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“With its red face, hairy body, and unsettling glare,” Oikawa read aloud, “Iwa-chan is a—”
“Oh fuck you,” Iwaizumi cut off, hitting Oikawa in the arm hard enough to hurt.
Behind, Hanamaki snickered and Matsukawa huffed. The two, pinkish haired and stone faced, respectively, were a few shy of a peanut gallery but nonetheless comprised the audience to the drama unfolding before them. Oikawa, on the other hand, pouted, petulant as a child not given their way.
“Owie,” Oikawa cried, making a show of it, clutching his arm, “I was just reading off the placard!”
Granted, the description was for the Macaque monkeys, not Iwaizumi, but Oikawa frankly didn't see the difference. Down in the enclosure, the monkeys were trotting around, crawling over stones, grabbing onto branches, or staring upwards at all the folk oo-ing and aww-ing at them...
“They're simple creatures, just like you,” Oikawa continued, not in a teasing or sing-songy tone, but vain, like he meant it.
“Do you want me to hit you again?” Iwaizumi asked, fed up.
Oikawa crossed his arms and clicked his tongue. “Your empty threats mean nothing to me.”
I'll hit you this, I’ll hit you that. I’ll beat your ass and kick you in the face and body. Iwaizumi was a broken fucking record and Oikawa was suffocated by his droning. Really, his chest felt weighed down just from standing near him.
The two stared at each other for a long, tense moment. A scowl had taken residence on Iwaizumi’s brow and Oikawa stuck his tongue out. A showdown between an exasperated chum and a juvenile delinquent. Neither would yield. It wasn’t in their DNA to back down. Oikawa valued that about himself, loathed it in Iwaizumi.
“Hey…” Matsukawa stepped in-between them, no longer finding their bickering funny, “we should see the next enclosure.”
“Yeah, let's go,” Hanamaki said, nodding over his shoulder, already starting down the path: a third bullshit tolerance meter over capacity.
Oikawa huffed, scrunched his nose at Iwaizumi, then followed after Hanamaki, stomping his feet on the stone. Energy could not be destroyed, so each loud step took the place of a dig that wouldn’t be made, a daggered glare that wouldn’t be had.
“What's going on?” Matsukawa asked Iwaizumi as they fell into lockstep a few paces behind Oikawa, voice low—but not enough.
“He’s a dickhead, that's what,” Iwaizumi answered.
Vitriol pooled in Oikawa’s chest, swelling like a harsh tide, but instead of allowing it to come down on Iwaizumi, Oikawa took a deep, seething breath and bit his tongue in the interest of keeping the peace—if only for Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s sakes.
“Look, there they all are.” Hanamaki pointed at the dusty habitat that the group approached. In a cratered recess in the dirt a coterie of prairie dogs lounged in the mid-afternoon sun, bodies plump and fluffy. Some stood on their hind legs with their front paws held in front of themselves like rats, their black beady eyes and small faces painting permanent confused expressions.
Iwaizumi huffed out a bemused laugh, leaning against the barrier to get a closer look, “it’s like they heard someone call their names.”
Peace? Oikawa had never heard of her. “Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder. “Mm?”
“Stupid.”
If Iwaizumi had been softened by the cuteness of the exhibit then the impact quickly undid itself. He drew his face, ready to attack. “Don’t you dare start—”
Defying him was compulsory. Oikawa laughed. “You turned your head, all confused like one of those”—Oikawa shifted his jaw from side to side, trying to place the name—”Matsu, what’re they called?”
“Uh… prairie dogs?”
Hmph, perfect. “‘Dog’ huh? You turned your head like a little bitch, then, Iwa-chan.”
“Hey! Not in front of the animals!” Hanamaki chided, eyes still on the exhibit, unaware of two little girls walking behind them whose parents rushed to cover their ears.
