Oikawa lies on the hotel bed, glancing at the Tokyo skyline and wondering when this will all sink in. He's home, back where he belongs. He wonders if anyone remembers him, but they must. He's not one to not leave an impact; he's Oikawa Tooru.
He's catching a train in the morning to stay with his parents for a week. He's a bit terrified. Not about seeing his parents. He's excited about that. He'd seen them at least once every two years, for the past decade. They would visit him in the U.S. once he made it clear he was too busy to go to Japan, and plus, he wanted to show them the US anyway!
But he does miss his home and he wonders if his mother kept his room the same or converted it into something else. He doesn't know which would make him sadder, so he decides not to dwell on it. He'll find out soon anyway.
What he dreads is across the street, were the Iwaizumi family resides. He wonders if Iwaizumi still lives there. And then realizes that's idiotic. Because Iwaizumi has clearly moved on. He's gone off and married some beautiful woman and is probably living a successful life in Tokyo and it's no ones fault but Oikawa's. Because he's an idiot and he ruined everything. Or maybe it was Ushijima's fault. But it was definitely Oikawa's fault too.
Oikawa wracks his brain for exactly what Tobio told him that fateful meet up a year or two ago. All he can remember is the fact that Iwaizumi got married. Because the world stopped then, and Oikawa realized that his procrastination had ruined everything. Because the world didn't stop just because he was ignoring it. No, his world kept spinning and got on with his life.
It hurt but he had no right to let it hurt him.
He wonders how long Iwaizumi has been married. How long had they been dating? When did she steal his heart? What was the ceremony like? Is she pretty? Is she kind? Is she smart? Is she good enough for him? Does she deserve him?
He sits up in bed and decides to take a shower because he honestly can't deal with any of this. Not now. And the water will distract him. It will.
He prays that it will.
But it doesn't.
Instead he thinks of Ushijima, and his warm touch, that sends ice through his veins. He hates him, but he hates himself even more. Because in the end Ushijima did nothing wrong, well, except for that last part, but it was all Oikawa really, fucking up every step of the way. Choosing every wrong decision, at every crossroads, until he was left with a dead end in a pit of misery too deep to pull himself out of.
He soaps up his hair, pulling at one of the brown strands, thinking of Ushijima's hands in his hair. He'd always had an obsession with it. He couldn't blame him, he took impeccably good care of his hair. Still, the ace spiker would grab, and tug, and smooth, and fluff. There was rarely a moment when one of his hands wasn't locked in them.
Iwaizumi had never played with his hair. He would d fix a lock back into place occasionally, smack him in the head when angry, smooth down some wayward strands at times, but he would never dig in. It was never a focus. He was always touching his face, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, his lips, his neck. And his legs, Iwaizumi adored his legs, that was a fact. He would run his fingers along the pale smooth skin, all the way up to the juncture of his hip, back down to his knee. Each journey made with the lightest of touches that made Oikawa shudder and squirm and-
Oikawa shut off the water, stepping into his small room only wearing his towel.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, sliding it open,
"Iwa-chan,
It's been too long! But I'm back in Japan and we should meet up! I'm really really sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry. I messed up."
Oikawa deletes the message before his trembling fingers can write out anything more pathetic.
Instead, he sends his father a message, letting him know he'll be taking the afternoon train and should be home in time for dinner and that he'll be around for a week before starting at his new company. That was the plan at least.
He ran over his own itinerary in his head. Get home. Hang out with the family, eat dinner. Visit the school, try to get in touch with some of his old teammates and check up on them. Maybe he would drop Tobio a line, see what he's been up to since his tour in America. He's pretty sure he's back in Japan by now. He needs to buy some suits for his new job, and then settle into his new apartment. His job is the same as his last, with the added bonus of it being here, and all in Japanese. He's kind of excited, and wonders what his coworkers will be like.
He wonders if Iwaizumi's parents hate him. He wonders what Iwaizumi has told them. He wonders if he should visit them, in their house, so close and yet so far. He wonders and wonders and it hurts so he stops. He plays some dumb app game on his Iphone before deciding to finally sleep. It's restless, but it'll have to do.
Oikawa has a few hours to kill until his train, and it's a beautiful day outside, so he decides to spend it in the park, eating his lunch. He did this a lot in New York, and its an old habit to break. Plus, he has no one to eat with anyway, so why waste it sitting at a lonely table?
There are kids everywhere, running around and playing on the swings and playground, but also running around the open fields. There's a couple climbing up a tree, parents watching like hawks in case one attempts to jump, or accidentally falls. It's cute. It's endearing. It's nostalgic.
Oikawa remembers playing in the parks near his house, but mostly playing in Iwaizumi's backyard, because his yard fed into a forest with a neat little creak and plenty of trees to climb. There, they would catch bugs, and climb, and splash, and discuss theories of aliens and volleyball and whatever they learned that day in class. They would wile away hot summer days, tumbling in the grass and dirt. They would build complex snow structures in the cold wintry afternoons. They were kids there, without worries.
He saw one little boy tackle his friend to the ground, the pair shrieking and laughing and Oikawa smiled. He looked over to see a little girl, about their age, around 5 or 4 laughing and pointing at them. They attempted to drag her down with them but she kept them at bay, giggling as she ran.
He wondered if the trio had just met in their first year of school, or if they were neighbors, or if they had been friends since they were born. He wonders if they'll go to the same high school, if they'll share the same hobbies, if they'll stay friends forever. If they'll stay as close and pure as they are now.
