Author's Note

I wrote an idea I found on tumblr, that someone had written after chapter 147 had come out. I can't link it, but it was from the "nsfw-hq" blog. Anyway, it hurt my heart (as if chap 147 hadn't hurt it already omfg) so I decided to write a quick oneshot extrapolating on the headcanon.

SPOILERS WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 147 OF THE HAIKYUU! MANGA.

Basically, in the second Seijou/Karasuno match, Seijou loses in a deuce because Hinata spikes towards Oikawa, and Oikawa fails to receive it. This is the aftermath, and the headcanon involved Oikawa rigorously training to get better, going to ridiculous lengths in an effort not to be weak anymore. And obvs, Hajime saves his sorry ass.

Not beta'ed, will do that tomorrow, when it's NOT 3AM. (I always seem to finish writing so late urgh).

No warnings, so please enjoy!

It would always feel so unreal to him, that the things he held most dear to him could be robbed in the time it took for him to put his arms out to the side.

Faster. He should've reacted faster. He should've snapped his arms out quicker, moved his feet a bit wider, straightened his wrists out better, angled his hands lower. He should never have hesitated, because in that one moment he'd wasted blinking, he'd lost the split-second he'd needed to become a winner.

There was a chill on his face, and he blinked softly, feeling his cheeks warm up and then chill again. His covers rustled as he sat up in bed and rubbed the exhaustion out of his face, only to realize that his hands were wet, and that the chill was that of dozens of tears cooling on his face. He hadn't even noticed when he'd begun crying. Probably in his sleep, even.

Sighing, he pushed the covers completely off of him and stood up, legs shaking and footsteps dragging him out of his room and towards the bathroom. Once there, he closed and locked the door before sighing, and opened the cold water to splash himself awake. The coolness felt good against his skin, and he felt refreshed enough by the end of it to be tempted to look into the mirror.

But he didn't. Refusing to make eye contact with the person on the other side, he left the bathroom as quickly as he'd gone in, and returned to his bed to try and sleep it off.

Perhaps tomorrow, he'd be able to look at himself in the mirror and see Oikawa Tooru, instead of the broken, pathetic mess he'd been seeing for the past four days.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

Oikawa had always known that he did not have the best character, but he couldn't help but appreciate himself (in a strange, morbid way) when the first thing he did upon seeing Iwaizumi the next day was smile. It was a very instinctive motion, for his lips to stretch out, and he only reminded himself a second of hesitation later that the rest of his body had to follow if he was to be convincing.

"Iwa-chan!" he called out, waving to his best friend, who turned, and rolled his eyes before walking towards him. At that, Oikawa froze, and did his best to relax. If he hadn't greeted Iwaizumi, the astute teen would have figured out that something was wrong. But now that he had, he had to be careful to act natural, for his best friend always seemed to pick up on his mood, even when he tried to hide it.

"You're late," Iwaizumi criticized lightly, looking at him up and down. Oikawa resisted the urge to shrink under his scrutiny, knowing that it would tip him off, and laughed instead.

"A cute girl wanted a selfie with me on my way to school. I can't say no to cute girls," he lied so smoothly that he even surprised himself. "Besides, you're late, too, if you were out here. Or were you waiting for me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Iwaizumi clicked his tongue and then walked off, expecting his best friend to follow. "Somebody has to drag your useless ass back to school when you're off doing weird things."

"Of course it'd be you, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa hummed, and let his smile fall just long enough for him to swallow thickly before running after the other teen. Had it been somebody else, he probably would have felt hurt by the mention of being useless, but somehow, somehow, being around Hajime made him forget how much he hated himself.

Just enough to get him through the day.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

Life had gone on after their loss, surprisingly. At that time, standing his his shoulder's hunched under the thousands of pair of eyes and the too hot light, feeling realization drill its way into the marrow of every single one of his bones, it had not felt that way to Oikawa. For a moment, the world had stopped spinning, for a moment, all he saw was the dark blue of Kageyama's eyes and for a moment, he felt like he was drowning.

But then, Iwaizumi's hand was on his shoulder, and he was being pulled back to reality, being told to line up, being told that they did their best-

They hadn't. He hadn't. Had he done his best, they would have won. Had he done his best, he wouldn't have had to walk off the court. Had he done his best, he would not have had to watch his teammates cry in the locker room. Had he done his best, they would have-

"Oi! Just because you're captain, doesn't mean you're exempt from cleanup duty!" Oikawa snapped back to the present to the sound of Iwaizumi's familiarly empty frustration. The smile that had faded from his face suddenly returned at full power, as if it had not even left its spot in the first place.

"Being captain is exhausting work, so I'll trust you to take care of this," he stuck his tongue out at his best friend. "I'll see you in the club room!"

And he didn't even wait to hear Iwaizumi's loud protests before turning around to leave. He could feel his team's eyes on him as he left, but he squared his shoulders and walked on by, nodding goodbye to their coach as he changed his shoes outside the gym and went to go get changed.

But he didn't. The club room was empty when he got there, so he quickly pulled some sweatpants over the shorts he wore, and a sweater over his t-shirt, and he picked up his school bag, shoving his running shoes in it. By the time he was dressed and ready to leave, the rest of the team entered the club room to change as well.

