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“I thought you’d cry,” Iwaizumi had said to him after they finished their last practice.
Oikawa was going to brush that off with a joke, but he couldn’t help but linger on the memory of the first and second years thanking them and bidding them a farewell. They never used any words like “goodbye” specifically, except in the look on their faces and the hang of their shoulders. Kyoutani had shook and sobbed fat tears under the cranky crease of his brows; many of the other second and third years tried to hold back tears and act like tough upperclassmen.
Both coaches had clapped him on the back, telling him he’d go on to do great things. It made him look down at the shiny gym floor, face warm, like he was a little boy in middle school again.
And just like on their last day of middle school, Iwaizumi’s nose was running as he wiped the tears from his face. He bowed stiffly, a slight tremble in his hands.
“Me too,” Oikawa had replied.
Now he lay flat on the wooden bench, letting his arms and legs hang. Usually, he would’ve left by this time, but it was the last day, so he let himself be lazy, savoring. He stretched out his limbs, his left foot hitting the old scuff mark on the wall the way it always did. It was the last time he’d ever lay on this bench, dirty and dead tired and wonderfully sore. He let out a content sigh, even as his stomach knotted.
Ice cold plastic pressed down against his forehead. He shot up, swatting it away.
Iwaizumi stood over him with an amused smile, Oikawa’s pale pink towel hung across his broad shoulders. He was holding out a bottle of Pocari Sweat.
Oikawa let their hands brush as he took it from him.
“Thanks.”
He loved the way Iwaizumi watched him as he tipped his head back and drank it, the way his gaze flickered from the bob of Oikawa’s throat to the mouth of the bottle against Oikawa’s lips. He used to hide it, sneaking glances when he thought Oikawa wasn’t looking, but now he didn’t bother, eyes unabashedly staring whenever he wanted. It was a little—embarrassing. Thrilling.
Oikawa had chugged half the bottle before he tore it away and released a raspy exhale, then set the bottle on the floor. His tongue swept across the corner of his mouth.
Iwaizumi stared at that too, then looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“What?” said Oikawa, smiling and tilting his head.
“You’re such a—”
“Tease?” Oikawa tilted his chin upward.
“I was going to say ‘bastard.’”
“Are you going to kiss me now?”
Iwaizumi looked around to see if anyone was there, then licked his lips and leaned down, cradling Oikawa’s face with one hand and bracing the other against the wall as he pressed their lips together. Oikawa wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, trying to bring him closer as their mouths slotted together and parted in a kind of maddening satisfaction. The other hand fisted the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt, fingers twisting into the cotton when their tongues brushed and he could taste a particular sweetness in Iwaizumi’s mouth.
Oikawa pulled away after a few more second. His voice wasn’t nearly as strong as he wanted it to be.
“You drank soda after practice? Tsk tsk.”
Iwaizumi huffed. “It’s the last day of school. Let me live.”
They had resumed kissing when Oikawa’s cellphone buzzed on the floor where he had left it. They pulled away, glancing that the caller ID. “Mattsun.” They ignored it, and Iwaizumi pressed a wet kiss on his neck right below his ear. Oikawa’s breath stuttered.
The phone on the floor buzzed again, then the one in Iwaizumi’s pocket.
They reluctantly parted to check their messages.
“Beach day?” said Oikawa. “We haven’t even formally graduated yet. He sure likes planning ahead.”
Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be more excited.”
“I am. I just wanted to spend the first day of break doing nothing. Maybe take a bubble bath, put on a face mask.” He clapped his hands. “I just bought some new ones!”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Stop spending all your money on that crap.”
“You love the face masks I make you put on!”
Iwaizumi’s eyes darted to the side. “Only the mud and avocado ones,” he mumbled.
Oikawa took a swig of his drink, smug.
“Come on,” Iwaizumi said, hand circling Oikawa’s wrist. His thumb rubbed against Oikawa’s knuckles. “Let’s go home.”
Oikawa didn’t want to, wanted to sit here in this exact spot until sundown or who knows when—but he couldn’t say that, so he stood and laced their fingers together.
“By the way,” Iwaizumi said as they walked, “you owe me 120 yen for the drink.”
“You know what? Good luck finding someone as cute as me to kiss. Good fucking luck.”
The next morning, when the homeroom teacher called his name during the ceremony, he looked up from his lap and startled, forgetting to respond. Surprise flashed across her face before she moved on to the next name.
