Chapter Text
“If we’re sticking with this whole Greek analogy, wouldn’t you be Daedalus?” Hanamaki meant this as a joke, but Iwaizumi let the thought sink in and circulate around his mind. In the story, Icarus fell because he didn’t heed his father’s warning. For Oikawa’s case, he only listened to his best friend when Iwaizumi forcefully head-butted the warning into him. But Iwaizumi would never let Oikawa fall, would never let his wax melt. Instead, he’d fly underneath Oikawa, supporting him every step of the way, so when he did reach the sun, his melted wax could be collected. Collected, and turned into candles, thought Iwaizumi. Something useful, something tangible, that Oikawa could learn from, and realize that failure was okay.
Iwaizumi turned to face Hanamaki, who had continued joking about Greek tragedies with Matsukawa. A swinging arm almost caught Iwaizumi, as the two friends were reenacting an overdramatic love scene, complete with swooning and make-out noises. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at the two Slytherins and gathered books, slung his bag over his shoulder, and muttered a few words of excuse.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa paused in their theatrics to watch Iwaizumi walk out of the library, his black and blue robes swishing behind him.
“What’d he say?” Hanamaki asked.
“Something about Oikawa and candles, and I think an excuse for leaving,” Matsukawa replied, before returning to his unfished potions homework they were supposed to be working on.
---
Iwaizumi’s suspicions were correct as he rounded corridor corner to find Oikawa waiting outside where the Room of Requirement is supposed to be. He looked frustrated, his normally glossy hair sticking up in several places, as if he had just rolled out of bed. His Slytherin robes were rumpled around the cuffs and his prefects badge was pinned sideways. He made no notice of recognition when Iwaizumi got closer. Iwaizumi was about to speak, when Oikawa flung his arm out and shushed him.
“I’m concentrating,” Oikawa whispered.
“On what? Going to the bathroom?” Iwaizumi pushed his hand away. “You know the room only appears when you need it, not when you want it. And right now, it might think you need a bathroom.”
Oikawa straightened up and faced Iwaizumi, who was then hit with the full force of Oikawa’s weariness. The bags under his eyes told Iwaizumi he hadn’t slept well recently, if at all, and the messy state of his clothing confirmed that he hadn’t changed.
“I look that bad, don’t I?” He smiled weakly and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further. “You don’t have to pretend I’m still not perfect, Iwa-chan. Not everyone can pull off the ‘I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours’ look as well as I can.”
“Oikawa, what—” his sentence was interrupted by the loud grumbling of Oikawa’s stomach, which was painfully obvious in the quietness of the corridor. Iwaizumi sighed in exasperation, grabbing Oikawa’s arm and tugging him away from the room.
“You and I are going to have a long discussion about taking proper care of yourself,” he grumbled, “again. But not until you eat, even if I have to force a ham down your throat.”
“Iwa-chan is such a brute. It baffles me how the Sorting Hat could have even considered you for Ravenclaw. I think you belong more with those unruly lions who communicate solely through grunts and sniffing each other’s—”
Iwaizumi reached behind him and smacked Oikawa across the top of his head, not needing to look to see where his hand was hitting. Oikawa made a noise of distress and rubbed at his head with his free hand, but didn’t continue his thought. Iwaizumi chalked it up to Oikawa’s lack of sleep that was making him a sarcastic asshole, but he knew he didn’t mean any of it. Some of their best friends were in Gryffindor, and Oikawa was the last one to remain oblivious to talent among the other houses.
Iwaizumi rounded a corner with Oikawa in tow, following behind like a charmed sack of potatoes now that his weariness was finally catching up. Just as an invisibility cloak couldn’t hide you from death forever, no amount of coffee or smuggled-in muggle energy drinks could ward off sleep for as long as Oikawa would like.
Oikawa made no comment as Iwaizumi led him through the castle, and no one said anything as they watched the two make their way towards the kitchens. As they approached the kitchens, Oikawa finally spoke up.
“Iwa-chan, it’s past curfew, and even the elves won’t serve a prefect this late.”
When Iwaizumi didn’t respond, Oikawa closed his mouth despondently. He watched as they passed the kitchen doors, and instead found themselves in front of the door to the Hufflepuff common rooms.