"Good job at practice today, everyone," Oikawa cheered them, moving aside to give them place to change.

"Don't think you can skip out on cleaning up again, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi grumbled as he brushed past him to get to his locker. "You're lucky the coach didn't say anything."

"Eh?" Oikawa feigned ignorance. "But didn't I tell you I'm staying late to tutor some third-years? They're worried about the high school exit exams in two weeks and not everyone can be as smart as me, so I'm helping them out of the good of my heart!"

"Shut your trap," his best friend sighed without bite to his words. "Just make some effort to help out next time, even if you have to leave practice early. You're the captain, so you have to set the example."

"I'll be sure to do that," Oikawa gave him a thumbs-up and turned to leave.

"You're leaving already?"

"I'm already late to my appointment with the third-years, so it'd be rude to keep them waiting longer," Oikawa hummed, feeling the beginnings of anxiety crawling up the back of his throat. He needed to get out of the stuffy room, away from the team's inquisitive gazes and Iwaizumi's persistent worry.

"Oi, you need to manage your time better," his best friend criticized, and Oikawa felt his glare drill a hole into his back. "Exams are coming up for us, too, so don't get sloppy with your schedule just because of... of what happened."

And they all knew. Suddenly, it felt like there was no air in the club room, and everybody had stopped moving, frozen in apprehension, wondering how Oikawa would react.

But Oikawa was good, and he knew he was. So with a practiced ease, he turned around and put his fingers up in the shape of a V at his friend, and winked as if he wasn't about to fall apart on the inside.

"No way! You put too little faith in me, Iwa-chan."

"Fine," Iwaizumi conceded, rolling his eyes, and Oikawa knew that it was his moment to get away. "Don't be late tomorrow."

"I won't!"

And with that, he was gone, only walking with his normal swagger until he was out of sight, and then deflating and jogging to the gym a bit nervously. Predictably, their coach was still there, locking up, when Oikawa interrupted him.

"Coach?" he called out, the older man turning to meet him. "Hey, I was wondering if I could lock up and open from now on. Iwa-chan called me out on being a bad captain and I want to make it up by as least setting a good example."

"That's peculiar of you to ask now, of all times," the coach grumbled out, eyes scouring over Oikawa's figure. "Is there a reason why you're suddenly so dedicated?"

"No, no. I just figured that the captain should be the first one there in the morning, and the last one gone at night. It's only a part of a captain's duties! Plus, I suppose I need to get into the habit, if I want to go to a college with a more rigorous volleyball team," he laughed in response, glad that his sweaty hands were nowhere near the other man. The nervous response would have given him away in a second.

"Well..." The coach seemed to consider it, and Oikawa wondered if he'd seen through the grin he'd pinned on his face, if he could see the exhaustion in his eyes, if he could feel the weariness radiating from every inch of Oikawa's skin. But he didn't. And finally, he handed Oikawa the key to the gym. "Fine. Be sure to be on time in the mornings and to lock up firmly at night."

"Thanks, coach," Oikawa nodded. "I won't let you down."

Again. That word seemed to resonate in his head, again and again, just like the ball had done, thumping on the ground once, twice, and then rolling away, again and again Oikawa had replayed the scenario in his head and again and again he had wondered if there had been a way for him not to have let them down.

Somewhere in between all the thoughts, he realized that he must mechanically have wished the coach a good night, because when he became aware of his surroundings again, he found himself alone in one of the school's hallways, not even aware of how he'd gotten there.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall and let the exhausting charade drop, the bags under his eyes weighing tons more now that there was no tight grin to hold them up.

He didn't know what else to do anymore. He couldn't close his eyes without hearing the smack of a ball hitting his forearms wrong anymore. He couldn't sleep, knowing that it had been all his fault that they'd lost. He couldn't live like this, knowing that he had not been good enough to best Tobio. He wasn't a genius like the other setter, but he had practiced enough to match the younger setter's talent with his hard-earned skill. He should have been better. He trained more, he trained harder, he trained better, so why?

Why had he still lost in the end?

Why had he ended up ruining the collective dream of his entire team? Not just once, but twice now, he'd led his team to failure.

He was the problem. He was the failure.

He needed to get better, no matter what. He'd wrecked Aoba Jousai's volleyball team's dreams, but in college, maybe if he played better, maybe if he practiced harder, maybe he'd be able to win- finally.

He needed to get better. No matter what it took. No matter what he needed to do, he would get better, so that next time, he would come out on top, and next time, he wouldn't have to see his team members cry because of him.

He waited an entire hour after practice had ended before making his move, sneaking back into the gym, and pulling off his sweatpants and sweatshirt and changing his shoes. His warm-up was brief, only consisting in him running to the equipment room to grab a basket of balls, and then, he was at it, spiking balls towards the wall, setting into the basketball hoop from various positions, and then, practicing his jump serves.

