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When Iwaizumi sees the invitation, it’s sitting on the desk of his dorm. It’s a normal enough envelope, paper on the more expensive side, but it’s the embossed words inside that set him on edge.
Iwaizumi Hajime, as a member of the undergraduate school of Civil Engineering, you are hereby invited to the annual Engineer’s Ball
He’s known about it, of course. The Ball is spoken about even by the first year undergrads like himself, professors allude to it, it’s even featured in the local paper every year as a societal event. Simply put, it’s a spectacle. It was designed to allow up and coming engineering students and current college faculty to meet with local employers and important people in the field, and that cause had expanded to the almost grand event it was today. If a student didn’t go to The Ball, it was said, they wouldn’t have a chance of getting a job after graduation.
But the problem, the problem that has Iwaizumi’s stomach up somewhere near his throat, is that it is socially taboo to attend The Ball without a date.
His first thought is his cousin. Between constant homework and getting to know a new volleyball team, Iwaizumi hasn’t had time to make many friends, and of the few he has made, none of them are girls. His cousin is, and she attends the same University, but that route is shut down immediately when he remembers she also is an Engineering student (Mechanical, because she insists it’s superior to Civil) and that she’ll already be attending, with her boyfriend.
“What’s that face for?” His roommate asks, and Iwaizumi turns to face their stacked bunk beds. Sawamura Daichi is leaned back, propped up on no less than three pillows (one of which came from Iwaizumi’s own bed), with his laptop on his lap. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” He continues.
“I need a girl.” Iwaizumi says, before he stops to think about how that sounds.
Sawamura laughs. “I’ve lived with you for seven months, I know you do.”
Iwaizumi crosses the small room and drops the invitation on his roommate’s chest. “I need a date and I don’t know any girls here.” He clarifies, looking pointedly at the open envelope instead of Sawamura’s face.
“I’ve got you covered.” Sawamura says, as soon as he reads the introduction to the letter. He hands the letter back and Iwaizumi takes it.
“What?”
“I know a girl. It’s fine, she’s free that day anyway.” Sawamura seems completely unbothered by the situation, and while Iwaizumi didn’t expect him to be personally invested in the crisis, he didn’t think he would be this casual about it.
“Who is she?” Iwaizumi asks, because it doesn’t sound like there’s anything else to ask.
“Michimiya Yui. I’ve known her since middle school, she dated my volleyball manager for a while. She’s free that Friday, and she looks kickass in formal wear. I’m sure she’ll do it.”
He sounds so sure that Iwaizumi doesn’t even doubt the truth to the statement. Somewhere in the back of his mind is the knowledge that Karasuno’s manager was a girl, which is a little scandalous, that he’d so blatantly admit that his friend is gay, but at least that wouldn’t complicate things. They would just be acquaintances out for a night of fancy food and small talk with fancy people. Most of that scenario sounds like hell to Iwaizumi, but if it’s for his future career, he’ll absolutely do it, and at least pretend to enjoy himself.
“Okay, you think she’ll say yes?”
“She’ll say yes.”
A few minutes later Sawamura puts his laptop away and takes his phone downstairs to call his friend. Iwaizumi can just see to top of his head and shoulders from their window, and he watches him pace back and forth. No more than thirty seconds into the phone call Iwaizumi sees him cringe away from his phone, holding it further from his ear, as if he’s being yelled at. He probably is being yelled at, for assuming that his friend would be free to spend an evening with a stranger.
When Sawamura returns to the room, he sinks against the closed door, looking defeated.
“That looks like a no.” Iwaizumi says, watching Sawamura bury his face in his hands.
He lifts his head and shows what looks like a pained smile. “She’ll meet you at six.”
The ballroom of the main Engineering building on campus is more elaborately decorated than he’s ever seen it. The exterior entrance is festooned with elegant streamers and lights adorn the columns that sit on either side of the wide double doors. Iwaizumi is uncomfortable. His tie (a bowtie, not by choice) feels like it’s choking him and even though he’s owned these pants for years they’re suddenly itchy.
