Work Text:
“Healing moves like a waltz, forward and back and ours is a slow choreography”
Oikawa awakens with a startle, like an engine that hasn’t been started in a while. Seized and unwilling to purr into a smooth rumble. The thudding of his heart easing into its usual rhythm as memories fade of a man he’s not given the time of day in over two years.
Patting around blindly for his phone, squinting as he’s blinded by the light of three suns that sizzle his cornea into crisps.Clumsily sliding the brightness bar down before he can process another thought.
Scrubbing the weariness from his eyes with the edge of his knuckle as he spares a thought for the 4:00 a.m shaming him to go back to sleep. Fuck. He’s so glad he doesn’t have practice for another few days. Allowing the screen to fade into darkness again as he throws his head back into the comfort of his pillow.
Phone thudding against the mattress as it drops from his grasp. Swallowing the lump in his throat that’s formed as the memories of his dream flesh out in the projection of his imagination. Waving his hand weakly in an attempt to swat it away like an annoying fly.
Oikawa shoves his arms underneath his pillow, folding the sides to smother his face wholly. Inhaling sharply as he grabs for his phone again. A dangerous thought rearing its ugly head as it always does this time of year. Scrolling impossibly far back until he’s hesitating over a contact photo he had never been able to change. Licking his lips nervously as he opens the chain of texts.
Reopening the wound as his eyes dart across the chat as if they had changed after all this time. Even with all the seconds that pass his heart doesn’t forget the way it had split down the middle, his mind doesn’t neglect the past. Dated back to December three years ago. It crushes his heart with no secondary thought.
Toru knows why he’s back here in these chats. Even after three years have passed and even longer since they had been kind to each other's hearts. Yearning for those speech bubbles to appear so he doesn’t have to feel insane for being attached still. Wondering if Ushijima still thinks about him on his birthday. The way he always does when August 13th rolls around.
His thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. How do you wish your ex happy birthday at an ungodly hour after not speaking for two whole years? Surely there's no WikiHow for that. There is probably a WikiHow for how not to do that though.
Wakatoshi hadn’t texted him Happy Birthday but he had whispered it into the night after being accidentally added into a group call between Toru and some friends. That was just a few weeks ago.
He shouldn’t.
He really shouldn’t.
Almost flying halfway across the room as the text bubbles float above the keyboard his thumb has been hovering over. They dance for a while but disappear. He shouldn't.
Happy Birthday. sent 4:32 a.m
Oikawa closes his eyes and wills his stomach to stop threatening his midnight snack. He doesn’t think about this man any other day of the year. Hasn’t seen him in person since their match in March.
The dots dance in a mimic of his mental torment. The reply doesn’t come, not for an agonising fifteen minutes of on and off typing.
What are you doing up at this time? sent 4:50 a.m
Oikawa sits up, hunched over his phone. Waves of regret crashing at the coast the end of his tether. It irks him because what is with the courtesy concern? Humouring the glimpse of his past life with another reply.
Wasting my time texting you. sent 4:53 a.m
Squinting at the words in hopes they carry his emotion well enough to figuratively slap Wakatoshi hard enough to forget this whole ordeal. He can practically hear the hurt ‘Ah.’ from half way across the world.
Instead he seethes at the read. mocking him for even trying.
Ignorance floods back like an unwanted guest. “Oh sure! Here we go again Ushijima. Shut down on me again.” So mean to a man trying his hardest to keep his feelings at bay. Oikawa had bubbled over like an aggressively heated pot. Burning whoever got too close.
“Don’t call me that Toru- I’m trying. Don’t blame this all on me.” Oikawa massages his temples as his own name strikes a match to gasoline near his regrets. Flames licking high into his chest. He’d asked for a light and ended up starting a wildfire. Communication blurred a year or two into their relationship. Maybe it was the distance. Maybe it wasn’t.
Do you miss me? Would you want me back? Did someone else take you and do everything I couldn't? Was I just a stepping stone to better yourself for someone who fits in your heart whole?
A million questions swarm his mind, noisy and cramped.
