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Iwaizumi kicked his shoes off at the Oikawas’ front door, looked round the corner at his boyfriend, and sighed. “Oikawa,” he said, exasperated.
In the living room, Oikawa was sitting curled up in a ball on the sofa, transfixed by the television screen in front of him. If it weren’t for the way he opened up his blanket to let Iwaizumi in, Iwaizumi would have thought he hadn’t even noticed him coming inside. Iwaizumi shrugged his coat off, rubbing his cold hands together before pressing them under Oikawa’s shirt.
“Iwa-chan!” he screeched, flinching away violently and pushing Iwaizumi to the floor as Iwaizumi cackled. “You can get your own blanket, asshole.” He may have given up the chance to share, but at least Oikawa’s eyes were away from that stupid show.
While Oikawa’s recent fascination with true crime TV shows was frustrating, it wasn’t exactly unexpected, and it wasn’t the most troublesome thing he’d ever fixated on. When they were six, Oikawa had decided he couldn’t go anywhere without Usa-chan, his stuffed rabbit, then wouldn’t stop crying when he took it swimming and it got all wet. Later, in middle school, he spent hours of his time staring at his Myspace page, unable to stop thinking about likes and comments and which posts were doing better than others. By comparison, an episode of TV or two a night was nothing.
As he settled into his spot on the sofa, he turned to Oikawa, who was transfixed once more. “When will your parents be back again?” When there was no response, he kicked gently at the bundle next to him. “Hey.”
“Huh?” Oikawa said, seemingly annoyed to have his attention pulled away yet again. “Oh. Not till next week. They had to stay an extra few days because my grandma got a fever all of a sudden. She’s okay, but they just want to be sure.”
While his words may have sounded dismissive, Iwaizumi could see the way he held his blanket round him just a little tighter. He put his hand on the small of Oikawa’s back, rubbing his thumb back and forth gently. Instead of pushing any further, he resigned himself to becoming wrapped up in whatever near-unbelievable events had occurred twenty years ago somewhere in the USA. “Was it the boyfriend or the dad?
“You haven’t even heard anything yet!”
“I don’t need to. It’s almost always a woman who’s gotten into a shitty relationship that her friends and family warned her about, or a family where the father has been abusive and took it fifty steps too far and ended up burying his kids in the backyard. So. Boyfriend or dad?”
There was a pout forming on Oikawa’s face; Iwaizumi could tell without even looking. He didn’t answer immediately. With every moment that passed, Iwaizumi became more smug. “The dad,” Oikawa said reluctantly. “And he buried them in the forest, not the backyard. That would be rookie mistake, Iwa-chan!”
“Of course. How could I be so foolish?”
He may not have been particularly interested in the ins and outs of the wackiest, most horrific crimes ever committed, but he would have been lying if he said he didn’t find it adorable when Oikawa got invested in things like this. Oikawa preened as Iwaizumi dropped his lips to his shoulder. “You wanna come to dinner at mine tonight? We’re having nikujaga.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve still got some leftovers that need eating today.”
After that, the afternoon passed mostly in comfortable silence, with the occasional incredulous comment from Iwaizumi or unhinged observation from Oikawa. An overall completely harmless activity.
---
Iwaizumi’s phone was ringing.
It was some disgusting hour in the morning and he’d been dreaming about playing at nationals and his phone had rudely interrupted that, screeching out the godawful pop song that Oikawa had insisted on setting months ago as his ringtone for when he called.
The longer the garish tune blared, the more Iwaizumi’s brain started to kick in. Oikawa didn’t call him in the night for no reason. The thought immediately put him on high alert. Pushing himself upright, he scrambled to grab his phone before it stopped ringing. As soon as it was at his ear, he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, still slurred with sleep. “‘S wrong?”
“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice was quiet, shaky. Scared.
Forcing any lingering tiredness out of his brain, he untangled his legs from his bedsheets and got to his feet. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. Give me two minutes.”
“Wait,” Oikawa said just a moment before Iwaizumi put down the phone. His voice was stronger, but still tight. “Don’t hang up.”
