Iwaizumi Hajime was oftentimes impulsive, but he wasn't the type to easily make blatant errors. Nevertheless, he was now in his room, sitting on his chair facing the last two people on Earth he should be facing. Telling Matsukawa about his crush on Oikawa was probably the second biggest mistake he'd ever made, the first one being telling the same to Hanamaki.
"Dude, out of all the fine men on the team you chose his flat ass?"
"Right?!" Hanamaki joined enthusiastically. "I was shocked too when he told me! I mean it was obvious Oikawa was into him, but him liking him back? I would have never guessed! He told me everything one night when we were coming home from practice and-"
"I honestly wasn't even sure if Oikawa was gay."
"What are you talking about? Oikawa is literally the gayest person I know. I thought we agreed on this."
Matsukawa squirmed. " Is he though? He keeps around way too many fangirls all the time. They don't seem to annoy him or anything, I always see him taking pictures with them, chatting and all that stuff."
"He's gay, trust me, he just likes the attention. Anyways, what was I saying - so yeah on our way home he kept telling me that Oikawa would never love him and that he would die alone, a shrunken shell of a man whose true love couldn't love him back, to which I obviously responded by telling him that Oikawa was deeply in love with him and that he should muster the courage to ask him out, but then he said something about fucking meat-buns which took me completely off-guard and, honestly, since then I couldn't stop thinking-"
"That's not how it happened," Iwaizumi said, staring into his floorboards, his head buried deep into his hands.
"Oh don't you dare call me a liar!" Hanamaki pointed a finger at him. "I remember exactly what you said-"
Iwaizumi lifted his head excruciatingly slow, just to direct his fed up stare at Hanamaki. The boy instantly fell silent.
Matsukawa's confused stare kept jumping from one boy to another. "Wait, what exactly about fucking meat-buns?" he tried to continue the conversation but neither of them responded.
Iwaizumi took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you two have any advice at all or are you gonna keep screwing around?"
Hanamaki propped a pillow under his chin. "Right. I still think you should ask him out."
"He literally slept with a random guy yesterday."
"First of all, he told me that he didn't sleep with him, they just made out. Second of all, he also flirted with you this morning so that's something."
"That's the worst part!" Iwaizumi yelled. "I hate that he is like this! He goes around and gets it on with whoever he wants but then tomorrow he flirts with me without batting an eye. I don't want to be someone who he comes up to only after he's done banging everybody else."
Matsukawa rolled to the end of the bed, grabbing something from his bag. "That sucks man. I never thought of it that way."
"Come on, he's not that slutty," Hanamaki frowned, glancing at what Matsukawa was doing. "He used to be quite, uh, popular before, but that was almost two years ago. He told me he wanted a serious relationship now."
"I'm sorry, when did you guys talk?" Matsukawa opened a bag of chips.
"Give me one. Before practice. He seemed pretty serious."
"He doesn't know what he wants," Iwaizumi groaned, leaning back into his chair. "He says something like that and then pulls off shit like this."
"Listen, I don't want to sound bitchy, but he probably wouldn't have done that if you'd asked him out," Hanamakki raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You can't get mad at him for kissing people when you two aren't even together to begin with."
Iwaizumi sighed. He knew that very well.
At that very moment, just five minutes away from Iwaizumi's house, another boy was discussing a similar problem.
"No, Kuroo…" Oikawa threw his arms up in frustration, holding his phone with his shoulder. "I mean he was definitely acting stranger than usual but-"
"That's a good sign, you dumbass," Kuroo's voice came through the speakers. "That means he's affected by the fact that you kissed somebody else."
"But it doesn't even have to be that, I mean he could've been angry about anything."
"I doubt it, that would be a huge coincidence. Besides, that Makki guy told you he saw the picture, right? I don't see what are you worried about, this is all coming together as we planned. He's head over heels in love with you, babe."
"I don't want him to be head over heels in love with me," Oikawa flung himself onto his bed. "I want him to be Iwaizumi. I mean he was even awful at practice today, and I didn't get the chance to ask him what was wrong because he kind of avoided me and-"
"Hold up, hold up, hold up. So you're telling me he saw that picture, was mysteriously angry today, played terribly at practice, and didn't want to talk to you?"
