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There wasn’t much that Iwaizumi feared. He wasn’t scared of bugs, nor spiders. He wasn’t scared of water, nor fire. Dogs, horses, clowns, dark… None of it really affecting him as a phobia or fear. Sure, he was wary of clowns outside a circus setting, but that was simply common sense. To anyone that didn’t know him, Iwaizumi was unshakable.
He was sturdy and fearless, like he simply refused to be scared. Not even the first years or Kyoutani knew there was something that left their Ace trembling and hiding. Yahaba and Watari probably had an inkling - from the one time Iwaizumi had very quickly left practice with Matsukawa right on his heels, arm securely around his waist and reassuring him.
Only the third years knew the extent and origin of this fear, and it was unsettling to say the least. Henceforth, they kept a very careful eye out for Iwaizumi. They researched ahead of time, they prepared for any surprises, and they had meticulously learnt what to do in the event of a panic attack or meltdown of some sort.
Because despite all their preparation, there was nothing they could do to stop the weather. When thunder and lightning streaked across the sky and echoed throughout the building, Iwaizumi vanished like magic. He could usually be found in small cupboards or other spaces, wearing clothes much too large for him (usually stolen from one of the other third years), or wrapped in multitudes of blankets.
Oikawa had checked the weather three times this morning. Once on his phone, once on his laptop on a second website, and lastly he glimpsed the TV as he left the house to meet with the others at the lamppost two streets away. All weather clear, the stations reported. With a sigh of relief, he tugged a scarf around his uniform collar and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. He called out to let his mother know he’d by home after practice, and jogged happily to the lamppost. Iwaizumi was already there.
“Iwa-chan~! Good morning~!”
“Mrf.” A grunt into Iwaizumi’s black scarf was the only response he was going to get for now. He had it pulled up around the lower half of his face to defend his sensitive, chapped lips from the cold, and was still half-asleep. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands stuffed into his pockets, a dreary slouch to his usually rigid stance. Oikawa muffled a giggle behind a gloved hand.
“Sleepy Iwa-chan is so cute~.” He pokes at the exposed top of Iwaizumi’s cheek and one green eye splits open just enough to glare at him, the promise of pain and death hidden behind a tired glaze. Shit-eating grin in place, Oikawa pokes him again. And again. And once more when Iwaizumi growls under his breath.
“Oiiii. Over here.” Matsukawa’s unimpressed voice floats over from across the road, and the second Oikawa turns to wave at Matsukawa and Hanamaki, he’s attacked from behind and pulled into an unforgiving headlock.
“You think it’s funny now, Shittykawa?! Huh!? Good morning, my ass!”
“Geh! Iwa-chan! Choking, not breathing!” Iwaizumi releases Oikawa only to stuff his hands back in his pockets and hunch up like a bird puffing up feathers in the cold, hurriedly shuffling over to Matsukawa. With an exasperated sigh, Matsukawa rolls his eyes dramatically and opens his arms. The human heater of the pack, he already has Hanamaki dangling off his back, so why not add Iwaizumi to the equation too?
Iwaizumi burrows into his warmth like a tiny, chilly hedgehog and Matsukawa grants him a hug, resting his chin atop Iwaizumi’s head as arms snake around his waist under his open jacket. It’s a mystery why Matsukawa is always so warm in winter and cold in summer, but it does mean he has to cart Hanamaki and Iwaizumi around.
In summer, Hanamaki is fine, but winter snaps and bites at his inability to regulate warm temperatures, making him shiver and sniffle and latch onto the closest heat source. Iwaizumi can’t deal with extreme cold or extreme heat, but he’s able to bare the weather most of the time. Oikawa, similar to Matsukawa, can rely on his own temperature regulation. That doesn’t stop him being clingy every now and then.
Somehow, Matsukawa manages to drag them all to school, where the heating of the gym means Hanamaki slinks off his back to dart over to a radiator. He presses his cheek against it and caresses it like a long-lost lover, whispering sweet words to it in a gollum voice.
“My precious… Precious heat… Yes, warm thing… I cherish you…” Notably, the second years raise an eyebrow at the display and the first years look beyond confused, but Oikawa takes it in stride and skips over to Hanamaki to drag him away by the ankles, towards the changing room.
Iwaizumi wrestles himself away from Matsukawa’s luring warmth to go and get changed, whilst Matsukawa busies himself setting up the net so the underclassmen can get started.