Recognizing the scent of blood, Matsukawa threw his arm out to hold Iwaizumi back, but the latter made a lazy effort of it by shoving past with ease. Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa by the front of his shirt and pulled; Oikawa steeled his legs to avoid stumbling forward.
“Did you wake up and decide you were going to be an asshole today?” Iwaizumi asked, incensed. “Is that it?”
Oikawa’s throat tightened at Iwaizumi’s face so close to his, so he tore his gaze down to the hand clutching at his shirt. He needed it gone. Oikawa grabbed at Iwaizumi’s arm and forced him off, then took a step backward once free.
“I’m going to have to iron this now!” Oikawa groaned, indigent of the wrinkles left by Iwaizumi’s hand.
“Oh boo hoo, dumbass.”
Oikawa crossed his arms and turned his face away in a huff. Iwaizumi did the same, the both of them refusing to lay eyes on the other. Oikawa did not need to look at Iwaizumi. He could go his whole life never seeing him again and he would be fine, at least that’s what he told himself as he fought the urge to turn his head.
“Keep up!” Matsukawa called to them, joining Hanamaki who’d already headed off towards the next area.
Ahead, the signage pointed to the aquatic section of the zoo. Watari had visited it some months back with his family and gave it a raving review, highlighting the cuteness of the animals, the low barriers which allowed better views, and how closely the exhibits resembled their natural likeness’. It hadn’t been a pitch, but Watari’s retelling had convinced the Seijoh third years to visit.
Back then, they all thought they’d be having so much fun.
Caught up, Oikawa rested his hands on his hips. “Why’d you run off like that?”
“Run?” Hanamaki repeated. “Our pace was leisurely.”
Matsukawa hummed. “What he said.”
Hanamaki and Matsukawa were, in many ways, as insufferable as Iwaizumi to Oikawa, but the air of nonchalance they carried around them made it much harder to stay pissed. If Iwaizumi was a big, ugly tiger, then Hanamaki and Matsukawa were two ocelots lazing in a tree, too evolved for the riffraff in the grass.
Oikawa held a tone, putting the question to rest, then joined the two in leaning over the railing to look down at the enclosure. Directly below was the deepest part of the water, which further away shallowed out to sandy shores and large, smooth rocks, upon which a colony of blubbery creatures cohorted.
Iwaizumi took his place next to Hanamaki, placing him furthest from Oikawa. He nodded with his chin and let out a short huff, amused. “That little seal has a ball.”
“Sea lion,” Hanamaki corrected.
“What’s the difference?”
Hanamaki hummed, then pointed at the sea lion nearest to them. “The flippers. Seals can't walk like these guys do.”
Matsukawa nudged him in the arm. “Did you study this shit?”
Iwaizumi and Matsukawa both were looking at Hanamaki. Oikawa was also watching, but kept his gaze down to avoid looking at Iwaizumi and his stupid face.
“Don’t look at me,” Hanamaki said, “I just know stuff.”
Despite his best effort, Oikawa couldn’t not see Iwaizumi in his periphery, and even when he turned his face all the way away, just knowing Iwaizumi was there made his chest feel full. Ever since youth, that dark, spiked-up hair, and those hunter-green eyes had stapled themselves to the inside of Oikawa’s eyelids. Oikawa was suffocated by him, his mind unable to find respite.
Below, the baby sea lion played with its red rubber ball, balancing it on its nose. ”Hmph,” Oikawa started, no longer able to drown in Iwaizumi in silence, “it has better ball control than you, Iwa-chan.”
The scowl on Iwaizumi’s face returned with a vengeance; Hanamaki and Matsukawa both jumped backwards before they could be shoved as Iwaizumi closed the gap and grabbed Oikawa by the scruff of his shirt again. With red hot frustration there could be no mercy for Oikawa’s ironing board.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck your problem is, or what?” Iwaizumi asked, the question coming out as a growl that’d rival the wolves elsewhere in the zoo.
Oikawa stuck his nose up. “I don’t have a problem. I think you’re the one with a problem.”