The ball smacked his hand loudly (the ball had connected so seamlessly with that Shrimpy's hand). His shoes squeaked on the gym floor (he'd moved his feet just a bit too late, just a second too late to get into a stable position to receive). The hours passed (it had felt like an eternity in which Oikawa had found the time to realize that he'd made a fatal mistake). His entire body went rigid with exhaustion (his limbs had been stiff under the stress, and perhaps that was why his receive had failed). And at some point, Oikawa's face was wet, with pearls of sweat or angry tears, he didn't know, but it was so ironically reminiscent of the crushing disappointment he'd felt at the tournament that he basked in the misery he deserved and hit more balls until his hands went numb.

Maybe if he hit enough of them, the rest of him would go numb, too.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

That night, he could not look at himself in the mirror either, and after washing his face clean of the tears that had made his eyelids so sticky, he returned to bed and looked at the ceiling.

He needed to practice his receives more to avoid losing again. Or maybe practice all-around, since he clearly was not good enough of a player. College teams would not take him if he was anything short of perfect. They'd look back at Seijou's match against Karasuno and recognize how terrible of a player he was, and they'd never accept him if he didn't prove them otherwise.

He had to get better, and he had such little time to do it. He hadn't been born a genius like Kageyama, but if he could become a genius through hard work and perseverance, then maybe, maybe he'd have a shot at redeeming himself.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

"How was your tutoring session yesterday?" Iwaizumi asked the next morning as they walked to class together.

"Huh?" Oikawa asked, yawning and stretching before idly waving to a girl they walked past. "Oh. That?" His exhausted brain whirred to try and find a plausible answer. "It was fine. They need a lot of help, so it's a good thing that someone as smart as he is helping them out."

"You're too conceited," Iwaizumi grumbled. "But you looked tired at morning practice. You better not be sleeping too late because of this!"

"I'm not, I'm not. I'm just studying a lot for my own exams, too, you know." And a bit quieter, just a bit quieter, he added on thoughtfully. "Not everybody can be a genius."

But he was lying, and he knew it, and he felt terrible for hiding things from his best friend. But Hajime would try and stop him, he wouldn't understand how much Oikawa needed the ache in his muscles and the pain in his knees and the stinging in his palm and the tightness of his throat, whether due to dehydration or the tears that he so desperately tried to keep at bay. Hajime would not understand how much Oikawa needed to get better at volleyball if he wanted to stop being a failure.

So he smiled. He smiled, even if his body dragged on tiredly, he smiled even when his hands shook when he tried to write, he smiled even when his voice cracked unnoticeably throughout the day, and he smiled as he went to practice and hit harder, ran faster, reacted quicker, received steadier, set more precisely, played better, and pushed himself further.

And he smiled as he bid his teammates goodbye, and waited a whole hour inside the school before returning to the gym to keep practicing.

He did not smile when his serves landed (not perfect, too off to the side, too high over the net, too easy to receive). He did not smile when his sets went through the basketball hoop (not accurate, too high, too low, too slow). He did not smile when he returned balls rebounding off the wall to where the setter would be (too much rotation, too off to the side, too low, too must fist, not enough wrist).

Once he stepped foot into the gymnasium past dark, Oikawa Tooru forgot how to smile.

But then again, it felt like he'd forgotten how to smile a long time ago, and was now surviving on muscle memory alone.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

He settled into a bizarre, but familiar routine. The stiffness in his joints became as familiar as saying good morning to Iwaizumi. The drooping of his eyelids became as familiar as flirting with some nameless girl in the hallway. The sharp pain of a stretched muscle became as familiar as teasing Iwaizumi on some comment he made about Oikawa('s wellbeing, how did this guy even tolerate him anymore after he'd made them lose the most important game they'd had in a long time?). And the clench in his heart whenever his limbs made contact with a volleyball became routine, so familiarly painful and painfully familiar that he sometimes even forgot that there was a life outside of regret and self-hate.

Only sometimes, however. A week before exit exams, he shaped up to study for them, and it became a lot easier to hide from Iwaizumi. The dark circles could be blamed on mathematics, and the stiff back could be blamed on Japanese grammar. He could laugh off the slower reaction times, the lower jumps, and the less powerful serves, blaming the exam period for throwing him off his game, as if his mere existence was not at fault for throwing off his game.

And Oikawa sometimes really appreciated himself in the sense that he could convince a blind man that he could see if he tried hard enough. Iwaizumi seemed a bit doubtful of his excuses, but then Oikawa mentioned his own dark circles and sleepy attitude, and the subject was dropped.

The coach excused the third-years from practice the day before the exam, but Oikawa still showed up, claiming that he'd done enough studying (not nearly enough, more like. Would he be a failure in school, too? Was there anything he would ever be able to succeed in?). Even when the coach and his teammates told him to take it easy, he went at it as hard as he could, enjoying the burn of his muscles and the protesting of overworked joints and the rattling of exhausted bones, as if the pain he put himself through was the true redemption in this entire endeavor.

(Maybe it was. Maybe if Oikawa suffered enough, he'd make up for the suffering he caused his teammates...)

He locked up, and waited quietly in the school for an hour for everyone to be far away from the gym. In that hour, he tried to study, but only ended up fighting the sleep tugging at his ragged mind, words blurring on his papers until he'd forgotten how to read, even.

He dragged himself to the gym an hour later, exhausted beyond belief and genuinely hoping for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep that night.