He knew Iwaizumi and some of his other classmates were looking at him, but he stared straight ahead at nothing and kept his face neutral. He continued this way through the principal’s speech, then dropped his gaze to his lap again when the mayor began speaking, expression still blank. From the corner of his eye he could see Iwaizumi glancing over at him frequently from a few seats away, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back.
Years later, when he tried to remember his graduation, he found that it all passed in a blur.
The coming of the next day made Oikawa feel like he was waking up from an unsatisfying nap.
After a short bus ride and a longer train ride, Iwaizumi slid into the cab and told the driver, “Tsukihama beach,” then turned to Oikawa.
“What’s wrong?”
Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I could feel you sulking on the train in my sleep. And you were weird at graduation.”
“I wasn’t sulking. And I’m never weird.”
Iwaizumi didn’t push like Oikawa expected, just giving him that awful look, patient and penetrating in a way that only Iwaizumi could manage. They stared at each other for a long time, the confused cab driver glancing at them in the mirror every so often, until Oikawa’s eyes flickered to the window.
“Oikawa.”
Oikawa leaned his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and kept looking out at the window. Iwaizumi rested his head against his hair. He followed Oikawa’s gaze, trying to see what he was looking at.
“The weather’s nice here,” Oikawa said after a few minutes.
“It’s a beautiful day for the beach,” said the driver. “You kids should enjoy it to the fullest before the rainy season. I heard it was going to start a little early this year.”
Oikawa smiled at being called a “kid.” The only people that ever called him a kid at this age were Iwaizumi’s mother and a few seniors in the neighborhood.
“We will,” said Iwaizumi. “Thank you, sir.”
“Are you going to the beach soon?” Oikawa said.
“As soon as my grandchildren come down to visit,” he said. “They’re coming down from Akita!”
Oikawa smiled at that, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He wanted to roll down the window to breathe in the air. For the first time that morning, he felt calm. The rain would come in a few weeks, and he wondered what this city looked like in a downpour. The sight and smell of a rainy Sendai came to him unbidden, and he could recall with near-perfect accuracy the drumbeats of rain against his roof and on his head, the view of Aoba Jousai uniforms drenched in water, the droplets on the purple flowers in front of Iwaizumi’s house.
Oikawa lifted his head when ocean came into view, almost forgetting that that was that they came for. He hadn’t been to the beach in over a year, he realized. It floored him then that he really had nothing to do—no more volleyball matches or practices or studying for exams that might or might not alter the course of his future. Not for a little while, at least.
He paid the driver when they stopped, saying, “Thank you, sir.” Then, after a pause, “I hope you have a good time with your grandkids.”
The driver smiled, wrinkles lining around his mouth and eyes crinkling. “You have a good day now, son.”
He returned the smile before getting out, cradling the watermelon in his arms like a baby.
“Look Iwa-chan, I’m pregnant!”
Iwaizumi took off his sandal and threw it at him.
Oikawa laughed, and Iwaizumi’s shoulders relaxed.
Oikawa put down the watermelon and grabbed the sandal, kneeling to slip it on Iwaizumi’s foot.
“Like a buff Cinderella,” said Oikawa.
Matsukawa waved in the distance when he saw them running towards him. Hanamaki was already in the water.
Iwaizumi and Matsukawa filled the cooler with ice and drinks while Oikawa set down a few beach towels. When he took off his shirt, he heard someone choking behind him.
“Oh my god,” Matsukawa croaked, holding a can of soda and beating his chest.
“What?”
“Oikawa,” he said, looking somewhere below Oikawa’s face. “You—your—what the hell.”
Iwaizumi was staring too, lips parted.
Oikawa looked down at his own body, then turned pink. “I usually cover them up with makeup,” he said, refusing to look them in the eyes. “And it’s not that surprising.”
“We’ve never even see you guys kiss,” said Matsukawa. “I mean, I guess I assumed you did regular couple stuff, but—Jesus. I need to tell Hanamaki; he owes me 1000 yen. Hey, have you guys had sex yet? Then I make 3000 yen.”
Oikawa got even more pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, crossing his arms. “In fact, these are just vacuum tube marks. Don’t they make me look experienced?”
“You would rather say something so embarrassing than admit Iwaizumi gives you hickeys?”
