what you all are talking about,” I denied. Yet, the smile on my face was noticeable enough to give me away completely.

Hajime followed their gazes, his eyes immediately landed on me, while mine did the same to him. For a moment, I felt like it was just the two of us. “You again…?” Hajime asked softly.

“Of course,” I replied with the same tone. “You know I’d always go out of my way to see my best buddy enjoying himself.”

A silence occurred within the court, save for the sound of my heartbeat quickening, though I couldn’t quite tell if it was from the thought of playing volleyball again… or something else entirely.

“Okay, lovebirds, chop chop! Come on, Oikawa-san, we still have a game to show him,” Yahaba interrupted, nudging my elbow with a subtle hint of knowing in his expression. I sighed exasperatedly. “Oh, come on. Don’t call us that!” I retorted, before moving on to push Hajime into a well-ventilated area while the rest of the team jogged towards the court, dividing themselves into teams.

I knelt down in front of him and placed my hands on his shoulders, my touch gentle despite my rushed movements earlier at the hospital. “Forget all your troubles. At least just for today, alright?” I spoke, my voice low so only he could hear. “Every time I look at you, I want to see nothing but a big, supportive smile on your face, got it?”

Hajime scoffed. “Yeah, whatever, Crappykawa.”

He then clapped a hand on my shoulder, the contact sending a fleeting moment of electricity through me. 

“Thank you. Have fun out there, alright?” he said.

I smiled at him, flashing him a playfully cocky smirk, though there was a hint of something else that sparkled in my eyes. “I will.”

I checked Hajime’s oxygen tank one last time and finally jogged towards the court, ready to start this little game we started for Hajime.

The teams were divided into two with two members each—my team, consisting of Kunimi, Hanamaki, and Watari, and Matsukawa’s team, with Kindaichi, Yahaba, and Kyotani.

As soon as the ball flew into the air and was in play, my entire body moved instinctively. My feet started running towards the ball before my mind could even catch up, leaping into the air and feeling the snap of the ball against my palm as I executed one of my perfect serves again. The ball landed on the other side of the court, causing a loud thud to echo across the gym. I remained still when I landed on the ground, feeling slightly dazed, until I punched my fist into the air. “Yes! Still got it!” I cheered ecstatically. That was when I realized how much I missed this. I missed the court. I missed the game. Everything felt like muscle memory, even if it had been a year since I last played. At that moment, it was just me, the ball, and the sport I loved since my childhood.

The game progressed with a series of rallies and exceptional plays, the ball flying across the air with each touch. Yet in the middle of my complete and utter concentration to the game, I always managed to glance at Iwaizumi over my shoulder with a proud grin on my face, while simultaneously making sure that he was okay.

Meanwhile, Hajime watched from the wheelchair. But even as he wasn’t doing anything, he seemed to be enjoying the game just as much as we were. He would occasionally perk up at the sight of a technique played perfectly, or a particularly suspenseful rally. Overall, even if it was only from the sidelines, we all knew, as a team, that he was still a part of us, cheering and supporting us like the amazing vice-captain he was.

However, happiness was never really permanent.

During one of our breaks, Hanamaki patted my back—quite aggressively, at that—and laughed. “You’re still the MVP of our team, huh, Oikawa? We’re crushing it right now. You should really think of going pro!”

That singular comment struck a chord within me.

My grip on the volleyball I was holding tightened ever so subtly, my gaze instinctively shifting towards Hajime, who was eyeing us, his features curious.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, I know. I’m amazing, after all.”

My jaw clenched, the memories of my inner turmoil crashing down on me at a time that they shouldn’t be. I let out a shaky exhale and bounced the ball with my hand, wearing my usual confident demeanor even as my mood dampened on the inside. The image of the offer to play in Argentina flashed across my mind once again, feeling like each second passing was an opportunity wasted.

The game wore on, my movements slightly stiffer since the moment Hanamaki walked up to me, but still exceptional. After all, volleyball would always come naturally to me. I loved the sport, but I knew I loved something else just as much. Soon enough, my team won, but it only brought upon a short feeling of relief to me, letting out a deep sigh, though it wasn't out of fatigue at all. 

The entire team exchanged a few anecdotes and stories with each other for a few minutes after the game, my arm lazily around Hajime’s back as support. Despite the feelings of nostalgia and familiar comfort filling the gym’s atmosphere, I couldn’t help but feel my mind drift off into the clouds. I then noticed the time, seeing how the sky was blending into a darker hue.