Iwaizumi let go of Oikawa’s hand, shooting him a small glance as if to make sure he wouldn’t run away, and then rapped on the round yellow door. No noise was heard from the other side, but when Iwaizumi knocked again, this time in a distinctive pattern, the door opened. A grumbling figure stood in the doorway, scratching at his stomach.
“Kyoutani, sorry to come here so late, but this idiot,” Iwaizumi jerked his head in Oikawa’s direction, “hasn’t eaten lately.”
Oikawa was too tired to feign offense at this, but was more surprised at the fact that Iwaizumi was able to talk to Kyoutani, more or less ask him for a favor, without getting his head bitten off. The “Mad Dog” was notorious for his brutality on the Quidditch field and his uncooperativeness in conversation, as the whole school was aware. What Iwaizumi was privy to, unlike the general population, was that Kyoutani respected those who could compete with him. He wasn’t all rough edges and short replies, as everyone, including Oikawa, believed.
Kyoutani looked at Oikawa with a calculating stare, then closed the door.
“Iwa-chan, what was the point of this? If the Mad Dog is just going to—”
“Shut up, Oikawa, and just wait,” Iwaizumi scolded. “He also hates that nickname.”
Oikawa wanted to know more about how Iwaizumi, a model Ravenclaw student, had befriended possibly the most distant person in the whole of Hogwarts, but the door reopened before he could ask anything else.
Kyoutani thrust a bag into Iwaizumi’s hands. “Here, this is all the elves gave us tonight,” he said, voice rough with tiredness. He glanced once more at Oikawa, before turning back to Iwaizumi. “Make sure he eats it all, too. He looks pale.”
Iwaizumi nodded and tucked the sack into his robes, like he had just participated in some illegal deal. “Thank you, Kyoutani, I owe you one.”
He mumbled something out along the lines of “yeah, yeah, just don’t tell anyone I helped you” before he retreated back into the gloom of the Hufflepuff common rooms. Iwaizumi, now satisfied that Oikawa would be able to eat, began walking back the direction they came.
Once they were a respectable distance away from the kitchens and in relative silence, Oikawa burst out.
“What was that!” he whisper-shouted. “You just wake up the Mad Dog, ask him for food, and he gives it to you?”
“I told you not to call him that, Shittykawa. And yes, Kyoutani is a lot more receptive to people who respect him, and don’t label him based on his personality,” Iwaizumi spoke.
“So, what, you’re just buddy-buddy with every delinquent in the school now?” Oikawa said harshly.
Iwaizumi ground his teeth at this comment, knowing that Oikawa’s lack of food and sleep were making him irritable. He breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly as he ignored Oikawa’s comment. Oikawa almost instantly regretted the words that left his mouth, but he didn’t want to make things worse by speaking more. They walked in an awkward silence towards the Slytherin dungeons, with their only company the sleeping portraits that adorned the high, ancient walls of the castle. Iwaizumi stopped at the entrance to the dungeons, turning to Oikawa.
“Open the door,” he commanded, rather than asked.
“You won’t be allowed inside.”
“I don’t care, just open the door, Oikawa.”
Oikawa let out a whiney “fiiiine” and pulled the doors open, motioning Iwaizumi inside the common rooms. To his relief, there was no one awake and using the room, so they wouldn’t be questioned if anyone found a Ravenclaw taking care of a Slytherin in his own common room.
“Welcome to Chez Oikawa,” he said as hemotioned dramatically around the room. Iwaizumi wrinkled his nose as he sat down on a couch in the center of the room.
“Smells like mold,” he stated, pulling out the food bundle Kyoutani had given him. Oikawa sat down beside him on the couch, when the overwhelming urge to rest his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder took over. He wouldn’t mind, of course, since they have been best friends since childhood. Nearly inseparable for their entire lives, until Iwaizumi had been sorted into Ravenclaw at the start of their first year. Oikawa remembered he had cried for almost a week after that, forlorn over the thought of “never seeing his Iwa-chan again”.
Now, he thought, here they were, both in their seventh year of Hogwarts, in separate houses, and most likely perusing different magical careers after their exams. The thought chilled Oikawa to the bone, not because he was dependent on Iwaizumi (even though he acted like it) but because Iwaizumi had always been there for him, no matter where there was. He couldn’t imagine a life without the shorter, darker-haired boy, and thinking about their lives after Hogwarts always saddened Oikawa.
