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Oikawa has always liked languages. His mother is an interpreter and multilingual, so maybe that’s why. She taught him English alongside Japanese when he was just a toddler, and later on Mandarin. It’s not a surprise to anyone, then, when Oikawa decides he wants to learn Spanish in high school. Only his parents know the real reason behind it.
By the time he’s in his third year, he’s fluent enough to hold an everyday conversation fully in Spanish, and has moved on to learning slang and regional differences. He has taken an interest in Rioplatense Spanish, which is quite different from other varieties, especially since they use “vos” instead of “tú” for the word “you”. It sends him into a rabbit hole of Argentine culture, and he spends hours reading articles and watching videos on the matter.
He clicks on one last video before bed, telling himself it’s the last one, really, this time. (Iwaizumi has already threatened to hide his phone if he shows up to morning practice with dark circles again.) It’s about interesting facts about the country’s geography, its customs, and politics. He’s surprised to find out that Argentina boasts the highest and lowest points in the Southern Hemisphere, and wonders how he’ll get used to eating dinner so late when he moves there. But when it gets to the last fact, his heartbeat quickens.
“Did you know,” the guy from the video says, “that Argentina was the first country in Latin America, the second in the Americas, and the tenth in the whole world, to legalise same-sex marriage? Yeah! It was legalised on July 15th, 2010.”
The screen shifts to grainy video clips, a montage of people hugging, wearing hats and gloves, waving rainbow flags, crying outside what he assumes is Congress. A couple of men kiss, wrapped in both the argentinian and the rainbow flag. Someone jumps and screams, hand over mouth, overwhelmed with joy. Another person cries tears of joy, comforted by someone else who kisses their forehead. Others hold handmade signs. Someone yells “¡Lo logramos!” and the crowd erupts.
Tooru blinks. He didn’t expect to feel anything.
But there’s something about it—the joy, the relief, the rawness—that lodges in his chest. It’s beautiful, he thinks. He doesn’t know why, but it is.
And before he can stop it, his mind drifts. To Iwaizumi.
Not in any specific way. Not doing anything, really. Just there. Standing beside him, like always.
He shakes the thought off, frowning a little.
“Weird,” he mumbles and closes the tab.
But that feeling, warm, aching and inexplicable, lingers. Like the aftertaste of something sweet he can’t quite name.
“Okay,” he says, stretching his arms above his head. “That’s enough for today.”
He connects the charger to his phone, fixes the bedsheets, and closes his eyes, with full intention of falling asleep.
But he can’t.
His mind replays again and again the scene of people celebrating, cheering, and crying of happiness. But not only that. His mind provides him the very useless image of Hajime kissing him.
His heart skips a beat, and it startles him so badly that he sits up. His face feels hot, and he covers it with his hands.
What.
The.
Fuck.
His eyes flicker to the window, out of habit more than anything, toward the direction of Iwaizumi’s house, even though he knows he can’t see it from here. The curtains are mostly drawn, but there’s a narrow gap between them, just wide enough to let in a sliver of night.
Of course, it’s ridiculous. There’s no way Iwaizumi could possibly know what had just crossed his mind.
Still.
Just in case.
Tooru gets up and pulls the curtains shut the rest of the way, as if sealing the thought behind the fabric might make it disappear entirely.
God.
He doesn’t know if he’ll get any sleep tonight.
***
Is Tooru being a coward? Probably.
But he doesn’t want to tell him he is leaving, not until the last moment. He doesn’t want anything to feel different during their last months together, their last year of high school. He wants to enjoy it with him as best he can, then tell him just a few days before taking a flight to Argentina. The mere idea of saying goodbye to him makes his eyes water, but Tooru made the decision a while ago. He bought the ticket already, and his parents are helping him find accommodations.
So, Iwaizumi doesn’t know anything about it. Until that unfortunate day.
It is Takeru’s birthday party, August 4th. It’s a beautiful day, really. The sun is shining, and the party is set to be at Tooru’s house, since Mei and Takeru live in an apartment, and don’t have much space to host too many kids. Besides, it is the perfect weather for Takeru and his friends to use the pool.
Of course, Hajime is also there. How could he not? He’s been in Takeru’s life since he was a baby. Oikawa’s sister even announced the pregnancy to Tooru and him together. They’ve both babysat the kid since they were thirteen. And, more importantly, Takeru absolutely adores him. So he couldn’t not be there.