Sawamura told him what his friend looks like, and Iwaizumi doesn’t see her anywhere. He’s early, though only by a few minutes, and scanning the crowd around him for a girl with short dark hair in a red dress.
Everyone around him feels fancy, more fancy than he can even pretend to be in his uncomfortable suit. He sees a group of students pointing out the dean of the college, and then, a few minutes later, he sees a local businessman who employs half the engineers in the city; everyone is here. Everyone except his date, evidently.
He hears a snippet of music from the newly open door as a group of people enter. The music sounds classical, but upbeat enough that someone could dance to it. He hopes there isn’t dancing. Would Michimiya expect him to dance with her? Maybe there’s nothing to worry about, after all, he doesn’t even know if Michimiya can dance, Sawamura didn’t say.
It’s ten after six when she arrives, panting and clutching the hem of her red dress so as to keep it from dragging the ground. She drops the hem and bends over, palms on the tops of her knees, to stop her ragged breath. Iwaizumi is worried about her, and wonders whether she should sit down, but before he can ask, she stands up.
“You’re Iwaizumi, right?” She’s still out of breath, but hardly pauses to allow him to answer. “Right, you look like him,” she points to her own chest, “Michimiya Yui. So sorry I’m so late.”
“Don’t--” worry about it he tries to say, but before he can get it out she’s apologizing again.
“I was going to be on time but then I missed my train and I was too scared to run to the next station and by the time the next one came it was already almost six! Did I say I’m sorry? Because I’m really sorry.”
“Er,” he’s a little bowled over by the speed with which she talks, but he knows being ten minutes late doesn’t require being quite so apologetic. “Apology accepted, it’s, um, not really a big deal.”
She doesn’t talk again, but he’s a little worried that she doesn’t look able to talk. She isn’t panting anymore, but her cheeks are red and she looks maybe a little squeamish as she glances between him and the ground. Had he been too rude? He probably should have just let her ramble, that would have been more polite, right?
He shuffles his feet and watches her as she looks at the people around them. She’s prettier than he expected, even with the sweaty flush on her cheeks and the way her mascara is slightly smeared at one corner. He supposes it makes sense, if she dated Karasuno’s manager, she would have to be just as pretty, isn’t that how couples usually work?
“Do you-- I mean, shall we go inside?” He offers her his arm, as casually as he can manage while still feeling choked by his bow tie.
They go inside, and if Iwaizumi thought the exterior decorations were fancy, the inside is a palace. The main engineering building, usually occupied by studious engineering students bustling between classes and using the empty ballroom as a shortcut, is no more, and in its place is a large room covered in ice blue and silver tapestries. The room is full of people, laughing and, yes, unfortunately, dancing. They’re sipping what is probably champagne from crystal glasses and Iwaizumi has the urge to walk right back out again.
Michimiya’s hand on his forearm is warm even through his jacket, and the reminder of her presence keeps him walking.
She’s a natural with a crowd. The stuttering apologetic girl who met him outside seems to have been replaced by a being of pure charisma. Soon he’s being introduced to half the people in the room, important and influential as well as his fellow students, people he must’ve walked past on campus nearly every day and never said a word to.
She’s also, seemingly, a natural at acting like a couple with someone she’s just met. Iwaizumi finds himself turning to her for cues: watching the way she laughs at jokes that someone around them intended to be funny and laughing himself in turn, following her when she tugs at his arm to get them another drink, wrapping his arm around her waist when she leans her head on his shoulder and he introduces her as his girlfriend.
He’s never had a girlfriend to introduce before, not really, and he’s finding it fun to pretend.
Michimiya leads them over to another group of people, these ones young like them and before Iwaizumi can introduce himself to any of them he finds himself face to face, or more accurately, face to space-above-her-head with his cousin, Hana.