Iwaizumi yanked Oikawa toward him and then shoved him back against the railing, manhandling him like a ripcord. “Oh cut the crap Shittykawa! This shit’s been all day!”
It was the truth, denying it would be no help, but Oikawa was a man too invested in a dead-ended venture. Even if the pitfalls of a sunk cost fallacy were heralded loud by the wind, the warning would fall on deaf ears.
Oikawa huffed and turned his face sharply away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Iwaizumi tilted his head back and laughed, his lips cutting a near-manical smile on his face. The sight, underscored by how Iwaizumi was clearly seeing red, made Oikawa’s heart wrench.
“You wanna play that game, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi seethed, “because I’ve been keeping score.”
Oh shit—
“This morning we were supposed to meet them,” Iwaizumi began, gesturing towards Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who pretended to whistle and be interested in something in the distance, respectively, “then you didn’t show up, didn’t answer my calls, and made me late because I was waiting for your dumb ass to round the block.”
Oikawa opened his mouth to retort, probably some weak lie about never having explicitly promised to meet first, but Iwaizumi continued.
“Then, when I found out you were already with them, you made me out to be the jerk for wasting everybody’s time. Since then, the whole way here you’ve acted like a pissy little bitch”—he held up a finger, ready to list off every transgression—”pretending you couldn’t hear me on the train, cutting in front of me the entire walk from the station, insulting me at every opportunity, and wearing that smug-ass face like you’re some innocent wittle boy when, guess what? You aren’t. You’re an asshole!”
Oikawa’s heart thump-thumped in his ears whilst at the same time he couldn’t breathe. It was far from the first time that Iwaizumi had laid into him so hard over his behavior, but—well—that was just it. He’d needed Iwaizumi to knock sense into him and that was what he just couldn’t fucking have be the case.
Everything in Oikawa’s periphery blurred, the only thing he could see clearly was Iwaizumi in front of him, eyes sharp, anger palpable. Suddenly hyper-aware of the hand Iwaizumi was twisting into the fabric of his shirt, Oikawa grabbed at it, trying to get it off of him.
Unlike before, Iwaizumi put up more resistance, not ready to release Oikawa until he got the answers he needed—which Oikawa couldn't give him.
“Just—argh!” Oikawa focused all of his strength into his fingertips, clawing at Iwaizumi’s arm. When that didn’t work, he put the force of his whole body into it, just like one of his monster serves.
In a battle of strength, Iwaizumi was typically the victor. He could lift more, bench more, outdo anyone on the team in a push-up contest… Yet, his face was scrunched as he held the struggling Oikawa in place, looking not unlike when he’d push himself to the limit doing a dead hang. Those sharp lines, furrowed brow, and intense stare were too familiar and fueled the swell of emotions within Oikawa; it gave him the final, inhuman push to overcome their natural gap in ability.
With a gasp Oikawa shoved Iwaizumi away. For a second, pride came over him as he watched Iwaizumi stumble backwards, surprise in those hunter-green eyes at the strength Oikawa exhibited. It was only a second though, because Oikawa’s heart skipped a beat and damn near stopped as Newton’s pesky third law reared its head.
The entire time that Iwaizumi had Oikawa pinned against the railing Oikawa had felt it pressed up to his lower back, keeping him in place. However, when he expected it to do just that, his body remained in motion. The opposite force of the push sent Oikawa over the barrier like an overloaded seesaw sliding off its fulcrum.
Shit!
He scrambled with his arms but it was too late. The last thing he saw before he was falling was Iwaizumi’s face, his eyes suddenly wide in terror. Speaking of—Oikawa yelped, high pitched and girlish as he descended into the water. It was a short drop, so his body didn’t have much time to level out—his head broke the surface first, the cold water sending a shock to his core and filling his unprepared nose.
“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi screamed.
