Chapter Text
‘Oh my god, do it to Iwaizumi,’ Hanamaki blurts out with a laugh when Iwaizumi walks through the door.
It’s their first rehearsal, and since only all the casts and their understudies were present, naturally, it gives way to too much banter and not enough rehearsing. Oikawa, surprisingly obedient and looking thrilled at Makki’s suggestion, gets down on one knee and spreads his arms out wide for Iwaizumi.
‘Iwa-chan!!’
The boy walks straight past his friend, eyeing his clipboard and not the boy prostrating himself, to the small segregated crowd in front of him. The schedule no doubt is looser to fit the messing around of the senior students. ‘Oikawa, I do not have time for your shit right now. Is everyone here?’
There’s a small chorus as the group slowly herds towards Iwaizumi, what with his voice demanding control and respect. There aren’t too many here, mainly just the third years and the handful of kids from first that have enough charisma on stage.
‘Iwa-chan, you have to listen to me!’ Oikawa’s whining and splayed on the floor, a few metres away but still in position. Hanamaki and Matsukawa accompany him, snickering quietly as they sit on the wooden boxes that would be used for props later.
‘Yeah, listen to him,’ Hanamaki goads, eyes narrowing playfully at their manager.
‘You won’t regret it,’ Matsukawa promises, barely containing his smile.
Iwaizumi turns back to his clip board, but even the few talented first years who dutifully crowd around him are vibrating in anticipation. What were these senpai going to do? It was bound to be cool, there’s no doubt about that. Oikawa-senpai is always cool. He sighs and runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes and sourcing more patience from deep within his soul. The well of patience runs dry from too many years of Oikawa.
‘Make it quick.’
‘Iwa-chan, you’re a 9 but…’ Oikawa winks with a shit eating grin and sticks his tongue out, his fingers forming pistols and shooting a few times at Iwaizumi, ‘I'm the one you need! Right?’
The first years look so disappointed.
‘No, what the fuck, Oikawa,’ Iwaizumi says flatly, ‘I’m a ten. Get it right. I’m gonna do roll call,’ he turns away from his questionable friends and addresses the rest of the kids before him; ‘I’ll give you a quick run-down of what’s happening today, but for now, please answer when I call your name. Akaashi?’
The list goes on and on, and Oikawa pouts back at Makki and Matsun. ‘I demoted him. And I can’t even deny that he’s a ten.’
‘He’s a strong ten,’ nods Matsukawa sagely, ‘so strong that most people only skim over him and see him as a six.’
‘I still can’t believe he didn’t make the cast,’ Makki rubs at his chin, squinting at his friend, ‘I guess tech needed him that much, huh? What would our teachers do without his authority?’
‘He tried out?’ Oikawa flops back to sit cross legged, but both his friends look at him with an amalgam of shock and mild disgust.
‘You didn’t know? Iwaizumi tried out for the Beast,’ Makki cocks his head, ‘how did you not know?’
Matsun quietly keeps his stare blank.
‘…Iwa-chan can sing?’
Matsun rolls his eyes, ‘In your decade of childhood together, you’ve never heard him sing? That’s pathetic.’
Oikawa can’t help but blink quickly, swallowing the stone of silence lodged in his throat, before beaming brightly. ‘That’s my Iwa-chan, always giving me surprises!’
He turns back to eyeing his best friend, rubbing slightly at his knee and leaning back against Makki’s.
Drama had never been Iwa-chan’s thing; it’d always been something that Oikawa had had to drag him into.
In elementary, first year, when Oikawa had gone in as the prince for his first play, Momotarou, Iwa-chan had sat up at the very front. When Oikawa had gotten stage fright, his eyes darting around the darkened room, his breath coming quicker and quicker, Oikawa had automatically traced the audience immediately back to Iwa-chan, who’d widely mouthed the words, small hands dramatically gesticulating to try and help Oikawa remember. The kids sitting either side of Iwa-chan had looked mildly disgruntled, but vaguely understanding. But Iwa-chan, from the very beginning, had helped him learn his lines, so of course, at the time; Oikawa had beamed and immediately picked up the play again.