“Hajime-kun!” She nearly yells, and punches him in the gut. It’s meant to be happy, festive even, but Hana’s always packed too strong of a punch and he can already feel the bruise forming.
“Hana-chan.” He manages to say, though even his voice is a little ragged. “Good to see you.”
Hana ignores him in favor of staring down Michimiya. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she looks as if she’s examining a painting, or maybe a sculpture, something artistic but inorganic. He wonders if this is how she looks at the machines she engineers, the mechanisms she studies.
“Hana-chan, um, this is my girlfriend Michimiya Yui.” He hears how his voice strains a little on the word girlfriend and hopes she doesn’t notice.
“Girlfriend?!” Hana spits, and laughs loudly before hugging Michimiya with the force of a tiny tornado. Michimiya isn’t very tall, herself, but next to Hana she looks like an American model, and, wrapped up in her arms, she looks especially trapped.
When Hana releases her, Michimiya bows a little. “Nice to meet you… Iwaizumi-san?”
“Gods no, I’m a Takizawa. Takizawa Hana. My mom is Hajime-kun’s mom’s sister, and you are much too pretty to be dating my angry little cousin.”
Michimiya laughs, and Iwaizumi tries to laugh a little too. “Oh, I don’t think so. He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Michimiya says, reaching up, and Iwaizumi is surprised to feel her hand patting the side of his face affectionately. He’s not sure where Michimiya gets her nerve from, but he’s more than a little envious, and he owes Sawamura dinner for at least two weeks for convincing her.
“At least someone thinks so,” Hana laughs, “And this is my boyfriend Hamada Nanjiro.” She wraps her arm around a guy about Iwaizumi’s height with glasses and hair that falls into his face. He bows the best he can with Hana’s arm in the way, but doesn’t speak.
They talk for a few more minutes, and Iwaizumi is happy to get the family small talk out of the way as quickly as possible. He likes Hana, but being around her too long is always exhausting and he’s afraid that if she pokes too hard at the shell of this fake relationship, it will crack and Michimiya will leave.
Soon someone else draws Hana’s attention and she scurries away with her boyfriend at her heels, tall and skinny like an evening shadow. Michimiya takes a deep breath and then sighs, turning towards Iwaizumi.
“She sure is… something.” She laughs, and it’s a little hysterical, but he understands the sentiment.
“Yeah. Thanks for playing along.”
She smiles, but then it falters slightly and he doesn’t understand. “It’s all part of the job, right?” She says and then takes his hand. “Come on, there have to be some fancypants people here you haven’t met yet. Let’s go!”
By the end of the night Iwaizumi manages to avoid dancing altogether (Michimiya doesn’t ask, Iwaizumi doesn’t offer) and he’s got a pocket full of potential employer’s business cards. Everything went remarkably well, but, even so, he’s exhausted by the time they walk out into the chilly night air, hand in hand, waiting for the taxi to take Michimiya home.
When they’re beyond any lingering crowds, Michimiya lets go of his hand and steps away. “Well, that was surprisingly fun!” She sounds genuine, and gives him a quick hug before stepping back again.
“Um, yeah, it was.” He finds that he’s genuine too, if awkward about the balancing act. “Thank you for coming with me, Michimiya-san.”
The taxi arrives and she laughs, he’s worried about how much he’s gotten used to the sound. “You can drop the -san now, I think. If you want.”
He nods, and finds himself smiling. “Good night, Michimiya.”
“Goodnight, Iwaizumi.” She says, and she closes the door of the taxi.
Iwaizumi watches it drive away as he walks towards his building, head full of stars and red fabric swirling in the breeze.
He wakes, too early, to the sound of his phone ringing. The sun is barely leaking through the window blinds, and judging by the amount of light, it’s got to be earlier than he planned on waking up. He’s only surprised for a second to see his dad’s name on the caller ID before he answers it.
“Hello?”
His dad, a stern man with a stern routine, has probably already been awake for three hours, judging by the clock on Iwaizumi’s phone that says it’s 8AM. He’s probably had a whole day in the few hours that Iwaizumi has spent sleeping after his hectic night out.