Surface. Air. Breathe. Survival instincts shifting into gear, Oikawa kicked himself away from the edge of the enclosure, nearer to the shallower portion of the water, then fanned his arms out to upright himself. The world around him sounded much louder when, with a splash, he brought his head above water. That was hardly the sense Oikawa was focused on, though, as he emerged hacking up all the water he inhaled.
“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi yelled again.
Now in a somewhat secure position—albeit still coughing up his lungs—Oikawa directed his attention upwards, where all of the other three, plus a growing crowd, were gathering at the railing with shock and concern.
“I’m okay!” Oikawa managed to say between coughing fits. The water was mostly gone but he was hyperaware of its traces that lingered up in his nose and in his airway, his body keen to eject all foreign presence.
Above, Iwaizumi frantically looked left and right, then locked onto something somewhere behind him and ran off. Help, presumably—hopefully. Next to the vacant space where he’d been stood were Hanamaki and Matsukawa, neither of whom were making any move to Oikawa’s rescue. The latter, though, opened his mouth and held up a finger like he was about to say something when suddenly he paused.
Huh—a smooth, wet, rubbery mass experimentally ran itself over a stretch of Oikawa’s arm. He looked down to see that a brave little sea lion, the same one that’d been playing with the ball, had swum up behind him, curious of the big, clumsy creature that’d fallen into its habitat.
On the shore, about half a person’s length away, a bigger sea lion was making its way over parallel to the little one. Oikawa didn’t know whether he should swim away or get onto the land. Caught up in being pissy with Iwaizumi, he hadn’t really paid any attention to the info cards describing sea lion behavior and whether or not they were safe to be so near to.
Of course, they were adorable, especially the little one from up close with its plump body, but Oikawa didn’t trust the way the bigger one on the rocks was moving. If he were to wager a guess he’d probably say it was the mother, and that she was ready to go into full protection mode if she thought he in any way posed a threat to her kin.
So, the only decision was to remain in place, better not to cause any more disturbance until help came. He looked up and his face went red in embarrassment, realizing what he must look like to the onlookers staring bemused the same way they would the animals. His normally swept hair was drenched and splayed flat over his forehead and the general dishevelment he was in was in no way flattering.
Matsukawa cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice. “How is it down there, Orkawa—I mean Oikawa?”
If his face wasn’t already flushed, Oikawa would’ve gone redder.
Hanamaki playfully elbowed Matsukawa and belly laughed. “Yeah! Ork ork, Orkawa! Ork ork!”
As if the little sea lion understood that teasing was the game, it swam up to Oikawa again, clung to his arm, then began barking. Or… squeaking was more like it.
Oikawa debated drowning.
“...no, look! Do something!”
Iwaizumi ran back up to the railing, dragging along a zoo employee with him. While her uniform afforded her a base impression of professionalism, the unconfident slouch of her shoulders and timid expression belied the fact that she didn’t look too much older than any of the third years.
“Oh… oh dear,” she muttered, voice meek, when she looked down into the sea lion enclosure, “I, uh, should go look for my boss.”
Before Iwaizumi could say any more the girl ran off, tail between her legs, and Iwaizumi huffed, unimpressed.
Hanamaki nudged him, trying to lighten the worried scowl on his face. “Relax, Orkawa’s fine.”
“Ork ork!” Matsukawa tacked on, still teasing; Oikawa pouted.
Iwaizumi was having none of it. As if the other two and the rest of the gathered crowd weren’t there, he leaned over the railing, analyzing the retaining wall and the ground below. Taking the crisis into his own hands—and apparently not interested in anyone else’s help—Iwaizumi eschewed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, then jumped the railing, landing on the sand at the water’s edge.
Most of the onlookers gasped, whereas Hanamaki and Matsukawa laughed, the former jumping into narration. “Ol’ Mama Bear’s coming to save Orkboy!”
“Ork ork!”
Oikawa ignored the din above, focused on his knight in shining armor approaching his position.