In the end, Takeru only spends a few minutes with them before his first classmate arrives and they go to play in the pool. Because of that, Tooru spends most of his time glued to Hajime instead. They play some volleyball, eat the yummy food Grandma Oikawa made, and spend a lot of time just chatting and laughing.
Everything is going perfectly, and Tooru is trying not to think much about how this will be the last Takeru’s birthday he gets to spend like this, with his entire family, and his best friend at his side. Next year, he’ll be on the other side of the world, trying to save enough money to at least visit home for a few days on the holidays.
Then, his mother calls him from inside the house to help with something. It’s just for a few minutes, a few moments in which Iwaizumi is left alone outside, but when Oikawa comes back out, he immediately knows something is wrong. He senses it even before he sees Akihiko—his sister’s boyfriend—at Hajime’s side, saying something to him.
There’s nothing really off about his expression. He looks serious, eyebrows furrowed, but not different than usual. But his eyes are wet. Oikawa has known him all his life, and still, he can count the times he’s seen Iwaizumi cry with his fingers.
Something is wrong.
He can hear his heartbeat accelerating, and when Hajime meets his eyes, his heart sinks. He knows. He definitely knows.
The teenager’s entire demeanor changes. He smiles and says something to Akihiko, then walks in the direction of the forest.
Behind their houses, there’s a slope, not quite a hill, but steep enough to make you watch your step, especially after it rains. It leads down into a dense patch of forest, tall trees clustered tightly together, with roots that twist like veins across the earth. Between the trunks, worn paths snake their way through the undergrowth, shaped over the years by children’s feet and time.
It’s familiar ground. Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s houses sit side by side at the edge of this quiet descent, and the forest has always felt like an extension of their backyards. When they were little, they spent countless afternoons down there, climbing trees, building forts out of fallen branches, chasing each other through the tall grass.
Just past a curtain of brambles and low-hanging branches, there’s a small clearing where sunlight manages to filter through the canopy in soft, golden beams. And in the center of it, still hanging after all these years, is the old tire swing Hajime’s dad built for them. It’s tied to a thick branch with a faded blue rope, the rubber worn smooth from use, but still sturdy. The ground beneath it is bare, grass worn away from the endless arcs of small feet dragging along the dirt.
That’s where Tooru finds him.
Hajime is sitting on the tire swing, feet planted on either side, the swing barely moving beneath him. His hands are resting on the rope, fingers curled tightly around it. His head is bowed slightly, gaze unfocused, like he’s not really seeing the trees around him, like he’s staring through them, back in time.
There’s no one else around. Just the hush of leaves rustling, a distant bird call, the scent of pine and earth thick in the air.
Tooru stops at the edge of the clearing, heart pounding. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches him, remembering a different version of this scene with two muddy boys arguing over whose turn it was to push, laughing until they collapsed into the dirt, summer buzzing all around them.
Now Iwaizumi’s shoulders look tense, his jaw tight, and even from a distance, Oikawa can tell he’s holding back. He steps on a branch, and the creak of it reveals his presence.
“Hey,” he says when Hajime sees him. “Why did you run off here, Iwa-chan?” The usual cheerful tone is gone from his voice, too nervous even to fake it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Iwaizumi asks, and the way he says it makes Tooru feel like he’s going to throw up. It’s soft, almost a whisper, said as delicately as the words were wrapping for something fragile that would break if he isn’t careful.
Maybe it will.
“Tell you what?” He tilts his head to the side, and hopes that his face reads confusion and not the absolute dread he feels creeping under his skin.
Iwaizumi laughs, but there's no real mirth in it. “You know what I'm talking about.”
“I’m sorry,” Oikawa says, voice barely above a whisper. He takes a step closer.
Iwaizumi leans back slightly on the swing, as if even that small proximity stings. It hurts. God, it hurts more than anything to see him recoil like that.
“You weren’t supposed to find out this way,” he adds, feeling like an asshole.
“Oh yeah?” Hajime’s voice rises, sharp like splintered glass. “And how was I supposed to find out, then? Were you going to tell me right before you hopped on a fucking plane and disappeared?”
“No!” Oikawa blurts. His hands shake at his sides. “I mean, yes, no—I was going to tell you! Just…I was waiting for the right time.”