I sighed and nudged Hajime’s shoulder lightly. “It’s getting late, Iwa-chan.”

“Guess that’s our cue,” Hajime muttered, his gaze drifting to the sky as well. I wanted to say something—anything to stall just a little longer—but what could I even say? That I wanted to stay here forever? That I hated the thought of going back to white walls and beeping monitors?

Instead, I forced a grin. “Well, at least you got to see my glorious victory.”

Hajime rolled his eyes, but I caught the faintest hint of amusement. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Crappykawa, let’s go before you start getting all dramatic.”

We all said our ‘goodbyes’ and ‘good nights’, the laughter and echoes of bouncing volleyballs fading behind us as we stepped outside. The night air was cooler than before, or maybe it just felt that way. For the first time since we got here, Hajime was the one holding onto me, his fingers gripping my sleeve lightly as I pushed his wheelchair back towards the general direction of the hospital. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make my chest ache.

“Hey, Oikawa,” he said after a while, voice softer than before. “Thanks for this.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and squeezed his hand back, just for a second. “Anytime, Iwa-chan.”

We stepped back into the hospital, the automatic sliding door welcoming us back to the chill sensation of the facility’s air conditioning, the scent of the hospital serving as a painful reminder of our current situation. The journey to his room was quiet as I walked towards the elevator, so I decided to speak up and break the silence.

“But hey, I did great back there, right?” I boasted, puffing my chest out slightly to brush off the tense feeling in my chest. “My serves are still as flawless as ever. I think I got about, like, six service aces. Can you believe that? Do you think I’d be a professional athlete in no time if I tried?”

Silence.

I chuckled and continued pushing the wheelchair. “You don’t need to say anything. I already know the answer,” I added playfully.

…

“...Iwa-chan?”

With silent stillness being the only response, my heart pounded against my chest, immediately rushing over in front of Hajime to check his condition. He was unconscious, his back resting heavily against the backrest of his wheelchair. Instantly, I felt a feeling of urgency and reached over to see the oxygen tank’s condition—extremely low, it said.

“Shit…!” I cursed under my breath, standing up. “No, no, no, no…”

“S-Someone help! Over here!” I called out over my shoulder, gesturing to Hajime. 

Several people faced our direction, a few doctors and nurses pacing towards us. They gathered around Hajime, forming a circle why I desperately tried taking a glimpse through the gaps between each staff. They rushed him to the ER. I, of course followed close by, matching their pace as my hands clenched into fists.

It was almost cruel.

Too cruel.

It was as if the universe was taunting me with the same decision I had to make. 

The doctors finally reached the entrance of the emergency room, urging me to stay outside. No matter how much I wanted to barge in there, I knew I had to comply, so I simply took a seat just outside of the room, my legs bouncing restlessly and my gaze travelling repeatedly to the door.

The faint chatter behind those closed doors only heightened my apprehension, my hands clasped tightly together as I tried to regain a semblance of composure.

“Please be okay, Iwa-chan. Please be okay…” I whispered to myself over and over again, repeating the words like a desperate prayer. A call for help.

I found myself right where I was the other night—caught between the future I’d fought for and the one person I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

The Fourth Notebook: Fallout (Iwaizumi's View)

…

Within the serene silence of the room, I stirred, the weight of exhaustion still pressing against my limbs. The fluorescent lights above felt dimmer than usual, or maybe it was just my eyes adjusting. My throat was dry, my breaths steady but shallow—an improvement from last night, I supposed.

I sat up weakly, a tired groan escaping my pale lips. I glanced around the room, and Tooru was the first thing that entered my line of vision. Only then did the memories of the incident from last night crash down on me; the blurred sight of the ER with people in white coats surrounding me, Oikawa’s almost inaudible voice the moment I crashed onto the ground—it all made me feel a wave of guilt. My lips pursed in concern, tightly clutching the blanket Tooru gave me without even realizing it was there, the fabric wrinkling beneath my grip. The bags under his eyes grew darker, and his brows were furrowed even in the middle of his deep slumber. 