It’s just as he’s showing Kyoutani how to tighten the top cord to keep the net rigid that he hears it. A rumble. Jolting up, he walks over to the gym doors and mumbles a curse under his breath. The unpredictable weather had changed completely from the weather reports and previous cloudy but calm skies.
The formerly clear baby blue was gone, hidden thick, towering clouds. Strangely, the clouds appeared a shade between grey and green. As confusing as it was, the main thing Matsukawa thought about was that this meant only one thing. A storm was on the horizon.
“Fuck.” The uttered explicit makes Kindaichi jump, almost dropping the ball as he’s startled. Although that’s not uncommon. He’s easily startled.
“Eh? Matsukawa-senpai?”
“You got your phone handy?”
“Uh, yeah, one second.” He jogs casually over to his jacket and water bottle on the bench, fetching a small fliptop phone. As he returns to Matsukawa’s side, the third year hasn’t stopped staring at the sky like he’s going to fight the clouds. Just from this, Kindaichi can assume he wants a weather report, and quickly brings up the app.
“Uh… There’s a yellow warning symbol above us… Strong winds, heavy rain and hail, and… Uh… Thunder and lightning. It says there’s a 70% chance of a typhoon evolving, if it intensifies before reaching land.”
“Okay. Thanks Kindaichi, that’s all I need to know.” Kindaichi looks at him with a blink.
“... You’re not interested in why it’s green?”
“...” The regrettable pause of silence is enough for Kindaichi to gather an answer. He snickers and scrolls through a couple of web pages until he finds something sourced and reliable.
“Uh… Well.. After reading that through, all I can understand is that green is the dominant wavelength of light in severe thunderstorms? It has something to do with ice crystals at the very top of the clouds…” Matsukawa groans and drags a hand down his face as another louder burst of thunder rumbles through the sky. He counts silently in his head.
“Iwaizumi, get back here! You haven’t even put your shorts on yet!” Exactly four seconds later and the door to the changing room is open, Oikawa and Hanamaki attempting to drag Iwaizumi back in as he tries to bolt. On the ninth second, a fork of lightning jolts from the cloud, spreading across the green-grey mass. Even from this distance, Matsukawa can tell the green storm is going to be horrendously bad.
“Alright. Iwaizumi, go put your trousers on. Oikawa, pack his bags again. ‘Hiro, find some umbrellas and stuff. I’m gonna tell coach practice is cancelled today.”
“Cancelled?!” Matsukawa shrugs and looks over at the second years.
“Yep. Unless one of you wants to take charge?” The first years look to the second years and the second years look between themselves until Yahaba sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” Watari pats his back with a grin and Yahaba just sighs once more. He might actually have wrinkles by tomorrow if he stresses this bad at one practice.
“In that case, I’ll leave it to you to pass the message on to coach.”
“Message?” Glancing out the corner of his eye, Matsukawa notices Oikawa and Iwaizumi exiting the changing room, the latter speed-walking and almost jogging. They’re both back in school uniform and winter wear, and Hanamaki is approaching from down the adjacent corridor with empty hands. No umbrellas then. Looks like they’ll be running through the rain - which has begun to softly pitter-patter on the ground as the clouds draw closer. A crack of sharp thunder has Iwaizumi noticeably wince, even as Oikawa draws him closer and wraps an arm around his shoulders.
“That we’re bailing out. Toodle-doo and good luck.” Yahaba’s protests go unheard beneath Hanamaki bursting into cackles as he races out the door and into the rain. Oikawa laughs softly and follows him out, not really needing to drag Iwaizumi as he hurries along, persuaded by a rumble of thunder that appears to grow louder the longer the seconds pass.
Matsukawa lifts an arm invitingly and Iwaizumi instantly presses into his side. It’s reassuring to have Matsukawa’s arm securely wrapped around him, especially as lightning dances across the sky and he winces.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.”
“I know, I know. I just- It’s so stupid but I’m…”
“Scared?”
“No!” Iwaizumi snaps at him, before biting back an apology. He hangs his head low instead, but Matsukawa understands either way, and squeezes him lightly to reassure him there’s no offence taken. Because they both know the truth. Even with the storm far away, Iwaizumi is scared. He’ll admit it later when he’s shaking and trying to hide from the chaos all around, but for now, he’s behaving defensively.
“Hey, Makki! Your house is closest so we’re heading there!”
“Sure thing! Oikawa and I are gonna stop at the bakery, we’ll meet you there.”
“Spare key in the usual place?”