In their final year of elementary, having played the demon from Oni no Hanayome, while Oikawa had portrayed the little beast well, but due to just the nature of the play, he’d not gotten so many lines. He’d pouted, swallowing gulps of air after every performance, wishing desperately he’d gotten a different role. He’d blink away the tears every time, but somehow Iwa-chan had always been there, pockets stuffed with tissues hastily grabbed from the bathroom.
At the end of junior high, on the final night of playing the prince of that western fairy tale, Cinderella, Iwa-chan had brought him a bouquet of mixed flowers, eyes averted, cheeks dark, ‘for you, Asskawa’. (Here, Oikawa had thought, that Iwa-chan, in that moment, made a much better prince than any of the Prince Charmings he’d played in the past week. He was also sure that this was the moment when he’d fallen in love with Iwa-chan, but y’know. Digression.) Twelve year old Oikawa, flushed from the last performance, a small crowd of girls behind him, realising his first love standing in front of him with bouquet (just for him!!), what was he to do?
‘Did you want a kiss from the Prince, Iwa-chan?’ he’d said breathlessly.
He’d had the flowers thrown at his face, but at the end of the night, he still had Iwa-chan standing outside, who walked home with him, stuttering, teasing him about the glittery shit that wouldn’t get off his eyebrows.
Oikawa doesn’t quite mind that they’ve stayed stagnant these last few years, he could hardly even say that they’d remained stagnant. Iwa-chan and he, always moving. They were Oikawa and Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan and Oikawa. Well, in Iwa-chan’s eyes, Iwa-chan and Asskawa, but a simple technicality he could manage.
And now Iwa-chan, standing in front of him, having not even told him he’d even tried out?
‘I want to hear him sing,’ Oikawa whines quietly, imagining his best friend’s voice, gravelly and rough, trailing the strong notes that the Beast’s part.
It then strikes him, turns around to face Matsun and Makki with narrowed eyes.
‘If Iwa-chan is as amazing as you guys claim, why isn’t he the Beast?’
His two friends side-eye each other, and Oikawa hates the fact he doesn’t understand, hates that he doesn’t know, hates that he has to ask.
‘Someone else got the role, dumbass,’ Makki pulls it off smoothly, shrugging, ‘we still, for some reason don’t know who. You could probably ask Iwaizumi, seeing as he’s stage manager and all.’
‘You know who the Beast is,’ Oikawa says flatly, he can see it in the way Makki avoids his eyes.
Matsun has a shadow of a smile, ‘You’re too perceptive for your own good, Oikawa.’
He grins brightly, before settling back down with his back against Makki’s knees, ‘do tell me though, you already know you can’t really avoid me.’
The door bangs open and bloody hell, the man that stands next to Irihata is a fucking tree. Built with broad shoulders and sending a long shadow down the wooden floors, his steps are purposeful and strong.
Everything about Ushiwaka does this. His entrance, his performance, even his bloody voice is commanding, demanding. The juniors crowding around Iwa-chan crane their necks to catch a glimpse of the tree [trunk?] of a man.
‘Okay, why the fuck is Ushiwaka part of our play? Isn’t this just supposed to be inter school Karasuno/Seijou?’
Iwa-chan sighs at the attention span of the cast, but continues anyway; ‘Oikawa.’ He runs a hand through his hair. It does little to retrieve the attention of his children.
And because Oikawa is Oikawa, he hates himself as he dares to sing without his voice cracking, ‘Ya-hoo, Iwa-chan!’
It’s then that Ushiwaka’s head snaps toward the direction of his voice, and Oikawa finds himself swallowing hard and pasting on a stage smile that would have made Irihata proud. He waves at the man, but Ushiwaka's face remains blank; merely blinks in response.
‘Ohh, chilly,’ Matsun murmurs behind him.
‘I guess Shiratorizawa just really fucking wanted to show off their talent,’ Oikawa hums back, stretching his arms above him before to either side. ‘We’ll show him Aoba Jousai’s strength though. We’re not top four for no reason.’
‘Shittykawa, I'm gonna need you to stop swearing because we’re in the presence of children and our esteemed guest,’ Iwa-chan says flatly and the room goes quiet with the irony.