“I’ve got you,” Iwaizumi said, crouched at the shore with his hand out.
After the way the day had gone down, Oikawa couldn’t say a word. He just couldn’t. With a begrudging huff, he carefully paddled himself away from the sea lions and took Iwa’s outstretched hand, pulling him out of the water. Only once he was out did the inconvenience of his clothes being soaked hit Oikawa, his pants feeling like they weighed twice—three times as much.
“I’ll hoist you up,” Iwaizumi explained—then, before Oikawa could question it he was being lifted up by the waist. It took him by surprise and he wanted to snip at Iwaizumi about it, but in his sorry state he was willing to give in to the help. Oikawa had just enough reach to grip the ledge underneath the railing—which he did. Iwaizumi then shifted underneath him, more or less putting his head in his—literally wet—ass as he pulled Oikawa’s thighs up past his chest.
With that boost, Oikawa managed to grab onto the railing itself and take on the rest of the task on his own, climbing up and—with an assist from Matsukawa—pulling himself over and out of the enclosure.
“Thanks,” Oikawa said, specifically to Matsukawa.
“No problem, Orkawa.”
“Ork ork!” Hanamaki chimed in, helpfully.
Rolling his eyes, Oikawa turned his attention back to the other side of the railing, where Iwaizumi was managing to pull himself out, circumventing the issue of height with a slight running start and, in a show of sheer strength, using the minor curvature of the wall as a foothold.
Matsukawa pulled Iwaizumi up too—because Oikawa wasn’t going to—and as soon as he was on his feet he went over to Oikawa, who had retreated a few steps, and put a hand on his soaked arm.
“Are you alright?” Iwaizumi asked, warmly.
Oikawa jerked his shoulder, losing Iwaizumi’s hand. “Shut up, I’m fine.”
Really, he was freezing. The water was cold, his clothes were drenched, and his body already shivered. All of that Iwaizumi could glean, though; the question had been rhetorical, but nonetheless from a place of caring.
Iwaizumi didn’t deserve to be lied to and he knew it; he punched Oikawa in the chest. “Enough! Tell me what’s wrong or I’ll throw you back down there.”
By the sharp look in Iwaizumi’s eyes, he wasn’t kidding. Oikawa let out a long breath. “I—”
“Oh! He’s out!”
Behind, the employee from before returned, this time with two men, one wearing the same uniform and carrying a ladder, and the other an older looking man in a suit. The latter stood before Oikawa and gave a slight bow.
“Sir, on behalf of all of us, we are glad to see you on your feet,” he said, cordial; Oikawa expected to be berated, though politeness was certainly the more professional response, “please, follow us, we have a room that is warm for you to dry.”
“Thank you,” Oikawa said, of course going to take up the offer.
“I’m coming too,” Iwaizumi said. The elder man acknowledged him with a nod, immediately putting to bed any attempt Oikawa could’ve made at insisting that Iwaizumi not join him.
Matsukawa and Hanamaki made no move to follow as the other two were led away, though faintly Oikawa could hear them making ork ork jokes to themselves. All the while, Oikawa kept his face turned away, not ready to look at Iwaizumi, even if facing him was inevitable.
“In here,” the man gestured, directing Oikawa and Iwaizumi into what looked to be a spare conference room. They’d been taken into the administrative building, which, in contrast to the colorful variety of the zoo at large, was a drab and gray place.
“Please take all the time you need in here,” the man continued, then went on to explain where to go if they needed anything. Iwaizumi did most of the listening and the thanking, whereas Oikawa gravitated to the big space heater, which was cranked up to the highest setting. Though it couldn’t wring him dry, the heat threw a welcomed spear through his shivering. Standing there also put the conference table between him and Iwaizumi, and despite how minor the distance it provided he felt like he needed it.
“Well?” Iwaizumi asked as soon as they were alone.
Oikawa still faced the heater, eyes closed, chin pointed down. “Saeki broke up with me.”