Someone calls a name, and one of the boys scampers off to his mother, leaving his friends behind. They wave him off, but his absence does little to end the fun, as the pair start running towards one of the trees. Oikawa doesn't know why he watches them so closely, but he does. He wonders what games they're playing. What the little girl is drawing in the dirt with a stick, carving away a plan of sorts that the little boy listens to greedily. His heart hurts.
The little boy has a terrible bowl cut and he pities him. He's wearing a shirt thats a bit too big on him. His clothing doesn't match at all. His son would never leave the house like that. He would make sure to dress him up in stylish clothing, give him a decent haircut, keep him clean.
The little girl, however, is adorable. She clearly had parents with some sort of understanding of style. Her shoulder length black hair is pulled back in cute pigtails, and she has a blue little clip that keeps her long bangs at bay. She's wearing a pretty pale pink top with some sort of design Oikawa can't make out. She has a little skirt on and some striped stockings that complete the look. Of course, the clothes are a bit muddy now with all the fun she'd been having.
The two have there heads bowed, talking and examining whatever is marked out in the dirt. The little girl uses a stick to point strategically at the tree, her chubby hands unwavering. The boy is nodding, rubbing his hands together, looking determined. Oikawa assumes their planning to climb the tree as if it were a mountain to scale.
The girl looks up and towards him, and Oikawa suddenly realize that he's being really creepy so he quickly turns away. He should probably leave. He can't live vicariously through children, and really should be heading over to the train station anyway. He didn't know how he would explain to his father that he missed the train because he was staring at children in the park for too long feeling sorry about himself.
He picks himself up from the bench, glancing back at the kids one last time. It seems their parents have stopped them in time before they could try their endeavor. The little girl is in, what he assumes to be, her mother's arms. The boy is being chastised by his mother, and he seems quite grumpy about it. Both women are pretty. The boy's has dark black straight hair, in a tight ponytail that pulls at her skin (something she'll regret when it gives her wrinkles, Oikawa thinks). She's admonishing her son quite sternly.
The little girl's mother is prettier, at least in this moment. She has light auburn hair, probably dyed, and it falls to her shoulders in little waves. She has dark eyes. She isn't saying anything. She looks a bit sad, and she isn't scolding her daughter, just kind of holding her close. He wonders if there's something wrong. He wonders if he should go talk to them.
The little girl looks at him again, and Oikawa swivels around and rushes to the train station, feeling self-conscious.
It's a long train ride, and in the middle of it his phone buzzes.
Have you landed?
It's Ushijima and Oikawa wants to throw his phone out the window. But he doesn't. He ignores it. It buzzes again.
You are still angry?
Oikawa is seething, and grabs his phone, angrily jabbing
of course i'm fucking pissed at you
A moment passes.
I am glad you landed safely. I have contacted her and apologized. We were both under the influence of alcohol.
Oikawa is shaking.
I do not understand why you are so angry? You have been in this situation many times before?
You have done this before.
Oikawa tries to ignore his phone again.
Is it that you are replacing him with me? Because he is married and you fear that may still not stop you?
Oikawa can't ignore it.
why are you so talkative. leave me alone.
Oikawa shuts off his phone and refuses to think about it anymore. He's being immature and he knows it. He'll be thirty soon and yet he's still throwing fits. But he doesn't even care. He's upset, he has every right to be upset.
You have done this before
Those words sting, they were said to him the morning after, in a bland tone of indifference. And Oikawa had blown up. Blown up worse than ever before. Screaming, screeching and letting everything boiling in his chest for so long-too long-out for the world to see. Left raw and vulnerable and sad to the core.
And the next day he quit his job, accepted the position in Japan that had been chasing him for months, sold off his condo and bought tickets to come home. Because enough was enough. It was his push to finally leave. To come home. Whatever that meant anymore.
He leans his head against the train window, breathing out through his nose and trying to get some sleep.
Oikawa's mother embraces him at the train station, chattering rapidly about how ecstatic she is to have him home. His father nods to him with a smile and Oikawa smiles sincerely for the first time in a long, long time. He follows as they lead him to the car and he marvels at all the things that have changed and not changed from his childhood.
One thing that remains completely static is his room. He walks in and it's jarring. Nothing has been moved, but it has been freshly cleaned. He sees his volleyballs lying in the corner, sees his desktop monitor setup, sees everything and remembers all the nights Iwaizumi had slept over, or hung out in this very room. If he closes his eyes he can almost reimagine it, see Iwaizumi there, lounging on his bed with a book. See Iwaizumi throwing the book at him. See Iwaizumi meticulously making sure there's no bump left on his head. See Iwaizumi kiss him down his neck.
It's too much.
He dumps his luggage and escapes back into the main room for dinner. He puts on a smiling face, happily playing the part of the successful son abroad come home to share his spoils. He tells them of his conquest, updates them on the status of his knee, recounts how he got his consulting position, and how the Japanese company had been after him for about a year now.
His parent's are delighted and Oikawa is at least happy for them. He used to live off their praise. Now it feels a bit hollow.
From the corner of his eye, he can see the familiar house across the street through the window. It looks roughly the same, and Oikawa wonders if they ever fixed up the shed in the back, if they ever repainted the dining room, if the tree that formed a makeshift bridge in their backyard had finally rotted away.
He turns away.