Everyone ignores Oikawa’s shit eating grin.
Bloody Kageyama puts his hand up and Iwa-chan nods towards him. ‘You… just swore.’
‘I’m the manager, I have to deal with high blood pressure no sleep for the next half year; I’m allowed to swear,’ Iwa-chan says without even hesitating, and Oikawa chews back the laughter. ‘As most of you have noticed, we have an unfamiliar face here,’ he gestures vaguely towards Ushiwaka, ‘and we’re honoured to have him because he’s the best that Shiratorizawa has to offer.’
A few badly withheld gasps are heard with heads swivelling again and the stares become unapologetic. Ushiwaka forces the corners of his lips up like it gives him great pain. ‘Greetings,’ his voice smooth, ‘Ushijima Wakatoshi, thank you for having me. I’ll be playing your Beast. I look forward to learning from you.’
Yachi gives a squeak from the lighting booth, and the whole hall hears it.
Understandable, since Ushiwaka-chan practically doubles her height when she’s stretched up on her toes.
‘Oi.’ Matsun’s foot nudges at his hip and Oikawa turns around with a questioning brow.
‘…-Kawa.’
‘Don’t tack my name onto the end of an exclamation!’
‘Your face is scary. I'm a leg’s length away from you but I can feel the wrath radiating off you.’
Makki hums, ‘I’m being fried from the close proximity. Hell hath no fury like Oikawa’s sudden rage.’
Oikawa is mildly shocked because he often conceals his rage well and saves it for the stage. Perhaps it’s because he’s sitting on stage now that his control is a little a lesser.
Or maybe it’s because Makki and Matsun know how to read him.
Because they’re right, Oikawa, for all his acting prowess, is furious.
‘I’m fine,’ he slides a smile on, just another layer to shield the unsuspecting juniors, ‘now listen to my biffle.’
‘Conceal don’t feel,’ Matsun whispers.
‘Don’t let them know,’ Makki sings back.
Iwa-chan says something about background checks, quickly briefing them on their running sheet, directing the crew to their own designated areas; tech crew back stage, understudies to the room outside to rehearse their own lines, main cast up front. Orchestra will be coming at 1, and we want to at least practice the choral parts. Any questions, ask me. Understood? Okay, go.
As everyone starts to move, Oikawa tells Matsun and Makki that he’ll be there in a minute, to start practicing without him.
‘Well now they know,’ Makki and Matsun harmonise and Oikawa can only roll his eyes. He makes an effort to strut as they warble behind him before getting smacked by Iwa-chan.
He makes a bee line to Irihata and he brushes past Ushiwaka-chan, feeling the anger in every exhale.
‘Sir?’
‘Oikawa.’
‘May I have a word?’
The teacher checks his watch, and grimaces, ‘I have a meeting and you have practice. Can it wait?’
Belle, or, well, Oikawa knows his façade won’t hold long. ‘I can walk and talk, sir. Because we’re rehearsing in presumably the order we’re playing, I’ve got some time.’
Irihata tips his head toward the door, and they both traipse out. ‘What is it?’
‘Why is Ushiwaka-chan playing the Beast?’ his smile drops and Irihata’s amicable nature does too. His voice stays low, they pass the understudies filing out to their designated room. ‘With all due respect, you know the number of students who auditioned from Karasuno and Seijou already, yet you take a core role and give it to another school, another acting school’s best man? It’s disrespectful to our students, you didn’t ask for the student body’s input, it’s awful to the third years who didn’t even receive a role—.’
‘Iwaizumi,’ Irihata says flatly, ‘this is about Iwaizumi.’
‘This is not about Iwaizumi,’ Oikawa says firmly, even though it really is, ‘Without Ushiwaka-chan, you would have garnered and honed the skills of at least three other students, if not from Seijou then from Karasuno.’
Irihata stops, crossing his arms, his tone and voice matching that of Oikawa’s. ‘What do you want me to do about it? Take him off the team?’
Oikawa's eyes widen; ‘He’s not even part of the team—.’
