Chapter Text
If Iwaizumi Hajime could make the ground swallow him whole, he would throw Oikawa Tooru straight into the depths of hell. Why did he always have to deal with crazy fans? It was already the fourth time that week alone. He was tired—exhausted, really—of girls and boys approaching him, bombarding him with questions about his friend: “What’s Oikawa-san like?” “What kind of person is he?” “Why is he still single?”
People just came up to Iwaizumi, claiming they were in love with his best friend, and it annoyed him to no end. Frankly, they didn’t even know the real Oikawa. None of them knew about his obsession with aliens. Hajime had lost count of how many times he’d been forced to rewatch Star Wars and The X-Files, not to mention the countless times his shirts had been soaked with Oikawa’s tears while watching the ending of E.T. for the thousandth time.
They also didn’t know that milk bread was his favorite food or about his terrible taste in reality shows. Oikawa put so much sugar in his coffee that Hajime swore he had no idea how he hadn’t developed diabetes yet. He bit his nails when he was concentrating. His hair in the morning looked like a nest built by a lazy, disorganized bird. When it rained, he would come over to Hajime’s house, begging to stay the night because he was scared of thunder. And despite appearances, Oikawa was deeply insecure.
There were so many things about his friend that no one but Hajime knew. Oikawa was a master of disguises, and Hajime had spent enough time by his side to recognize every single mask he wore.
He didn’t want to be asked about Tooru anymore, because, for some reason, he didn’t want to share the answers.
“Damn it, Shittykawa,” Hajime muttered under his breath.
“Oi, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa called, catching his attention. “Already annoyed with Oikawa?” he teased.
“When am I not annoyed with him?!”
“That’s true, but what did he do this time?” Hanamaki asked. He had grown used to the duo’s arguments and had long since stopped worrying—no matter how much they fought, they never really parted ways.
“It wasn’t exactly him, but it’s still his fault,” Iwaizumi began, stuffing his things into his backpack. “It was just another one of his fans. Why the hell should I know why he keeps rejecting every confession?”
“Oh,” the friends said in unison, exchanging a knowing look.
“What?” Hajime asked, confused by the look on their faces.
“Well, you have more to do with this than you realize.” Actually, Matsukawa thought, you are the reason.
Hajime’s confused expression stayed put, making it clear he had no idea where they were going with this.
“Honestly,” Hanamaki said, hand on his forehead, “for someone so smart, you’re pretty clueless about the most obvious things.”
A frown appeared on Hajime’s face, and he was about to respond when Matsukawa jumped in.
“Have you ever thought about how you two act around each other? And maybe—just maybe—it’s more than friendship?” Matsukawa knew he was digging his own grave, but he couldn’t stand watching them act like slugs any longer.
It took Hajime a few seconds to process, his face flushing with confusion.
“W-What? W-What are you talking about?” he stammered.
“Come on, Iwaizumi!” Hanamaki waved his arms. “You know exactly what we mean. You and Oikawa act like a couple… all the time.”
“What?! Where the hell did you get that from?”
“Come on, Mattsun,” Matsukawa said. During his time with Oikawa, some of the nicknames had stuck, and they used them too. Oikawa had never allowed them to use “Iwa-chan,” and they doubted Hajime would let anyone else use the nickname—but he never stopped Oikawa from calling him that. “Help me check something. They’re always together, everywhere. They never go anywhere without each other, right?”
“Check,” Matsukawa confirmed, pretending to hold a clipboard.
“They go to the movies together?”
“Check.”
“They go to festivals together? Which, by the way, are popular couple events.”
“Check.”
“Wait! That doesn’t mean anything. We’re childhood best friends; spending a lot of time together is just natural,” Hajime protested. He felt he had to explain, though he didn’t know why.
“Hmm… okay! Mattsun, did Oikawa freak out when Iwaizumi got that confession letter from the first-year girl?”
“100% check! I can still hear him whining that his precious Iwa-chan was going to abandon him.”
“That’s just Oikawa being a selfish idiot,” Hajime insisted. “He didn’t want to share attention with anyone else.”
“And do you remember how Iwaizumi hugged him, telling him not to worry because no one would ever take his place, Mattsun?” Hanamaki continued, ignoring Hajime’s feeble excuse.
“I felt nauseous that day.”
“How many times do I need to say it’s just because we’re best friends? Oikawa’s spoiled and insecure; his little tantrums are normal to me,” Hajime said, frowning deeper.
“Let’s do a test, okay?” Hanamaki suggested.
Hajime raised an eyebrow, uncertain whether he should agree.
“Think about Oikawa’s wedding,” Hanamaki said.
“What? That’s ridiculous! What’s the point of this?” Hajime thought. The idea of his best friend getting married had never even crossed his mind. He doubted anyone would ever be crazy enough to marry that idiot.
“It’s just a little test. You have no reason to refuse, do you?” Matsukawa challenged.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just do it.” The sooner he complied, the sooner he’d be free from their ridiculousness.
“Imagine Oikawa getting married. Picture the whole wedding planning process—and most importantly, your role in the event.”