His practice, that extended well into the evening, did not yield much results, as he was too tired, too out of breath, (too slow, too inaccurate, too distracted, too scared, too much of a failure), too disheartened to push himself further. Only when he fell to his knees did he call it a night, if only for the fact that he did not think he'd be able to return home if he spent any more energy in the gym.

Despite not having acquired much skill that evening, his body still throbbed in pain, and Oikawa halfway enjoyed the stretch of his overworked muscles and the tenderness of his bruised skin as he made his way home.

It was utter exhaustion that let him sleep that night, since he was too spent to dream, and too spent to even start thinking about the man in the mirror. In the morning, he woke up blearily to his alarm clock, eyelids crusted over with dried tears, as per his usual, and when he stumbled on his way to the bathroom, he decided that he needed a cup of coffee if he was to smile that day.

On this way to school, he had two more cups of coffee, and he hoped that his caffeine high would last him through the exit exam session, at least. Despite being 10 minutes late, he arrived to school and found Iwaizumi Hajime waiting at the gates for him, as loyal as ever.

Oikawa suddenly wanted to cry.

"Oi!" the other teen yelled upon seeing him approach. "What the hell!? 10 minutes late! Just because we were exempted from morning practice, it doesn't mean you can take your sweet time getting to school!"

"It's fine, it's what you're here for, right, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa stuck his tongue out in a goofy manner, wincing slightly at the taste of coffee and morning breath on his tongue. He probably should have brushed his teeth.

"You're irresponsible," Iwaizumi huffed, but then, he took a step closer, and Oikawa was acutely aware of how close his best friend had come, and how meticulously he was scrutinizing him.

He suddenly felt hyperaware of everything. Was Iwaizumi aware of the tenseness of his posture due to his sore muscles? Did he see the bruises peeking out from underneath the sleeves of his uniform? Did he deduce that the stiffness of his movements was due to his aching joints? Did he realize that Oikawa's dark circles had gotten wider? Why was he looking at him so closely?

"You need to sleep," Iwaizumi finally noted, and Oikawa turned his gaze away, trying to slip on a sheepish smile in response.

"You know how it is, exams and everything. It'll get better."

"You shouldn't have volunteered to tutor those third-years. It's their problem, not yours," Seijou's ace clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"I wanted to do it," Oikawa argued, and suddenly, he wasn't talking about his fictional tutoring sessions anymore. "I don't want to let anybody down."

And suddenly, he felt like he'd said too much. Iwaizumi's gaze was on him again, and this time, Oikawa knew that he was looking at the tiny, tiny details. A misplaced hair that would indicate carelessness in grooming. A less-than-straight spine that would betray his burdens. Oh god, had he washed his face right? Were there still crusted tears in the corners for Iwaizumi to spot?

But Iwaizumi said nothing, only kept looking at him as if he was trying to figure out one of the biggest mysteries in the world. And Oikawa hated it, being looked at so carefully, so reverently, as if a failure like him deserved that kind of attention.

He deserved nothing but contempt for having let them all down.

"Iwa-chan~" he finally exclaimed, trying to get out of the tense situation. "Look at you, being so worried! I didn't know you cared," he teased, hoping, praying that Iwaizumi would just swear at him or hit him or get angry, anything if he just dropped the issue.

And he did.

"Of course I do," Hajime replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and turned around to walk away, not noticing how, in reaction to his out-of-character honesty, Oikawa's smile had completely tumbled off of his face.

Now, he just looked pathetic. Kind of like he wanted to cry. But he'd done enough of that for one lifetime. So he ran after his best friend and trailed behind him silently, wondering why the other teen still cared for someone as pathetic as him.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

The exit exams passed by too slowly, every second dragging on as if spacetime itself had been submerged in molasses. The scritch-scratch of pencils did nothing to keep Oikawa's burnt out brain awake, and he tried, he really did try his best at filling out the questions that made more or less sense to him.

However, as he left the exam room, he didn't feel too concerned with his grades. Whether it was apathy, or the product of a bit of confidence left inside of him, he didn't know, but he knew that he'd pass his exam, whatever the grade itself was. Now, he needed to concentrate on something much more important: volleyball.

He had no appetite for lunch, and when he sat with some classmates during lunch, he made sure to sit away from Iwaizumi so that he would not notice how little of his lunch he was able to stomach. Later on, he excused himself to the bathroom, and flushed his lunch down the toilet before returning to class.

Iwaizumi watched him like a hawk, but Oikawa kept up his charade like the professional liar (disappointment) he was. And by the last bell, he had given Iwaizumi no reason to doubt that he was perfectly okay. Even though he was falling apart on the inside.

Practice was rough, but all the third-years were a bit worn out from the exams, so the attention was off of Oikawa. Good, too, because his knee was beginning to seriously hurt him, and he wasn't sure what to answer to somebody who'd ask him about his small limp or the unsteady landings. But then the focus of training turned to spikes, and Oikawa got to set, which rested his knee a little bit.