‘Shiratorizawa has had an eye on these plays for years. It’s only because we’re not in the same prefecture as them that we haven’t had prior plays. It is an honour to have someone who is already an actor star in these plays, their offer was not one we could refuse. Because Ushijima will be returning home, here, in Miyagi that Shiratorizawa offered. With the knowledge that you were starring in this play, Ushijima requested and since their school has been scouting you for years—‘
It’s a split second reaction, but Irihata sees it; Oikawa’s shoulders stiffen slightly and his fingers snap into loosely coiled fists.
But Irihata continues;
‘And we agreed because you would learn so much from Ushijima. You would learn so much from each other and establishing a connection would be good for your dream anyway, Oikawa.’ His voice becomes gentle, and Oikawa watches the firm lines around his eyes slowly fade, ‘Take it in stride. Try it out, and work with him. You’ve seen his acting, you know his skill. It would be good for you.’
And like that, Irihata ends their conversation by turning and walking into the staff room.
Oikawa is stunned into silence.
Irihata's reason; no- not even a solid reason; an excuse, really, is not legitimate at all.
Oikawa dips his head in respect to Irihata, wondering how he was still alive after scolding the drama coordinator and how he was going to handle the knowledge of having to act beside Ushijima and not Iwaizumi.
‘You are off stage for a minute, but I swear to god Oikawa, if you don’t fucking shut the hell up, you’ll become the understudy in place of Kageyama,’ Iwaizumi’s voice is a violent growl and Oikawa kind of loves it.
He puts a finger to his lips and winks at the stage manager, who rolls his eyes before moving to Hinata and ruffling his hair, telling him something that makes him light up.
‘Iwa-chan never gives me positive reinforcement,’ Oikawa sighs dramatically, attempting to pull off his jacket without flashing the whole team.
‘Iwa-chan, as you put it, doesn’t appear to appreciate the noise you make,’ Ushiwaka states, grabbing the hem of Oikawa’s shirt, ‘It would be ineffective if the audience were to hear you making snide comments about my blank face when you’re meant to be falling for me.’
‘Don’t call him Iwa-chan, you don’t even know him,’ Oikawa snaps, yanking himself childishly from the tree’s hands, ‘and you’re incorrect, Ushiwaka-chan, Belle pretty much despises the Beast before Part II.’
‘She doesn’t know him before Part II,’ Ushiwaka seems to be humouring him, hand heavy on his waist, and Oikawa doesn’t know how he feels now that he’s actually establishing this… relationship with Ushiwaka-chan. He’s really not a bad guy, but he can’t get the image of a few years ago out his head and the fact that it isn’t Iwa-chan professionally yelling at him on stage.
‘Let’s go take two!’ calls Iwa-chan, ‘and I swear Oikawa, if you keep talking backstage, I’ll stab you. Or better yet, I’ll get Gaston to stab you.’ Tanaka crosses his arms and his eyebrows do something fierce. Oikawa allows himself to feel slightly intimidated.
As he turns to head back to his stage position, he feels Ushiwaka’s hand slide off and hears a small murmur of good luck. He ignores it, and chooses to focus on how Iwa-chan’s eyes follow the slight movements across stage. His wishful thinking aches for him to believe Iwa-chan’s barely restraining jealousy, but the reality probably was; their precious stage manager was making sure their lead wasn’t picking fights.
Oikawa gets the option to kiss Ushijima.
When Iwaizumi notices this, he doesn’t breathe for a second, reading, rereading, rereading again that line.
[Optional: replace with a hug or sth. Actor’s choice.]
It’s during the break that he’s going through the script, Iwaizumi’d thought that he’d familiarised himself with the script, but surprise.
How had he missed it before?
God, how would he tell Oikawa?
There are kids milling everywhere, but he’s comfortable sitting inside the audience’s chairs. He’s lost in the uniform rows and rows; likes seeing the whole stage from back here. He has a leg up on the chair in front of him, slouching low into his own, pencil in his mouth and water bottle half full beside him. Break ends in another ten minutes, but he’s not sure where they should proceed from then on.
They had pretty much worked out the biggest kinks in the first act, clumsily stumbling through Act I [but getting through it all!] so the decision was between; going over Act I again, or beginning Act 2?