“I hear you have a girlfriend.” His dad says, with no other greeting as a preamble. Iwaizumi chokes on his own saliva.
“I...er…” he manages after recovering from his minor coughing fit.
“Your mother told me that her sister emailed and said that Hana told her she’d met you and your girlfriend.” Even over the phone his father’s voice is enough for Iwaizumi to manage a mental picture of how he must look right now, kneeling at the table, newspaper folded next to his breakfast plate.
“Oh, um… yes.” He’s not really sure what else he can say. Denying it now would make everything worse.
“You will bring this girl home, Hajime.” There’s no question in his tone, and Iwaizumi knows what that means.
“She’s really busy, she’s in school and starting an internship soon. I’m not sure when she’ll have time to make the trip.” It’s the flimsiest excuse, but all he can fabricate on such short notice.
“That wasn’t a request. You will bring her home. Your mother will make grilled mackerel on Saturday. Dinner is served at 4:30.”
He doesn’t have a chance to respond before he hears the telltale double beep of a disconnected call and looks down to see that his dad has hung up. He flops back onto his bed, cursing under his breath so as to not wake up Sawamura, on the bottom bunk beneath him, if he hasn’t already.
He knows it’s unlikely that Hana will be at the dinner to refute anything if Iwaizumi brings a different girl, but he’s got the same dilemma: he still doesn’t know any girls. And, another new feeling sitting in the back of his mind: he wants to see Michimiya again. That thought he lets sit, hoping it will stay still so he can ignore its presence. He goes back to sleep for a few hours.
When he wakes up again, this time much more leisurely (it’s Sunday morning and he doesn’t have classes) it takes only a few seconds for him to remember his problem. He can hear Sawamura across the room, music in his headphones and tapping what is probably a pencil against his notebook. It’s a common studying position for his roommate, and the rhythmic tapping is more likely to put Iwaizumi back to sleep than to annoy him.
Iwaizumi wipes his eyes and sits up, as much as he can on his top bunk, in order to prevent that situation and checks his phone. He doesn’t have any new messages, and the clock tells him it’s nearly 11. Sawamura does a double take over his shoulder and then takes off his headphones.
“Finally awake, sleepyhead?”
“Can you give me Michimiya’s number?”
Iwaizumi tries not to look as Sawamura spins around in his chair and does a cheesy smile. “So… Things went well, I take it?” He replies in a suggestive voice.
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” Iwaizumi groans and rubs a hand over his face. “It’s not like that. I have to ask her a favor.”
After a few more teasing comments Sawamura gives Iwaizumi the phone number and he spends most of the day fretting her answer. He hadn’t even danced with her, don’t girls like dancing? She had spent the whole night saving his ass from awkward social situations, what’s the incentive for her to do him another favor, and one as big as pretending to date him in front of his parents?
It’s after dinner and he’s sitting cross-legged on top of his bedsheets by the time he finally manages to hit the call button on her number. In the few seconds that the phone rings he considers the merits of hanging up, of calling at a time where she’s less likely to answer so that he can leave a message, of texting her instead, but then she picks up.
“Hello?” Her voice is polite, and Iwaizumi remembers that as far as she knows, she answered an unknown number.
“Er, um, hi, Michimiya, it’s Iwaizumi... Hajime, we went out, um, last night.” He wants to bury himself in the ground, he’s so embarrassed by his own voice. It sounds like he’s calling her after a date, but it wasn’t a date, it was a favor.
When she responds her voice is noticeably happier. “Iwaizumi! Hi! Have to say I didn’t expect a call from you.”
“Yeah.” He replies, and after a second too long, spent pulling at a loose thread on the blanket beneath him, he continues. “I got your number from Sawamura. Hopefully that’s okay.”
“That’s fine! I, well, I meant to give it to you before I left anyway.”