He made conscious effort to avoid Iwaizumi during their water break, taking a walk outside and watching the sun getting ready to set on the horizon. In an hour, practice would be done and everyone would go home, and then in two hours, Oikawa would have the gym to himself to keep practicing, to keep getting better, to keep working at keeping up with the geniuses to whom he'd lost everything so far.

He was looking at the sunset thoughtfully, half-considering feigning sick and not returning to practice, when footsteps came up behind him. Oikawa immediately turned around, eyes wide in fear, but then immediately relaxed and slipped into his usual smile when he came face to face with the nervous expression of one of his first-year regulars.

"Kindaichi," he greeted in a sing-song voice. "Did you need something from your senpai?"

"Umm..." the turnip-head nodded, not sure how to express himself. "I was wondering. Since, like... you won't be here anymore next year."

At that thought, another pang of pain went through Oikawa's heart. This was their last year. He'd ruined the third-years' every chance of achieving their dream. It was his fault, and entirely his fault.

"So I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to teach me your jump serve," Kindaichi mumbled. "Not that I'd be able to do it as well as you! But I want to learn so that other schools never even think of looking down on Seijou, ever."

Not after what he'd done to their reputation, Oikawa thought grimly as he shrugged.

"Well! It takes a certain talent to do the jump serve. How about you come and see me when you're good with your regular serves, and we'll see what your senpai can do for you," he sighed dramatically, as if there was nothing he could do.

Kindaichi opened his mouth, as if he wanted to retort, but Oikawa did not want to talk about it anymore. How could he teach someone his greatest weapon if he still hadn't been good enough to save that last ball when it had mattered? So instead, he looked behind Kindaichi, and gasped.

"Ah, we should get back, or else Iwa-chan is going to get angry at me. And he might get angry at you, too!" he chuckled, watching the first-year tense up and nod.

"Uhh... okay, but-"

"See me later," Oikawa insisted in a more sober tone, and then brushed past the other student to return to the gym.

Iwaizumi did indeed get angry at him for being late to return, and Oikawa laughed it off, wondering if his laughter would ever stop sounding so hollow.

Without the excuse of tutoring anymore, Oikawa's brain worked overtime to try and figure out a new alibi to stay late without arousing suspicion, and by the end of practice, he still hadn't figured it out.

"Man, I'm going to sleep so well tonight," Matsukawa exclaimed in the club room as they got changed to go home, stretching the exhaustion out of his limbs dramatically. "Those exams were harsh, but at least we're done!"

"Be sure to rest up and be in top shape. The coach wants us back at full throttle starting tomorrow," Iwaizumi commented, and Oikawa felt cold sweat accumulate on the back of his neck where Iwaizumi was looking at him. He pretended not to notice, and changed completely out of his training gear, figuring he'd just change back later. "Right, Oikawa?"

"Yeah," the brown-haired setter nodded out of reflex than anything else, making sure that his usual smile was on his face before turning around to look at the other third-years. "We've gotta practice super hard so that when we get to college, our college senpai will be blown away by how talented their first-years are."

Thankfully, Matsukawa took the bait and started to talk about the college he wanted to get into, and this gave Oikawa enough time to slip out with a brief goodbye to all of his teammates.

He thought he'd made it out unscathed when footsteps came thundering behind him, and he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and spun back. And this time, it was Iwaizumi that he came face to face with, and it took everything Oikawa had not to blanch in terror.

"Oi, what is wrong with you?" the ace frowned at his best friend. "You're so out of it. How the hell do you expect to practice at your best if you're so distracted?"

"I'm-" Oikawa interrupted himself before he could apologize, because an apology was so out-of-character for him that he'd definitely be asked to explain himself. "I'm just really tired from the exam, I told you, Iwa-chan. I'll be fine tomorrow, alright?"

"Don't push yourself too hard," Iwaizumi sighed hopelessly, letting Oikawa go to rub his forehead instead. "It's no good if you're out of commission because you were being stupid."

Yes, it definitely would not do him any good. Oikawa needed all the practice he could get, he needed to get better, he couldn't fail anymore. Iwaizumi expected great things from him, the coach and his teammates did, too, even if he'd ruined everything for them, so he couldn't let them down yet another time. And when he got to college, he couldn't even afford to let his team down even once.

He had to be perfect. Oikawa Tooru had to be perfect.

"I promise I'll be fine," Oikawa grinned. "You need to stop frowning, Iwa-chan, you'll never get a girlfriend if you keep looking so scary," he winked.

"Oi," Iwaizumi warned, pinching Oikawa's cheek, and the familiarity of the banter was so incredibly comforting to Oikawa that he considered, for a second, telling his best friend everything, anything to have that relationship of theirs back.

But he couldn't. He couldn't let Iwaizumi know.

He laughed it off and the two teased one another as they walked towards the school gates, Oikawa's brain furiously working to try and figure out an alibi to stay. Finally, as they reached the gates, he had an epiphany, and stopped.

"Why'd you stop?" Iwaizumi asked, exasperated.

"I think I forgot my English homework in my locker," Oikawa hummed. "Oopsie! Better go back for it."

"Come on, we had an exam today, and it's not like you're terrible at English. You can skip out on one day of homework," Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but Oikawa shook his head.

"That's no way for a good, model third-year to behave," he scolded his friend amusedly. "Something you obviously aren't if you even suggested that!"