“Listen, Iwa-chan has never done anything like that in his life. He’s a pure boy, don’t say that.”
Iwaizumi slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Matsukawa looked at Iwaizumi wide-eyed, like he was re-evaluating him for the first time in years.
Oikawa took out the bottle of sunscreen in his bag and rubbed some on his arms, glaring at Matsukawa when he kept teasing them about it.
“Go away,” said Oikawa. “Go bother Makki.”
Matsukawa gave him a sly grin before running off.
Oikawa had already covered his front with sunscreen before Iwaizumi took the bottle and sat behind him, a cool slick palm smoothing over his back. He shivered and went pliant under Iwaizumi’s hands.
“They’re darker than I remember,” said Iwaizumi.
Oikawa snorted. “Because we’re not in your dim bedroom.”
Iwaizumi applied more sunscreen, running his thumb down Oikawa’s spine and the dimple at his lower back, then rubbed a soothing hand over a bruise he had sucked on the back of his shoulder the night before. Iwaizumi wanted to reach out and press a kiss against it, then remembered he could and did just that.
“Remember to reapply in two hours,” Iwaizumi said when he was done.
Oikawa turned around and took the bottle, squirting it into his palm and taking Iwaizumi’s arm.
“I can do my own arms,” said Iwaizumi.
Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to stop?”
Iwaizumi said nothing, keeping his eyes on Oikawa’s face as Oikawa slid firm hands over Iwaizumi’s arms, the sensitive skin of the crook of his elbow, over his shoulders and the back of his neck.
The hickeys were mostly faded, but some fresh ones stained the side of Oikawa’s neck and collarbone, and Iwaizumi knew that if he tugged Oikawa’s swimming trunks down just a few centimeters, there would be one on his hip bone. The one on the inside of his thigh, though, was perfectly hidden. He had never seen Oikawa like this outdoors in broad daylight, only in half-dark bedrooms or the fluorescent lighting of a bathroom—and always in private.
He reached out as Oikawa spread sunscreen over his calves (like he was incapable of doing it himself—Iwaizumi wanted to laugh and nuzzle his hair), placing his hand over his neck and thumbing at the bruise there.
“Does it hurt?”
He ignored the way his mouth watered.
Oikawa looked up at him, eyes sharp for a moment before going neutral. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if he was imagining it.
“No,” said Oikawa, smiling.
Iwaizumi blinked, shifting back slightly. He couldn’t tell whether it was fake or true. His brows furrowed. After over a decade, it was usually easy to tell.
“You—just tell me if they hurt,” he said. “It’s okay.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” said Oikawa. The amused quirk of his lips said Iwaizumi was ridiculous, but his eyes said he was pleased Iwaizumi was so concerned. Real?
Perhaps Iwaizumi had imagined it after all.
Oikawa slapped his thigh. “Let me do your back.”
Iwaizumi turned around. Oikawa took his time with his back, hands running firm and slow until Iwaizumi was closing his eyes.
He opened them when Oikawa hugged him tight, fists against his sternum and head buried in his neck. When Iwaizumi reached up to circle a hand around his wrist, he felt the strained ridges of his wrist muscles. He tried to feel for the pulse to know what kind of pace Oikawa’s heart was beating at, but couldn’t find it.
He wanted desperately to turn around and see what kind of expression Oikawa was making.
Oikawa held on tighter, almost enough to hurt, and swallowed. A fist loosened and fingernails scratched back and forth against the top of Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi sighed contently.
“You’re like a pet,” Oikawa murmured into his neck. “You want me to rub your belly next?”
“Shut up,” he said automatically, eyes closed as smooth nails ran across his skin.
Oikawa closed his eyes too. In his other hand, the fist still fixed to Iwaizumi’s sternum, his nails dug into his palm and left a row of red crescents. His was cheek warm against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Wouldn’t it be nice to live against this skin forever?
He let go when Hanamaki yelled, “Don’t tell me it’s true!” as he ran towards them. When he saw the bruises on Oikawa’s neck, he said, “Aw, damn,” and reached into his bag to pull out 1000 yen.
Matsukawa took it with a grin.
“You guys haven’t had sex yet though, right? I don’t have a lot of cash on me,” said Hanamaki. “Hey, if you can, maybe don’t have sex until university starts? That’d be gre—ah!”
He wiped his face and coughed, spitting and rubbing the sand off his tongue. “Control your boyfriend, Iwaizumi!”