He hears laughter, recognises it immediately, but he can’t help how his eyes slide from the lined words the stage, to Oikawa, stretched out with his head on Makki’s lap. Oikawa had always been such a physical one, and since they moved on from childhood, Oikawa’s circle had increased from just clinging onto Iwaizumi, to all the people around him. Matsun has his legs on top of Oikawa, but the lead doesn’t really seem to mind.
What does shock him though, is that Ushijima is sitting up there with them.
Not shock. Surprise, would be the better word.
He swallows down the shock.
He’s proud of Oikawa, really, but he knows Oikawa is too petty to just accept Ushijima. Knowing Oikawa, he’d probably slunk off at the beginning of practice to complain about Ushijima’s single presence.
Oikawa wasn’t one that could simply just accept a past demon so easily.
Ushijima had chased Oikawa for years. From early elementary, when Oikawa had started acting, Ushijima had been there, and while Iwaizumi had only seen him as a healthy competitor, a rival for Oikawa to grow from. Ushijima certainly had a lot of things that Iwaizumi couldn’t give; skill, interest in Oikawa’s field, aggressive determination. They’d been quite competitive for the main role, tossing the roles between them every few years just to be the lead.
Iwaizumi had thought Ushijima good for Oikawa, so he’d let it go, every time Ushijima had invited himself over to eat with him. Let go how persistently focused on Oikawa Ushijima had been, let go of the ache that was left because Oikawa’s attention wasn’t solely on him anymore. Let himself like Ushijima, even, his blank face hiding all the sass and teasing he’d been capable of.
But at the end of their elementary years, Ushijima had shifted his aggressive prowess on stage to aggressively pursuing Oikawa, come to Shiratorizawa, only Shiratorizawa could draw out his potential. He spoke like an adult, and in retrospect, it was quite funny. Twelve year old Ushijima grabbing Oikawa’s wrist like in all those rom-com dramas that they made fun of , pulling scrawny little Oikawa close and murmuring like they had a camera pointed at him.
Iwaizumi had let go of that too. Hadn’t thought it a problem; ignored it, even, so he wouldn’t influence Oikawa’s decision in which high school they’d go to. He was realistic to know everything would change eventually anyway; transitioning from middle to high school was just another expected change.
Except it really hadn’t, not for him, anyway.
Because after a particularly draining day of avoiding Ushijima, Iwaizumi had let Oikawa hold the back of his shirt all the way home. He’d offered his hand, like they were five all over again, but Oikawa had adamantly shaken his head, and he had that stony face that Iwaizumi knew he was trying to suck everything back in so he wouldn’t bawl.
So Oikawa had followed him like a duck, greeted Mama Iwaizumi with a stapled grin, but by the time they were up in Iwaizumi’s room, he was shaking a little. It unnerved Iwaizumi, and though he’d seen Oikawa cry so many times throughout their childhood, it never got easier. So he’d just held the boy, though Oikawa was lanky and tall as he grows to be, he still nestled comfortably in Iwaizumi's arms.
‘Are you gonna tell me what happened?’
Oikawa rubbed no against Iwaizumi’s shirt.
Iwaizumi dug his chin into the crown of Oikawa’s head, and he listened to the boy squeal.
The silence between them was comfortable and Iwaizumi had only wished he could do more. The sobs were never loud, they were measured and even, but still shaky and his the tears that leaked were too frequent for Iwaizumi’s liking. When Oikawa calmed down, he’d said quietly;
‘I was kinda scared?’
Oikawa wiggled a little, pulled away, and Iwaizumi froze when he pulled up his sleeve to show the slowly purpling rings around his bicep.
Someone had deliberately hurt this beautiful boy in front of him.
Oikawa fidgeted, eyes averted.
‘He wasn’t violent or anything. It just. Hurt a lot. He kept saying Shiratorizawa was the only place that would make me better, make me the best.’
Shiratorizawa.
Ushijima.
He kept his face carefully blank, at least he hoped he did, he needed to be calm for Oikawa. He needed to be steady, someone Oikawa could hold on to and rely on.