“You know it.” As the sky turns from grey-green to jade, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi hurry along to Hanamaki’s house, the former unlocking the door quickly and ushering Iwaizumi in. A boom of thunder has him stop breathing for a second and tensing up before the flash filling the house prompts him to bolt for cover. Matsukawa sighs softly.
It’s already started, and Oikawa and Hanamaki aren’t here when they’re deeply needed. A broom falls over in the nearby under-the-stairs opening for cleaning items. There’s a red curtain that hangs over the entrance, thick enough to block out most of the lightning effect, and it’s Iwaizumi’s seemingly favourite place to hide from the storm. But it’s not helpful at all.
“Hajime, we can’t reach you in there. Please come out?”
“No.”
“Hajime…”
“Not until the storm is gOne!” The squeak at the end of his sentence is due to thunder, and Matsukawa can hear his heavy breathing quicken. He’s panicking. Whispering a curse under his breath, Matsukawa inches as far forwards as he can and reaches in. His fingers brush against warm skin that he realises is Iwaizumi’s cheek, after poking him on the corner of his lips, and trails his hand down to find Iwaizumi’s own.
Gently, he brushes his thumb over rough, dry knuckles and attempts to calm Iwaizumi down. That’s hard to do when the storm seems to have moved closer and the thunder comes quicker than before, loud roars across the sky punctuated with a flash of light that turns everything bright, piercing white for a moment.
“We’re back!” He breathes a sigh of relief as Hanamaki and Oikawa return, bags rustling in the hallway and the door clicking shut behind them in a momentary lapse of silence.
“Geez, it’s not so much raining as it is hailing out there.”
“I feel like I’ve been dropped in a swimming pool!” As much as Matsukawa wants to snicker at Oikawa’s proclamation, he has other things to worry about.
“Through here. And a little stuck.” They come through into the hallway and Hanamaki’s lips fall into an ‘o’ shape when he realises the situation. An echoing burst of thunder is followed by a small whimper from the opening under the stairs. Hanamaki crouches down and lifts up the bottom of the curtain, crawling in with a level of flexibility that Matsukawa doesn’t possess. He can easily avoid the potentially dangerous items that are stored here, a mismatch of gardening equipment, randomly brought trinkets, and glass bottles.
“Wow, Makki! You’re like a gymnast!”
“Oikawa… There’s a time and a place, but this is not it.” Oikawa straightens up with a frown and deep, concerned furrow in his brow as he looks at Matsukawa, face lit up by a bright flash of lightning.
“That bad already?”
“Mhm. He bolted the second we stepped inside. We’re beyond the distracting joke stage.” Oikawa takes a deep breath in and waits until Hanamaki wriggles back out the small under-the-stairs hole, dragging Iwaizumi with him.
Iwaizumi tries to wrench back to go into his entirely inadequate safe space, but Matsukawa is quick to grab his other arm, and with two of them against one, Iwaizumi doesn’t stand a chance. Oikawa jogs over to the windows and pulls all the curtains closed before he grabs a blanket or six as Hanamaki and Matsukawa trap Iwaizumi on the sofa in tight, warm arms. It might seem a little brutal to wrestle him out like this, but it’ll help in the long run. A massive, rumbling boom of thunder is about to prove their point.
“N-no! Please, no!” Oikawa hurries to dump the blankets over them, accidentally burying Matsukawa with Iwaizumi, but there’s no complaints as it shields him from the bright flash that follows the thunder.
“Shh, shh… It’s okay… He’s not here, Iwaizumi. He’s not here.” Hanamaki’s gentle voice works to somewhat soothe him, and he can feel the tension draining away from Iwaizumi’s shoulders. Not much, but a little is big progress. Oikawa rubs Iwaizumi’s back through the blankets, a sad smile in place.
“I’ll make the pillow fort and hot chocolates. Makki, where’re your over-ear headphones?”
“Upstairs on my bedside table. You can grab a few teddies as well, they should be on top of the wardrobe.”
“I’m on it. Keep Iwa-chan safe from the storm whilst I’m gone~.” Matsukawa chuckles softly, almost going unheard on the premise of a thunderous roar, and whispers into the following silence.
“As safe as we can.” It’s a promise, and Oikawa trusts them with all his heart. He heads off upstairs, shuddering a little when the lights flicker. A power cut is the last thing they need. Iwaizumi is already teetering on the edge of his fear, they don’t need Oikawa and Hanamaki freaking out additionally.