Iwaizumi blinked, not able to respond. Matsukawa and Hanamaki didn’t notice, eventually going off into the water together, but Oikawa gave him a curious look.
“They just don’t usually use that word,” Iwaizumi explained. “We barely even say it.”
“Should I proclaim to the whole beach that you’re my boyfriend?” said Oikawa, tilting his head, and Iwaizumi thought that if he leaned forward just a bit, their mouths would fit together perfectly.
“I’d drown you in the ocean.”
Oikawa just grinned wider and pulled away, jogging towards the shore and leaving Iwaizumi to chase after him.
“Iwa-chan is my boyfriend!” Oikawa yelled to no one and everyone when his feet hit the water.
Iwaizumi caught up to him and pressed a hand against his mouth. “Shut up!”
Oikawa pulled it away and shouted, “He loves me! He would die for me! He would wrestle a bear to defend my honor! He wo—”
Iwaizumi covered his mouth would both hands, muffling Oikawa’s laughter as people around them stared.
“I’m gonna drown you for real,” Iwaizumi said, splashing water at Oikawa’s face.
Oikawa splashed back and kept moving forward until they were waist-deep in water. Iwaizumi shoved Oikawa’s head down below the surface for a second before dragging him back up.
Oikawa’s bangs stuck to his forehead and he glistened with water from head to waist, a lazy grin on his face that said he could see right through Iwaizumi, like he knew every single embarrassing thought that ran through his head.
Boyfriend.
It was funny—he didn’t mind much when people saw the hickeys on Oikawa’s neck or speculated about his sex life, but Oikawa calling him his boyfriend in front of a bunch of strangers made his gut twist and his pulse race.
It didn’t really feel like the right word. He associated it too much with other people, with characters on TV and couples at school. He wanted another word for it, but “lover” was too cheesy and intense, and “significant other” was too formal.
Oikawa slicked back his bangs and stretched out his arms, stepping backwards into the deeper water and daring Iwaizumi to follow.
He might never get used to it, but “boyfriend” would have to do. It didn’t really matter. It was okay if the words weren’t always precise.
When Iwaizumi stepped forward, Oikawa took a deep breath dragged them both under the surface.
On the other side, with eyes open and breath halted, everything ran in slow motion. The cold water engulfed his body and the muted sunshine scattered everywhere. The swirl of Oikawa’s hair in the ocean, the odd tone of his skin in the water, the puff of his cheeks and the little air bubbles rising—Iwaizumi wished he could take a photo. Oikawa’s previous laughter echoed in his ears while all the other sounds dissolved into muffles.
His giddiness faded and he went somber. He didn’t know why. Oikawa stared back at him, face unreadable, and he wondered what he looked like to Oikawa in that moment, if his skin was also off-color and his hair floated like seaweed, if his body also curved at an odd and graceful angle. If he too looked eerie, and beautiful.
Oikawa looked like a familiar stranger, or perhaps an unknown friend. Iwaizumi marveled that, even after all these years, Oikawa could still look like this to him. It was humbling.
When he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he rose, gasping for air. Oikawa followed, the line of his long neck cutting against blue sky.
Time resumed and everything came back into sharp focus, the squealing and chattering and splashing piercing his eardrums. He had to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight.
When Oikawa’s breathing slowed and he looked straight at him, Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say. Or rather, he had nothing to say.
Oikawa smiled, bright and warm and private. Iwaizumi’s heart caught and his jaw clenched. Sometimes he thought of Oikawa has having two kinds of smile—real and fake—but Oikawa had many more, an infinite number of variations and subtleties he would never be able to catalogue, and some, perhaps many, he would never see.
Oikawa grabbed his wrist and pulled him as they walked. When they reached their spot on the sand, Oikawa tossed him a towel. Iwaizumi shivered, breeze chill against his wet skin.
Oikawa picked up the watermelon and whispered conspiratorially, “Let’s eat it while they’re gone.”
Iwaizumi looked around, then got the large butcher knife out of his bag, unwrapping the cloth around it.
“I see you!” Hanamaki yelled as he ran toward them. “I see you assholes!”
Iwaizumi turned around and hid the knife behind his back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Step away from the melon,” he said, pointing to Oikawa.
Oikawa handed it to him. “We were gonna share.”
