Oikawa groans, pulling up the covers above his face to shield himself from the sun's invading rays. He curls up, leg brushing against the now vacant spot beside him. He kicks out idly, wishfully. But there's nothing there, and his leg simply glides against the dirty sheets. There's a slight burn in his knee.
He hears the faucet in the bathroom and the buzz of a razor. He presses his face into his pillow, groaning again. The buzzing stops after a few minutes and soon after the door opens.
Oikawa peeks out to see Ushijima, selecting a tie from his wardrobe. It's a deep purple.
"You should shower." Ushijima comments, in his usual monotone.
Oikawa groans louder, "What time is it?"
"7:46." Comes the precise response.
Oikawa wants to vomit and he curls up tighter, "Are you trying to kill me?" He whines.
Ushijima blinks at him, "No?"
Oikawa rolls his eyes, and sits up, "Ug, never mind." He snaps, rubbing his face.
"Are you alright?" Ushijima asks, looking over as he ties his tie expertly.
"Super." Oikawa responds, stretching himself out.
Ushijima squints at him a moment, "You are being sarcastic."
"You're evolving." Oikawa notes, "It's seven in the fucking morning of course I'm not alright."
Ushijima frowns, "I see."
Oikawa remembers now, why they never bother with small talk when they meet up. It's draining. It's horrible. It's more trouble than it's worth.
He lies back down, staring up at the ceiling.
"You will be leaving my home eventually?" Ushijima prompts, combing his hair through once, twice, done.
"I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Oikawa sighs out, never glancing away from the white wall above him.
Ushijima doesn't say anything, but he seems to regret his words, if only for a moment. After a silent beat, he slips on his jacket, "I am going now."
"Great." Oikawa murmurs, a hand lying across his face to make the room a bit darker. His speech is muffled. He hears Ushijima leave the room with a click of the door.
Oikawa screams into his pillow and wonders what he's even doing anymore.
After cutting off ties with Iwaizumi, with Japan entirely, minus his family, Oikawa had plunged himself into his schoolwork and practice. He didn't spend time outside of his room if he wasn't in class or in the gym. He didn't see people. He didn't talk to people.
It was working. His grades started to rise almost immediately, and it drove him further. And that was all that mattered. That and coach's complements.
Oikawa did feel dead inside. Like he was empty, like he had lost everything when he'd given it all to Ushijima that stupid stupid night months ago. He wasn't himself. He couldn't be himself.
He kind of wanted to die. He really wanted to die. But his parents were so proud of him, and his coach was so encouraging and his grades were going up and he didn't want to be a bother. And at this point he had lied so much about having a great time, he couldn't break that mask to his mother and father.
So, he trudges along, head in the books, feet on the court, passing the days.
And then he breaks again, late in his junior year. He shatters. Because you can only live so long alone before you become desperate for another person.
He finds himself outside Ricky's room one night, one of the few people he had stayed semi-acquainted with all these years. He feels kind of sick for what he's doing, but he's drunk a bit too much and he's just so tired and he knows the man has wanted him for years now.
So he knocks on the door and before they can even really talk about anything he's in his bed.
The next morning is a bit more complicated, as Oikawa explains while picking his clothes up from the floor that he isn't interested in dating. He doesn't think he'll ever be interested in dating. It's not you it's me.
That starts his bedroom hoping. It isn't hard. He is very attractive, and there's something soothing about the fact that people still want him. That he still matters. That he's still wanted.
There are a few more times he meets up with Ushijima then too, and it's much easier with him. Because Ushijima has even less interest in romance, simply doesn't seem to understand it. And it's nice not to have to explain and disappoint.
Oikawa knows this isn't particularly healthy. In fact, he knows it's quite self destructive. But that doesn't stop him because so what?
He'd stopped caring about his own well being long ago.
"Oikawa."
"No." Oikawa responds immediately, not bothering to open up his eyes.
"I am confused?" Ushijima asks, looking at him, "I wish to speak with you."
"I hate talking to you." Oikawa explains, turning away sharply enough to make his knee tingle. It's worth it so that he's lying on his other side. His bare back faces the other man, the dirty covers slipping down to show off his pale smooth skin. He's sweaty and sticky and tired. And the last thing he wants to do is have a conversation with Ushijima.
"You are upset." Ushijima continues, bland as always.
"It's what happens when I hear your voice." Oikawa snaps without budging.
"You have become more upset every time I've engaged with you these past few years." Ushijima announces his observation, frowning deeply.
Oikawa tightens his grip on the pillow cushioning his head, "It's none of your business."
"I believe it is?" Ushijima blinks.
Oikawa growls under his breath, flipping back over, "Look. I really don't want to talk about it." He hisses out. Because the last thing he wants is to be psychoanalyzed by fucking Ushijima Wakatoshi. He does it enough to himself already.
Ushijima watches him a moment, his blank stare eating up his face. But then he shrugs and closes his eyes, dozing off immediately.
Oikawa can't stand him.
He sits up, hands tightening into fists in his lap. He tries to take in a deep breath. He debates leaving. It's a long train ride home and he's not sure where his clothes are. He lets out the breath and lies back down. He thinks about his team, conjuring up a happy memory, and their goal to win the upcoming tournament.
Happy thoughts.
He wonders what Iwaizumi is doing.
He honestly should have expected this by now. He'd been feeling the familiar burn for quite some time. But he also didn't care.
And so he kind of wants to laugh when he crumples to the ground in the middle of a huge game, after sending off a serve. He sits there, biting his lip, biting back the hollow chuckle and trying to keep the pained tears from escaping his wide eyes.