“ ‘The right time,’ ” Hajime repeats, biting the words out like they taste sour. “You know, it’s funny you say that, because I also had news to give you, and didn’t want to tell you today not to steal Takeru’s spotlight. But I was going to tell you tomorrow, or on Monday. Maybe even later today, if I stayed over. But I don’t know if I wanna do that now.”
Tooru blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi snaps. “Believe it or not, you’re not the center of the goddamn universe.”
“Okay, rude,” Oikawa says, trying to deflect with a scoff, but his voice cracks on the word. Because Hajime’s shaking, and he is shaking, and something is shattering between them, and it’s terrifying.
“What was it?” he asks, quieter now. “Your news.”
Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it again. He presses his hands to his eyes for a second, lets out a sound like a broken laugh.
“I applied to universities in the U.S.,” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, like he’s bracing for impact. “For their sports science programs. Some of the best ones are there. I’ve been working on the applications for months.”
There’s a pause. Oikawa’s lips part like he’s trying to form a sentence, but no sound comes out.
“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure,” Hajime continues, “but I was going to tell you as soon as I applied…I am telling you. But you were already planning to leave, too, and didn’t bother letting your best friend know.”
“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan, I wanted to tell you,” Tooru says again, voice breaking. “I swear, I did. I was scared. I just…we’ve been together all our lives. I was scared that, if I told you before making a decision, you were going to cry and convince me to stay.”
“As if I would cry for you.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but they’re wet.
They stay silent for a few seconds. Hajime rocks slightly on the swing, squeaking gently against the old tree.
“You remember when your dad made that wheel swing for us?” Tooru asks suddenly, his voice thin. “We must’ve been what, five? Six?”
Hajime nods and wipes his face. “You loved to pretend it was a spaceship.”
“Or a pirate ship,” Tooru adds with a watery laugh.
“Or a pirate ship,” the other repeats. “How could I forget your pirate phase?”
Another beat passes. Iwaizumi finally meets his eyes again.
“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan, really. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t trust myself to do so without becoming a pathetic bawling mess,” he admits, biting his lower lip.
“You’re always a pathetic mess, so…”
“Shut up.” Oikawa laughs and bumps his arm.
Hajime bumps him back.
It’s okay.
They’re okay.
They’re going to be okay.
***
Oikawa used to think he and Iwaizumi couldn't spend more time together than they already did. But he was wrong.
After learning they only had a few months left in the same country, something shifted. Every excuse became a reason to be together. Weekends blurred into weekdays. Sleepovers became a given. They studied side by side, planned strategies late into the night, and split meals between each other’s houses without ever really discussing it
There’s a kind of desperate softness to it all. A need to soak up every second before the clock runs out.
Tooru doesn’t try to fight what being around Iwaizumi all the time does to him anymore. He’s too far gone. If he could bottle up Hajime’s laughter, keep it tucked in his pocket, if he could hoard his time and presence and never let go, he would.
At this stage, there’s no point pretending. He’s in love with him. Painfully, completely, impossibly in love.
October comes quickly, and with it, the Miyagi Prefecture Spring Tournament Qualifiers. Every practice feels like a countdown. Every serve, every spike, every grunt of effort is heavier now. More meaningful.
This is it. Their final shot. Their last opportunity to make it to the nationals to compete against some of the best high school players in the country.
But they lose it.
The small guy from Karasuno spikes, Oikawa fails to receive, and just like that, it’s over.
Everything goes quiet.
Tooru doesn’t hear the audience cheering, doesn’t hear Karasuno celebrating, even though he can see their mouths open and their arms in the air. He can feel his friends moving around him, walking, some even reaching to touch his back or arm in support, but even though he knows their hands are there, it’s like his brain doesn’t register them.
It’s like time is going forward, but it forgot to take him along for the ride.
Losing to Karasuno not only means not even getting a final opportunity to beat Shiratorizawa, and losing their ticket to nationals. To him, it’s so much more.
It means that this is the last official game he played with Iwaizumi. It’s the end of his high school career, and the confirmation that no one from national universities will recruit him for their teams. It’s the confirmation that he’s leaving the country once the school year is finished. That he’s emigrating to somewhere new and unknown.
Away from his family. Away from his friends.
Away from Hajime.
Away from that constant presence in his life that’s been there since he was born. His first love. The love of his life.