What the hell had happened? Despite his normal ability to stay rational, it was impossible to stop his mind from spiralling, considering all the possibilities. If someone or something had hurt Oikawa, he would make sure it didn’t have the ability to do so again. As he replied, he paced across the room, out the door and down the stairs. “Okay. I won’t. Just sit tight. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
That calmed him down slightly, and he slipped his feet into his shoes, hoping he hadn’t woken up his parents in his haste. He listened for a moment, but there was nothing to hear other than the hum of the fridge in the kitchen and Oikawa’s breathing in his ear. Quietly, he unlocked the door and let it click shut behind him.
The cold bit into his skin immediately, making him wish he’d grabbed a hoodie before he’d ventured outside. As he paced across the road to the house that was almost as familiar as his own, he took in his surroundings: the cicadas in the nearby forest, the distant rush of cars racing through the deserted streets, the lamppost on the corner flickering erratically as it always did. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Had Oikawa spent too long watching reruns of Ushijima’s matches again? It couldn’t have been his knee injury, since he said he wasn’t hurt, but what if he was just trying to downplay it to stop Iwaizumi from worrying too much?
“I’m coming in,” he said into the call, fitting the lock of his spare key to the Oikawa household into the door. He didn’t bother searching for his slippers to replace his hastily thrown on trainers, instead opting to take the stairs two at a time and barefoot. He knocked on the door to his partner’s room before hanging up the phone. “Oikawa?”
At the lack of response from within the room, Iwaizumi pushed the door open, sense of dread renewed. Inside looked much the same as it did every other day, glow in the dark stars shining mutely from the ceiling, curtains drawn tightly over the window, bed directly beneath it. The only difference was that Oikawa wasn’t actually in bed at all. Instead, he was curled in the corner, comically large duvet wrapped around his body, shoulders and head, leaving only a minimal amount of his face visible. His eyes were wide, pitiful. It would almost have been comical if it weren’t for Iwaizumi’s worry.
“Iwa-chan,” he whispered.
Iwaizumi didn’t move, scanning the space once more before checking the corridor. “What’s wrong? Who do I need to fight? Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“They’re going to come for me.” His voice wobbled, and Iwaizumi wished the culprit luck, because they would never know peace again.
“Who? Where?”
“All of them! The stalkers, the murderers. Nowhere is safe, Iwa-chan!”
Iwaizumi blinked.
Oikawa’s voice was deadly serious, truly scared. His positioning was deliberate, Iwaizumi could then see – the perfect place to be able to keep an eye on both the door and the window, the only two entry points into the room. Iwaizumi was almost surprised he hadn’t pushed his furniture against the door.
He snorted.
“Are you laughing at me? This is serious!” Oikawa said, immediately irritated.
With that, all the tension drained out of his limbs, and he had to hold onto the doorframe to keep his balance, unable to stop the guffaw that escaped his mouth. “You– you’ve spent so much time watching those shitty shows that–”
“Hey! They aren’t shitty, they’re interesting.”
Iwaizumi wiped a tear from his eye. “You can’t even spend the night alone in your own house–”
“They teach you about the psychology of a killer, and how they can catch them!”
He was finding it hard to breath. “Wait– let me find some guy with an axe– or maybe a man with a van to follow you down the street–”
Oikawa huffed, turning his body away. A single tuft of messy hair was visible from within the mound, which only made Iwaizumi laugh harder. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, you can just go back home. I’ll fend for myself, and you can feel guilty when someone comes and stabs your helpless, lonely boyfriend while he’s sleeping peacefully in his bed.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. It’s just,” he wheezed. He took out his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to their group chat with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, captioning it Find Oikawa challenge. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he added, “You’re killing me here. Hey. Look at me.”
Seemingly appeased and ready to be comforted, Oikawa popped his head out of the covers for the first time like a little meerkat. However, the calmness was immediately replaced by rage as Iwaizumi snapped another three photos, each catching a different expression perfectly and sending those too through to the group chat. Oikawa’s phone pinged and he looked down at it, understanding dawning on his face. “Iwa-chan, I swear to god, if you’ve sent anything to those idiots, I will murder you.”
Iwaizumi grinned indulgently, finally managing to let the laughter subside. “Yeah, but you’re mad now, right? Not worried anymore?”
