A/N: Hello everyone! It's been a while since I've posted anything (in fact I'm going on break right after this), but recently Haikyu has got my fangirl mind running positively wild, so this little gem appeared. It's IwaOi...or is it OiIwa? I never really know since in my head those two are always reversible lol. Anyway, this is my first time posting a Haikyuu story...so I hope it turned out all right. And for the first time ever I had a cover ready for this one...but the image manager was not letting me upload it! So once again I have a story with no cover...oh well.
I also want to give a HUGE thank you to my editor SatellizerS who has not only put up with my insane ramblings and hectic schedule but has also been super helpful in all of my writing endeavors! I could not have made it to this point without the help. :)
And thanks to all of the wonderful people who took the time to click on this story and although it is just a one-shot, I hope that it is enjoyable all the same.
note: all italicized words are meant to be thoughts.
It was seven a.m. on a particular morning in Oikawa's home. The setter, whose parents were away, had gotten the brilliant idea to have Iwaizumi stay over after their practice...so that was the reason for the assortment of various pots and pans strewn about the counters, each filled with a different failed item.
And then there was the matter of his atrocious knife skills. But it wasn't as though Oikawa didn't know how to cook—it was quite the opposite in fact, as he certainly enjoyed being in the kitchen—the reason for his sloppiness was the simple fact that his mind was far too preoccupied with itself. In other words, his thoughts were uncharacteristically loud today.
"Don't do that, Tooru!"
Why shouldn't I?
He often remembered the common occurrences during his childhood in which someone older would make an attempt to correct him...but they would never tell him exactly why he was wrong. There seemed to be an unspoken rule that reprimands could only be given in their vaguest forms. Or, someone would say,
"Stop that, it's stupid."
But why?
And Oikawa would be left to contemplate what portion of his decision had been so wrong. But he never could. There was still more they had to correct him on.
"Don't go that way-!"
Why can't I?
Ever since he was a child, Oikawa had been guided by the unrelenting hands of those around him. Well, maybe guided wasn't the correct word to use...pressured seemed to fit better. From the moment he had set foot upon a volleyball court to watch his first match with shining eyes and was placed upon a youth team, the journey toward unattainable greatness began. Those around him had been amazed by his skills, wooed by his charisma, and above all, moved by his strength; but they never once asked him how he felt. His life was always just a deceptively straightforward game, a proverbial push and pull between being told and executing orders.
Oikawa shivered as he remembered the first day he met a little prodigy by the name of Kageyama Tobio. With a determination to rival Oikawa's own and wide blue eyes unstained by the expectations of others, Kageyama was the definition of young talent, and Oikawa couldn't help but feel jealous. And that jealousy had manifested itself into anger, which somehow turned into a derelict type of hate that was borderline obsession. He had laughed at Kageyama's struggles to learn and rejected every single one of his pleads for instruction. But it wasn't out of spite that Oikawa had refused to help; he had done it as his own pitiful way of gaining revenge on every single person who had forced their own views into his life without any regard for his own feelings. But it wasn't like he wanted to hurt Kageyama, he merely wanted to stay as far removed from the younger player's life as possible...since maybe then the young prodigy wouldn't be tarnished by the false expectations of everyone else. Even Oikawa's own high school had been pressuring him as soon as he stepped foot on the grounds.
"You'll never make it, Oikawa. People who don't have natural ability can never improve. Practice only gets you so far..."
The words of Aoba Jōsai's guidance counselor had been infuriating to say the least. Oikawa remembered how it felt when he had been called in, the tense atmosphere, that strong aura of disapproval that seemed to characterize every single one of Oikawa's endeavors. In that moment he had felt, not a feeling of unease, but rather a surge of pride in himself and everything he had worked for. He had pride in his team, and he had faith that the single decision in his life that he had made for himself would someday come to mean something.
Then I'll work harder. And harder. Until no one can beat me...I'm going to win!
But even now, he still wondered if he had known, somewhere deep in his heart, that his team was walking straight into yet another failure. No amount of cover-quality magazine articles and subsequent photo-shoots could have taken his attention away from their biggest demise that just so happened to be in the face of Aoba Jōsai's greatest rival. And he could still remember the disgusting smirk on the face of the other team's ace, he could remember his team's tears, and he remembered the lights being too bright.