It’s easy to find both the headphones and the cuddly toys, Oikawa selecting the one he knows Iwaizumi loves most. It’s an old ragged cow with a red neckerchief and little black boots.
Hanamaki calls her Lil’ Red, but he had no complaints when Iwaizumi affectionately nicknamed her Sugarcube, and it stuck. What it is with cows, Oikawa has no idea, but Iwaizumi turns into melted mush around them in normal circumstances, cooing over them like they’re tiny kittens or adorable bunnies. It’s... Kind of cute to watch actually.
“Oik-!” Hanamaki’s shout is cut off by another burst of thunder, this one sounding more like the crack of a whip, and Oikawa bolts it down the stairs with headphones and Lil’ Red safely in his grasp. It’s not good. He can tell that by the way Iwaizumi is completely still apart from the way he trembles all over and tears slide silently down his cheeks.
“Has he only just slipped into it?”
“Y-Yeah, just as you’d gone upstairs.”
“Then we might be able to coax him back to reality.” Matsukawa tugs the blankets back up so it covers all of them and Oikawa ducks under it from below, shimmying up until he can put the headphones over Iwaizumi’s ears and tuck Lil’ Red into his elbow. There’s a small gasp and Iwaizumi’s arm jolts closer to his body like he can feel the addition. Good. He isn’t completely gone.
“Oikawa, is this really going to work…?”
“We don’t have a choice, Makki… We have to try. You know how bad those memories fuck him up.” Lightning and thunder at the same time. A whimper from the usually proud ace and his eyes close tightly, squeezing out more tears. Matsukawa quickly finds the playlist he put together specifically for this moment, the headphone jack already plugged in.
“Music’s playing.”
“O-Okay… We can- We can see how he reacts to it.” They hold their breaths, and watch as Iwaizumi slowly opens his eyes. But there’s something distant about them. He isn’t there. He’s gone with the memories and Hanamaki spits out a curse as Matsukawa bites his bottom lip in concern and Oikawa presses his forehead to Iwaizumi’s, gentle despite the anger etched into his expression.
“I’m going to torture that sicko until he’s begging for death.” Matsukawa hums in agreement and Hanamaki mumbles something about rubbing salt into literal wounds.
The ‘sicko’ they refer to isn’t Iwaizumi himself. It’s not a stranger either. This pers- this monster they all want to see suffering is Iwaizumi’s uncle. During middle school, Iwaizumi’s single mother was very sick and practically lived in hospital. For those three years, Iwaizumi lived with his uncle and aunt nearby. They seemed nice on the surface.
But his aunt was ignorant and refused to acknowledge anything horrendous was going on in her house, even when Iwaizumi begged her to help him or hide him. His uncle… His uncle had used the advantage of storms to hide any sounds of struggle or screams of pain, shouts for help, pleading for rescue.
If the neighbours commented on hearing screams, they used “My youngest nephew is scared.” as an excuse. It worked because they never mentioned the ‘youngest’ was their only nephew, and 11-14 years old. He’d been conditioned to fear storms for three years of his life, and that learnt reflex didn’t disappear just because his mother was back and he was in high school.
Memories and trauma like that lasted a lifetime. The bruises on his skin had faded, but they remained on his soul. It didn’t matter how strong he had built himself to be physically, because there were still cracks that needed healing deep within his mind, only brought to the forefront of his consciousness when a storm dawned.
Matsukawa pulls Iwaizumi in closer to his body heat, practically dragging him into his lap and comfortingly rubbing his back with one hand, the other ruffling in his short, spiky hair, as he rocked them slightly side to side. The rocking motion, for whatever reason, soothed Iwaizumi even when he was completely wrapped in his memories.
“Guess I can help you with that pillowfort now…~” Hanamaki shunts the blankets off himself, gently patting them down to cover Iwaizumi and Matsukawa more effectively. It’ll be stuffy to breath under there, but it’ll shelter them from the drastic changes in light that the curtains can’t block out. The headphones too, should help Iwaizumi with the thunder - his most feared aspect.
Any boom or crack could be the sound of a fist rattling his skull or a belt across his bare skin. It could be getting pushed to the floor and the slamming of the door, or a bottle breaking and shards splintering beneath him, adding danger to his attempts to scramble out of reach. It could be cruel, deep laughter, or a cackle of sadistic glee.
Thunder brings it all back; and the storm still rages on outside.
“And put the biggest cushion there. Hmm… Yes, perfect~. Now we just need pegs to keep the sheets from falling off.”
