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The scene would look funny to someone, if they were to walk in at this point; three people in a room, one's presence completely unknown, two out of three crying, and one unconscious, but if they were to look closer, they would notice things. Like how one of them was holding an unresponsive hand as though it were their lifeline, or that the tears being shed were for a loss, but not the same one. These things are what makes up the prominent difference between fantasy and reality.
It had all started three months ago, when Masuzo Kaori had walked into her usual cafe, and laid her eyes on perhaps the most gorgeous human being to ever exist. He was sitting down at a table towards the back, sipping a cup of coffee with an empty plate in front of him, elbows resting on the table as he stared out a window at the people beyond the glass, them being completely unaware that a literal god was watching them go about their everyday lives. From his soft dark hair, to his sculpted arms half-peeking out of his sleeves rolled at the elbow, to his hazel eyes, sadness tinged in the jade flecks of his irises, he seemed the human embodiment of perfection, and Kaori felt more than lucky that he didn't question her sliding lightly into the chair across his.
They had started talking, and although he was guarded at first, Iwaizumi, as she later learned his name was, opened up to her, though he seemed to have something weighing him down, and whenever she almost spotted a hint as to what it was, it disappeared behind his carefully placed mask. She didn't let it bother her, and soon enough, due to her pushing and pulling here and there, they were an item, almost reluctantly on Iwaizumi's part. Masuzo was stubborn, especially where she needed to be, and was still slightly guilty she had practically forced him into liking her.
One morning, almost two months into their relationship, Kaori had used her key to Hajime's apartment to get her sweater she had left the day before, as he wasn't responding to her texts. The house felt cold, as though no one had been in it for a while, and she shivered lightly as her slippered feet padded along hardwood floors into an abandoned bedroom, pale blue eyes glancing around the room that felt frozen, as though time had stopped for a moment. When she spotted her lilac sweater, she wrapped it gratefully over herself, pulling her goosebump-spotted arms through the too-big sleeves. Whilst internally scolding herself for leaving her jacket during the coldest month of autumn, her keen eyes spotted something peeking out of an open drawer. She knew it wasn't right to snoop, but her lover so rarely spoke about himself, so she thought it was only natural to be curious. Tucking her tawny hair behind her ear, smooth curls brushing against pale skin ticklishly, she stepped past clothes and books strewn across the floor to peek at the photograph.
In it was Hajime and another boy. The boy looked pretty enough to be a model, his perfect brown hair sweeping across his forehead, flawless skin glowing even through the faded picture. He had an arm thrown around an unsuspecting Iwaizumi, a peace sign formed in his graceful-looking hands, the other extended, probably holding the camera. His eyes were squinting cheesily, and a goofy, yet genuinly happy smile was plastered across his pink lips. Hajime looked younger, not only physically but mentally, his frown gone, and the stress lines above his eyes melted into his tan skin, which was not the most surprising thing about the picture to Masuzo. What shocked her was the look on her boyfriend's face. He was looking at the boy next to him with an indescribable expression. You could feel how much he cared about the boy by just looking at the pure adoration and fondness evidently displayed on his features. She had never seen such a soft expression on the usually stoic face. They were wearing matching teal and white jackets, and she assumed they were from his high school volleyball club he had mentioned once, but refused to go into detail about. The photograph was slightly torn and crumpled in areas, and there were very obvious fold marks horizontally and vertically, as well as spots in the center that looked like someone had dribbled something onto its once glossy surface.
Masuzo froze as the sound of the lock on the front door clicking open met her ears. Lightly placing the card back where she had found it, she was careful to walk out loudly as to not scare Iwaizumi when she popped into the living room. As she rounded the corner, a pained sigh met her ears, and she saw a familiar figure in the doorway, pulling black shoes off his feet. She was shocked to see he was wearing the same thing he had worn last evening at dinner, as though he hadn't come back after walking her home. When she asked, he had avoided the question, mumbling something about being too lazy.
She should have noticed the signs being thrown at her since day one, only becoming obvious exactly one month later, when Kaori found herself waiting outside a restaurant, bundled up from head to toe as some attempt at protection from the cold bite of the winter evening. She finally whipped out her phone, and texted Hajime asking where he was, as he was now forty minutes late. Masuzo was a tolerant person, but this was absolutely ridiculous, which was what she thought until the response to her text turned out to be, 'at the hospital'. When she got no response to her various texts and calls asking for some form of clarification, she hopped back into her car, hightailing it to the nearest hospital.
Upon her arrival, she frantically sprang to the desk, asking for an 'Iwaizumi Hajime'. As it turns out, the one in the hospital bed was not Hajime, as he had come asking for an 'Oikawa Tooru' minutes before. After being told the room number, Masuzo slowed down, walking at a semi-normal pace to the elevator. She was very glad her boyfriend was not seriously hurt, and wanted to make a good first impression on his friend, assuming they were conscious.