Feeling guilty enough already, I decided not to stir him from his sleep. I looked at the nightstand on the right side of my hospital bed, a tray of food displayed on the flat surface. A warm bowl of porridge sat before me, steam curling into the morning air, carrying the faint sweetness of honey and cinnamon. I could practically feel my stomach grumbling at the sight, and I couldn’t resist the urge to simply reach out and grab the tray, despite my weakened state.

Abruptly, I felt a hand grip my wrist, stopping me from holding out my hand further, but it was surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t move.” Tooru’s voice cut through the silence, the beeping of monitors serving as a quiet backdrop.

His chest was pressed against my back, his other hand supporting himself on the bed as he brought my hand back down to rest on the soft mattress. The sudden contact made my breathing a little quicker, but I wasn’t quite sure where it came from. He stood up fully and made his way to the nightstand, lifting up the tray of food for me and rested it on my blanket-clad lap.

Tooru then sat down on the edge of the bed next to me, his expression still laced with concern.

He sighed. “You passed out.”

“I know,” I murmured with a frown, trying my best to suppress the amount of guilt I was truly feeling. I closed my fingers around the spoon’s handle, scooping up a good amount of porridge and lifting it up to my mouth. I allowed myself to wrap my lips around the bowl of the spoon, the taste of the porridge instantly melting on my tongue, causing my eyes to flutter shut. I swallowed the spoonful, the sweetness lingering in my mouth.

I eventually noticed how Tooru was still wearing the same clothes from last night, and how his usually immaculate locks were practically stretching out in all angles. “Did you stay the night? Here in the hospital?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Tooru stared at me for a moment, his eyes heavy with sleep. He chuckled weakly and started fixing his hair. “Yeah. Was it obvious?” 

“Idiot. Yes, it was obvious. You’re starting to take care of me more than you do yourself,” was what I thought to myself. Seeing him right now reminded me of how he’d pace around the room the moment one of my medications went missing, how he’d lie down next to me with his arm wrapped around my shoulder and watch matches with me until I fell asleep, how he’d deliver extravagant food to my bed even during the most trivial events like the day I perfected my first spike. But all that made me contemplate whether he’d ever done those things for himself.

After a moment’s hesitation, I spoke up. “I’m sorry.”

I glanced at Tooru hesitantly, seeing how his expression shifted from worry to… playfulness? He crossed his arms dramatically and turned his back against me, making a show of sulkiness in the middle of a situation like this.

“Nope. Nuh-uh. You worried the hell out of me last night,” Tooru huffed, not sparing a single glance at me. “I deserve a proper apology.”

I blinked at Tooru’s dramatic display. Of course the bastard would manage to sneak in his theatrics in every moment possible. I sighed in frustration, the ventilator fogging up slightly from my breath. “Are we really having this right now?” I grumbled. I shot a glare at his direction, but he remained still, not even budging in the slightest, but there was something off in his demeanor.

The way Tooru carried himself. And the way he spoke, as well as the way his movements seemed sluggish—they all lacked the usual element that made Tooru… Tooru. No, there was a certain weight in his words and actions, one that I couldn’t quite place. Fuck. If I was the reason he was like this, I wouldn't want to look him in the eyes anymore. He never deserved to sit next to what almost comes close as a living corpse. Not him.

I shook my head, unamused. I placed my hand on his shoulder, only to force him to face me fully again before resting my forehead against his chest. I could hear the faint sound of Tooru’s breath hitching, assuming it was out of the sudden action.

"I'm being serious, Crappykawa,” I rasped, my hand coming up to clutch the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so fucking sorry. Not just for last night but… but for everything.”

I paused, my heavy breathing filling the quiet air of the room, before continuing.

“You always have to take care of me 24/7—weekdays, weekends, even during the fucking holidays when you should be spending time for yourself,” I began, my expression hardening as my fingers involuntarily tightened around his shirt. “You use the money you earn to keep up my life support, you hardly get any time to play volleyball up until recently, and you just… throw everything away just to be there for me. Why am I so important that you had to sacrifice your entire being?”

My breathing grew heavier, and I started to feel as if my chest was tightening. My vision was slowly blurring, until I felt a hand at the back of my head, carefully brushing the strands of my hair.

“Do I need a reason?”

I lifted my head up slightly to look at his face, his features glistening beneath the soft light of the morning sun. There was a small smile on his face, but it wasn’t of playfulness or teasing—I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was enough to make me feel the slightest hint of warmth within the confines of the chill hospital room.