"Shut up," the ace groaned. "Fine, go get your homework. I'll wait for you here."

"No, no, you should head on home, Iwa-chan," Oikawa insisted, with just a tiny twinge of panic in his words. "You need your rest, too."

"How long could it take you? As long as you don't stop to flirt," his best friend raised an eyebrow, seriously doubting his words now.

"I'm not even sure it's in my locker. I might have left it in my gym bag. I don't want to hold you back, or you might miss your train!" the setter insisted.

"But..." Iwaizumi began, but then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I'm too tired to deal with you. Just get your homework, go home, and sleep, okay? You'd better be in top shape tomorrow!"

"Promise, Iwa-chan~" Oikawa made a 'peace' sign with his fingers and turned around to leave, relieved that his tactic had worked.

But he knew that he'd have to work extra hard to 'keep' that promise tomorrow. For now, as he waited for the hour he gave himself, he tried to think of a more permanent alibi to use to stay late at school (maybe he could pretend to have a date with a new girlfriend, or something?), and created a new solo training regimen for himself.

His jump sets needed work. His jump serves needed work. His (god-damned, terrible, horrible) receives needed work. Oikawa needed work as a whole.

He was still so weak.

And so he practiced. Squeaking shoes and thumping balls and screaming muscles and grinding joints, Oikawa was a man driven by muscle-memory, and self-deprecation.

There were eyes at the door, watching him grunt as he smacked down ball after ball after ball, watching him pant after a simple sprint and sweat after a couple of serves. And then, the eyes were gone, and Oikawa was left to keep practicing (agonizing) alone.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

Oikawa looked at the man in the mirror that night, if only by pure mistake. He'd only meant to wash the tear tracks off his face and had accidentally met his gaze in the mirror, and the sight of himself made him start to cry all over again.

He was hideous. Skin pale and eyes red, hair a mess and cheeks sunken, heavy dark circles making it look like he was punched in the face, he was horrifying, and a mess, and a waste of space, and a failure, and a disappointment, and not good enough, and weak, and-

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

Iwaizumi had meant to corner Oikawa at some point, but with the exams breathing down his own back, he hadn't had time. However, he wasn't stupid. Something was bothering his best friend, even if he did such a great (disturbingly seamless) job at hiding it, and yet Iwaizumi had no idea what it could be. At first, he thought it was the exam stress taking its toll on Seijou's most popular student, but then, even after the exam, Oikawa looked like such a mess, it was hard to attribute the distress to something as simple as exit exams.

Oikawa did seem a bit distant, too, and Iwaizumi knew that if he pointed that out to anybody around them, they'd all just be surprised that Iwaizumi cared that much.

They were stupid if they thought otherwise. Of course he cared about his childhood best friend. He did have peculiar ways of showing it, but he cared for Oikawa more than he cared to admit to anybody, including the teen in question. And he really didn't like the way Oikawa looked lately. Haggard, as if he was ten years older than he actually was.

He watched the captain throughout the day, noting how slowly he ate at lunch and how distracted he seemed in class. He looked like he was falling asleep sitting, and Iwaizumi was pissed that the brown-haired boy had not kept his promise of taking care of himself.

At practice, Oikawa seemed less energetic than usual, his already-fake smiles looking a bit less bright. The entire team seemed to feel it, and the vice-captain had to give them credit for being such a tightly welded team, but Oikawa did not act in any manner that could justify calling him out on his bullshit, so they all let it slide.

But Tooru just seemed so tired, and so desperate. Iwaizumi's heart hurt just looking at that feral panic in his eyes, as if he was running away from something that was planning to eat him alive.

After practice, Oikawa rushed out of the gym, spewing some alibi about having a date with a cute girl that Iwaizumi only half-believed. And if it was true, he'd personally punch some sense into Oikawa's head for accepting to go on a date when he couldn't even seem to take care of himself. But he'd figure it out tomorrow, as Oikawa had already rushed out too quickly for him to catch up.

Sighing, he went back to changing, and pulled his uniform back on before gathering his bag. Briefly saying goodbye to his remaining teammates, he left the club room, looking forward to getting home and napping a bit.

However, as he walked away from the club room, he heard somebody chasing after him, and stopped to meet the newcomer.

"Iwaizumi-senpai," Kindaichi called as he neared. "Sorry for bothering you, but can I ask you a quick question?"

"Sure," Iwaizumi shrugged, too tired to argue.

"I was wondering..." Kindaichi didn't seem to know where to begin. "I figured I'd ask Oikawa-senpai to teach me how to do a jump serve, but he told me to go see him later, and I wanted to know if his extra practice time after school is for solo practice, or if it'd be okay for me to go and see him there for him to teach me."

Iwaizumi listened, the words going in through one ear and then out the other.

And then, he registered the words, and he did a double-take.

"Come again?"

"Well, I asked Oikawa-senpai to teach me-"

"No, no, the bit about extra practice. What's that about?"

"Oh." And suddenly, Kindaichi seemed a bit embarrassed, as if he had been caught in the middle of some illicit act. "Well, I stayed behind for tutoring yesterday and on my way out of school, I passed by the gym, and Oikawa-senpai was there, practicing alone. I... I thought the coach gave him an extra solo training regimen to work on after school, or something..."