The pause again, this time from both of them, and Iwaizumi isn’t sure he can break it.
“So…” Michimiya is the one to speak, “Why are you calling? Not that I mind.”
“Oh, um.” Here it is. He’s going to ask her and she’s going to laugh in his face. Or, in his ear, technically, and she’s probably too polite to laugh at him but she’s definitely going to say no. “I have another favor to ask.”
She does laugh, but it isn’t spiteful, it sounds surprised. “Oh, really? Does it involve wearing fancy dresses?”
Never in his life has he wished to have Oikawa’s easy charisma more than during this conversation. He tries to laugh but it sounds like he’s choking. “Ha, um, no, but it does involve travel?”
“I’m intrigued.” She responds, and his heart beats a little faster at the realization that, despite his fumbling, she’s playing along. “Go on.”
“You remember my cousin Hana, right?”
“That hug is hard to forget. I think I’m bruised.”
This time his laugh is genuine and when he continues he’s still a little out of breath. “Well, she told my parents that I have a girlfriend.” He pauses, hoping that she’ll be able to guess the rest.
“Oh?” If she’s guessed, she doesn’t give it away. She only sounds mildly interested and her voice is a little quieter than before.
“Um, yeah.” He clears his throat, “And my parents have insisted that I bring my girlfriend home to meet them.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“You.” He clarifies, and he can feel how red his face must be.
“Oh!” She lets out a nervous laugh and somehow it makes him a little more comfortable. At least he’s not the only nervous one. “Of course, yeah, that’s what we told her, isn’t it? When is it?”
He’s too focused on the tone of her nervous babbling that he doesn’t actually hear what she asks. “What?”
“When do they want to meet her… er, me?”
“This Saturday.” He answers, remembering his dad’s ultimatum. “And they live in the middle of nowhere, it’s a three hour train ride.” He knows he probably shouldn’t be trying to talk her out of saying yes, but it feels dishonest otherwise. He may as well get all the information out there so when she answers it will be for certain.
“Hang on, let me look at my schedule,” she laughs, “That sounds fancier than it is, I’d just forget everything if I didn’t write it down. My high school friends hated me for it, the only thing I ever remembered was volleyball practice times.”
He laughs a little, partially because he gathers that he’s supposed to, and partially to fill the silence. He’s not sure if he imagines that he can hear her turning pages of a planner in the background, but he tugs at the loose thread on his blanket again while he waits.
He doesn’t realize she’s responded until he hears the end of her sentence. “What?”
“You’ll buy the train ticket? I mean, they’re sort of expensive when you’re going that far.”
“You’ll come?” He’s shocked, and he’s sure his voice reflects it. “And yeah, I’ll buy the ticket, absolutely. You’re really saying yes?”
“I’m really saying yes.” He doesn’t know for sure, but it sounds like she’s smiling, and he smiles too. “So, what time do you want me at the station?”
When Saturday rolls around, so does the fog. Iwaizumi finds himself bundled up in a scarf his mom gave him when he started high school with his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. It’s not as chilly as it could be, and he’s actually a little grateful that the cold will lessen the potential heat in his face when he sees Michimiya again.
He’s accepted the fact that he has a crush on her. He’s also accepted that he’s got no chance, which makes it easier to control his runaway brain, but it hasn’t yet stopped him from blushing annoyingly when Sawamura mentions her.
He’s about twenty minutes early for their train by the time he gets to the station, and he’s already got the tickets in his pocket. He sits on a bench, damp with foggy dew, and stares off into the distance. The station is full of people, undeterred by the gloomy weather, and Iwaizumi finds himself watching people as they pass, flicking from face to face with the anticipation of seeing Michimiya again.
When she does arrive, he almost doesn’t recognize her.
Her hair is the same, mostly, but without any conscious styling that she’d done before, and it curls around her face and the edge of her jaw. She’s wearing jeans and a button up blouse with a tiny pattern of what he realizes are blue birds with a zip up sweatshirt over the top. He hadn’t expected to be more attracted to her in casual clothes than the finery of the Engineer’s Ball, but then, he hadn’t ever expected to be attracted to her in the first place.