“Iwa-chan,” he started. “You’ve been caught up in this mindset that you’re nothing but a burden to me. But you’re not.”

His voice was steady, but there was something behind it—something raw. His fingers didn’t still against my hair, moving in slow, deliberate motions, as if grounding me. My breathing returned to its slow pace, matching the steadiness of each word that slipped from Tooru’s lips.

“You’ve been my best friend since forever. You think I’d just abandon you because things got hard?” He let out a quiet huff, both his hands making their way to my shoulders to grip them firmly, but not firm enough to hurt me. “You’re important to me, Iwa-chan. You always have been.”

I swallowed hard, my grip on his shirt loosening slightly. “But you—”

“But nothing,” he cut in. “I chose this. You didn’t force me. I wanted to be here, and I still do. So stop acting like you have to push me away to make things easier for me.”

My throat tightened, but his words felt like a soothing balm to the inner turmoil brewing in my mind. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then what are you trying to do?” His voice softened. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re trying to convince yourself that I’d be better off without you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

Because maybe, deep down, that’s exactly what I was doing.

And maybe—just maybe—I was scared that part of me wanted to believe it.

Another moment of tense silence pierced through our conversation, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts. I opened up my mouth to speak, but before the words could come out of my throat, Tooru stood up from the bed, a glimmer of mischief in his dark brown eyes as he ruffled my hair, while I instinctively swatted his hand away like muscle memory.

“How about this,” he suggested. “Why don’t we sneak out for a bit? You know, unwind a little at the hospital’s courtyard? I don’t want my poor, poor Iwa-chan to be miserable for too long. I kept the wheelchair we used yesterday just in case you wanna have a quick escapade.” He winked.

For a moment, I just stared at him, watching his expression light up ever so slightly. I scoffed. “God, Crappykawa, how do you manage to be so damn cheeky all the time?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, his feet bringing him to a corner where he pulled out a foldable wheelchair. He set up the chair for me, ensuring that there were no complications just for the sake of my comfort. As soon as he finished, he strode back to the bed and held out a hand. 

“Maybe it’s because I’m with you. Ever thought of that?” he finally replied, his voice playful yet gentle.

That simple sentence almost made me feel like time had stopped, even just for a few seconds.

What the hell was he talking about? What did he mean by that? 

I was about to say something in response to Tooru’s words, but I felt dazed. I couldn’t pinpoint why he had that kind of effect on me, which only heightened the strange feeling in my chest. Maybe it was the oxygen tank messing with me again?

I then snapped out of my introspection, my thoughts returning to the situation at hand. My gaze traveled to his outstretched hand and hesitated for a moment before ultimately taking his hand and allowing him to pull me up from my sitting position, my breath hitching and my legs trembling slightly from the effort of standing up. Once he got me settled into the wheelchair, we made our way to the courtyard. We passed the dim hallways of the hospital, yet, the atmosphere felt light.

On our way to the ground floor, a few nurses would shoot suspicious looks in our direction. I shrunk into my seat, my brows furrowing as I lowered my gaze to avoid that of the nurses… and maybe to make sure my face wasn’t seen near this idiot.

“This is ridiculous, Oikawa,” I mumbled, my voice low enough for only Tooru to hear. “I’m starting to regret accepting your hand back there. Ugh, if we get caught, you owe me.”

“Shh… Act natural,” he shushed as he continued acting anything but natural, pushing me through the hallways, into the elevator, and out the elevator again in a few minutes. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in irritation at Tooru’s gestures, but beneath the mask of irritation lied a fondness that had been there the moment I laid eyes on him this morning. After a few minutes of “acting natural” we surprisingly made our way out of the hospital without breaking a sweat. 

Since our freedom from the prying eyes of nurses, doctors and patients, the ride to the courtyard became unexpectedly playful—and quite mortifying, too. Tooru started dramatically pushing the wheelchair a little too fast, and a series of curses escaped my lips, continuing driving me like a fucking motorcycle.

“Goddammit, Oikawa, slow down a bit…!” I demanded, frantically and repeatedly glancing at the oxygen tank connected to the wheelchair and making sure we weren’t driving towards my death bed instead.