A pregnant pause. Not since it’d happened the day before had Oikawa said a word about it to anyone. A lump found itself in his throat, the breakup and the things that surrounded it suddenly more real now that he’d acknowledged it aloud.
“Oh.”
At that, Oikawa turned. It was petty, so petty, and a far too light way to feel when his heart was taut and emotions raw, but the unbotheredness of Iwaizumi’s reaction annoyed him.
“No sympathy, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, the question more playful than serious.
Either way it could've turned out, Iwaizumi's mind was somewhere else. “I don't get it,” he said, “that doesn't explain shit.”
“It doesn't?”
“No,” Iwaizumi asserted, “for one thing, that has fuck all to do with me, and for another, this isn't the right reaction. Not from you, anyway.”
Oikawa titled his head, incensed that Iwaizumi wasn't missing the forest for the trees. ”What do you mean it's not the right reaction?”
Iwaizumi sighed. “If it was just her, you're too affected by it.”
“What are you trying to say about Saeki-chan?”
“Nothing,” Iwaizumi said, holding up his palms in defense, “this is about you, Shittykawa. She didn't mean that much to you.”
Oikawa gasped. “How could you say that? You don't know how I feel!”
By the way he looked down at the table, it was clear Iwaizumi would've been standing much nearer if he could've. “I’ve known you all my life, I think I have a pretty good idea.”
If you knew then you wouldn't be talking to me right now, Oikawa thought, then swallowed it down. “No you don't…”
“You've taken her out at most two times in the months you’ve been together,” Iwaizumi started, wasting no time in categorically dismantling Oikawa's denial, “you never fucking talk about her, she’s never come to our matches—I don't even think you invited her to—and I know what you look like you're really into something.
“You have this spark in your eyes. You have it when you're on the court, when you’re eating a nice meal, when Kindaichi calls you senpai, when someone follows your account—you narcissistic piece of shit—the point is that you look that way about so many things and not once have you ever looked that way about her.”
Each impassioned word out of Iwaizumi’s mouth was a spear lodged into Oikawa’s back. Not once had those hunter-green eyes feasted upon a challenge and backed down. Oikawa was silly to think he could get away now that Iwaizumi’s gaze had fallen on the storm welling within.
What a fool I’ve been.
Oikawa forced his lip not to quiver. “You’re right,” he conceded; Iwaizumi’s scowl untensed, both relieved and surprised that Oikawa was being cooperative, “it’s not about her… it’s what she said.”
Iwaizumi jutted his head forward, beckoning for Oikawa to continue. First, though, Oikawa braced himself, knowing that he was dancing on the edge of a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, a line which he deluded himself into believing didn’t consume him at every turn.
Oikawa took a deep breath. “‘I can’t be happy with being second best. I’m never going to matter to you as much as Iwaizumi does.’”
The silence that followed warped time itself. An incredulous look befell Iwaizumi, one Oikawa couldn’t read. All he could glean was that those eyes were looking right into his own and it made his heart stop. Then, in what felt like only a breath, Iwaizumi was rounding the table—Oikawa made no move to evade—and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Shittykawa, that’s no reason to be mad at me,” Iwaizumi said, from the heart.
Oikawa swallowed, voice at a whisper as that lump grew bigger in his throat. “Why not?”
“Because,” Iwaizumi answered, “there’s no one else who matters as much to me as you.”
The last layer of resistance—the final, thin wall guarding Oikawa’s heart from the pouring rain—fell. Iwaizumi had taken an axe to it, and he did it easily.
Oikawa sharply turned his face away and down, wiping at the tears welling in his eyes with his wet sleeve. “Damnit…”
Iwaizumi’s voice, his concern, was so soft, warm, caring. “Hey. What? What is it?”
A sniffle. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
Oikawa turned to look Iwaizumi in the eyes. As difficult—as paradoxical—as it was, he didn’t have the strength to get his words out of it he didn’t.