“Iwaizumi! Hey!” She calls when she spots him, and hugs him quickly before stepping back. “You look nice in regular clothes.” She says, gesturing to his own jeans.
“Um, thanks. You too.” His face is already red, he can feel it prickling against the cold. He feels like steam is going to come out of his ears.
The train ride doesn’t take nearly as long as it usually does, to Iwaizumi’s estimation. They don’t talk too much, but every time he glances over at Michimiya she smiles at him. He finds himself watching her reflection in the window, overlaid on the passing landscape, her smiles flickering over distant views of mountain lakes and the trees that line the train tracks. Her eyes looking through the winding streets of small towns in the distance.
It’s nearing four in the afternoon when they step off the train, and Michimiya stretches and stumbles, falling sideways into Iwaizumi. He catches her easily, without losing his own balance, and brushes off her apology.
“Are you good to walk? It’s only about ten minutes.”
She nods and they set off. He’s been back home twice already in his first few months of University, but each time he comes back something looks different. This time it’s a wall, once white, that’s painted green on the side of the market. He doesn’t point it out to Michimiya, knowing that it would probably be incomprehensible nonsense to someone who’s never been here before, but he wonders what she’d think, or if she feels the same way when she goes back to her home town.
His parents’ house is traditional, set back off the road with a low wall surrounding the gardens around it. The gate squeaks when Iwaizumi opens it, and it’s so familiar he almost forgets he’s here with someone and that he’s not just running home from volleyball practice on a fall day.
On the porch she takes his hand and he looks over at her.
“Girlfriend, remember?”
He’s too nervous to talk, so he knocks instead. It’s strange to knock on the door of your childhood home, but it feels wrong to just walk inside with a person they haven’t met.
His mother answers the door, and her smile is bright. “Hajime!” She half yells and pulls Iwaizumi into a hug. Her head only reaches his chest and he uses his free hand to hug her back. His mother has always been like this, loud and happy, charismatic in a way that Iwaizumi has never been. If he had ten yen for every time someone mistook his mother for being Oikawa’s he wouldn’t need to go to University at all. She releases him and steps back to look at the girl beside her son. “And you must be the girlfriend we’ve heard so little about.” She throws a disappointed glance at Iwaizumi before bowing her head to Michimiya.
“Mom, this is Michimiya Yui. My, um, girlfriend.” Iwaizumi manages to choke out, and Michimiya squeezes his hand in encouragement.
“It’s nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-san.” She says to his mother, and bows at the waist.
“Well, you’re as good as family now. Hajime never brings girls home to us, though he’s such a handsome boy I’m sure he’s had plenty of girlfriends.” She laughs and Michimiya laughs too. It’s almost like they’re back at the Ball, and Michimiya is playing the room. He can tell his mother is already charmed just by her introduction.
They’re ushered inside and he’s separated from Michimiya’s hand by his mother’s arm around her waist, pulling her close. Michimiya hardly has time to shed her outdoor shoes as she’s pulled through the entryway. They’re both talking up a storm, and if Iwaizumi was listening closely, he’s sure he would be embarrassed by the stories his mother chooses to tell a woman she just met. He trails behind them, feeling oddly like an abandoned pet.
His father is in the living room, kneeling beside the table, just as Iwaizumi is so used to seeing him. He’s wearing a dark blue yukata with intricate embroidery that Iwaizumi knows he reserves for special occasions. His father stands when his mother enters with Michimiya, and he bows to her.
Michimiya bows back, deep enough that Iwaizumi is surprised that she doesn’t kneel, but he’s impressed as well. He knows his father would look for any excuse to be unimpressed, and she hasn’t given him one yet.