Oikawa found himself squinting against the bright lights in the ceiling and suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be making breakfast. He reached lazily across the sink to snag an onion, set it on the cutting board and began to cut off the base. It felt good to be focused on something concrete again, but he couldn't help but keep thinking. The questions seemed to never stop.
Oikawa's mind began to stray once more, now wondering if things could have been different if he had trained harder...would his team have gone to nationals then? Maybe if he had tossed left instead of right in the semi-finals match. Maybe if-
Before he could come up with another half-assed and semi-positive hypothetical, another demeaning line—something much colder...and much more recent, flashed through his frazzled mind.
"You should've come to Shiratorizawa..."
He shivered as the image of a tall, muscular giant from another time appeared in his head. A body with a set jaw and was wearing a tense frown. A body that he had seen countless times. Every single time he thought about it...it felt like he was just going in circles.
His hand subconsciously clenched the knife even tighter and he gritted his teeth.
...should I really?
"Ouchie!" Oikawa retracted his hand in shock, watching in horror as his finger began to bleed profusely. All prior thoughts vanished as the knife clattered to the floor. "B-Bandage..." He began to stumble toward the bathroom when Aoba Jōsai's shirtless ace stepped into the doorway, unintentionally blocking his path.
Oikawa inwardly cursed as he threw his hands behind his back.
Shit, if Iwa-chan sees this, I'm done for.
With the image of Iwaizumi's fury at the forefront of his mind, Oikawa decided to play it off as smoothly as possible.
"Ah, morning Iwa-chan." He started with a smile, clenching his trembling hands together, cringing at the warm wetness still creeping down his injured finger. The cut was definitely worse than he thought.
Iwaizumi looked rather groggy, but he managed a bellowing yawn and neck scratch as he growled, "The hell are you doing up Shittykawa?" The ace's gaze flitted to the cutting board on the counter, his scowl deepening as he surveyed the assortment of vegetables. "You cut like shit, you know that?"
Oikawa feigned offense with a short gasp. "So rude! And it's only eight in the morning! You definitely didn't sleep enough, Iwa-chan." He pursed his lips and pretended to pout, forgetting for a moment about the cut on his finger as he wagged said finger in front of his teammate. By the time he realized his error, Iwaizumi was already wide-awake and yelling.
"You idiot! You're bleeding!"
Oikawa frowned and stomped his foot on the ground. "Dammit, Iwa-chan, I know that!"
"Tch. Come on!" Iwaizumi took a rough hold on his teammate's arm and practically dragged him to the bathroom, all the while muttering inaudible phrases that Oikawa mused would be bestowed preachingly upon his sorry body later.
Was this really the right thing to be doing? The chattering cacophony of ill-spoken words began to surface in his mind again, and it caused his hands to ball into painful fists. The sheer magnitude of the worry that weighed so heavily upon his consciousness flared dangerously, openly threatening to force the setter's usually focused mind into chaos.
"Iwa-chan, really, it's not that bad." Oikawa made another attempt at stemming the onslaught of rage that would surely be coming his way as soon as they stopped, but the ace made not even the slightest assurance of acknowledgement. Though, Oikawa mused, perhaps that was for the best. After all, it would only be yet another fury-fueled set of one-liners that would burn a new scar into Oikawa's subconscious. He would be able to endure it if it was Iwaizumi.
They were just words, after all.
As they entered into the bathroom, Iwaizumi released his hold on his friend's arm only in order to rummage about in the cupboard for bandages. Strings of muttered obscenities slipped out of his lips as his hands tore through the cluttered cabinet. Oikawa stood off to the side, cradling the bloody finger and dragging his feet aimlessly across the tile floor. He stared forlornly at his reflection in the mirror.
Why did I choose this path again?
He thought to what the question referred to. But it was something that he was almost afraid to say out loud or even acknowledge for fear of being wrong. Oikawa searched for the answer in the strange looking person who stared back at him from within that other world. The eyes were filled with swirling conflict and the mouth trembled as though torn between words and silence. He frowned and squinted.
Is that really me?
The energy in the room took an abrupt shift, as though a cold breeze had blown through to create that shiver-worthy atmosphere that the setter so dearly hated.
It certainly made Oikawa shiver.