"Fuck," Iwaizumi swore, shocking the first-year.

"Senpai?" Kindaichi frowned, suddenly panicked. "Is something wrong? Did I say something?"

"Don't worry about it," Iwaizumi waved him off. "Thank you for telling me this. I'll, uhh... buy you ice cream sometime, or whatever it is a good senpai should do." Oikawa would probably laugh at him at that, teasing that he'd never be a good senpai anyway.

Just the thought of Oikawa right now hurt Iwaizumi's brain. He needed to find him.

"Go home, Kindaichi," he prompted. "I have something I need to do."

"Senpai-"

But Iwaizumi was gone, running towards the gym.

To his utter confusion, nobody was there when he got there, the coach having left already. However, the doors were still unlocked, which meant that whoever had the keys was still around.

"Oikawa..." Iwaizumi groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. "What the hell are you thinking?"

He had to find him. Wherever he was. Maybe in the school, outwaiting the afternoon crowd so he could go and practice without being interrupted? That seemed like a good place to start, so Iwaizumi turned around and ran towards the huge school.

Huge was an understatement. Aoba Jousai High was one of the top schools of the prefecture, and prided itself in a wide building. Iwaizumi had never noticed how big it was until he was running down the corridors, looking into every plausible place that Oikawa could be hiding. He had to stop to catch his breath several times and cursed that his backpack slowed him down, only finishing scouting through the school an hour later, with no sign of Oikawa anywhere.

Huffing, he returned to the beginning, hoping that Oikawa would be at the gym, at the very least (or maybe, if he had been wrong about this all, maybe Oikawa wouldn't even be there. And if he called his cellphone, Oikawa would whine at him for interrupting his date with some girl he intended to dump a week later, and Iwaizumi would never be more relieved to hear that Oikawa had gone on a date after school-).

There was the squeaking of shoes in the gym as he approached the doors, and Iwaizumi's heart cracked dangerously.

Gently pushing the doors open, he peeked in, holding his breath, and his worst fears were confirmed.

In all of his exhausted, broken glory, Oikawa Tooru was right there, bent over to try and catch his breath, balls scattered around the gym. He took two seconds only, still heaving violently when he grabbed another ball and backed up behind the line to perform a jump serve.

From his position as a spectator, Iwaizumi was shocked by how impressive Oikawa's jump serves were. He'd never actually looked at them from an outside point of view, but he could now see why people feared them so much. And he could also see why Oikawa could not perform too many in a row; they took so much out of him.

The serve he'd made had been shaky, and a hiss came from Oikawa as he bent over his knees, panting loudly whilst evaluating the trajectory.

He was wearing himself down. This madness had to stop.

By the time Iwaizumi unfroze, Oikawa had grabbed another ball, and was going into another jump serve. However, his arms were visibly shaking, and he was hyperventilating -how was he even still standing!?-, his running start too weak, his throw too low, and his jump not high enough-

Iwaizumi knew to expect the ball hitting the net.

However, he did not expect Oikawa to hit the ground. It must have been a missed landing from the improper jump, a twisted ankle or a weak knee or a loss of balance, but whatever it was, the resulting, loud smack of a body on the ground snapped him back to reality. He'd thrown the doors open by the time Tooru had let out a pathetic cry of pain and had curled up on himself, shaking violently, and hissing out a swear once in a while.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi called, jogging up to his friend, who was literally curled up on himself, and tried to figure out what was wrong.

He didn't know whether it was the sight of blood or the sight of tears that suddenly sent his heart racing.

"Oikawa!" he exclaimed, eyes widening as he dropped to his knees. At that point, Oikawa was all-out crying, sobbing loudly as he clutched both his ankle and his bleeding face, and surely, surely a sprained ankle couldn't hurt that badly.

Oikawa's face was literally covered in tears and blood.

"Shit," Iwaizumi swore, gently helping Oikawa sit up, but the teen was boneless (bony, pale, weak, oh god, why hadn't he noticed this before?) in his grip. "Come on, Oikawa, what the hell..."

Oikawa mumbled something through his loud sobbing, and it absolutely tore Iwaizumi's heart to hear that sound coming out of his best friend's throat. Clutching him tighter against him, he pulled out a packet of tissues from his uniform pants' pocket, and tried to maneuver one out with one hand.

"Here," he offered, pinching Oikawa's bleeding nose (so much blood, what the hell, his nose didn't look broken, so how had Oikawa, the epitome of athleticism, not managed to catch himself in that fall?).

(The answer was there, shaking in his arms. Oikawa was a mess. He probably hadn't even had the strength to break his fall).

"I'm sorry," Oikawa finally mumbled, shakily taking the tissue and pinching his nose. "I'm sorry, Iwa-chan, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Iwaizumi frowned, taking another tissue to wipe Oikawa's puffy eyes dry. However, more tears leaked out immediately, and Iwaizumi didn't know what else to do than to crush Oikawa to his chest, and hope that the sound of his (racing) heartbeat would calm him down. "Oi, stupid, calm down and breathe. What are you sorry for?"