“Hajime, get up here and introduce your girlfriend to your father!” His mother calls, and then forcibly pulls him forward by the arm until he has to put his arm around Michimiya’s shoulder or send them both sprawling on the floor. He hears her gasp at the contact, but doesn’t move his arm while he introduces her.
“Father, this is my girlfriend,” he doesn’t stumble this time, “Michimiya Yui.”
She bows again, but this time just her head, as she can’t move much with Iwaizumi’s arm around her. “It’s nice to meet you.” She says.
He nods to acknowledge her, and there is a few seconds of silence before Iwaizumi’s mother claps loudly for attention. “Okay! Enough pleasantries, it’s time to eat. Sit, sit, while I get the food.”
Iwaizumi starts to sit and Michimiya speaks up, “Can I help you, Iwaizumi-san?” She says to his mother.
“Oh, no, Yui-chan, you just sit right there and get comfortable.”
They sit. Iwaizumi is afraid that they’re too close, that Michimiya will be uncomfortable by the occasional contact of their shoulders, but she shows no sign of noticing. They don’t talk much until his mother comes back with the food, grilled mackerel as his father had promised, and a half dozen side dishes. It’s too much food for four people, but Iwaizumi knows his mother loves to cook, especially when she can show off for someone.
They talk. The conversation is mostly his mother and Michimiya, with his father occasionally asking a question that is blunt enough to be off putting, and Iwaizumi is surprised and pleased to see Michimiya is unfazed. She answers his father’s questions with as much enthusiasm as she does his mother’s.
Iwaizumi finds himself smiling, and when he glances over at Michimiya she’s smiling too, even with a mouth full of food. She punches him on the arm and swallows her bite. “Stop staring, you dork.” She says, and even his father laughs when Iwaizumi blushes.
Michimiya helps his mother clear the dishes, at her insistence, and Iwaizumi and his father move to the more casual family room. This room is his father’s one concession to western ideations, and that concession is a single large couch, plush and comfortable, that Iwaizumi spent a lot of his childhood climbing and subsequently jumping on.
His father sits in a straight backed chair and sips the tea he’d brought from the dinner table. He’s silent but Iwaizumi can feel that he’s being watched. His father seems to think better of the tea, and sets it down in order to pull a bottle of sake and two glasses from the cabinet against the wall.
He pours both glasses and Iwaizumi can’t even comprehend what’s happening as his father hands him one.
“Drink.” He says. Iwaizumi isn’t sure he would have been able to do so without the prompt.
He drinks, and it burns like any other alcohol but the way he feels it all the way to his toes is a different kind of warmth. He sets the glass back down next to his father’s and returns to his seat on the couch.
He’s never had his father’s sake, let alone poured by him. It’s a sign of respect that he hadn’t expected. A sign that his father sees him as a man now, and Iwaizumi’s nerves are on edge at the con he’s pulling having such real consequences.
“I like her.” His father says, breaking their delicate silence, and Iwaizumi doesn’t have a chance to wonder if he actually heard the words or not because his mother and Michimiya come back, bringing a flurry of giggling conversation with them.
They settle in and continue their talk. Iwaizumi finds himself spacing out, and he’s hardly listening to the conversation when he hears his mother speak up. “You better marry this one, Hajime,” she says, and she points to Michimiya, who laughs in shock. “You’re not going to get any girl better than her!”
He laughs, too, and he can’t bring himself to feel uncomfortable about the statement. Michimiya’s shock laugh turns into a genuine one, and when he glances at her he smiles in a way that he hopes shows that he’s sorry for his mother’s presumption. She smiles back. He thinks he sees his father grin, but he hides his mouth quickly behind his tea cup.
He loses focus again after a few minutes of conversation, and lets his mind wander. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s strange. He feels more comfortable around his parents than he has since he was a child, and a welling fondness rises up in his chest when he glances over at Michimiya and she’s nodding her head in exhaustion. He reaches over and pulls the top of her head towards his shoulder, letting her relax, and she sleepily grabs his free hand and holds it against her stomach. He’s happy, he realizes, and so are his parents as they watch the exchange.
