Chapter Text
Iwaizumi and Oikawa had played together since they first met in middle school. Everybody is scared when they first make the transition from elementary to middle school. Changing from a place where it feels like everybody is friends with everybody, sports aren’t for competition but rather just for fun or making friends, and classes were just helping students learn how to write legibly and understandably. The drama was minimal at most, teachers were basically second parents, and for so many people it was a safe spot where the innocence of childhood made it so no bad memories seemed to bleed into such a sacred time of somebody's life. Memories fade with the years, but people’s elementary schools hold nostalgia for so many people, making them cry when visiting the place they grew up.
Middle school on the other hand, feels new and scary. Teachers warn students to behave for the teachers wouldn’t entertain their childish shenanigans in the building a few blocks away. Coaches warned that their players needed to start taking practice seriously, spending each huddle talking about the prodigies from other schools that they would have to compete with to get a spot on the team, participation no longer being guaranteed for the aspiring boys and girls. Parents warned their children not to get caught up with the wrong people, not let drama affect their schooling and not let the enticing idea of fitting into a group or popularity make their children do things they wouldn’t regret. Out aging their little paradise was scary for these kids that had barely broken double digits, spending one last summer of their lives without any care for expectations or goals, their dreams consisting of being the president, an astronaut, a unicorn, or things that they probably would give up at some point in their future.
Iwaizumi of course was one of those kids that fell into that stereotype, his chest feeling heavy when his elementary school handed him his diploma, dressed in his little graduation cap and gown, parents crying in the audience of the small auditorium. He didn’t feel accomplished, it was only the beginning of his educational journey after all and he would be attending school again in a few months, just in a different building with more people. He hadn’t spoken much at the little party they held in the gym, nor on the way out of the school at night, looking back at all his teachers and the hallway he’d walked into every morning for most of his life. Walking out was the start of something new, scary, that Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he was ready for, but was forced to as the cheers and music got quieter and quieter as he parents guided him towards the car.
His summer was spent with his friends from class, running around their neighborhoods or exploring roads on their bikes until the sun was touching the distant horizon, a tell-tale sign it was time for them to return in time for dinner. Every time he saw those friends, whether it be racing through fields behind their backyards or diving into lakes in the forest near Iwaizumi’s house, he wondered whether these times would be ending soon, if the introduction of so many more people would drive a wedge between them. He wasn’t necessarily worried that they would get into fights, just a decrease in their days spent together until, inevitably, they’d never speak again.
Late nights, after he’d been out with his friends and excitedly repeated the events of the day to his mother and father, then tucked into bed where the darkness allowed for deep thoughts to creep in no matter the age of whoever was resting at the moment, Iwaizumi came to a very serious and set decision.
Iwaizumi Hajime was opposed to change, he liked his life exactly as it was, and he did not want it to change.
Still, as much as Iwaizumi wished that he could hold onto the days, they seemed to pass, and somehow, even before the time he supposed it would all end, people started to drift away. Whether that be friends moving away for middle school, their parents deciding it was a good time since everybody would be going to a different school, people going on vacation and promising to be back soon, but never returned to their little group. Others just simply stopped coming as often, for no reason in general, but Iwaizumi, who clinged onto daily relationships, felt like everybody was leaving him right off the bat.
So, by the time volleyball tryouts came a few days before his start of middle school, Iwaizumi was already in a pretty sour mood. HIs parents had always told the boy he had a pouty face when he was younger and his resting face wasn’t much better even as he grew older, his face naturally resting in an expression of disdain that threatened others even when he was just spacing out with no real thought in his head. That expression followed him when he first walked into the Kitagawa Daiichi Middle School gym, where he would hopefully be playing for the three years he’d be going to this school. It was loud and big, four courts lined up side to side with many players already warming up. Iwaizumi’s eyes scanned its high ceilings and lines painted onto the smooth wooden floor. He’d gone over to the table where some of the varsity players (because such a volleyball heavy school like Kitagawa would have one despite just being a middle school) who were probably already destined to make the highest team and start, were checking players in and giving them little stickers with numbers to put onto their shirts. Iwaizumi was number 049.