“And the chairs to stop the ‘ceiling’ being too low.”
“Oh! We can squeeze the ankle-height table in like last time!” Even in this darkest hour, Oikawa and Hanamaki are attempting to find the light and a flicker of happiness. They make it sound like they’re building for fun, but the reality is bleak and sickening. They’re building because it’s the only safe-place they can actually help their friend in.
“Cool. You go get the cakes from the hallway. I’ll get the table in here.”
“Roger that, Makki!” Oikawa flits off with a confident grin, assured that by the time Iwaizumi has snapped out of his memory, they’ll have everything set up and can help him through the remainder of the storm. He dares to peek out the front door and can see the green tinge fading into the regular grey, and he sighs in relief. The worst of the storm is over.
Plastic bag from the bakery in hand, Oikawa heads into the kitchen and starts melting some chocolate in a saucepan. He adds milk before it thickens, and then some double cream. It looks like a hot ganache, and Oikawa evenly splits it between four tall mugs before adding more milk to fill the glass.
Retrieving whipped cream from the fridge, he makes a pretty rose-like decoration on top with extreme skill, and dusts cocoa powder over two of them, grinded coffee beans over another, and strawberry milkshake powder over the last. The coffee one is for Matsukawa, the strawberry one for Iwaizumi, and the two chocolate ones for himself and Hanamaki.
Each cream rose, dusted with its own powder, is topped with a slice of kiwi each. It adds a splash of colour - and contrast to the pink dusting on Iwaizumi’s hot chocolate - and tastes delicious. Lastly, he uses the same dust or powder to coat the inside of the fancy straws he plonks in. It adds extra flavour to each sip.
“Hot chocolates are done!” He waits until Matsukawa and Hanamaki shout back in acknowledgment before he plates the slices of cake from the bakery onto small plates, little forks at the side, and loads it all up on a tray to bring through. Hanamaki is still under the fort, having dragged the table into the centre. He takes the tray from Oikawa so the setter doesn’t have to drop to his knees and risk dropping the tray.
“Oop. He’s coming back.” The casual remark from Matsukawa has both of them whip their heads around as it’s followed by a groggy, disorientated groan from Iwaizumi, his grip on Lil’ Red tightening.
“Wha-What…Where?” Matsukawa turns the music down so it’s just background noise and pushes one of the ears back as he gently mumbles to Iwaizumi, never stopping stroking his back whilst he regains sense of where he is, and the fact he’s with his friends - not his uncle.
He calms as he recognises the toy cow in his arms and tiredly mumbles ‘Sugarcube..’
“Hey, Hajime~. You okay?”
“N-no… M’scared…He’s here, he’s here, he’s gonna-” Hanamaki lifts the ‘entrance’ of the fort they’ve made for Matsukawa to slip in, Iwaizumi still in his lap and clinging on for dear life at the movement.
Once they’re safely in the fort, Oikawa pulls the 6 layers of blankets off them and smiles reassuringly at a pale and shaken Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi attempts to smile back but another splitting crack of thunder has him whimper and bury his face in Matsukawa’s shoulder, as if that could shield him from the storm.
“He’s not here, I promise. We’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.” The headphones are shifted to cover his ears again, but the volume is kept low so he can hear their voices as they talk amongst themselves, dealing out cards for a game of Uno and complimenting Oikawa’s amazing drink-making skills, as well as Makki moaning orgasmically around his deluxe devil’s chocolate cake slice. Matsukawa pretty much inhales his sour cream tart before spooning the coffee-dusted cream off his hot chocolate to eat separately, donating his kiwi slice to Oikawa.
“Okay! Let’s play! Iwa-chan, are you joining this round?” Green eyes dulled with tiredness and stress examine the set-up before he shakes his head, shuffling to sit in-between Matsukawa and Hanamaki, leaning more against Hanamaki because he smells sweeter - like chocolate and cream and strawberries. Iwaizumi really likes strawberries.
Henceforth, although his hands are a little unsteady, he takes a sip from the hot chocolate Oikawa made, tasting a slight hint of strawberry. Oikawa makes the best hot chocolates, and Iwaizumi feels the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
He’s still terrified. He still hates storms. But he has his friends here by his side, and as Hanamaki balances the spoon on his upper lip, unaware of the chipper and surprisingly fitting music Iwaizumi is listening, he knows he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Storms are bearable, he thinks, when he’s with people who show they care this much.