But sitting down on the couch next to his best friend, while sleep was threatening to take over him, he gave into the urge and leaned against Iwaizumi, laying his head to rest on his broad shoulder.
“Oi, Shittykawa, you need to eat before you fall asleep and drool all over me.”
Oikawa mumbled consent, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t see it, but Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and began grabbing bits of food and bringing them to Oikawa’s lips. This surprised him, but he accepted the food by simply opening his mouth and chewing. They sat for several minutes, with Iwaizumi feeding Oikawa like a child with one hand, and the other wrapped around his waist to support him. Once or twice his fingers would brush against Oikawa’s lips, but he elected to ignore the burning heat they left when he withdrew his hand.
“Iwa-chaaan,” Oikawa moaned, “I’m too tired to walk. Will you carry me to my room?”
“What the hell, Oikawa, you’re nearly eighteen. How do you expect me to carry you?” Iwaizumi asked, trying to stifle a laugh. Seeing Oikawa like this was a rare sight, and he was very much enjoying himself, trying to drink in the features of a sleepy Oikawa.
“I don’t know, use your brain,” he muttered, turning his head so his face became buried in Iwaizumi’s arm. “You are a Ravenclaw. Or are your arm muscles bigger than your nonexistent brain?”
That earned him a light pinch to his side, which he jolted from. “Iwa-chan is so mean to me,’ he whined, grabbing pitifully at Iwaizumi’s robes. Iwaizumi swatted his hand away and rose, catching Oikawa before he toppled over and onto the floor.
“My savior,” Oikawa mumbled, going limp as Iwaizumi hefted him up to his feet. Iwaizumi cursed as he almost fell back again, but slipped his arm under his back before he could fall.
“Oikawa, if I have back problems by the time I’m thirty, I’m sending you the bill.”
Oikawa smiled weakly as he was lifted into the air, Iwaizumi’s other arm finding its position under the bend of his knees.
“A small price to pay for being carried by my Iwa-chan to my bed.”
Oikawa was too tired to realize the implication of his words, but Iwaizumi’s throat went dry at the thought of his words. He was sure Oikawa would be able to hear his heartbeat increase, as his head was turned towards his chest and he slung his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi had been in the Slytherin common rooms enough to know how to get to Oikawa’s dorm, but the task was dauntingly more challenging now that he had a human-sized sloth clingy to him.
After some careful footwork over the uneven brick of the dungeon floors, Iwaizumi made his way towards the seventh year dormitory entrance. He nudged the door open with his foot, and entered as silently as someone in his position could. Oikawa’s roommates were all fast asleep and snoring, to which Iwaizumi sighed in relief. He padded over to the only empty bed in the room, and carefully set Oikawa down. The idea of changing him into pajamas crossed Iwaizumi’s mind, but he pushed it to the side.
He looked down at the now sleeping figure of his best friend, and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. His hair was positively dreadful now compared to when Iwaizumi had found him earlier, and his face was pressed against his pillow, giving him a childlike look. If any of Oikawa’s roommates had been awake, they would have seen Iwaizumi standing next to Oikawa’s bed staring down at him, with the most adoring look anyone would ever see him wear.
Before Iwaizumi left the room, he pulled Oikawa’s covers to his chin, and without registering his actions fully, pressed his lips quickly to the crown of the brunette’s head. Iwaizumi froze in realization as he rose back up, the scent of Oikawa’s hair still filling his nose. He opted to leave the room as quickly as possible before he fully threw his life out the window.
---
“Akaashi, I’m pretty sure that I ruined my life last night.” Iwaizumi sat across from his roommate in their common room, both boys having woken up early to get a head start on their weekend homework. Akaashi looked up and questioningly raised an eyebrow, twirling his quill between his thumb and pointer finger, as he did when he was thinking.
“Did you get someone pregnant?” Akaashi deadpanned.
Iwaizumi was almost never at a loss for words, but he found himself gaping at his friend.
“What- no, why would I- why would you even think—” Iwaizumi collected himself before he tried to speak again. “No, I didn’t get anyone pregnant last night, but I may have done something even worse.”