“Love you.”
That was as much as Oikawa could muster; he looked down, emotions too taut to bear witness to Iwaizumi’s reaction—but it didn’t matter. Iwaizumi picked up both sides of his face, hands warm on his tear-puffed cheeks, forcing him to meet eyes.
“You can,” Iwaizumi pleaded, “you can.”
Oikawa choked back a sob. “I-I… you don’t understand, Iwa-chan…”
Iwaizumi sturdied his face with his hands. “Hey, put yourself together for me, okay? What don’t I understand?”
“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa trailed off, really not wanting to put it to words because that’d make it real. It wasn’t like it wouldn’t be if he held his tongue, but time had a way of playing tricks on the brain. Oikawa knew it months before, and so did Iwaizumi, but knowing it and coping with it were two different things.
…but he had to face it.
“I’ve tried so hard not to…” Oikawa continued, mustering the courage as he went along, ”not to love you, because it’s going to be so hard when I’m gone and you’re not there…”
In a few months they were going to graduate, then their paths would diverge. Iwaizumi to university, Oikawa to Argentina. The decision had long been made, but the knowledge of their inevitable separation had haunted it from the beginning. Oikawa willed himself to believe the ghost wasn’t there, but it was in him, and Saeki had seen it.
Iwaizumi was frowning; Oikawa cried more, but before he could wallow in it Iwaizumi let go of his face then immediately grabbed him by both shoulders, shaking him.
“Listen to me, shithead,” Iwaizumi said, determined yet fighting back his own tears, “I don’t care how far apart we are—oceans apart, I don’t care. Wherever you are, wherever I am… I will love you, anywhere.”
Oikawa sniffled, cold in his soaked clothes, yet warmed on the inside. “Really?”
“Yes, dumbass,” Iwaizumi said, tears finally rolling down his cheeks.
If the storm had been suffocating Oikawa, then Iwaizumi had given him air. He reached forward, wrapping his arms under Iwaizumi’s and around his back, pulling himself into him. Face pressed in Iwaizumi’s collar, Oikawa melted into the hug.
“I love you.”
Iwaizumi patted Oikawa on the back, held him tighter, then rested his chin on Oikawa’s head, his drenched state be damned. “I know, I know…”
It wasn’t going to be any easier being apart than before, but as strange as it sounded there was something reassuring knowing that they wouldn’t have to be separated alone. I will love you, anywhere; Iwaizumi’s words echoed in Oikawa’s mind as he wept against his chest. Why had he believed he could convince himself he didn’t love Iwaizumi? Why, when loving him felt so, so good?
For a while—Oikawa didn’t know how long—they stayed that way: crying, embracing, in love. It was all so much, more than what could in haste be worked through either of their systems. Eventually, though, Iwaizumi gently pried Oikawa off so they could look each other in the eyes.
He huffed. “I fucking knew you were gay.”
Oikawa’s laugh came out as a choked gasp, the mood shift hitting him like a ton of bricks. “I go both ways…” he muttered.
“Right…”
“I didn’t know shit about you,” Oikawa confessed, his lips cutting a smile on his face.
Iwaizumi hummed. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed, “made this loving you thing that much harder.”
“Well now you know,” Iwaizumi said; for a moment Oikawa lamented all the time they’d lost, how impossible it’d be to catch up, but pushed that thought aside. Savoring every second now was what mattered.
Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder. “We should think about getting out of here.”
“Why? So Matsu and Makki can tease me more?”
“What? You think you’re any safer in here?” Iwaizumi asked, grinning. “Ork ork, bitch.”
Fuck you. Oikawa straightened his damp collar and pushed past Iwaizumi for the door. “We’re going.”
Iwaizumi laughed. “Love you, Orkawa.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Oikawa paused in the doorway, Iwaizumi behind him, then lowered his voice to a mutter. “Love you too.”
