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It’s over.
It doesn’t quite feel like the end, and Oikawa knows that up until graduation (and being totally honest probably beyond that) he’s going to be popping into practices whenever he can. And he hadn’t been lying to Ushijima, his time playing volleyball was far from ending. But this time, this team, Seijou. That was over.
But somehow despite all the frustration and disappointment in losing, there was a part of him that felt light, like he’d dropped a heavy burden. Their coach hadn’t been lying, they’d fought well, given their all. It hadn’t been enough, but watching the expressions of his underclassmen he felt confident that next time would be different, whether he was there or not. Yahaba would be a fine captain, and he even seemed to have Kyouken under control. Seijou would rule the court again, of that he was sure.
Insignificant pride, huh? he thought, and he felt his mouth twist into a bitter grin, almost grimace. If Ushiwaka-chan thinks I was bad he should wait until he meets Shrimpy and Tobio.
Lounging on his bed, he considered tomorrow’s game. He hasn’t quite decided whether he’s going to watch that game or not, but if he does he’ll probably go alone. Usually he’d drag Iwa-chan but after today…
His brow furrowed, thoughts drifting to lingering worry for Iwaizumi. As much as he had berated Oikawa for taking the burden meant for a whole team on himself in the past, it looked like he was shouldering the entire responsibility for their loss. He’d been alright at dinner - despite heavy protests, Oikawa had in fact bought the entire team ramen - hadn’t he?
There was only one way to know, and in retrospect he should have known this was where the evening was headed. Dragging himself upright and out of bed, he grabbed the small, always ready overnight bag tucked under his desk. After scrawling a messy note to his parents to explain where he was, he slipped quietly out of the house.
Moments later he was standing outside a door as familiar as his own, and without knocking, he poked his head into the front hallway, where he was immediately spotted by Iwaizumi’s mother.
“Tooru!” She immediately, came over to wrap him in a hug and usher him into the house. “Shouldn’t you be resting those tired muscles by now?”
He shrugged, suddenly unsure of how to explain exactly why he came, but noticing the familiar bag slung over his shoulder, Mrs Iwaizumi nodded knowingly.
“Hajime is in his room. Try not to stay up too late now, you both must be exhausted.” She hugged him again, a tight squeeze, before heading back into the living room.
Again outside of Hajime’s door he stopped to wonder what he was doing here, but knocked gently before he could give himself the chance to overthink things anymore.
The only response was a muffled sort of groan, but since it wasn’t an explicit command to leave Oikawa figured he’d take his chances. So he opened the door and stepped into the room.
The first thing he noticed was the dark: blinds closed against the last of the evening sun, and all the inside lights turned off. Next was the mess. Hajime’s room was never what you’d call spotless, but it was usually neat, tidy. But his uniform was crumpled in the corner, clearly tossed there with no intent of picking it up. Oikawa could just see his jersey, more than half buried among school supplies and the rest of his sports kit. But the most telling sign was his old volleyball. The first one he’d gotten, the one he’d used when Oikawa started setting for him way back in elementary school. Usually it was sitting on his desk or bed, but now it was nowhere to be seen, probably shoved to the back of his closest, where it couldn’t be a reminder of today’s final loss.
“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa said softly, hoping he wasn’t waking him. But although he was curled up on his bed facing the wall, as far as Oikawa could tell he wasn’t actually asleep.
At the sound of his name, or the nickname only one person ever used, Iwaizumi stirred, broken out of reflection. Sitting up he turned to find Oikawa watching him, worry clear in his wrinkled brow and frown.
“Hey, Oikawa.” Sounding normal was a struggle, and he found he had to swallow hard before continuing. “What are you doing here?”
Oikawa gestured with his overnight bag like it was explaination, but when the silence stretched to an uncomfortable length he shrugged.
“I don’t know really. I just thought maybe… I was worried that…” he stopped, took a breath, and finished. “I wanted to see you.”
I wanted to make sure you were okay. He thought, but didn’t say
But whether fortunately or unfortunately, Iwaizumi had known him long enough to hear the unspoken questions behind Oikawa’s arrival.
“I’m-” he started, but had to stop, try again. “I’m alright, Oikawa.”
The look on his friend’s face told him he’d sounded less than convincing, but rather than pushing for the real answer, Oikawa simply dropped his bag, shrugged out of his jacket and came to join him on the bed. Out of habit he made room, both of them leaning against the wall and each other, breath coming slowly.
Under the surface peace of the moment though, Iwaizumi could feel a low level of panic beginning to bubble up. Oikawa was perceptive, it was one of his friend’s strongest points, and he wasn’t sure he could keep up a facade of being okay in front of him for the entire night.
“Do you remember our 3rd year of junior high, Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi looked sideways curiously. Where the hell was he going with this?
“We lost to Ushiwaka for the 3rd time that year.” Oikawa laughed humorlessly. “And Tobio-chan was nipping at my heels too, like the brat he is.”
“Why are you-”
But Oikawa cut him off, kept talking. “You were the one who was there to knock some sense into me back then. My friend. My partner. My ace.”
Oikawa turned to face him then, and Iwaizumi could feel the full force of that penetrating gaze. He hadn’t fooled him for a moment.
“You’re the one who taught me that six people on a team are strongest. We win together or we lose together but we’re always a team.”
“Oikawa-”
“Hajime.”
And that was it. The sound of his name, so soft, so insistent, so full of concern. It opened the floodgates of bitterness, anger, and disappointment. And there was nothing he could do to stop the tears streaming down his face.
But Oikawa was there, and in moments had his arms wrapped tightly around him, letting Iwaizumi bury his face in the crook of his shoulder. He offered no reassurances but his presence, and gentle hands rubbing soft circles on his back.
“Tooru, I’m s- sorry.” He managed to gasp out, not even sure what he was apologizing for.
The only response was Oikawa’s arms holding him tighter.
Eventually the tears slowed, the vice of emotions loosed its grip, though Iwaizumi couldn’t tell whether it had been minute or hours. He pulled back, and Oikawa released him. He was embarrassed to see the messy wet patch on the shoulder of Oikawa’s shirt, but Oikawa didn’t seem to notice or care, instead opting to grab the box of tissues off of his desk. But rather than just give him the box, Oikawa pulled out a tissue and held it up to Iwaizumi’s nose.
“Blow. You’re all gross and snotty.”
Iwaizumi scowled and snatched the tissue. “I can blow my own nose, I’m not a baby.”
He could see Oikawa readying a sarcastic comeback and decided to nip it in the bud. Moving quickly, he went after Oikawa’s face with the used tissue, not actually intending to wipe snot all over his friend, but simply relishing the panicked squeals Oikawa made as he tried to escape.
And there they were, suddenly laughing through tears and disappointment. Smiling despite the pain of loss.
“Hey, Hajime?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re the partner I can boast about too.”
And meeting Oikawa’s gaze, eyes clear, Iwaizumi nodded.
Yes, it was over, but they were going to be okay.