Tooru laughed heartily. “Hahaha! Okay, okay!” He finally relented, slowing down the pace at which he was pushing me and finally coming to a stop in front of a fountain. The sound of water cascading down onto water created a comforting symphony with the birds chirping around in the area, and for the first time in a while, the scene felt normal again, as if nothing had changed, and it gave me a short assurance that everything will be okay.

I sighed and rested my back against the wheelchair, while Tooru sat down on the edge of the fountain right next to me.

I let my head fall back against the wheelchair, my eyes slipping shut for a moment as I listened to the soft murmur of the fountain. The air was crisp, the gentle rustling of leaves filling the space between us. It felt… nice. I could feel Tooru’s gaze lingering on me, but I didn’t acknowledge it just yet. Instead, I tilted my head slightly to the side, watching as he involuntarily kicked a pebble near his foot. His usual energy had settled into something quieter.

“Hey,” I murmured, breaking the silence.

Tooru hummed in response, finally looking up.

“I can’t believe you actually stayed the whole night,” I commented. He sighed dramatically, stretching his arms over his head. “What kind of heartless best friend would I be if I just left you there? Besides,” he added with a smirk, “who else was gonna make sure you didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night?”

I rolled my eyes. “Idiot. You and your fancy theories.”

Tooru grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was the same look from earlier. There was something else there—something I couldn’t quite name.

I hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t remember much after we got back to the hospital. Just flashes of people gushing over me, the smell of antiseptic, your voice…” I trailed off. “But I remember the look on your face before I passed out… It reminded me of Seijoh,” I admitted quietly. “That look you used to have when we lost. Seeing you like that kind of reminded me how much you love the sport.”

Tooru’s breath hitched slightly, and I knew I had struck a nerve. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just sat there, gazing at the rippling water in the fountain.

“Iwa-chan,” he murmured, “it’s different.”

I frowned. “What?”

“It’s different from back then,” he continued, turning to face me fully. “Losing a game… that sucked, yeah. But I knew there’d be another match. Another chance… probably. But this?” He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no rematch for this, Hajime.”

The way he said my name made my stomach twist. A heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the distant laughter of hospital visitors and the occasional chirp of birds. Then, as if sensing the tension growing too thick, Tooru suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright, enough of this depressing talk,” he announced. “We’re in a courtyard, the sun is shining, and my dear Iwa-chan is out of that stuffy hospital room again. This is a celebration!”

I huffed, raising an eyebrow at him. “A celebration of what?”

Tooru smirked. “Of you not dying on me last night, obviously.”

“Jesus Christ, Tooru—”

“Oh! Speaking of celebrations,” he interrupted, digging into his jacket pocket. “I almost forgot.” I raised an eyebrow as he pulled something out—a small, individually wrapped snack. “Ta-da! I got this from the vending machine earlier,” he declared proudly, holding up the familiar package. “The best strawberry-flavored mochi you’ll ever eat.”

I stared at him, a deadpan expression on my face. “You got this from a vending machine.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate vending machine mochi,” he protested, his bottom lip sticking out slightly. “Anyway, I was going to buy you something fancier, but apparently, the hospital cafeteria staff doesn’t take bribes.” A snort escaped me before I could stop it, and Tooru beamed like he had just won a major victory.

“See? Iwa-chan laughing. A rare sight these days,” he teased, peeling open the wrapper before reaching out to gently bring down the ventilator obscuring my face, holding the mochi up to my lips, making sure I was breathing properly.

I gave him a flat look, my eyes narrowing at the gesture. “I can eat by myself, you know.”

“I don’t know, Iwa-chan, you’re looking awfully fragile today,” he mused. “What if the mochi’s too heavy for you? What if you pass out again? What if—”

Before he could finish, I grabbed the mochi from his hand and took a bite, glaring at him as I chewed.

He grinned triumphantly, trying to suppress a chuckle, but it came out as a boom of laughter. The sound echoed across the courtyard. Finally, he stopped, his gaze resting on me with a fond look on his face. “That’s my Iwa-chan.”

I sighed through my nose, shaking my head. But despite myself, I couldn’t fight the happiness… warmth… affection?—creeping into my chest—the quiet reassurance that, for now, for this moment, we were okay.

But nothing this good ever truly lasts long.

The days passed in a blur of movement. Tooru’s visits have been quite frequent lately, and his usual schedule—where he would only come over during the mornings—changed significantly. He would pay me a visit during the evenings as well, usually with a plastic bag in hand and some good food inside it, no matter how many times I would tell him to stop spending his money on me.