The scowling young man at the cabinet suddenly turned to glare at the childish setter, causing the latter to shrink in terror, and barked, "Where the hell do you even keep your bandages? Your cupboard is organized like a fucking two-year-old's art project! How can you even find anything?!"
Oikawa shamefully averted his eyes and whispered, "...should be at the bottom left."
Iwaizumi hesitated for a second before turning back to the cupboard and beginning to look again, but a second later he forcefully slammed the door shut and looked back to Oikawa. He held out his hand, knelt down in front of the ingenious setter, and wiggled his fingers, obviously asking to see the injury, so the setter reluctantly allowed him by gently laying the still bleeding hand upon the proffered fingers of his teammate.
Calloused fingers tenderly caressed Oikawa's hand and a look of frustration appeared on Iwaizumi's face, but it was out of affection not annoyance.
"You're such a liar, Tōru."
Oikawa shivered slightly at the use of his name, but he refused to let the deep brown eyes that were observing him intently to see any crack in his resolve. "Why am I a liar?"
"It's bad."
"Really? I don't think so."
"Oh it is." Silently, Iwaizumi wiped the blood away with a wet tissue and applied a piece of gauze. "Hold that on there." He released his grip on his setter's hand and stood up. "I'm gonna go check the other bathroom."
Oikawa nodded and clenched the layered cotton to his cut, frowning when a small red streak became visible on the other side. If the bleeding didn't stop soon, he'd likely be forced to go to the hospital for stitches.
The dull throbbing in his finger reminded him of yet another painful facet of his life. After Aoba Jōsai's loss in the semi-finals against Shiratorizawa, Iwaizumi had become more bitter than ever. His ever-present frown had only grown deeper and he rarely ever seemed happy anymore. Oikawa could hardly even remember the last time he'd seen Iwaizumi smile...
Is it because of me?
He half-feared the answer that he would receive from asking such a stupid thing...but still, he desperately wanted to know.
But that wasn't the only thing on his mind. It never was.
Shivers ran down his spine as he remembered the activities of the night before. The way it felt to hold his best friend close to him in a setting that was solely their own.
It hadn't been completely unexpected for them to engage in what they did...but Oikawa had still been surprised at the total lack of resistance he found in his best friend when they began to cross a line that they had always subconsciously sworn not to so much as even touch.
Friends don't do that sort of thing.
It had been a lurking demon in Oikawa's heart for a while now, the more vulgar physical intimacy he desired from his best friend, but, if the previous night had been any indication, Oikawa wasn't alone in his desires. From the moment Iwaizumi had kissed Oikawa, they had both tasted it; the sweet and dark sensation of something that was forbidden. And it made them absolutely desperate for more.
So was what we did a mistake? Was it merely something made out of a moment of shared indecision?
Before they had so much as sat down on the bed together, Oikawa had told his friend outright that neither one of them could walk away once they started, and Iwaizumi responded with just another witty half-insult. He had asked if that meant Oikawa was scared and the setter in question had merely smiled and made a nod of affirmation in response. And when Oikawa had inquired the same, to his surprise, Iwaizumi had also nodded.
We felt the same about all of it...
After the deed was done and they were laying in Oikawa's bed together, sweaty as hell and exhausted, Iwaizumi had said, "For a piece of trash, you weren't half bad."
And on that note, he had fallen asleep, leaving Oikawa, grinning like an idiot, to go take a shower.
The setter had remembered how he had come into the very bathroom that he now stood in and used the shower, washing away the remnants of what they had done. He found it strangely unnerving to realize that he had known Iwaizumi for the majority of his life...and yet not even ten minutes prior had just carried out sex with him.
Oikawa sighed.
Do I love Iwa-chan? He mused as he stared into the mirror, the last memories of his recent intimacy with his best friend disintegrating into nothing more than background noise.
The answer was easy. Of course he did. But it was a different kind of love. Eighteen years of it, in fact. However, it hadn't been the same forever. Their love came in many different shades. Iwaizumi's motherly protectiveness, Oikawa's childish attitude, their few shared interests, Iwaizumi's constancy, Oikawa's drive for success...every single one of their traits made them undeniably compatible in the same way that two oppositely charged poles would connect. Like two unique puzzle pieces that only fit with one another.
