i'm in deep iwaoi hell. H E L P!

Oikawa Tooru was one hell of a setter. He watches every-fucking-teammate he has and supports them, until he can no longer to. He draws out the spikers power, matching his own toss with the spiker. He often concentrates too hard on matches and his serves are hell to deal with but Oikawa Tooru was human too.

"Sorry, Fiji-san." Oikawa apologizes, sweat dropping off his face. "The toss was too low."

Fiji only bows respectively. The whole gymnasium was cheering for the other team—loud voices shouting the spiker's and the team's name. Oikawa breathed in deeply. Difficult. Oikawa should've known that winning is difficult—being able to experience it above all. College was different—a whole lot different from high school.

"Don't mind. Don't mind. We'll get the next one." Oikawa stares deeply at the net. His concentration was even brought to a notch that even the other team had to flinch. His brown milky chocolate eyes were focused, his gaze unwavering, his breathing even and his face as calm as the eerie wind. He stares deeply at the ball, following it's every moment—watching as it drops on the Captain's arms; Ryu-chan connecting their ball in play.

Oikawa raised his arms. "Left!" Oikawa for a split second feels the ball in his hand. He tosses it in the air, almost hastily—the ball up high in the air.

"Iwa-chan!" He calls out—out of habit. Oikawa had always depended on Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi was able to contain him—not in the negative way. It was only Iwaizumi who knew him better than anyone. It was him who didn't judge Oikawa. It was Iwaizumi who was able to pick up the pieces and in times of difficulty, Oikawa always sends his tosses to Iwaizumi. Oikawa's eyes widened—it wasn't because of the ball falling on the ground, nor his teammates going hard for it. It was because Oikawa had unconsciously muttered his friend's name.

The referee blew the whistle—the other team had won the first set. Oikawa's gaze dropped down to the ground, his dark curls covering the emotion that his eyes had held. Oikawa walks towards the bench, where his Captain only taps him on the shoulder as an encouragement.

"Oikawa—"

"I know, coach." Oikawa mutters, eyes still dragging on the ground. He taps Kirishima-san's—who was a substitute setter—back. "I'm leaving everything to you."

"Oikawa—"

But Oikawa wasn't listening. He was dragging himself towards the bathroom. His head was down and he didn't bother apologizing to all the people he bumped. He had let his team down―again. It feels like deja vu, where his last battle ― the last time he had stepped on the Sendai Gymnasium ever again.

He breathes out deeply. His towel hung loose on his neck. If he had been a better captain, things wouldn't have ended there. If he had been a better setter, he wouldn't have to depend on Iwa-chan, not on difficult situations. If he had been a better person, he wouldn't have let that ball fall on the ground. Oikawa didn't know how long he was walking, nor did he care. His feet were sore and exhausted but his thoughts were nowhere near done. Oikawa knows his weakness, he knows that he can never compete with a genius or the fact that a team is stronger with six people.

Oikawa doesn't know why he decided to give up. He detours to his house before he can even change his mind and walk all the way to Miyagi. He hasn't seen anyone he knows in high school for years and for the love of God, he managed to utter the name of the person he wanted to see the most.

He lets a tear drop in his eye. Iwaizumi Hajime was not with him, not in this lifetime. His Iwa-chan wasn't with him. The strong lean shoulder that he used to cry on wasn't there anymore.

Oikawa felt his heart drop at that thought. If only... If only he had been there for Iwa-chan, just like how Iwa-chan had been there with him for all those years, Iwaizumi Hajime would never have committed suicide.

Oikawa wanted to play once more. He wanted to stand on the same court with Iwa-chan again but Oikawa knows, he can never do it, not in this lifetime.