One fateful evening, my eyes fluttered open, welcoming me to the familiar sight of Room 312 once again. I looked at the door, and then at the wall clock right on top of it, the seconds passing infuriatingly slowly as I waited for the one person who’d looked out for me since day one.

I glanced around the room, my boredom slowly starting to fog my thoughts. The hospital room looked as lonely as ever, having the same cold atmosphere that would only ever light up when Tooru’s in it.

Except for one difference. One that I wished I never saw.

There was a bag carelessly sprawled out on the bedside table, the zipper open, revealing several printed papers peeking out from the opening. Initially, I thought of ignoring it and simply returning to my slumber until… a single word, bolded and clear on one of the documents that managed to pique my attention:

“Argentina.”

What?

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. The longer I stared, the harder my heart pounded against my ribs. I shook my head vigorously, immediately thinking I was overreacting, overthinking it, maybe. But no, I recalled how he would occasionally bring this specific bag into the room whenever he’s carrying something important. Hesitation clawed at my chest, but my hands moved before I could stop myself. Fingers trembling, I reached down and grabbed the first page I could get my hands on. The moment my eyes scanned the words, a sickening feeling settled in my gut. My eyes lingered on each and every word, each one making me feel like I was being stabbed multiple times.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity…”

“...a chance to fly to Argentina and train…”

“Your expected departure date would be…”

“...We hope to see you soon!”

It was a contract. Nothing else could describe it. Tooru was planning to leave.

The paper wrinkled beneath my tight grip, a sharp pain stinging my eyes as I finally managed to process the reality of what was in my hands. My fingers trembled, my heart started beating faster, my breathing grew uneven. The pain in my chest started growing at a pace my mind could barely even catch up to. “There is no fucking way…” I thought to myself, a shaky breath escaping my shaking lips.

After the talk we had a few days ago, after playing around with him like we were back in middle school again, after all the fucking years we spent, each other being the only person we could lean on when things start to get difficult… he decided to keep this—among all possible things—away from me?

Then—the doorknob twisted, the sudden sound within the painstakingly quiet hospital room causing my gaze to snap towards the door.

The door was pushed open, revealing Tooru entering the room with a cheerful smile on his face and his hand wrapped around a convenience store bag.

“Iwa-chan, I’m back—”

And then, he froze, his gaze zeroing in on the papers in my hands, his fingers loosening around the plastic bag and falling straight to the cold, tiled floor. Tooru took a tentative step towards me, and brought a hand slightly upwards to reach out to me. “Iwa-chan…”

"What the hell is this, Oikawa?"

Tooru barely had a second to register what was happening before my instincts took, slamming the document against his chest, but the force of it was too weak due to my condition. "You were planning to leave, weren’t you?" My voice was sharp, accusing, not even realizing the words that were escaping my lips. "You were gonna disappear and just never tell me?"

Tooru stammered, grabbing the document immediately. “Look, Iwa-chan, I was going to tell you. I was—”

“How long did you have this offer?” I cut in, my hands balling into fists on top of the blanket I slept with every night.

“I…” he trailed off.

I scowled. “How. Long.” 

Tooru’s eyes then fixated themselves to the ground, his lips pursing into a tight line, his brows furrowing, not a single response slipping from his lips. Was it from guilt? From irritation? I wasn’t sure. But we promised to be there for each other and share our struggles… and look where that led us. My body tensed at his words, the monitors surrounding me beeping just a few beats faster than usual. It felt as if I couldn’t breathe, as if I was suffocating—more than I ever have before. 

“I can’t believe this, Oikawa,” I snarled, my voice rising in volume as I struggled to keep in the frustration I was feeling. 

“I can explain—”

“Explain?” I scoffed, sitting up further from the bed and slinging my legs over the edge of the hospital bed, wincing from the brief moment of my lack of air. Tooru’s eyes widened, instinctively inching closer to me. “Iwa-chan, you shouldn’t be moving…”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘explain’? You mean lie to my face again? Like you’ve been doing this whole fucking time?”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with each passing moment. “I wasn’t lying—”

“Like hell you weren’t!” I shot back, my hand coming up to my chest, trying to control my breathing. “You told me you chose this! That you wanted to be here! But you had this the whole time?”