"Yes, exactly!" Oikawa exclaimed hopelessly. There was a long pause on the other end.
"Oikawa Tooru, you are so fucking dumb."
"What, why-"
"He likes you, you useless gay, and it's so obvious it is physically hurting me."
"I don't know-"
"No, but I do, let me explain it to you nice and simple. He. Likes you. You twink."
"If he liked me then he could have already asked me out! We're close and he knows I'm gay and I've been flirting with him since middle school and-"
"Then both of you are idiots! It's just a matter of time before one of you slips up and confesses. And once you do, both of you will be like 'oh haha we were so dumb, I wish I told you earlier and honestly I'm just waiting for that moment so I can shove this exact conversation in your face."
Oikawa had had enough. "I changed my mind. I don't want to talk to you about this at all."
"Fine, fine. And have you perhaps changed your mind about not wanting to know what Ushijima replied?"
"No, absolutely fucking not," Oikawa could hear Kuroo snickering.
"Bokuto sent me the screenshot, it is so fucking funny-"
"I swear to god if you mention him or that stupid meme again I will take a train to Tokyo and break your knees." Just before he called him, Kuroo sent Oikawa a different version of the picture they took yesterday. Instead of Terushima, this one had Ushijima's badly cropped out face plastered over. Kuroo found it inexplicably funny, especially considering the Incident.
"I'm sorry, but the meme is god-tier. Everyone found it hilarious except you and Kenma."
"What the fuck do you mean 'everybody'?"
"Relax, I was only talking about a couple of guys on our team. Yamamoto stole my phone and found it in the gallery and I guess he kinda showed it to everyone, yikes."
" 'Yikes' ? What the hell Kuroo, do they even know-"
"No, they don't know the context. That makes it infinitely funnier, though."
Oikawa wanted to scream.
It's been a week since the picture incident and Oikawa was feeling a sense of panic creeping upon him. Iwaizumi started acting natural the very next day as if nothing ever happened. He even apologised for being so weird, saying he didn't get enough sleep that night and was a little more tense than usual. And just like that, everything went back to normal again. They talked in class, hung out with the other third-years during break time, walked home together and Iwaizumi insulted him just as generously as before. In other words, he seemed completely unfazed, whereas Oikawa was a total mess. Whenever he was around Iwaizumi, he felt as if he was walking on eggshells. He had a weird feeling that Iwaizumi could read him like an open book, tell that something was off; which was unnerving since Oikawa himself couldn't tell when he was acting strange or not. It was as if every time they looked at each other, Iwaizumi's gaze would hesitate for the slightest bit, examining his expression and desperately searching for something. There was a foreign glint in his eyes, something Oikawa was convinced only he'd noticed, but he couldn't yet understand what was going on behind it.
It didn't help that Oikawa was practically touch-starved too. Every time their hands accidentally touched, he felt his heart flutter, shivers immediately shooting down his spine. He couldn't recall when was the last time he was this sensitive to a mere touch. The other day, Iwaizumi came by his place to help him with physics homework, and when he bent down to pick up an eraser, his hand unintentionally brushed against Oikawa's leg. His face was flushing so badly he had to awkwardly get up and leave for the bathroom. His entire body was on system overload; he was frantically splashing himself with cold water, trying to ignore just how tight his pants had gotten. He kept staring at the goosebumps on his arms that wouldn't leave for a full five minutes and wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. He decided that from now on he should probably avoid any physical contact with him because for all he knew if Iwaizumi accidentally stepped on him he would get straight up electrocuted.
But Oikawa's love life was not his only concern. It seemed to him that his tossing was getting worse with each day. What was once exceptional about him was now painfully average. The pressure of the upcoming tournament had taken its toll and Oikawa could feel himself getting more and more frustrated. And although he spoke to the coach and asked his teammates to tell him when the toss was bad, they all insisted that he was being too hard on himself and that his tossing was as good as ever.
Oikawa didn't believe them.