His parents continue to discuss recent happenings in their town, and Iwaizumi contributes occasionally. He’s more focused on how he can feel Michimiya’s breath through the cotton of his shirt where she’s resting against his shoulder, or how she’s still holding his hand against her stomach, wrapped in both of hers.
He lets himself imagine that all this is real: that Michimiya is his girlfriend that he’s brought home to meet his parents, that her sleeping on his shoulder is nothing new, that they will go back to their house together, that he could kiss her goodnight. His mom would be ecstatic when he tells her that he proposed, getting the girl they loved so much from the first time they saw her, how Yui would smile and hold his hand as they stood in front of his parents, engaged.
They get sent home before it’s even dark, and Michimiya insists she’s fine to stay even as Iwaizumi’s mother is shoving them out the door. His mother hugs him, long and tight and he doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t embarrassed by a hug like this, but it feels nice. She hugs Michimiya too, rubbing the top of her back, and as she pulls back she holds both sides of Michimiya’s face.
“You better visit soon, Yui-chan, we’ve got lots to talk about!” She says, and only lets go of Michimiya’s face when she nods in response.
“Of course, Iwaizumi-san. We have to talk more about those scoundrels you knew when you were my age.” She laughs and winks at Iwaizumi when she notices his shocked expression. He can feel his heart breaking, just a little, when he imagines his parents’ expressions when he has to tell them that Michimiya won’t be visiting again. He’ll have to tell them that they broke up, so that his parents will never know that they never dated in the first place.
They finish their goodbyes and set off for the train station. The sun is low in the sky and it’s the moment of time where it’s not quite sunset but the day still feels as if it’s over. The fog is back, rolling in on the edges of town and creating an early darkness. Iwaizumi has his scarf is wrapped around his neck and Michimiya’s jacket is zipped.
It’s quiet during their walk and Iwaizumi spends most of the time watching his breath as puffs of white vapor, but the silence doesn’t feel strained. His mind is still half caught in self indulgent daydreams and he keeps accidentally letting himself forget that as soon as they get on off that train, or maybe as soon as they get on it, this whole charade is over.
They make it to the platform, and apparently the train they’re taking is a less popular option, as the area around them is mostly deserted. They’re standing close enough that it takes Iwaizumi a moment to notice that Michimiya is holding his hand.
He looks over at her, and she looks impassive, but he has her attention when he glances down at their hands. “We don’t have to fake it anymore.” He says.
She shrugs with one shoulder. “Who knows? We’re still close to your house. We may see someone you know.” She’s smiling like it’s a joke, but he’s not sure if it’s sincere. The sentiment makes sense, he reasons, so he doesn’t let go. He knows that he doesn’t actually want to let go, but that he should if he wants to exhibit any sense of self control.
He looks back towards the tracks, waiting for their train, and tries not to think too much about her hand in his. He can just see her out of the corner of his eye, she’s tapping one foot and swinging their hands just a couple centimeters at a time, back and forth. After a few seconds she tugs at his hand, and he turns.
He’s not quite sure how she does it, but before he knows it her free hand is on the side of his neck and she’s kissing him. She pulls him closer, her hand moving to the back of his neck, and he’s not even slightly surprised to find that he’s kissing back, putting as much enthusiasm into this moment as he can, before it’s gone.
She pulls away, just a few centimeters, and keeps her hand on the back of his neck. He’s dazed but he can tell she looks nervous. He can feel that his face is as red as it’s ever been and hers looks a little red too.
“That wasn't fake.” He says, and he knows it’s true, there’s no way that she was faking that kiss, and he can’t imagine why she would.
She smiles, and it’s the biggest smile he’s seen from her yet, bright and almost smug with self satisfaction. “I’m glad you could tell.” She says, and closes the distance to kiss him again. When she pulls back this time she’s laughing, and he’s laughing too.
They’re still holding hands when the train pulls into the platform, and they don’t let go when they step inside.