‘You need to tell someone.’
‘N-no!’
‘Why the hell not, Crappykawa, he hurt you!’
Even when they were younger; nothing much had phased Iwaizumi like Oikawa’s unexpected empathy; his understanding holding strong against Iwaizumi’s brute anger.
‘He didn’t mean to! He just really wants me to go, but I don’t want to!’
It had come out as a yelp, but Iwaizumi still remembered his eyes.
Bright. Firm. Resolute.
Just like he was right before a play.
‘You’ll keep my secret for me, right, Iwa-chan?’
He didn't want to. Oikawa had been hurt and Iwaizumi hadn't been there to stop it.
‘You know I will,’ his voice had come out gruff, feeling the words heavily on his tongue, ‘Whatever you want. But just hang on a little longer, we’re graduating soon.’
Oikawa had beamed at him, and they’d spent the rest of the evening alternating between watching documentaries about beetles and the X-Files.
Distracted from his plan for the day, the script and the music score, Iwaizumi faintly recognises that Oikawa's behaviour hadn't shifted at all. The following Monday after the bruises had developed like photographic film, and every day as the bruises faded, Iwaizumi's precious friend had kept his bright smile strong. The rest of the cohort knew nothing; but Iwaizumi had made sure that he was always with Oikawa. Ushijima had retreated slightly, holding himself at an arm's distance from the pair. Iwaizumi nearly felt bad for him; as handsome as the boy was, there weren’t very many who could approach him.
And then he remembered gently applying ointment to Oikawa’s arm and eh. The sympathy disappeared.
But now he looks up to the stage, and wonders why he’s not up there too. Ushijima fit in so well, and while Matsukawa and Hanamaki don’t know his history, Oikawa isn’t exactly u-turning to get away from him. Iwaizumi’s not an actor, no, but he’s not sure how Oikawa is really holding it together. He’s still Oikawa’s best friend, enjoys roasting him with Hanamaki and Matsukawa. It makes Iwaizumi feel a little nauseous, how easily they fall together.
Ushijima seems to say something worthy of note, because Oikawa flushes [prettily] and Matsukawa smirks, Hanamaki leering a little as they both snicker at the flailing boy.
Act 2, they’ll do Act 2 after the break.
‘Okay, so seeing how… disjointed Act I was, how many of you have actually learnt your lines?’ as Iwaizumi scans his cast, there’s a shocking amount of kids who guiltily avoid his eyes. He hides the creeping knowing smile with stern authority.
‘If that’s the case, we’re gonna do this old school style. Main and understudies, get into a circle and run through your lines. Familiarise yourself. Learn them.’ He eyes every one of them before turning back to his clipboard. ‘You’ve got an hour and a half to get through the first three scenes, and we’re gonna switch it up a little bit. Main cast in the room understudies were just in, understudies on stage.’ At the muffled groans [predominantly from Oikawa], and excited squeals for the stage, Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and explains flatly, ‘they’re your understudies. Should anything seriously go wrong, they need a feel for the stage too, even if they’re just reading their lines. That being said, I expect you all to know your lines by next practice.’
He keeps his eyes on his list of things to address; he’s left this to the very end on purpose. ‘Oikawa, Ushijima, Kageyama, come here, please. The rest of you, disperse.’
The hall buzzes with excitement, and the three called step up to him. Kageyama noticeably twitches, the only first year in the face of the rest of them. Iwaizumi takes pity on this poor kid.
‘All right, so, as we the leads of this play, I expect you all to know your lines.’
Oikawa does. They’d spent the holidays before going through Oikawa’s lines, Iwaizumi acting as the Beast anyway. It didn’t matter that Oikawa didn’t know, his role was irrelevant until needed. Ushijima probably knew too, professional actor and all. And Kageyama…
Stands a little more proudly, his back straight and chin up.
Iwaizumi ignores the swell of pride.
‘Wonderful. Then we all also know that in our final scene, because this is a romantic play, we have the option to kiss.’