Every time a spike went out or was completely blocked, he blamed it on himself. After all, it was he who guided the attack, and if he wasn't good enough to provide a toss that could guarantee a winning spike - he wasn't good enough. It was his job to give the attacker a perfect chance to score, to bring out their full potential and lead their team to victory. If he couldn't do that, he wasn't an adequate setter, and the thought of that terrified him to the core.
He devoted his entire life to volleyball. If he wasn't good at it, he wasn't good at anything.
It was a Wednesday evening and the practice had just finished. Coach Irihata clapped his hands to get everyone's attention and called them to the benches.
"Good work, everybody. I am very proud of your progress so far and it is evident that you are growing stronger and developing new tactics with each day. There are a couple more things we need to go through, but that's all. Your work will not go to waste, trust me." He smiled. "This year we will go to the nationals."
The team cheered. Everyone received a passionate slap on the back by Matsukawa and once the shouting and laughter died down, the coach continued.
"Having that said, I have an announcement to make. I arranged a practice match for tomorrow. We are playing against Johzenji High."
Oikawa's heart skipped a beat.
"Against that party team?" someone blurted out. "I don't want to be disrespectful, but they aren't really in our league."
A few people giggled, but everyone knew it was true. It seemed as if the idea of playing against Johzenji amused all of them. Well, all of them except Oikawa, as his expression was the only sullen one.
"Don't underestimate them," Irihata's voice was serious. "Once you underestimate your opponent you've lost half the battle. They were once very powerful, and although today they lack technique, they are still one of the most unpredictable teams out there."
Soon after that, the practice was dismissed, and everyone except Oikawa was headed towards the locker room.
"Coach, I was wondering if I could stay for a little bit more? I'll lock everything up, I just wanted to practice my serve since I felt like I couldn't really get the hang of it today," he quickly bowed down. The coach sighed.
"I appreciate your dedication, Oikawa, but I don't think it would be best for you right now. You are pushing yourself too hard," he said gently, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm worried you will hurt your knee again, and after that, there may be no coming back. Injuries like that can be fatal even for professional players."
"I know, coach, I understand what you're saying, but I promise I won't do anything stupid. It won't be longer than fifteen minutes and I'll practise my aiming, not strength," Oikawa joined his hands in a pleading manner, trying to stop his voice from trembling.
Irihata didn't say anything and for a second Oikawa thought he was being too pushy and had come out as disrespectful or rude.
"Fine," the older man let out a deep breath. "But don't stay for too long."
Oikawa energetically bowed again, apologizing for the inconvenience he'd caused. He waited until the gym was empty and then pushed the volleyball cart to the serving line. The air in the gymnasium was etched with silence, and Oikawa almost felt as if he shouldn't be there, breaking it so impolitely with his footsteps and the sound of the cart rolling. School had finished long ago so he had the whole place for himself.
He took a volleyball and slammed it on the floor a few times, taking in the powerful sound it produced. He took a few steps back, threw the ball, and pounced, hitting it with such force it collided with the opposite wall. He cursed, returning to his initial position. A small sting of pain pierced his knee and the words of his coach came into his mind. I'm not overworking myself, he thought stubbornly. This is normal, a little pain is normal. Who would I be, he threw the ball again, if I gave up so quickly? He struck the ball. This time it hit the edge of the net, flopping onto the other side clumsily.
"Shit," he violently grabbed another ball, determined to ignore what was now an evident throbbing in his knee. The worst thing about his injury was that it seemingly came out of nowhere. He didn't fall on his knee, he never hit it anywhere, it sort of came by itself during his first year at Aobajohsai, just before the tournament. At first, he brushed it off as a temporary strain, but after two months he started getting concerned. The doctor told him it wasn't an impact injury, just a result of a temporary burn out, and that he should probably avoid volleyball until the pain stopped. He listened, although unwillingly, and returned to his team after another two months. But the truth was that the pain never really stopped, it just toned down and appeared randomly every couple of weeks. It was practically insignificant and Oikawa learned not to be bothered with it, but there were days when couldn't hide his limping so easily.