“Liar.” He looked around, then set the watermelon on the cooler and whispered, “Hurry up and cut it before Matsukawa gets back.”
They all grinned slyly and kneeled, huddled around the watermelon atop the cooler like it was a mystical crystal ball.
With one hand bracing the side of the melon, Iwaizumi held the knife high, then brought it down with a sharp crack, splitting it open halfway. He pulled the knife out and brought it down once more, and the melon split into two jagged halves.
Hanamaki and Oikawa clapped.
“The strength of a thousand men!” said Oikawa.
“A true gladiator of ancient Rome!” said Hanamaki.
“A master swordsman! A tamer of lions!”
“A man among men! A king among fools! A true warrior—”
“Shut up!” said Iwaizumi with a laugh, cutting it into thick slices.
He left a quarter of the melon uncut for Oikawa so that he cut eat it with a spoon like he preferred. They sat cross-legged on the sand, quiet except for the sounds of chewing and slurping. When Iwaizumi was scraping the last bits of fruit off the rind of his third slice, he grabbed Oikawa’s spoon from his hand.
“Hey!”
“Don’t be selfish,” said Iwaizumi.
Oikawa twisted his torso, holding his watermelon away from Iwaizumi and pouting. “You have your own.”
Iwaizumi leaned over, head on Oikawa’s shoulder as he scooped some fruit.
“Yours tastes better,” he said, mouth full.
“What the fuck!” said a voice behind them.
They turned around, still chewing, and waved at Matsukawa.
“Hey,” said Hanamaki.
“We saved you one,” said Iwaizumi, holding up a paper-thin slice of watermelon. It wobbled against the breeze.
Matsukawa knocked it out of his hand while they all laughed. He scowled, taking the biggest piece from the dwindling pile and chomping on it.
Hanamaki patted his head. “Don’t sulk.”
“Can’t wait to make new friends at university who don’t try to eat all the watermelon without me,” said Matsukawa.
Oikawa flung a piece of watermelon at his face. “Yeah right,” he said, putting on a smile and ignoring the sting. He looked down at the watermelon in his lap, stabbing his spoon into the red flesh. “Like you could make better friends than us.”
In an instant the scene had slid out of focus for Oikawa like there were two versions taking place simultaneously, overlapping. In one, they were sitting in a circle eating watermelon at the beach as they had done in the past; in another, they were sitting in a circle eating watermelon at the beach as they would in the future. He couldn’t be in the present moment anymore—or perhaps the present moment felt so strange he just couldn’t recognize it. It was the flick of one glass slide to the next under a microscope. This was the fleeting blur.
Matsukawa looked to the sky, then wiped the juice off his mouth on his arm.
“I’m gonna go back in the water before the sun sets,” he said.
Hanamaki followed, slapping his back before running past him.
“You want to go back in?” said Iwaizumi, taking a last bite.
Oikawa considered it, but he felt a bit sluggish now, disoriented.
He shook his head. “Maybe later.”
When Iwaizumi turned to the ocean, Oikawa thought he would go without him, but he just stretched out and fell back. Oikawa wondered if Iwaizumi could sense how he was feeling or if he was just imagining it. It was hard to tell at times. Sometimes Iwaizumi looked at him because he knew something was off; sometimes he looked just to look.
Something in Oikawa’s chest clenched and his hand shot out to grasp Iwaizumi’s forearm.
Iwaizumi startled. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
Even when he looked at Iwaizumi, he still felt like he seeing double, though his vision was sharp as ever. The sensation without the sight.
Oikawa tightened the grip on his arm. If it was painful, Iwaizumi didn’t show it.
After twenty minutes, Iwaizumi asked if he wanted to go back into the water.
Oikawa followed his gaze to the horizon where the sun hung lower than he remembered and the sky started to blur pink and orange.
“Yeah.”
The water was a bit colder now, but Oikawa had no trouble going forward until he caught the view of Iwaizumi’s back.
The golden brown of his skin, the stretch of his broad shoulders, the ripple of muscles when he moved, the startlingly graceful curve of his neck—it made Oikawa want to sink into the sand and hug his knees to his chest to deal with this painful ache, but instead he ran forward and wrapped his arms around him.
“Iwa-chan!” he said. “You should carry me.”
“Who wants to carry your heavy ass?”
“Oh? Are you admitting I’m heavier and more muscular than you?”