He doesn’t look at Oikawa, but he can feel his friend stiffen. Kageyama blinks a little, but doesn’t give away any more than that; Ushijima still completely blank. ‘Remember, this is completely and absolutely optional, there’s no issue if you decide against it. Discuss with your partner if you’d like to or not, and I’ll note it down.’
He then turns to Kageyama, the poor child, and tries to smile as gently as possible. ‘It’s up to you.’
He seems to be glaring up over Iwaizumi’s head, scowling a little, and Iwaizumi realises how abrupt this must have been. ‘Uh—‘
‘C-could-is it, I mean,’ Kageyama’s stuttering is quite cute, and Iwaizumi wonders what kind of Belle he would make, should Oikawa be sick. ‘Can we not?’ He blurts out, and Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh. He doesn’t know where the relief comes from, but he reassures Kageyama that all is well, and they could just hug it out instead.
‘We’ll do it,’ he turns at Ushijima’s resolute voice, and Oikawa seems to be blinking too quickly to be normal.
‘Ushiwaka-chan, I didn’t say that I want to, you can’t just- decide that on your own!’ Oikawa kind of reminds Iwaizumi of a distressed butterfly, nervously bouncing from foot to foot, causing his hair to flap.
Inappropriate timing for unprofessional thoughts.
He meets Ushijima’s eyes with a raised eyebrow, and a very unimpressed glare. Ushijima seems unperturbed.
‘We’ll do it,’ he repeats, turning back to Oikawa, because it’s probably easier to talk Oikawa into consenting rather than Iwaizumi approving this, ‘It adds to the atmosphere, and the original and professionals do it. I am professional.’
Are you? Hangs in the air unsaid, and Iwaizumi swallows, because he remembers this, how competitively Oikawa would rise to the snatch the bait, and how easily Ushijima manipulated Oikawa into doing things.
‘Fine,’ he snaps, glaring back defiantly, and something in Iwaizumi’s stomach sinks a little. ‘We’ll do it. but know it’s not because I like you Ushiwaka-chan. You shouldn’t even be here.’
‘I will teach you,’ Ushijima says flatly and he turns away to walk to the stage, ‘how to convince the audience that we’re in love. Right now our relationship is not… satisfactory for persuading the audience that your love for me saves the story.’
It’s almost funny how he says all that with a straight face.
‘That is what acting is all about, Ushiwaka-chan, convincing the audience of the story regardless of our emotions,’ Oikawa snarls, but follows him. ‘and if you follow your own line of thinking, Belle’s not even in love with the Beast until halfway through Act 2, so I think our relationship is just fine, thanks.’
‘Kageyama,’ he says a little wanly, ‘would you like to join the rest of the understudies, practice a little?’
The boy switches between crestfallen and pumped in a second. Somehow. ‘Yessir!’
Iwaizumi watches Kageyama jog up the stage behind the two still bickering leads, before he joins the circle. He sits cross-legged between Kunimi and Kindaichi, who scooch over a little begrudgingly, but Kageyama quickly slots right in.
He quietly ticks above Oikawa and Ushijima’s names and makes a cross above Kageyama and his own.
‘I’ll prove to you that you’re not ready, you’re not good enough yet.’
What the fuck, Ushijima.
The hall is silent, the understudies shocked and probably terrified as their star is humiliated unnecessarily. Iwaizumi’s head tips back to see Oikawa’s wide eyes, flashing furiously.
Though blank, Ushijima still looks astoundingly repugnant. Though he has half a head on Oikawa, his chin is still insolently up. Unapologetic.
Iwaizumi feels like he should be probably stopping whatever from happening, but he wants to see his best friend rip this asshole so bad. Ushijima has never had the right to Oikawa.
So Iwaizumi does something.
‘Juniors, we’re moving you off stage, and we’re gonna watch how the pros, do it,’ he calls up to the stage, and a few faces crumple, given how short their stage time had been, but most of them obediently crowd into one of the wings.
Oikawa runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it up like an offended peacock and Ushijima sheds his jacket coolly, as if that was all that was hindering his potential.
‘Where from?’ he grits out.
‘You came back.’
Oikawa rolls his eyes, and they start to tear up a little bit.
Iwaizumi rolls his own. Impulse crier.