"For letting you down," Oikawa wailed, and unlike his comical, exaggerated wails, this was actually the result of a deep-set emotion and a heavy confession that had been festering inside of Oikawa's lungs for so long, and that was now clawing its way up his trachea, robbing him of breath. "I'm so sorry, it was my fault, it was my fault, I wasn't good enough and now I ruined it for all of us... I'm sorry."

Iwaizumi processed the information for about three seconds and a quarter, the time it took for Oikawa to sniffle and whine twice, and then, it all hit home. And suddenly, he understood, and he was angry, so, so angry at Oikawa for keeping it all in all this time.

"This is about the Karasuno match, isn't it?" he asked, anger simmering just below his tone, grip tightening on Oikawa.

"I'm sorry," the brunette cried out again, confirming Iwaizumi's fears. He sniffled loudly and pathetically, choking out a sob before continuing. "I missed the one ball that counted, we lost because I- I wasn't good enough-"

"Stop it," Iwaizumi interrupted, encasing Oikawa in his arms, because he honestly had no idea what else to do. "Stop it. Stop this. Destroying yourself isn't helping any."

"I have to get better," Oikawa whispered in a moment of respite before he lapsed back into sobs again. "I have to get stronger, and faster, and better, s-so I never burden the team again-"

"That's bullshit," Iwaizumi exclaimed, louder than he wanted, but then sighed and put his cheek on Oikawa's (dull, dry, messy) hair, feeling his best friend's entire body trembling in his arms. "You're so full of shit, Tooru... Nobody blames you for that..."

"I do," Oikawa sobbed out, hiding his face in his hands. "It was all my fault, because I wasn't good enough..."

And Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa would not listen. Shouldering the blame was such an Oikawa thing to do, he was angry at himself for not having noticed it sooner. If it'd been weeks that Oikawa had been mistreating himself like this, it was unsurprising that he collapsed now. And Iwaizumi was the one to blame for this, for not having noticed anything out of the ordinary before.

"Don't do this to yourself," Iwaizumi tried once more, but to no avail. Suddenly, there were bloody hands twisting in his uniform, and a teary face was set against his chest, and Iwaizumi did not hesitate in gathering his best friend up like a small, frightened child and pressing him closer, as if putting enough pressure on his wounds would stop the pain.

(Not on this kind of wound. Nothing seemed to work on this kind of wound).

"Hajime," Oikawa whispered, almost reverently, so full of regret and adoration that Iwaizumi wanted to puke at the sound of it. "Hajime, Hajime, Hajime, I'm so sorry. I'm a disappointment and a failure. Please don't hate me, please."

"I-I don't-"

"Please!" Oikawa lapsed into a fresh wave of choked sobs. "Please... you're all I have left... please don't hate me..."

And that was one hell of a burden on Iwaizumi's shoulders. But when he pulled Oikawa's face back to sweep some of his sweaty hair out of his teary face, and saw the genuinely distressed expression on his best friend's face, he knew instantly that he'd carry the entire world if it meant saving Oikawa Tooru from his demons.

Which he would do in due time.

But for now, nothing he could say would reach the broken brunette. And honestly, he did not know what to say to him at all.

"I'm here. I'll always be here. And there's no way I'll ever hate you, ever," he confessed in a shaky whisper, holding back tears of his own.

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't..." Iwaizumi croaked out, trying to keep going, to fill the silence, to make himself useful and say something. Preferably something miraculous that would suddenly bring the old, goofy Oikawa back, the old, egocentric, annoying, loyal, talented, incredible Oikawa back. But there was nothing that came to mind.

He honestly did try to promise that things would be okay. His mouth opened up to form the sounds he needed to say the simple expression, but then the words were stuck in his throat, because he didn't know how he could keep such a delicate promise. It's okay, he tried to say, he really did, but then Oikawa was sobbing again, and he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that for now, things were not, and would not be okay.

"Hajime, I'm sorry," the brunette choked out, his voice hitting a high pitch that indicated hysteria, and Iwaizumi couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't just sit and listen to his one and only childhood friend, his most precious best friend destroy himself.

"Come here," he finally conceded, taking a deep breath to quell the break in his own voice, and then buried his face in Oikawa's hair because he didn't trust himself not to cry anymore.

"I'm sorry, Hajime, I'm sorry."

"I know, Tooru. I know."

Author's Note

Haha fuck I'm usually so insensitive to my own writing but that last bit made me tear up? Wow I'm conceited haha.

I wanted to explain the reason behind the title! Obvious, I used a lot of parentheses in punctuation in the fic, but also, parenthesis comes from the Greek word that means "alongside of", like Hajime/Tooru alongside of one another. Then, a parenthesis in rhetoric is used as an explanatory or qualifying cause, although a sentence would be perfectly sound without it. This is an analogy to Oikawa's condition, since he'd still look fine and act fine, even without Iwaizumi's interventions (demanding explanations and identifying the cause), although his life would be a lot less quality without Iwaizumi's presence (like a sentence would be less elaborate without the extra info from a parenthesis).

Yeah, chapter 147 slayed me. I'm scared to read 148 now.