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“Start giving yourself a little more credit. You’re trying.”
Iwaizumi had been desperately trying to encourage Oikawa out of his sulking for the past hour. It started with less sensitive words of wisdom, muttered “Dumbass, get up”’s and other phrases of the sort, but nothing was getting through to him. Tooru lay, curled up in a ball so tight that it only took one of his many alien-head pattern blankets to cover him up completely. Iwaizumi glanced despairingly at his best friend, sifting through everything he had ever done to bring Oikawa out of one of his funks. The problem was, he didn’t even know why Oikawa was so upset. Tooru had only ever been this dejected after they lost to Shiratorizawa, so this level of withdrawal didn’t make sense.
The day before, Seijou had had a brilliant practice. Oikawa had hit all of his jump serves with deadly precision, and his sets had been just as sharp. The team worked diligently, and everyone had been at 100%. Oikawa? He had been perfect.
Iwaizumi plopped next to Tooru on the bed. “Hey,” he nudged, “Will you talk to me?” The setter stole a peek from his cocoon before quickly burrowing under the safety of his covers. “Oikawa, please.” Hajime begged. A muffled groan sounded from beneath the blanket.
That’s it, Hajime thought, no more fucking mercy. He jumped away from Tooru’s self-ball-of-pity, making like he was about to exit the bedroom, opening the door and shutting it again with a creak and a click. Iwaizumi then padded softly back toward his best friend, and gave him one last empathetic gaze before launching himself directly on top of the moper.
“GYAH!!! IWA-CHAN?!!” Tooru shrieked. “What the fuck?!” He tried to shake Iwaizumi off, but his muscular ace would not budge.
“Just talk to me, Shittykawa. I’ve been trying to find out what the fuck is wrong for the past hour and you have done nothing but lay there while I’ve been busting my ass trying to get you to talk. And don’t tell me you want to be left alone because that is the exact opposite of what you actually want when you get like this. Speak, please.” Iwaizumi plead, shifting so he was no longer on top of Tooru, but cradling him through the blankets.
Oikawa squirmed until his head showed, leaning into the sturdy comfort of Hajime’s stomach as he began to speak. “It’s just-“ his voice broke, tears threatening to spill over his red, red eyes, “I will never be enough.” Oikawa choked. Iwaizumi moved a hand up to Oikawa’s face, brushing away his tears as they fell. “I know that it’s- that it seems stupid- but- but I just,” he stammered, struggled to squeeze the words out of himself as they clumped in his throat, “I just- I’m scared that I will never be enough no matter what I do!” he howled, jerking violently as sobs ripped their way through his core.
Iwaizumi gripped him tighter, holding Tooru together while his body tried to break into pieces. Hajime’s mind wrecked, How could Oikawa think that? He is everything I want to be and more. He is the glory of the stars and the power of the sun and he is as fucking close to perfect as a person can get.
Tooru struggled to continue as he stammered, “I don’t know why- Iwaizumi, I’m just so fucking sad. I feel like- like I can’t do anything right and that no matter how hard I work I’m not getting any closer to where I want to be and my dream of going to the Olympics? Yeah fucking right- why in the hell would they ever choose me- Oikawa Tooru of all fucking people- to represent Japan in the Olympics? Why did I even think that was a possibility, how could it be? One in what, every two hundred million people ever even gets the chance to compete in the Olympics? Why would they choose me? I suck. I can’t do anything right and I just- I just want to be worthy of standing on the court, Iwa-chan, that’s- that’s all I want to be able to do, to say, “My name is Oikawa Tooru and I am worthy of playing this game.” That’s all I want.” he whimpered, voice fading out as his tears stood still.
Oikawa’s body unravelled, exhausted. Iwaizumi gingerly slid his arm around Tooru’s waist, tucked his chin in the crook of Oikawa’s neck, and let his legs fit perfectly against Oikawa’s own. “Tooru,” Hajime whispered, thrilling goosebumps along his setter’s neck, “You’re wrong.” Oikawa sighed, preparing to protest until Iwaizumi cupped his hand against Tooru’s mouth. “Shh,” he soothed, running his hand through ridiculously soft chocolate locks, “Oikawa, you’re wrong. You overwork yourself trying to get better, which you do get. You always get better. Because you’re you- the Oikawa Tooru. You shine so brightly that you don’t notice that you’re passing everybody else. And you making it to the Olympics- holy shit Oikawa- that’s something that feels so goddam right that the fucking world would have to end for it to not happen. It’s just- Jesus Christ Oikawa you’re- you’re so amazing that I can’t stand it when you’re like this. You deserve to be happy- and don’t get me wrong, it’s okay to be sad but it’s not for you to beat yourself up like this. You’re fantastic- and no one needs to be told that because they all know that Oikawa Tooru is breathtaking.”
Oikawa’s body shuddered, torn between accepting the sweet, sweet lies that were spewing from Iwaizumi’s mouth or succumbing to the emptiness that was ready to swallow him whole. Tooru rolled over to face his best friend, ready to make him take back each and every one of those delicious words, those promises, and that hope that was too painful to hold onto. “Iwa-chan, I can’t just-“ he started, before Iwaizumi silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“Tooru, please don’t.”
“But I-“ Oikawa mumbled, lips brushing delicately against Iwaizumi’s finger. He silenced himself this time, opting to test the truth of Hajime’s words in his eyes. Tooru stared, locking gazes with the infinite hazel pools that belonged to Iwaizumi Hajime. He was Oikawa’s rock, his foundation, his strength. His entire volleyball career could be told by the strains in his ace’s muscles, the scars and scratches on his skin. The slight discoloration on his forehead, smack in the middle of it, matched seamlessly with the slightest dent in Tooru’s nose, matched with the sense it had smashed into Oikawa at one of his lowest points. The setter’s eyes flicked back and forth between Iwaizumi's and his discoloration, hopping from one point of truth to the other, skipping back and forth in a tiring quest for falsehood. Doubt in the words Hajime had said? Oikawa could find none.
His heart twisted painfully in his chest, making him wince. He coughed twice before locking eyes with Iwaizumi once again. The ace stared patiently, letting Tooru come to whatever conclusion he was looking for. Oikawa ducked his head and buried it in the strong chest in front of him, waiting for his heartbeat to calm to the steady tempo he now felt. Iwaizumi kept carding his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, trying to calm the demons which wreaked havoc in his friend’s brain.
“Thank you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa murmured, drawn into the peace which emanated from Hajime’s heart. Iwaizumi pressed a gentle kiss to Tooru’s head, and continued his therapeutic petting, doing so until the setter finally drifted into an undisturbed slumber.
Sweet dreams, Iwaizumi promised, as he slowly joined Oikawa in a deep, serene sleep.