Oikawa scowled when Iwaizumi just laughed at him.
They played in the water long past sunset, not caring that the darkening sky drove almost everyone away or that there were few cars left in the parking lot. There were hardly any stars when they craned their necks to look up, but they could still see the whites of each other’s eyes, and the faint moonlight glinted on the water like a million flickering lights.
Oikawa was laughing, cold as hell but not willing to get out, when Iwaizumi’s yelp cut through the air.
“What’s wrong?!”
“I think I got”—Iwaizumi hissed as he stood on one leg, holding his right ankle above the water—“bit by something. Or stung.”
Oikawa pulled Iwaizumi’s arm around his shoulder, letting him lean on him as they slowly made their way back to the sand.
There was no chair, so Oikawa helped him sit on the cooler, handling him like was fragile.
“It looks like a jellyfish sting,” said Matsukawa, frowning.
“Hey, I heard you’re supposed to pee on those,” said Hanamaki. “The urine helps relieve the pain or treat the injury, or something.”
Iwaizumi was horrified. “What?”
“It’s the only way, man,” said Hanamaki, face serious and nodding.
Matsukawa stretched the band of his trunks. “You’re one my closest friends, Iwaizumi. I don’t like the idea, but I’ll do it, for your sake.”
Iwaizumi’s horror intensified.
“We’ll just never speak of it afterwards,” said Matsukawa.
“Ha!” said Hanamaki. “Speak for yourself.”
“No one is peeing on Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shrieked.
He was rummaging through his bag, frustrated and losing patience until he found the first aid kit and the right bottle.
Once he checked that there were no remaining pieces of jellyfish tentacles on Iwaizumi’s foot, he rinsed it with vinegar, counting to thirty before setting down the bottle.
“You bring vinegar to the beach?” said Hanamaki, cocking an eyebrow.
Oikawa scoffed like he was ridiculous. “Of course I do. I also carry heavy bandages, antibiotic cream, medical gloves—”
“You’re so paranoid,” said Iwaizumi.
“Well it came in handy, didn’t it?” He swished the remaining vinegar in the bottle in front of Iwaizumi’s face.
“I got stung at the beach once when I was little and it traumatized him."
“It didn’t traumatize me,” said Oikawa, indignant. “It just made me aware of the dangers of marine life.”
Iwaizumi stood for a second, Hanamaki and Matsukawa holding him up, while Oikawa dug for the last bits of ice in the cooler and filled a plastic bag.
Iwaizumi sighed as he sat down again and Oikawa pressed the ice gently against the swelling flesh.
“What do we do now?” said Hanamaki, brows furrowed at the violent red of Iwaizumi’s foot.
“See if you can find a lifeguard,” said Oikawa, not taking his eyes off the injury.
Matsukawa gave him a mocking salute before he and Hanamaki ran off.
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” said Iwaizumi.
Oikawa smiled against his will. “You’re such a liar.”
He placed the bag carefully against Iwaizumi’s foot where it would stay still as long as he didn’t move.
The sand was starting to chafe uncomfortably at Oikawa’s knees and shins, but he wouldn't rise, still kneeling as he finally let go of the bag of ice and looked up.
Iwaizumi was staring at him, eyes bright and gleaming in the darkness. For a moment it was otherworldly and unsettling.
Oikawa swallowed and put on a smile. “Aren’t I so chivalrous and manly? Do I look cool saving you like this?”
Iwaizumi remained dead serious. Then the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Yeah,” he said. “You do.”
The smug grin dropped from Oikawa’s face and he blinked as his cheeks went pink. He hoped Iwaizumi couldn’t see his blush in the dark, but the widening of his smile said he could.
Iwaizumi tugged him forward for a kiss. Oikawa clutched his thigh with one hand and his hip with the other, shuddering when he felt how cold his skin was.
After a while they stilled, foreheads touching. Iwaizumi’s eyes were closed, but Oikawa’s were wide open.
He took Iwaizumi’s hands off his shoulders and pulled away. He was going to put more distance between them, but couldn’t help holding onto Iwaizumi’s calves with both hands like a helpless child.
“Hey, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, voice gentle against the sound of crashing waves. It was so small that he wondered if Iwaizumi could hear him. “Do you want to break up?”
Iwaizumi’s head shot up, looking at him with wide eyes. His hands went still as ice.