Another ball crossed the net. And another one. They kept going out, one after another. He was trying to catch his breath, his hands gripping the sides of the volleyball cart for support. The pain in his right leg was getting worse and every inch of his body was telling him to stop.
Just one more.
Oikawa threw the ball in the air, his eyes brows lowered in concentration. He swung his arms and jumped. His hand collided with the ball and sent it flying right onto the line. His eyes widened. That would've been an ace. But as soon as he landed on the ground, the force of the impact caused an intense stab of pain to pierce his knee. Completely unprepared for the sharp sensation, he stumbled and fell on the floor with a loud thud.
"Oikawa? Is everything okay?" Iwaizumi's head popped up from behind the door. As soon as he saw Oikawa's face grimacing in pain he dropped his bag and rushed to his side.
"I'm fine," Oikawa quickly responded trying to get up, embarrassment visible on his face. He felt another sting of pain in his leg and gave up, instead settling for sitting down on the floor. "What are you doing here? I thought everyone was already gone."
"I left my earphones in the locker room and then I heard someone maniacally hitting the ball here. Your serves could wake up a whole neighbourhood."
Oikawa snorted. "Well, too bad they can't fucking go inside the court."
Iwaizumi carefully crouched and sat down with him, bringing his knees up to his chin. He remained silent for another moment. "Is it the knee again?"
"Yeah," Oikawa said quietly.
"You are overworking yourself."
"I am not!" he hit his thigh in frustration. "It's the opposite - I'm not practising enough. I know I can play better than this, I just have to work for it. Saying my knee hurts is just an excuse - if others can play stronger then so can I."
Iwaizumi continued watching his best friend ramble. It was normal for Oikawa to get tense before important matches, the pressure would make his perfectionism reach its peak. It wasn't that Iwaizumi didn't care about volleyball, he wanted to win just as desperately, but Oikawa's determination was sometimes borderline madness. He took it personally, and Iwaizumi could understand that - the frustration of always being second-best, excelling at what you do, but never excelling enough to make it to the top. Still, he didn't want to see his friend like this, so invested that he was hurting himself in the process.
"- and all I must do is just practice. It's so simple but so unfair because sometimes it seems as if others don't have to work at all and they can do all these amazing things. But I promise you, I will improve and we will beat Shiratorizawa and make it to the nationals, after all, it's our last year, we have to-"
"Screw the nationals!" Iwaizumi suddenly yelled. "We won't go anywhere if you fuck up your knee again. You don't know how to take care of yourself - you don't know when to stop. For fuck's sake, a competition is not more important than your health. Giving it all does not mean beating yourself up over and over again at every practice. At that point you aren't giving it all, you're just injuring yourself, Tooru." Oikawa lifted his head, meeting Iwaizumi's pleading look. "Please. Give yourself a break."
"I can deal with the pain," he mumbled but he knew Iwaizumi was right.
"No you can't," he said softly. He pushed himself back into a crouch and stood up. "And that's okay. You're not a machine, you're human. If you can't tell yourself when it's enough, then I'll do it. Come on now, get up." He extended his arm towards Oikawa. The brown-haired boy seemed reluctant but grabbed his hand. Iwaizumi roughly pulled him up, and Oikawa almost fell back down again, both from the pain in his leg and the sudden electric feeling going up his arm.
"You can walk, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can," Oikawa quickly pulled his hand out of Iwaizumi's before he could notice just how flustered he was getting.
They picked up the volleyballs he had served and turned off the lights. Oikawa locked the door and they stepped out into the cold night. A few clouds were scattered across the sky, the moonlight outlining some of them with a silverish shine. Oikawa took a deep breath. The air smelled of thunderstorms and freshly cut grass, a faint scent of smoke finding its way into the mix as well. Spring was on its way.
They started walking home together, talking and arguing about stupid things, just like they always did. All the previous tension was completely gone - there was a certain aura of calmness around them, and for a split second Oikawa forgot everything that occupied his mind this week. He was getting lost in the sound of Iwaizumi's voice, unaware of how peaceful it made him feel. It was just a simple conversation, a few cheeky remarks and twice as many laughs, but Oikawa wouldn't have had it any other way.