He glared at me, a look I had seen from him several times before, but it didn’t have the playful light I was familiar with, his patience snapping. “And what was I supposed to do, Iwa-chan? Leave you here to rot while I go live my dream?”

“Yes!” I snapped. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my entire body trembling from the exertion. “Yes, Oikawa! You were supposed to fucking leave! You were supposed to take the goddamn offer and stop wasting your life on me!” His face twisted with something unreadable—anger, disbelief, hurt. "Wasting my life?" he echoed, voice sharp. “You always think I’m wasting everything on you. You think this is a waste to me? Taking care of you, being here for you—you think I regret that?”

“You should regret it!” I yelled. “You should be out there playing volleyball, making something of yourself. Instead, you’re stuck here watching me die!"

Tooru’s eyes darkened, gritting his teeth tightly. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Iwaizumi!” he snapped. “You don't get to tell me what I should want!”

“And you don’t get to fucking lie to me!” I fired back. I stood up from the bed, my legs shaking as if on the verge of falling over, but my hands allowed me to support myself on the railings of the hospital bed. “How long, Tooru? How long have you been sitting on this offer, pretending like it doesn’t exist? Like you weren’t even considering it?”

Tooru’s eyes flashed with concern for the briefest moment, but then his expression was masked with frustration. Of course. He was a prideful man. He laughed bitterly, running a hand down his face.

“Of course I considered it!" His voice cracked, frustration pouring out of him. "Of course I fucking did! But every time I even thought about leaving, you—!” He cut himself off, but it’s too late. I had to know what he was going to say. Else, I would probably crash out even further.

“I what?” I murmured. My voice was quieter now, but it was dangerous. I could feel my fingers trembling around the railing. "Say it, Tooru."

His breathing grew unsteady as well, matching the rise and fall of my own chest. “You need me, Iwa-chan.” His fists clenched. "You don’t say it, but I know. And I—" His voice faltered for a second before he finally forced it out. "I can’t just walk away from you. I won’t."

A brief pause. I then exhaled sharply, his head shaking in disbelief. "So that’s it, huh? You’re just gonna let everything you worked for slip away? Throw your entire future in the trash because you feel bad for me?"

"That’s not—!" Tooru took a step forward.

“It is,” I cut him off, his voice dropping. “You don’t even realize it, do you? You think you’re doing this for me, but deep down, it’s just your own goddamn pride.”

Tooru froze once more, his breath catching. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

“It means you can’t stand the idea of not playing nurse for me,” I hissed. “You need to be the one who saves me, who sticks around no matter what. But what happens when you can’t, Tooru? What happens when I—” My voice broke for a second. “When I don’t make it?”

Tooru’s face then contorted in something like pain, knowing that I had struck a chord in him. “Shut up.”

“No.” I cut through the air between us. “Because that’s the part you won’t face, isn’t it? That no matter how hard you try, you can’t fix this. You can’t fix me. Get that in your head.”

“I never said I could.”

“But you act like it!” I yelled, a cough escaping my weakening body right after I said those words. “Like if you just try hard enough, you can hold everything together. But you can’t, Tooru. And the worst part? You’re gonna wake up one day, look at everything you gave up, and you’re gonna hate me for it.”

“I won’t hate you!” he yelled back, voice cracking. “I could never fucking hate you, Hajime! I would do anything for you!”

"Then fucking leave! Leave before I start to hate myself too!”

I paused, my breath hitching both from my condition and the realization that my words had cut too deep.

Silence.

The weight of the command lingered between us, raw and unbearable.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” Tooru turned on his heel and turned his back against me. I didn’t know what to expect behind the walls he built up around himself, but I desperately clung onto the hope that maybe his heart was just as crushed as mine.

Tooru walked towards the same door he walked in through earlier. The only difference being the fact that his smile—his beautiful smile—was completely wiped off his face.

My hand that was resting on the railing of the bed moved back onto the mattress, feeling the bed for the blanket Tooru gave me. Once I clenched my fingers around the fabric, I immediately collapsed onto the floor. I hugged it tightly against my chest and sobbed into the ventilator, the machinery only adding to my struggle to breathe as I buried my face against the warm blanket—a poor substitute I had to Tooru’s familiar embrace.

If I weren't this weak, I would’ve chased after him—no matter how far—just to pull him back into my arms again.

To Be Continued