“Because we’re leaving for university in a little bit,” Oikawa continued, forcing himself to drag his gaze to meet Iwaizumi’s, but dropped it again after a few seconds. “I won’t be mad if you want to break up.” A lie, he realized as soon as the words left his mouth.
The evening sky, vivid like an endless bruise above them, was going to be black soon. Iwaizumi’s eyes, the soft glowing brown he’d known for almost two decades of his life, bore into him. There might’ve been a hint of anguish in those eyes, though that might’ve just been Oikawa’s wishful thinking.
Oikawa couldn’t take the waiting anymore, about to break the silence when Iwaizumi let out a slow breath.
Then he breathed in, then out, like he was counting them, and Oikawa wanted to press his palm against the soft rise and fall of his chest.
Iwaizumi licked his lips.
“Do you?”
Oikawa gripped his calf tighter, nails digging into the firm flesh.
“No,” he said too fast.
Iwaizumi huffed, a light but harsh sound tearing from his throat, and grabbed at the back of Oikawa’s head, fisting his hair and forgetting to be gentle. Oikawa’s scalp stung as Iwaizumi tipped his head back, forcing them to look at each other.
“Then no,” Iwaizumi said. He leaned forward and knocked his forehead against his, pressing them together again. “Don’t be stupid.”
Oikawa’s heart surged. He swallowed and shut his eyes, willing himself not to cry.
“Are you going to kiss me now?” he said, trying for a smile.
Iwaizumi’s mouth was rough, almost aggressive, and Oikawa’s hands reached up to tug at the back of his hair until Iwaizumi’s lips parted. Oikawa savored the sharp edges of his teeth and the wet slide of their tongues and the little groan Iwaizumi let out right before he pulled away.
“They’re going to be back soon,” Iwaizumi explained.
“Who cares?” said Oikawa, leaning forward.
Iwaizumi’s grip on his hair held him back. “Are you kidding me? You won’t even take off your shirt in the locker room without covering your hickeys with makeup!”
Oikawa shrugged.
He pressed a chaste kiss to Oikawa mouth, fingers threading through his hair more gently this time. Iwaizumi relished the sunscreen and ocean smell and couldn’t help but kiss him again, still chaste but a little longer this time, telling himself that would be last one for now. He shivered and tried to suppress the desire twisting in his gut.
“I’ll kill you if you cheat on me when we're in university,” said Oikawa.
“I would say the same to you, but who the hell is going to want you as a boyfriend?”
Their faces broke into grins, laughter in the tight pit of their stomach spilling over.
When Hanamaki and Matsukawa came running back, panting slightly, Hanamaki said, “We couldn’t find anyone with anything that would help.”
“We should probably go home and get the sting treated,” said Matsukawa.
“Sorry guys,” said Iwaizumi, rubbing the back of his head.
Matsukawa punched his shoulder. “Shut up! Don’t apologize.”
“Yeah,” said Hanamaki. “Just buy us dinner later. I want hamburger steak—no, actual steak. Kobe beef!”
“Yeah!” said Matsukawa. “I’m hungry.”
“Fuck off! I’m broke.”
“Stingy,” said Hanamaki.
“Let’s go already!” said Oikawa. “We shouldn’t leave his foot like this for any longer than we have to.”
They packed up all their things while Iwaizumi sat, then helped him hobble into a cab, then hobbled to the train station.
When they were finally back in Sendai, they looked in each direction of the street, then to each other. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were headed to a different bus stop.
Oikawa’s heart dropped when he realized that they forgot to sit and watch the sunset together like they usually did. Maybe next time. And the first and second years would be out of school by then—they could come too.
“You need help carrying this useless guy?” said Matsukawa.
Iwaizumi opened his mouth to retort, but Oikawa said, “Nope! He’s light as a feather,” which earned him a glare.
They stayed on the sidewalk, not quite managing to meet each other’s eyes but not willing to go.
Finally, Hanamaki said, “Tomorrow Iwaizumi should buy us burgers—for cutting our beach day short.”
“Yeah,” said Matsukawa. He narrowed his eyes at Iwaizumi. “And watermelon.”
Iwaizumi fought a smile. “Whatever. I hope you both get mugged on the way home.”
“Text tomorrow with a time,” said Oikawa. He hummed. “Actually, I think we should get ice cream instead.”