The most time they’ve spent apart was two and a half weeks when they were twelve, and Iwaizumi traveled to visit family in Thailand during the summer holidays. Soon, being apart will become more common than being together.
And that’s scary. That’s so, so scary.
“Oikawa.”
He’s doing everything in his power not to fall to his knees and wail. He’s sure that’s the first thing he’ll do when he gets home.
“Oikawa.”
He hopes he manages to make it home before breaking down. Or their club room, at least. He doesn’t want his stupid genius kouhai to see him like this.
“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi grabs his arms and stands in front of him. Only then does Tooru realize he’d been calling him.
“Jesus, snap out of it, they’re waiting for us to line up,” he says, voice tight, chest heaving. His eyes are wet. Red-rimmed and glassy. It hits Oikawa in the gut. Iwaizumi never cries. Especially not in front of other people who aren’t his family, or Tooru. He’s seen him cry far too many times in the last months, and he hates it every single time.
“Iwa-chan…” The dam breaks. His voice cracks, and he can’t stop the tears from spilling.
They stare at each other, faces raw and exposed under the unforgiving gym lights. Around them, it’s chaos. Karasuno is huddling in celebration, the referees are signaling for them to line up, and a few teammates are awkwardly trying to get their attention.
Oikawa opens his mouth to speak, but Iwaizumi beats him to it.
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”
The fact that Hajime knows him well enough to have known exactly what he was going to say makes matters a hundred percent worse. The tears water his vision, and Iwaizumi becomes a blurry figure in front of him.
“Geez, you’re such a softie.” He wipes under his eyes with his thumbs, even when he’s crying just as much as he is.
He’s so nice to him. He’s so nice to everyone. He’s so caring, so kind, so perfect. Oikawa is so in love with him. He loves him so much. He loves him so, so much. He…
“I love you,” it slips out. Soft, broken, and irreversible.
He didn’t mean to say it, but now there’s no taking it back.
For a second, Hajime just stares at him, but then he says, “I love you too, dumbass, but the coach is going to beat us up if we don’t line up right now.”
He could leave it at that. He could let Iwaizumi interpret it as a friendly ‘I love you’ and move on. But now that he has started, he can’t stop.
He shakes his head, biting his lip as more tears travel down his cheeks. “No, I mean, I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since I learned what love is.”
Iwaizumi doesn’t reply.
Oikawa’s chest caves in. He tries to keep breathing, but each inhale feels thinner than the last. His mouth goes dry. The weight of the silence crushes him, panic blooming in his ribs.
Fuck. He’s ruined it.
He’s ruined everything, and now he won’t get to spend their last few months of high school together, and Hajime will hate him forever, and—
Iwaizumi grabs his face and kisses him.
For once, Oikawa isn’t imagining it. It’s warm, wet, and real. The press of Hajime’s lips against his own is firm, and his hands are strong and trembling where they cradle his jaw. Tooru gasps into it, his body locking up for a split second before he melts, grabbing onto his shoulders like he’s afraid he might disappear.
Their faces are wet with tears, their noses bump awkwardly, and there’s barely any breath between them, but it’s perfect. Urgent. It’s every repressed feeling, every late-night thought, every almost-confession crashing chaotically together.
Oikawa makes a soft, broken sound against his lips. He tastes salt and sweat and years of history between them. Iwaizumi grips his shirt like he can’t bear to let him go.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air like a slap. It makes them both jump and pull apart.
The referee is glaring at them, impatient.
Oh. Right. They are in public.
“Fucking finally,” Matsukawa says from somewhere.
“Matsukawa, language!” the coach chastises him.
“Come on, lovebirds, you’re holding up the whole tournament!” Hanamki yells with a grin.
“Line up or I swear I’ll make you run laps until your feet fall off when we get to school!” The coach warns.
“Right, line up, yes,” Oikawa says.
They walk to line up and bow to their audience, feeling a hundred times lighter.
They gather their stuff in silence, and most of their teammates are too upset about losing to tease them further. Their coaches don’t even scold them on the way to the locker rooms.
At some point, when they are on their way out of the building, Hajime’s hand finds its way into Tooru’s. The setter looks at him with his mouth slightly open.
“Just so you know,” Iwaizumi says and squeezes, “I’m in love with you too.”
Oikawa can’t speak. He just nods and squeezes back.
Whatever the future holds, they’ll be okay.