You don’t mean that. sent 5:37 a.m
Does he? Oikawa closes his eyes in hopes his mind would silence. It’s too late to pretend he hadn’t seen the text. Not when their read receipts are mocking him. Oikawa leans the tip of his nose on the top of his phone, inhaling deeply. He can’t do this.
“Tor- Oikawa?” A voice floats from the speakers of his phone correcting itself before his name comes out like habit. His treacherous heart thrummed quicker. Because Oikawa knows that voice. Knows it too well. His fingers tremble as they grasp around his phone half tempted to pretend he’d called in his sleep.
Questioning why exactly his ex boyfriend was picking up his calls anyway. It’s barely even 6 p.m back at home is probably the realistic explanation. Yet a voice in the back of his head whispers maybe there’s still a chance. Pulling his phone away from his face, he realises it’s not just a phone call he’d made but a video call instead.
The grainy quality reminds him of murmurs in the dark, of laughter into the early morning. Shrouded over by the yelling and the tears that rolled in like dark clouds. Unable to find words to fill the silence as his chest tightens. Longing for the sweet talk and everything between the bitten insults.
Oikawa frowns, mouth seemingly filled with cotton. Split between the need to start another argument or desperately ask what went wrong. What should be at the forefront of his mind is hanging up.
“Ushijima.” Curt and completely unhelpful to his ex’s confusion. Speaking his name again is like swallowing swords or needles, slicing at his throat on the way down. He’s about to blab out something that involves the keywords, accident and goodbye.
“It’s.. nice to see you.” Wakatoshi’s words had never been disingenuous but right now they seem like a downright lie. Cutting out all thoughts of hanging up in favour of entertaining talking to Wakatoshi instead. Wondering what exactly he’d gotten up to for his birthday and if it was the same as every year before.
“Don’t.” Oikawa shakes his head, that unwavering politeness never soured. In fact Ushijima had never insulted him, only stated facts. When they had broken up Wakatoshi had stayed respectful as he barraged him with insult after insult. Oikawa's stomach twists into knots at the memory of the hurt melded with olive irises.
Dawn begins to bully its way through his blinds, the slats casting long golden rays across his face. Squinting against the brightness of the sun as he slouches out of the warmth. At this point the silence borders awkward but time waits for no one. Not even an aching heart.
“What’re you doing Toru?” Ushijima’s tone comes clipped, perhaps annoyed or allowing the pain to surface as he continues to be selfish. Unsure if his stomach is still within his body as the question plunges in the acidity.
“I don’t know.” Bitter as he laughs at his own audacity. What is he doing? A voice appears in the background sweet and light, Oikawa watches the way Wakatoshi flinches. Swallowing down the rest of his garble of words that don’t quite make sense. He understands now.
“Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Toshi.” Hovering his thumb over the end call button, pressing firmly as pressure built in his chest. Weighing down on his lungs. Struggling for air, warmth collects in his tear ducts. Spilling over the threshold, cooling as they roll down his cheeks, droplets splashing onto his collarbones.
There were no more chances. He’d already known that logically. Helplessly scrubbing away the tears. Knowing Wakatoshi had moved on hits too hard. Cheeks raw and stinging at reality's backhand.
Let's talk. sent 8:07 a.m
By the time the text had come through, Oikawa had gathered his feelings. All scooped up and spilling from his arms as he nurses a coffee that had long gone cold. Tears scrubbed away as if they had never been there to begin with. Pointedly ignoring the text as he goes through the motions of the day. Breakfast, a morning run without the usual music blasting in his ears.
By midday Oikawa knows for a fact that Ushijima should be asleep since it’s midnight back in Tokyo. Only then does he allow himself to consider replying.
About what? sent 12:12 p.m
Oikawa briskly walks across his apartment, elbowing open the door onto the balcony in hopes fresh air will whisk up his thoughts in a stray tumbleweed and yeet itself across the city. You could say wishful thinking, phone buzzing in his hand.
I miss you. sent 12:17 p.m
Oikawa crosses his arms over the balcony railing, burying his face in his forearms. Lifting his head to check if what he’d read was a figment of his imagination. Warmth kisses his face uncertain if it were the summer wind or his own capillaries cursing him when it dawns on him it is in fact real.