The boy had always been passionate for volleyball, not as something he would do when he grew up, the thought of playing becoming a job rather than a very loved hobby making him sick. So, naturally, Iwaizumi took it very seriously when he entered the tryout. He talked to some of his friends from elementary school, warmed up his arm against the wall while chatting with an acquaintance about his summer, but never once let the reunion overshadow the fact that this was a tryout. The second they’d broken out into positions according to the coaches instructions, he’d immediately made an impact, remembering every lesson his elementary coach had taught him as he launched himself into the air and smacked the ball down with a loud slam. The varsity players who were doubling as an assistant coach who was tossing balls for Iwaizumi’s court quickly asked Iwaizumi for his name and number when they were released for an early water break.
When the head coach had called all the boys back, about one hundred boys (mostly first years) almost shoulder to shoulder as they listened to the coach's new instruction, the man quickly sorting every player into their supposed courts. It was pretty obvious to know what the courts meant about your skill level and what team you would probably make. The players Iwaizumi could tell were just beginners and a little in over their heads were put on the farthest court to the left. The players who seemed to have enough skill to pass a volleyball and actually play well enough to keep a rally going were put on the court next to them, a court Iwaizumi assumed was for the all first year team he’d been assuming to make, waving off his friends as most of them were sent off to that court. Then, upperclassmen were being sent off to the second court, probably reserved for the second string and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but begin to feel a little big excitement bubble up in his throat. He knew that he wasn’t a bad player, knowing that he had to at least make a team, but now, the only people around him were upperclassmen that Iwaizumi recognized were playing really good or the players that used to be helping run the tryout, now only actual assistant coaches were on other courts.
“001, 005, 023…” The Coach rattled on the numbers that should be on the fourth court, the varsity court, and Iwaizumi held his breath, praying that this wasn’t a mistake, that his work had helped and maybe the coach had seen something in him. Say my name, say my name, say my name… Iwaizumi thought as only two boys were still standing in the huddle.
“043 and 049, our newcomers, head over to court 1” the coach said with a smile, looking up from his clipboard, giving a smile to the two new students that were standing in front of him. Iwaizumi looked over at the other boy, the only one who had seemed to impress the varsity players and assistant coaches enough to be recognized in such a way. The boy had messy brown hair, about the same height as Iwaizumi, and a bright smile that seemed much too carefree for such a talent stacked tryout. Still, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but stare that the boy, the light streaming in through the windows casting shadows across the side of his face that made him seem like he was from another world. Without even seeing how he played, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but hope they’d end up on the same team. He wanted to play with this boy.
That was the first time Hajime Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa Tooru.
There were about sixteen boys that made up the varsity team, a smaller number than the number of people on any of the other courts, and they played well. Iwaizumi was used to being the best on his teams, and though the boy obviously wasn’t the worst, the third years made sure that a first year wouldn’t outshine them. The blocks were higher than he was used to, the defense better so the rallies were longer, but he couldn’t help the bright smile every time he slammed the ball, whether it was dug, he was blocked, or he made a point. Iwaizumi was enjoying himself.
However, his eyes kept wandering to the setter on the other side of the court. Number 043 was a first year like him, but he was keeping up with the third year setter on the other side of the court perfectly, if not surpassing him. This boy could meet the ball wherever it was on the field fast enough to get his hands on it and deliver a perfect set no matter how bad the first touch was. Not only that, but this guy was smart, Iwaizumi being tricked by the setter many times and accidentally not blocking or blocking too early, giving hitters either an open net or just one blocker. The coach was watching from the sidelines, giving a few pointers here and there, but really just writing down notes in his clipboard before leaving his assistant coach to watch before moving onto the other courts, moving some players up and down according to his discretion.
Then, the assistant coach put a stop to their playing, moving some players to different positions or having them switch sides, moving the boy onto his side of the court, and having this setter, one that could read the defense so easily and operate the offense so flawlessly made the game shift for Iwaizumi. Even though this boy didn’t shine a lot, to the point where he could disappear if you weren’t watching, but by having him on his side Iwaizumi could score more points than he had before, not having three pairs of hands in his face, but maybe only one. By the time the head coach had called them all into a huddle, Iwaizumi knew that he wanted to play with this setter forever, not just for his looks, but because his hands were magic and Iwaizumi wanted more.