Akaashi gave a small bark of laughter at this, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What could be worse than getting someone pregnant? Did you kill another student or a teacher?” He was trying to hide the amusement in this voice, but was failing when he began laughing again at the thought of Iwaizumi killing someone when the boy couldn’t even hurt a fly on a bad day. Iwaizumi would hit Oikawa to hell and back, but he would never harm anyone, no matter how angry he got.
“No, Akaashi, I-” he dropped his voice to a grave whisper before putting his head in his hands, “I kissed Oikawa.”
Akaashi was trying so very hard to fight back more laughter at his friends very irrational dilemma. “Did he kiss you back?”
“No, he was asleep,” Iwaizumi lifted his head and Akaashi swore he saw true fear in his eyes. “I kissed him on the head before I could think about what I was doing.”
Akaashi finally reigned in his laughter. “Iwaizumi?”
“What?”
“If you think you’ve ruined your life because you kissed your best friend on his head, while he was asleep, then I do believe you aren’t the real Iwaizumi,” Akaashi said, pulling his fallen book back onto his lap.
“What do you mean?” Iwaizumi was even more confused now, and the fact that Akaashi seemed to find his situation comical wasn’t helping.
“I mean that the Iwaizumi I know, and the one the rest of Hogwarts knows by now, cares deeply for Oikawa, whom, may I remind you, is your childhood friend. You two have always been close, so don’t deny that. The amount of times I’ve thought you two were going to melt into one another are uncountable on both my hands and feet.”
His words sunk their claws into Iwaizumi and refused to let go. Akaashi was right, as always, but the realization of his own actions were what worried Iwaizumi. He didn’t dare the word out loud, for that would just cement his feelings in place, but he danced around it on the edge of a knife, and at any moment the reality of his feelings could come crashing down around him.
Iwaizumi swallowed thickly, his essay laying abandoned on top of the table in between them. “Akaashi,” he started, but paused.
“Yes, Iwaizumi,” his friend responded without looking up, the scratch of his quill and the crackle of the fire the only sounds in the early morning common room.
“I think that I like Oikawa.” Iwaizumi paused, because no, that didn’t fully convey what he’s been feeling. “I think that I’ve liked Oikawa—” he turned stared down at his hands “—for a long time.” The weight off his chest was instant, but he had never felt the weight until recently.
Iwaizumi was greeted with silence now, as Akaashi’s quill stilled on his parchment, and even the fire seemed to stop cheerily providing the room with warmth. Akaashi looked up and met Iwaizumi’s blank gaze, but he said nothing. Several silent moments passed before Akaashi spoke.
“Is that it?”
Iwaizumi felt like he had been slapped. “What do you mean ’is that it?’” he fired at Akaashi. “I just told you that I have feelings for my best friend, and you’re asking me if that’s it?”
“Honestly, Iwaizumi, I was expecting you to be more mature about it,” Akaashi sighed as he set his quill down once again, “and say that you love him.”
Iwaizumi froze. There it was, the word he never wanted to say, never wanted to admit to himself, and Akaashi had said it like he was giving Iwaizumi the time of day. Love was something all of the stories talked about, love was something that the tragic heroes all longed for, love was-
“Shit,” Iwaizumi cursed, burying his head back into his hands, “shit, shit, shit.”
“No need to be so vulgar about it,” Akaashi said.
“I cannot believe that I am in love with my idiot of a best friend.”
“I’m sure the entire school knows by now. All of your friends do, at least,” Akaashi commented.
Iwaizumi raised his head at this, his olive eyes steeling over. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. We’ve all been making bets on how long it would take for you to admit it to yourself. And now I believe that Sugawara and I have a debt to collect.”
Iwaizumi did not want to deal with this right now, as the realization of romantic love for his best friend was still settling over him like snow. He made to leave, letting the rest of his charms essay be unfinished on the coffee table.
“I need some air. I- I’m going to the Owlery.” Iwaizumi grabbed his sweater and tie from the back of chair, hastily putting them on as he walked towards the door. Akaashi hummed something that sounded like acknowledgement.”
“Say hello to Bokuto for me while you’re up there.”
Iwaizumi grunted and swung the door open, stepping out into the corridor.