Hanamaki brightened. “There’s this place that just opened that I’ve been wanting to try. They serve—”
“I’m not paying for any of you,” Iwaizumi tried to say, but they all talked over him in too-loud, excited voices.
Finally, after there was nothing more to say, they walked away, waving.
“Don’t die!” Matsukawa said to Iwaizumi over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Hanamaki yelled. “We need someone to pay for our food tomorrow.”
Iwaizumi flipped them off as he and Oikawa turned the corner, and each pair could no longer see the other.
The bus came after a minute, giving them no time to sit and enjoy the night air. They took the two last remaining seats, but at the last moment an elderly woman stepped onto the bus.
“Do you want my seat, ma’am?” said Oikawa.
“Oh, that’s all right. Thank you.”
“Please, take it,” he said, getting up.
“It’s okay—I’m not fragile, dear.”
“I don’t doubt that,” said Oikawa, “but it’s my policy to always give up a seat for a beautiful woman.
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, turning his face away to grin.
The lady laughed, scratchy and loud. Deep lines, deeper than the cab driver’s, framed her eyes and mouth.
She patted his cheek, saying, “Well aren’t you a cute one. Such a nice boy,” before sitting down. Oikawa preened. “Boys are so charming these days! They were such shit when I was your age.”
Iwaizumi and Oikawa looked at her with wide eyes, smiles pulling at their mouths.
When she got off at the next stop, giving them a cheeky wave as she went, they fell into silence. It should’ve been relaxing, but Oikawa’s mind swirled as he stared intently at Iwaizumi.
He allowed himself, finally, to think.
Will you be here in a year’s time?
Oikawa knew instantly. Yes, of course.
What about five?
He jerked—or perhaps it was the bus—and looked away.
Some things were so delicate and intimate that he thought he might break them if he said them, and Iwaizumi was so good at understanding him without words anyway, perhaps he already knew, could sense it without Oikawa having to say it, got exactly what Oikawa meant when he asked if Iwaizumi wanted break up, and yet—
“Iwa-chan.”
His hands gripped the metal pole tighter—it was the petrifying sensation of falling. His pulse beat in his ears. It was almost deafening.
“Hm?”
His voice was quiet and breathy and heavy. “I’m gonna be lonely without you. At university.”
Iwaizumi was held in place, anchored to his seat by that voice. Oikawa’s eyes hid nothing, and Iwaizumi went breathless.
Finally, after a long wait, he said, “Me too.”
Oikawa bit his lip. “We’re gonna be friends forever, right?”
His throat had gone thick and his eyes stung. He could hear how ridiculous he was being, the way he sounded like a five-year-old again, a child repeating platitudes because he didn’t know any better. But Iwaizumi didn’t laugh at him or recoil.
“Of course we will.”
He couldn’t know that, of course; it was unthinkable but possible that in five years or ten, they were out of each other’s lives, practically strangers—or perhaps just casual, occasional friends. Oikawa didn’t know which idea hurt more. He didn’t know who he would be in that future or even next year, if he would go cold and numb without the people he loved most always around him.
But Iwaizumi said it, and that was the only thing Oikawa could’ve asked for and the only thing Iwaizumi could’ve given him. It wasn’t enough and perhaps never would be, but for now it settled Oikawa all the same.
Their hearts hammered in their chests as they looked at each other, gentle and piercing, and reveled in that terrifying and thrilling feeling of being seen.
After a while, Iwaizumi said, “We could go, after we graduate.”
“What?”
“We could go somewhere.” Was that a flush on his neck, or was Oikawa imagining it? “Travel. Save up money and go in four or five years.”
The suggestion stunned Oikawa, his fingers slipping from the pole. “Where?”
Iwaizumi shrugged. “Anywhere you want.”
Oikawa had never really considered that before. He searched Iwaizumi’s face. Then,
“Yeah, okay.”
Oikawa leaned his cheek against the cold metal pole, not caring for once about the hundreds of sweaty hands that had touched it before him. It was strange how his heart wouldn’t slow down, yet he was still at ease.
Beyond the windows Sendai ran past him, trees and houses and stores and sidewalks and people flicking into view for less than a second before falling away. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. It might’ve been little more than a blur, but it would streak across his memory for as long as he could hold it. And even when he forgot the view, perhaps he would remember the feeling. And if he forgot the feeling, then the effort of trying to remember.
Before he could blink the bus slid to a halt. The doors creaked open.