He stood next to the boy in the huddle, despite seeing his friends in a group on the other side, gawking at him for being one of the only two people in their year to make it to the top team, or at least be considered for it. He tried to listen to the coach drabble on about how team lists would be coming out that night, that he understood if some people were disappointed and he was aware that some people would quit when they were unhappy with their teams, but encouraged everyone to take this as an opportunity to learn and come back and blah blah blah. When they were finally dismissed, Iwaizumi turned to the setter immediately, using the sudden burst of adrenaline to not chicken out of his situation.
“You’re really good at volleyball,” Iwaizumi said quickly in the same tone that would make some people think he was a little upset, but that was just Iwaizumi’s natural voice. He’d come to find out that naturally, he wasn’t the most approachable. Still, the boy gave him the same bright smile he had given the coach, a grin that twisted the boy’s smooth muscles into a disarming display of his beauty and personality. Iwaizumi had no idea what these feelings meant, but he knew he was drawn to this boy.
“Thank you,” Oikawa said, the brightness of his smile bleeding into his tone of voice, almost the opposite of Iwaizumi’s in a way that made Iwaizumi feel like this was a light being shined onto his presence. “You’re really good too, do you want to be friends, my name is Oikawa.”
“Mine is Hajime Iwaizumi,” the spiker muttered, not being able to convey how happy he was that the boy seemed to reciprocate his feelings of friendship, but it seemed like Oikawa wasn’t one who needed much reassurance.
“Perfect, we’re friends now, Iwa-Chan,” Oikawa said brightly, before leaving the stunned wingspiker to be swarmed by his middle school friends while Oikawa went over to his bag, getting the same treatment from his own friends, a group much larger than Iwaizumi’s. Still, despite being attacked with questions and praises by his friends, the smile on Iwaizumu’s face wasn’t because of them, it was because of the setter that had magical hands.
~~~
The next three years playing volleyball were solidified when Iwaizumi opened his laptop to see an email from the Kitagawa Daiichi coaching staff in his inbox, another long written out speech about how it doesn’t matter what team you’re on, they value your talent, and whatever. Iwaizumi decided to skip that paragraph and scroll straight down to team lists. He didn’t want to seem cocky, nor be disappointed by immediately going to the varsity list and not seeing his name printed alongside OIkawa’s (who he had no doubt made the team). So, he started with the all first year team, reading through all the names and not finding his own. Then, second string, reading through all the names, and an excited feeling settling in his stomach when his name wasn’t listed there either. Finally, he hovered the cursor over the document listing the varsity team list, screaming in excitement when his name was printed all the way at the bottom, right under the name Oikawa Tooru.
His excitement never dimmed in the week before school started, having his team schedule pinned up on his wall by his room, ready to be a part of this team. The first day of school he had to arrive early to go to the gym and receive his practice shirts, jerseys, kneepads, shoes, backpack, and any other team merchandise he would need for this year. He was bustling with excitement as he walked into the gym he had played in a week before, looking around at players going over to where a box had been labeled with their names on it.
Iwaizumi didn’t know anybody outside of small conversations during tryouts, so he just walked over to where most of the boxes were still stacked, sorting through them until he found his name, Iwaizumi Hajime, written on the box in messy sharpie. He couldn’t help the small smile of his face as he took the box in his hands, but that moment of peaceful gratitude for making this team was quickly shattered when he felt somebody’s arm wrap around his shoulders so suddenly he couldn’t help but jolt in surprise.
“Iwa-Chan!” A loud voice against his ear squealed, leaving too many of the upperclassmen to look over at the situation, which Iwaizumi quickly recognized as his newest teammate embracing him in an embrace that was much more intimate than what he expected for a person he had only met once before. Still, before Iwaizumi could reprimand the guy, yell at him like he would for any other person, his eyes fell onto Oikawa’s face, and he couldn’t help but shut up when in the presence of such a beautiful face. He barely even recognized when Oikawa smiled, his voice ecstatic as he continued, “I’m so excited we’re playing together this year!”