At some point, his love for Iwaizumi had unsurprisingly overstepped the bounds of friendship. It wasn't unexpected, after all, people talk about how they fall in love with their best friend all the time. At first it scared him, though he couldn't remember it at that moment, there had been plenty of nights when he was up late asking the ceiling,
"What would Iwa-chan think?"
Everything was connected to Iwaizumi in Oikawa's life. Dates with girlfriends were rearranged to make time for one-on-one practice, their school lives were perfectly synchronized, and even Oikawa's bedtime matched Iwaizumi's (though that was back when they were young). If Oikawa was a planet, then Iwaizumi would be his moon. Always there, pulled by the planet's gravity but at the very same time controlling the most vital of nuances that kept every living system in a delicate celestial balance.
Sometimes he would imagine how their relationship would be if Iwaizumi had been a setter, and Oikawa his spiker. Even though lacking the talent, Iwaizumi seemed much more fit to play the "control tower" role. To be someone that everyone would look at and say, "That boy looks strong." Usually it just gave Oikawa a headache and within a few minutes he would give up on his visualization and realize once again how thankful he was not only for the reality he lived, but also to have someone like Iwaizumi in his life, and to have someone like him to lean on.
Iwaizumi had always been there for him when he needed it most. And the current time in the bathroom was no exception.
Oikawa was roused from his memories as the door was thrown open by his teammate, who had his hands full of various wound-treating items. The taller boy flinched slightly as that icy gaze locked upon him, knowing full well the rage that the other was capable of.
"Sit down already." Iwaizumi waved a hand at his teammate, turning away to deposit the handful of bandages and injury products on the counter beside the sink.
Oikawa obeyed, taking a seat on the floor with his upper body propped against the wall. His head thumped against it and he cringed at the twinge of pain it left him with. But he did not complain, pressing his lips together in a thin line, using them as a barricade against pain.
I should be doing this myself...why is Iwa-chan taking care of this? What is he to me?
A moment later, Iwaizumi knelt down before him and motioned to see the injury-a request which was granted-and pulled the gauze away from it with a "tsk". Ice cold eyes came to scan Oikawa again and he froze.
Maybe if I try and lighten the mood a little...
The setter went with the first amusing comment that came to mind, willing his smile to appear real. "Are you gonna be able to take care of it, Dr. Iwa-chan?" He'd be damned before he was going to cry on his own bathroom floor in front of his best friend.
Iwaizumi merely scowled. "...shut up...and don't say that kind of thing."
Oikawa let a cheeky laugh escape, hoping desperately that Iwaizumi wouldn't pick up on the force it took to muster such a thing. But, to the former's relief, the latter seemed quite engrossed in his task of bandaging.
The two of them had known each other long enough to understand the quirks and nuances of their relationship. Things such as each others' tics and pet peeves had been memorized practically from day one, since such things tended to make for amusing displays of light-hearted teasing. And for the most part, they could understand each other nonverbally. Their friendship was largely unspoken and their true "fights" were far and few between (most of them were just skirmishes after Oikawa said something stupid). But in a select few instances, the silence became so thick with unsaid tension that it became unbearable.
This was one of those times.
As Oikawa stared down at the calloused hands wrapping his injured finger, he couldn't help but keep thinking if their path really was the right one. His tongue itched with the questions he desperately wanted to ask, but his mind still bathed in the fear of the unknown and warned his heart of the consequences of such words. The world seemed to slow down and he began to worry. All of the petty insecurities came running back to him.
No. Don't leave me in this silence, Iwa-chan. Otherwise...
His mouth seemed to move of its own accord as the words seemed to simply fall right out. "Say, Iwa-chan...do you think that I made the right choice?" His gaze was locked firmly on their hands.
Otherwise I'll reveal those things that I don't want to say.
Iwaizumi just snorted his distaste. "Huh? What nonsense are you talking—"
Oikawa cut him off as he found the will to speak. If he was going to say something, he might as well mean it. "I-I'm serious! Do you?"
Iwaizumi leaned back on his heels and fell onto the floor, readjusting his legs. He sighed. "Geez. Aren't you the only one who can answer that?"
"I...don't know..."
There was a moment, just a single moment, in which Oikawa thought he was about to hear Iwaizumi reveal what he feared most. It made his blood run cold. But Iwaizumi just added two words that didn't fit into Oikawa's imagined reality in which everything horrible seemed to happen. In fact, they revealed the exact opposite. "...I don't."