“Get out of my room.” From his position on the floor, he launched the plush Vabo-chan he’d been clutching in his cocoon directly at Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi caught it easily.
“That’s my Scarykawa.”
“If you want my forgiveness, go and make me the best tea you’ve ever brewed, you monstrous brute.” Oikawa picked himself up off the floor and flung himself onto his bed, duvet and all, determinedly facing the wall.
Though couldn’t help but roll his eyes, he knew that Oikawa still wasn’t feeling like his normal self, so he followed the instruction without complaint. After a moment of searching, he found the chamomile and set to work. Once it was steeping, he searched the cupboards for a pack of Oikawa’s favourite biscuits, and decided to bring them along as a peace offering.
Oikawa hadn’t moved when he returned to his room except to retrieve his phone from where he’d momentarily abandoned it on the floor. He looked over his shoulder when he heard the door open, still slightly too tense for Iwaizumi’s liking, but quickly relaxed and rolled over to face him. Then, he remembered he was supposed to be mad, and began to pout. “Well? What have you got for me?”
“Chamomile,” Iwaizumi said as he placed the tray on the bedside table. “And biscuits.” He lowered himself onto the bed, stroking at Oikawa’s back soothingly.
That was a sufficient distraction, and Oikawa pushed himself into a sitting position. “Oooh,” he said, settling himself against Iwaizumi’s side. He really did fit perfectly there. Despite his teasing, Iwaizumi didn’t genuinely want to make Oikawa feel worse, so he raised a hand to run through Oikawa’s hair. Oikawa moved into the action before reaching around him for a mug and a sweet treat. “I guess you’re off the hook.”
Iwaizumi hummed. For a while, they sat and sipped at their teas, letting the calming flavour wash over them and enjoying each other’s company.
Once they were finished, Iwaizumi placed the mugs back on the tray and looked over at Oikawa. His eyelids had flickered shut at some point and his head was bobbing dangerously. Iwaizumi cupped his cheek in one hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth. Then, he moved to take the tray back downstairs.
Before he’d even made it out of bed, a hand caught his wrist in its grip. “You’re leaving?”
The vulnerability in Oikawa’s voice made his chest ache. There was nothing in the world that could get him to leave when his partner was feeling like this. “No, Tooru,” he said softly, freeing his wrist to interlink their fingers. He looked at their empty cups, then back to Oikawa. “I was just gonna take that stuff back downstairs, but…it can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
He let himself be pulled back into the bed and under the covers, let Oikawa wrap his long limbs around him like a koala. While he was sure there was no genuine danger, he couldn’t help but worry at Oikawa’s visceral reaction to it all.
Sensing his concern, Oikawa nuzzled deeper into his chest. “I’m okay while you’re here, Iwa-chan. I’ll be okay. No more true crime in the house alone. Promise.”
He couldn’t help but push his buttons just a little bit more. “Don’t these people usually target people they already know?” he said, pulling Oikawa’s hand up to his face and nipping at his wrist playfully. “Aren’t I the one who is most likely to try and murder you in your sleep?”
“Iwa-chan has known me for long enough that I think he would have tried that by now.” His reply was oozing with absolute confidence.
Iwaizumi contemplated for a moment, tapping his forefinger against Oikawa’s arm. “Poison in your tea, push you down the stairs…”
Oikawa slapped his chest irritably, though there was no real bite to it. “You know you’ll be the first suspect if something happens to me.”
“I guess that’s even more reason to keep you safe, then.” He pushed his face into Oikawa’s hair, pressing a kiss onto his head.
If Oikawa was a cat, Iwaizumi was fairly sure he would be purring with contentment. He could feel his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. For a while longer, he lay with Oikawa in his arms, enjoying his warmth. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the trust Oikawa put in him, though he did wish he hadn’t put himself through all this in the first place. Still, at least he’d gotten a laugh out of it, even if he’d lost sleep over it.
In the morning, he would suggest that Oikawa stayed at his house for the remainder of the time his parents were away, but not before he bullied him about it some more, hopefully with the support of Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Until then, he closed his eyes, pushed his face into Oikawa’s hair, and let himself fall into a finally uninterrupted, blissful sleep.