Iwaizumi couldn’t help but just nod, staying close to Oikawa as he looked through the boxes for his own name, before they naturally fell into step beside each other, walking to one of the empty sides of the bleachers to unbox their first package of middle school volleyball gear. Oikawa talked about his summer training, his setting techniques he wanted to improve, and basically chattered on about anything as Iwaizumi listened. He didn’t doze off when Oikawa talked, just nodded or made faces which made
While he listened to the boy talk, he opened his box to inspect all of its contents, taking out each shirt, cover shirt, sweatshirt, and anything else before putting them neatly into the backpack with his name and number embroidered, Iwaizumi stitched into the black fabric with four right under it, looking over to see Oikawa’s was the same. They stayed talking for a while, Iwaizumi still a little hesitant to engage in full conversation as he was a little reserved when it came to being in the presence of not only a prodigy of a volleyball player, but a gorgeous one at that. Still, when it was time to head over to the schoolbuilding for the first day of classes, the two boys walked side by side like they had known the other for longer than they had.
~~~
Being the youngest two on the team came with a certain level of closeness forced between Iwaizumi and Oikawa. The upperclassmen were not at mercy with their abuse of power when it came to age, making sure that the newbies were the ones who left the latest cleaning up the gym after practice or volunteering for anything the coach needed like getting water or volunteering at a lesson or camp he was hosting. Still, being the only two in the year also gave Iwaizumi a built-in best friend on the team. He was close with some of his teammates, but his water bottle was always next to Oikawa’s, they were always partners for warmups or drills, sat next to each other on the bus to games, and whether they happened to be in practice or playing a game, the two always happened to be standing next to each other.
Both the newbies didn’t have constant playing time, Oikawa ran a 6-2 with the third year setter who obviously wasn’t the happiest to be sharing the position with a first year when he had assumed the coach would just give him the spot full time his last year. Oikawa was put in to play right side when Oikawa was setting, but subbed out for said setter when he got to the backrow, the outside position being given to stronger hitters who could also pass better than Iwaizumi. Neither of the two were upset with the time on the court they got, knowing it was a privilege to even see a sliver or court time during their first year, but they always stayed late trying to practice little by little so next year they wouldn’t get subbed off.
However, despite everything from volleyball to most of his friendships surviving the transition to middle school, what made Iwaizumi the most happy was that his friendship with Oikawa specifically didn’t end the second they stepped off the court. Oikawa was definitely popular, charismatic, charming, and funny in a way that all their classmates seemed to gravitate towards him. Still, Oikawa made it a point to always walk by Iwaizumi after morning practice to Iwaizumi’s class, hang out with him on breaks, sit next to and pay attention to him in classes they shared, and include Iwaizumi in whatever his friend group was doing. It was like Iwaizumi had an assigned spot by Oikawa’s side, and due to that their friend groups began to merge. Of course, Oikawa was the shining star of their group, like the sun keeping them all together.
But Iwaizumi was his moon, shining softer and quieter all thanks to the sun, whether that be on the volleyball court where Oikawa gave him the perfect sets to make a key difference in games or in their social lives where the setter made sure to pull Iwaizumi into his orbit even when Iwaizumi didn’t feel worthy of it. Even when Iwaizumu’s tongue dried when he saw all the girls waiting to gift Oikawa homemade treats or love letters, when Oikawa did something stupid that made Iwaizumi be a little colder than usual, or just when he was feeling a little bad about himself in comparison to Oikawa, the boy was always there to sweet talk his hitter into coming over to his house, play volleyball with him, or just hang around him with that puppy dog look in his face that made it impossible for Iwaizumi to stay mad or cold for long.
The two had gotten obviously closer, spending time at each other’s homes, and Iwaizumi could tell that Oikawa could see a side of him he couldn’t show other people. Iwaizumi could sit on Oikawa’s bed and tell his friend all about his fears of change, of being abandoned, of the world moving on without him following, and Oikawa would listen. He’d listen and hug Iwaizumi close, making sure to reassure the boy that he would never leave him. Or other times, Iwaizumi could laugh louder than he ever would at school when it was just him and Oikawa at some stupid joke. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t funny or Iwaizumi may look ugly with his mouth open and wheezing for a breath of air, he felt safe with Oikawa, and that was what he was most grateful for.
If change had given him Oikawa, then maybe it wasn’t so bad. At nights, he just prayed that Oikawa would never leave him alone, hoping that these good times where they’d spend almost every waking moment together would never change. Because what was the moon going to do without his sun?