Why are you still awake? sent 12:24 p.m
Haphazardly typed by a shaky thumb, Oikawa wonders what any of this means. If it even has a deeper meaning. Perhaps Ushijima had opened a bourbon, allowing skeletons out of the closet in the form of past feelings. Biting the side of his cheek as he remembers the taste of a tipsy Ushijima on his tongue.
Wakatoshi was predictable in the best ways. Oikawa always knew the timeframes in which he slept and how long on average it took for him to wake up. A particularly aggressive beat of his heart drags him down through memory lane.
Bed sheets shuffle under movement as Oikawa struggles to open his eyes. An alarm cutting through his softened dream about nothing in particular. That bothersome noise silenced with a particularly aggressive whack and a grunt that vibrated through his bones. Eyelashes flutter as he attempts to open his eyes but ultimately fails as a bare chest presses against his back followed by a strong arm around his waist. Wakatoshi’s chin tucked itself over his shoulder as if it had always belonged there.
“Toshi…” Voice layered with exhaustion and slightly cracked because he’s parched and not quite over jet lag yet. “You have a meeting to get ready for.” Hitting home with the reminder as Wakatoshi huffs out a sigh. “Don’t remind me.” Wakatoshi’s sleep ridden voice had made him shudder.
Oikawa dug his fingers into his temple trying to stop the barrage of memories and the ghost of Wakatoshi’s touch from burning into his skin. There have been others but no one who loved him as unconditionally as Ushijima Wakatoshi. After a minute or three of losing it, Oikawa hesitantly adds on to the text.
I miss you too. sent 12:29 p.m
Do you mean that? sent 12:34 p.m
Oikawa doesn’t bother to ponder. Fingers flying over the keyboard faster than he can process.
I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. sent 12:35 p.m
It’s a miracle there are no spelling mistakes. Half convinced this is some weird dream his sub conscious conjured up. His ringtone buzzed in his ears, shooting upright, answering midway through fixing his hair.
The video is pixelated, Ushijima is very clearly in bed and shirtless. Was he actually drunk? What was just giddiness halts in turn for nausea.
“I need you to be honest with me.” Oikawa speaks with an edge of disappointment. Scanning over Wakatoshi’s features, shadowed in the night. “Are you drunk right now?”
“No, I haven't had anything to drink today.” Wakatoshi shifts in the frame clearly confused by the sudden distrust. Oikawa’s shoulders sag in relief, camera blurred as he shuffles back inside before the sun highlights his insecurities. Oikawa doesn’t speak, not until he’s draped himself over the sofa.
“You can’t blame me for asking, Wakatoshi.” Hyper focused on Wakatoshi’s facial movements. Scanning them for meaning, for assurance that this is what he thinks this is.
“I can’t.” It’s simple, Oikawa hums in response awaiting more but the silence simply stretches longer. Broken by Ushijima’s sigh. “It’s been three years and I still cannot get over you.” A confession, Oikawa’s heart trips over itself in a skipped beat. Nodding in solidarity.
“I tried, Toru I did. Yet it wasn’t enough.”
Oikawa opens his mouth to say something, anything. Instead all that comes out is an undignified squeak. Ushijima’s lips tug up as the delayed audio reaches his ears.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing after a loss.” Ushijima’s words seem practiced almost like they’re breaking up all over again. Confused but more than ready to beg and plead. “But, for you. For us, I’m willing to take it on the shoulder. We’ve spent three years finding our places in life. Perhaps now we can be kinder to one another.”
Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, running through a billion and one scenarios. “I want to be yours again.” Ushijima shoves the key right into his heart and unlocks it once again.
“It wasn’t you, not solely you.” Oikawa starts, faltering as he searches for the right words. “We cannot ignore the past, but. Maybe we can move past it if we – I start with an apology.”
“I’m sorry Toshi, I want to do better for us.”
“Let’s try then.”
“I love you.”
Oikawa laughs, teary eyed but hopeful.
“Happy Birthday, Wakatoshi. I hope to be with you for your next and every one after that.”
“I hope so too, Toru.” Ushijima shifts. “I suppose wishing on candles does work.”