The sun was rising.
At some point before dawn, Iwaizumi had nodded off. But the light snapped him back to life, and he awoke with a jerk. He could hear a beeping growing nearer and nearer—emergency services had finally cleared a safe path for the vehicles to pass. A few paces in front, Sato and a few of his teammates were waving to the cavalry.
"Oikawa," Iwaizumi whispered, excitedly. He broke out into a relieved grin. "Oikawa, they're here! You're gonna be..." He blinked. Oikawa's chin was tilted skyward, a foggy film glazed over his eyes. "Oikawa...?" He glanced down at their hands, still intertwined.
Oikawa was cold.
There was no bluster this time. No laughter and surprisingly good attempts and maintaining some level of normalcy.
The vehicles approached, lights blinking in the dark.
He's gone.
Lazy summer days, ice-cream and insect-hunting, warm evenings and stargazing and movie nights and volleyball—
Iwaizumi did not cry.
Sato returned, his face dropping when he realised. "We're... too late."
When we die, who will know?
Wordlessly, he thumbed Oikawa's eyes shut.
He looked peaceful.
As if he were only asleep, unaware of the world falling apart around him.
The sun was rising.