“My role? I’d probably be the best man,” Hajime said. He’d never thought about it. It was automatic; he was the best friend, right? Of course he’d be the best man.
“Just imagine it,” Hanamaki insisted.
“Close your eyes and picture Oikawa organizing everything.”
“This is so stupid,” Hajime muttered, rolling his eyes—but he obeyed.
Tooru kept talking to the wedding planner about every tiny detail. He was so animated, and Hajime loved how Oikawa’s chocolate-brown eyes sparkled when he got excited.
Hajime had to bite the corners of his lips to stop a small smile from escaping.
“Iwa-chan, what do you think of these colors for the base decoration?” Oikawa asked, showing two fabric samples: white and turquoise.
“White and blue? I think it’ll look great! Reminds me of Aoba Johsai colors.” Why was he helping Oikawa decide this? Shouldn’t this be for whoever he was marrying?! Well, maybe it was part of the best man’s job too… Hajime really didn’t know.
“White and turquoise, Iwa-chan! Turquoise!” Tooru pouted like a spoiled child.
Hajime rolled his eyes but didn’t bother saying that to him, it all looked the same anyway. Tooru continued chattering with the planner, consulting over every detail, and to Hajime’s surprise, he didn’t mind at all. He liked seeing Oikawa look at him expectantly, waiting for his approval.
“Wait a second,” Hajime finally said. He’d been nodding along to everything Oikawa said. “What?! Oikawa, for God’s sake! You cannot use The Imperial March as your wedding march!”
“But… Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, pouting. “It’s Darth Vader’s theme song.”
“And that’s exactly why you can’t! This isn’t Star Wars.” Hajime considered praying for the poor soul who would be stuck with that nerdy idiot for life.
“The worst part is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually did it someday,” he whispered to himself. “Okay, I’ve done what you wanted; that’s enough.”
“Nuh-uh,” Hanamaki wagged a finger. “We’re not at the best part yet—the wedding day itself. Imagine the big day.”
Hajime didn’t resist. Those two were almost as relentless as Oikawa, and he just wanted to go home.
He was standing in front of rows of guests. Everyone was looking at him, making him blush. But that feeling vanished as soon as The Imperial March began. He had to suppress the urge to throw a volleyball at Oikawa’s head.
Then Oikawa entered his view. Time stopped. Tooru wore a white suit and held a bouquet of red tulips—eternal love, he had once told Hajime.
Their eyes met. Hajime’s heart melted. He hoped Oikawa would look away—but he didn’t. Oikawa walked down the turquoise aisle covered in white petals, never taking his eyes off Hajime.
And then Oikawa reached him. His hand found Hajime’s.
“Ready, Iwa-chan?”
It hit him like one of Oikawa’s killer spikes. All this time… it had always been him.
“Shit,” Hajime muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“You’ve said that four times,” Matsukawa teased.
“Shit,” Hajime hissed, pulling his hair back.
“Five times.”
“I was the groom,” he admitted.
“Oh God, finally!” Hanamaki cheered, and Matsukawa followed.
“How did I not notice before?!” Hajime wondered aloud.
“We’ve been asking ourselves that for years,” Matsukawa said.
“I have to go,” Hajime said, trying to leave, but Matsukawa grabbed his arm.
“Where?”
“To find Oikawa.” He might be making a mistake, but he’d repressed his feelings for too long.
Matsukawa and Hanamaki stepped aside, smiling. As he turned to leave, Matsukawa called out:
“Iwaizumi, why is Oikawa single?”
“Because I’m an idiot!”
♔
Oikawa was locking up the gym when Hajime found him.
“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Don’t be mad—I didn’t train much, I was already heading home.”
“I didn’t come to fight,” Hajime said, stepping closer.
“So… what?” Oikawa tilted his head.
“If you’re going to hit, then hit until you break.”
“I’m in love with you.” Simple. Direct. Honest. “I probably always have been. I don’t know when I made the worst decision of my life, but it doesn’t matter. I had no choice… and probably never did. The moment I met you, I was defeated. God, how did it take me so long to realize? I just figured it out five minutes ago. I’ve always loved you… and I always will.”
“W-What?” Oikawa stammered. “Is this a joke?”
“Why would I joke about this, idiot?” Hajime stepped closer.
“Why wouldn’t it be a joke?” Oikawa’s voice broke.
Hajime cupped his face, bringing their foreheads together.
“I love you, Tooru. I love everything about you.”
“I… I love you too,” Oikawa whispered, tears in his eyes.
“You’re such a crybaby,” Hajime said, smiling, before closing the gap for a gentle kiss—warm, calm, perfect.
Afterwards, Oikawa asked what made Hajime realize. He told him about Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s push.
“That explains the text,” Oikawa laughed.
“What text?”
“Makki said I should get a part-time job because I owed him ramen—and Mattsun, for the rest of my life.”
Hajime laughed and kissed him again.
“Well, they deserved it,” Oikawa whispered.
“And just so you know… no Imperial March at the wedding.”
Oikawa looked utterly confused.
“What are you talking about, Iwa-chan? How did Darth Vader’s music get here?”
“You’ll see.”