‘Yeah, but which one, you Neanderthal, the Beast says that line like five times.’
‘Twice. He says it twice, and I mean from the second time, after the reprise. Skip the final chorus,’ he stands rigidly centre stage, and raises an eyebrow. ‘Flaw one, you don’t know your stage directions. This scene takes centre, are you sure you know the script?’
I am the stage director, Iwaizumi’s mind is quiet, and I haven’t given stage directions yet.
Oikawa grits his teeth, and shifts forward, opening his arms stiffly, and Ushijima all but collapses into his arms.
Immediately the atmosphere shifts, because Oikawa’s knees give and his arms wrap tightly around Ushijima’s broad shoulders. He starts sobbing, breaths uneven and tears slowly escaping. He gently lays Ushijima back, resting his upper back on his knees.
The lighting booth dims the hall, focusing a hazy spotlight on the two fools on stage. Iwaizumi turns around to the tech crew, giving them a wide grin and a thumbs up.
Yachi and Yamaguchi beam back.
It’s then that Ushijima demonstrates why he’d been already been professionally selected for Hollywood.
‘You… you came back.’
None of that blank shit going on, Ushijima’s face looks weird contorted in imaginary pain. His breaths stutter and he coughs like he’s spitting blood.
Oikawa laughs a little, swiping away tears but simultaneously generating more for the act, ‘Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them…’ a thumb strokes Ushijima’s cheek, comforting, soft. As if Ushijima’s crying too. ‘If only I’d come sooner…’
‘Maybe… it’s better this way,’ the Beast sighs, turning away from Belle and his eyes half lid toward the audience. He makes eye contact with Iwaizumi, holds it. Iwaizumi crosses his arms, not backing down either.
‘No!’ Belle, uh, Oikawa chokes, ‘Don’t… don’t talk like that! Everything will be fine!’ Oikawa’s hand gently turns Ushijima back to face him. ‘Everything will be fine…’
‘No…’ the Beast coughs again, sighing and his eyes finally slide closed. ‘At least, I got to see you one… last…’
‘Stay with me,’ Belle gasps, tipping his head down to the Beast’s.
‘Belle, I—’the Beast chokes, reaching to push back Belle’s hair. A brief, gentle caress, and the hand falls limp to the Beast’s chest.
‘No! No, no, please! Don’t leave me!’ Belle’s voice rises hysterically, ‘I…
‘I love you.’
Iwaizumi swallows hard, closes his eyes. When he opens them, looking back up to the pair on stage, he sees Ushijima’s face tipped toward him, eyes, slit open, but still watching him. Instead of staring at what seems like his competition, he looks at the understudies. Tanaka and Nishinoya look ready to cry and Kageyama seems to be bellicosely taking notes.
Oikawa collapses on top of Ushijima, back heaving with sobs, and there’s a slight pause.
The transition is rather shocking, actually.
‘So… how did you think we were gonna do the transformation scene…?’ Oikawa pushes himself off Ushijima and raises an eyebrow.
Ushijima’s face is blank again. He stands, before gently smiling, offering a hand to Oikawa. Oikawa fixes the waterworks again, sniffing, before accepting. He stands, and Ushijima whispers, ‘Belle, look into my eyes, Belle, don’t you recognise the beast within the man,’ Ushijima pulls Oikawa close, a hand pressing into his lower back, the other cupping Oikawa’s cheek, ‘Who’s here before you?’
‘I’ve seen you ugly, I’ve seen you beautiful. And I choose both, because I love you.’
For fuck’s sake, he closes his eyes literally for a second and suddenly Oikawa spouts these corny lines that aren’t anywhere in the script.
But when Iwaizumi whips around ready to rip into the kid, he doesn’t see Belle kissing the Beast, no, sees Oikawa’s hands cupping Ushijima’s face, Ushijima’s hands heavy on Oikawa’s waist, pulling him in closer ‘til they’re chest to chest. Faces tipped poetically so they fit gracefully. Their eyes slide shut and Iwaizumi blinks, stage curtains’ movement, the dramatic lighting flickering, but.
Tight.
His chest is tight.
It is difficult to tell himself that this is all just acting.