As she walked along the fifth floor corridor, she attempted to fix her flyaway hairs, having more-than-slightly rushed to get here. As her heels clacked along on the white tile floors, Kaori tried to avoid looking inside the windows looking into the rooms, knowing how bad they made her feel. Hospitals have a way of depressing you, even if you don't personally know the person being admitted.
Once she found the door she had been looking for, she tried her best to open it quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone inside, breathing through her mouth as the scent of antibacterial soaps intensified. She honestly didn't know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't dead silence, with Hajime's head resting on a thin leg hidden underneath a cheap blanket. She took a few steps forward, gently closing the heavy door behind her, but froze for the second time in the past minute when Iwaizumi wilted even more, his grip tightening on a pale hand Masuzo hadn't noticed he'd been holding. As she dared a few more timid steps across the floor, the face of the body became clear in her line of sight, and she almost let out a gasp when she found she could recognize the person.
It was the boy from the picture she presumed was from high school, who she now knew was Oikawa Tooru.
Except he looked disheveled and downcast, as though he had recently lost everything dear to him. His hair was noticeably longer, and looked unwashed to an extent. His skin was even paler than before, and had lost its previous glow of life and happiness. Even though he was unconscious, she could see that Oikawa's eyes were red and puffy, his lips dry and cracked. The worst of it all was his weight. He looked far too thin to be healthy, his bones jutting out uncomfortably underneath the collar of his hospital gown.
As Kaori's eyes drifted back to Hajime, she startled to see his shoulders shaking, a sniff followed by a whimper escaping his trembling lips. Though his face was partially turned away, Masuzo could see the glimmer of tears as they left a trail down his cheeks, plopping onto the blanket at a rapidly speeding pace.
Something clicked inside her, some fear she had hoped was irrational becoming realized as tears of her own welled into her widened eyes. Kaori gripped her purse tighter, hoping for some kind of leverage to make up for the weight settling inside her heart, dragging it further down with every shallow breath she took.
The tears pooled over, breaking a barrier inside her shattering heart when Hajime let out a shaky sob. She knew her mascara was smudging, but she couldn't find it in herself to care as her shaking hand reached up to scrub away the tears, a futile attempt.
Whatever small amount of false hope still inside her dissipated at Iwaizumi's hushed whispers of, "Oikawa," and "Tooru, please be okay," his voice cracking with every syllable forced out of his choked throat. Some part of her had always known Hajime was unwilling to give up his heart, but she hasn't known it was because of something like this, and for a second, the pain subsided, and she only felt pure embarrassment at her previous actions.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, staring into space absently, numbly, eventually drifting into a restless slumber, when she heard a gasp, and woke up, sitting against the leg of the other, unused bed, still going unnoticed by the other inhabitants of the hospital room. As the first few rays of sun streamed into the room, bathing the dull, white surroundings in a buttery warmth, she noticed a pair of weak eyelids across the room flutter open, nearly lifeless brown eyes slowly taking in his surroundings, before he was smothered in a gentle yet crushing hug.
"Iw-"
Oikawa tried to speak, but his voice was cut off, not working properly, likewise due to his unstable condition.
As she saw how Hajime was gripping the other's shirt, head nuzzling into the joint between his shoudler and neck as he cried even more, Kaori suddenly felt they would be alright without her, and began the lonely trek home, ignoring any strange looks she got in the lobby of the hospital. As she started the engine of her car, she briefly wondered if Iwaizumi had stayed up all night waiting for Oikawa to open his eyes, but shook off the thought, banning herself from thinking of the man she had recently decided to give up. She drove home, rubbing any lingering sleep from her eyes as the twilight was blinked away into sunrise.
Masuzo collapsed into bed, not bothering to change her clothes or wash her face, too exhausted to think. Although she felt seriously emotionally drained, some part of her felt refreshed, thankful for the hurricane that was Iwaizumi Hajime, whether he know it or not. Meanwhile, Hajime himself was curled into a hospital bed next to the frail body of his childhood friend, two cold hands between his as he tried to give Tooru some sense of warmth. As his lips found their way to rest against a still-soft forehead, he internally asked himself why he had ever let Oikawa go, relishing in the happiness he hadn't felt in so long. Iwaizumi watched as his face relaxed back into sleep, looking much more at peace than he did thirty minutes before, when a nurse rushed in, noisily asking what kind of food Oikawa wanted. Half of him wanted to laugh, and half of him wanted to cry out of happiness and relief of a hole he hadn't known he had finally being filled as Tooru's face scrunched up in confusion, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Feeling completely overwhelmed, he simply pulled a flustered Oikawa into him, ignoring cries of, "Iwa-chan! The nurse is in here!" And, with a happy Hajime and a pouting Tooru tangled together on top of a bed, all was right with the world.