"Eh?" Oikawa could only utter a noise of confusion.
"I don't think you made the wrong choice. I never have." Iwaizumi went back to wrapping the finger.
"But what about last night?"
The spiker looked up, his eyes softly questioning. "What about it?"
"Do you—should we...regret that?" Oikawa stumbled over his words.
"Do you regret it?"
"N-No..." The setter averted his eyes.
"Good. Neither do I." Iwaizumi turned his attention back to the finger, seeming to assume the conversation was over.
Oikawa practically yelled, "B-But-!"
"But what?" The other boy flicked his eyes up.
"What if...I had gone to Shiratorizawa..." Oikawa's voice faded as he began to think again of what he had wanted to say. The words escaped him, betraying him.
"What if you had?" Iwaizumi seemed to be going along with the conversation just fine, his eyes still half-lidded as he gazed at his setter.
The answer hit the taller boy full on and made his chest ache terribly as he tried to formulate the proper words. "Well, wouldn't you have missed me?"
Iwaizumi shrugged as he reached for the scissors to cut the bandage. "Nope. You can take your shitty personality wherever you want. It's not my issue where you wanna go."
There was just a simple snip of the scissors as Iwaizumi finished his work. But he did not let go of the finger.
"..." Oikawa just sat in conflicted silence, slightly unsure of whether he could take such a biting remark as a part of Iwaizumi being the cynical and degrading person that he is and could therefore write it off as a mere jab at his own self-centeredness, or if it was meant as a sincere insult.
The darker haired boy seemed compelled to continue. "So yeah, you could've gone to Shiratorizawa and things would probably be different. But you didn't. And that's fine." He looked up, eyes afire with charisma and confidence. The hand holding Oikawa's clenched tighter. "It doesn't change a damn thing." Gently, and without warning, Iwaizumi lifted the injured finger to his lips and pressed against them lightly.
"Iwa-chan..." The setter's eyes widened as he observed the scene before him, looking away as he felt the heat spreading across his face. "...you dummy," he muttered, sneaking a glance back at the now scowling Iwaizumi.
The ace practically threw Oikawa's hand back at him, standing up with a huff. "Geez. I guess that's what I get for trying to help someone like you." He started for the door.
"Eh? Iwa-chan where're you goin—" Oikawa started, alarmed.
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and turned the doorknob. "To cook some breakfast. Since a certain someone can't manage to even cut an onion properly. Now come on."
Oikawa's brow furrowed. "What? But I thought you hated-"
The hand that suddenly extended down to him cut through his words and effectively silenced his inquiry. Iwaizumi's body was still turned away from the bathroom, his ears were rapidly reddening, and the hand suspended in mid-air trembled ever so slightly, but the heavy words that danced back to the setter explained it all.
"...you're not alone, Tōru."
The shot was fired and it found its mark securely in Oikawa's heart. But the resulting wound did not bleed. If anything, he felt that, in that moment, at least a few of the scars from the past had been erased and set free from the confines of his subconscious. Some of the background noise had disappeared.
That's right. Iwa-chan's always been there. Always. He's never once told me he doubted me.
Not once.
A wide smile appeared on the setter's face and he nodded, taking the proffered hand and clasping it tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the reflected image of himself in the mirror...and the hand that was helping him up.
Iwa-chan's the only person who ever had faith in me...just because he could. There were no ulterior motives, no lies, no fake smiles.
Just like what happened last night.
And he saw the smile on the reflected face in the mirror. Oikawa Tōru was genuinely happy.
"What're you waiting for, you idiot? I'm hungry." A gruff voice called from above.
Oikawa shifted his gaze to see his ace looking down at him and tapping his foot.
"Sorry, Iwa-chan." He used the other boy's hand as leverage and pulled himself up from the ground, grinning something mad.
Iwaizumi just rolled his eyes and dragged them both out of the bathroom, muttering something about wanting eggs. Oikawa just laughed and clasped the hand that held his own so confidently.
That's right. If Iwa-chan's here, then I'll be okay.
I want to stay this way forever.
He tightened his grip even more, so much so that Iwaizumi began to complain about blood flow, but Oikawa couldn't hear him. He was too far gone up in the regained peace within his mind.
I definitely made the right choice.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!