His team is surrounding him and he realizes he doesn't care about any of them. Not a single one. He knows everything about them, their weaknesses, their strengths, their preferred tosses. But he can't bring himself to care about any of them. They're a random assortment of the best players in the country, stitched together for this tournament.
Their concerned touches feel empty. Everything in this scenario is empty. He's empty.
They help him up and onto the bench. He sits there and stares at his knee. His horrendous looking knee. It's red and swollen and he can't really move it unless he wants to scream.
Boy, does he want to scream.
But he can't scream.
So, he forces on a smile for his teammates, for his coach, for his fans. Like he usually does. Like he always does.
He remembers the last time. He remembers how different and yet the same it was. He remembers his old team circling him in worry. He remembers Iwaizumi pushing them out of the way. He remembers his angry words to take care of himself. He remembers the crack in Iwaizumi's voice, raw from worry.
He remembers Iwaizumi.
Is this it then?
It's a surreal conversation when his coach tells him he can never play again. It's even more surreal when he finds they've already replaced them. He's given condolences and good lucks. And then he is ushered out of the gym.
That chapter of his life suddenly closes behind him and in the wake he is left with less than nothing.
He sits down on the bench and stares up at the sky.
He debates returning home then. It had been long enough, and now that he couldn't play what was left for him here? He misses his parents. He misses Japan. He misses being himself.
He misses being happy.
Not that everything had been miserable. There were times he'd honestly enjoyed himself. Seeing his team rise in the ranks and enter the big stadium was probably one of his biggest accomplishments. He would not trade that away.
But he's not sure if it was worth the cost.
He misses being consistently happy.
He wonders what Iwaizumi is doing.
"You can no longer play?" Ushijima comments, on top of him.
Oikawa really doesn't want to have this conversation right now, with Ushijima, when he has his fingers in him. But Ushijima has never been one to read the atmosphere. Or to be particularly sympathetic. Or to be anything but Ushijima-esque.
"No." Oikawa replies, grinding down on Ushijima's hand to remind him of what he should be focusing on.
"That is unfortunate." Ushijima murmurs, and he actually sounds upset. Which weirds Oikawa out. He glares at him because the last thing he wants is Ushijima's pity. "This is not the first time you have injured your knee?"
"No." Oikawa repeats, with a huff and he wishes he had drank more before coming over to his fuckfriend's apartment. He had not expected this. Maybe he should have taken off his brace so as not to have it function as a conversation starter.
"So you hurt it in University as well?" Ushijima reasons, running a finger along the brace. It's the only thing Oikawa is still wearing. Oikawa shudders at the touch and squirms. He arches his back a bit, taking in a breath, "Or high school?"
Oikawa swallows, "In high school." He answers, fingers digging into the covers laid out beneath them. Ushijima gives a grunt of affirmation, and his fingers suddenly speed up. Oikawa drops back down onto the bed, biting his lip, grateful the conversation is over.
Ushijima isn't finished however, as he adds, "I am certain this would not have happened if you had come to Shiratorizawa."
Oikawa freezes. He becomes numb to anything Ushijima is doing. He slowly sits up, eyes wide and blank. Ushijima slows down his hand, scrunching his eyebrows at him. Oikawa's own hand suddenly darts up, grabbing the collar of the shirt Ushijima still has on, "Get off of me." He hisses, cold, icy. He let's go of the fabric in disgust. Ushijima blinks, but does as he is told, slipping his fingers out and backing away.
Oikawa gets up, picking up his clothes from the ground and putting them on. His hands tremble in anger. He is completely silent. Ushijima watches him, eyebrows furrowed, "You are leaving?"
"Fuck off." Oikawa growls, zipping up his jacket with a sense of finality.
"You are upset?" Ushijima continues.
Oikawa slams the door shut as he leaves.
He walks down the block, the cold air stinging his cheeks. He gets to a metro station and sits down. He holds his face in his hands, pressing them into his eyes. He takes in a shuddering breath.
Oikawa remembers the frustration, the anger, the misery of his initial injury. And he remembers Iwaizumi's face, upset, furious and filled with deathly worry. He remembers his teammates, crowding him. He remembers the care and love they gave him over the next few months.
He remembers the stars.
He misses his train twice.
He gets home in the early morning.
Whatever home even means anymore.
"...Oikawa-san?"
Oikawa shoots his head up from the e-mail he's reading. He's sitting cross legged at a cafe, in one of their outdoor tables. It's early morning.
He had not heard an honorific attached to his name in a long, long time.
To his greatest surprise, Kageyama Tobio stands before him.
He looks older, he's grown a bit taller, his eyes sharper but his mouth not as tight. He looks at him quizzically, awkwardly holding on to his bag. Like now that he's confirmed his old rival is sitting in front of him he's not sure what to do with himself.
Oikawa closes his laptop, ignoring the e-mail from an old college teammate offering him a position as a consultant for a big company. He wasn't even sure if he was staying in the country at this point. It could wait.
"Tobio-chan!" Oikawa grins, and the childish name rolls off his tongue so easily. Kageyama bristles a bit but makes no comment. Oikawa motions to the empty seat in front of him and Kageyama sits down stiffly. "What are you doing in America?"
"I am on vacation with my team." Kageyama responds, leaning over to place his bag on the ground before straightening up, "Shouyou and I decided to go on an early morning run and then stop for coffee."
"Shouyou?" Oikawa echoes, trying to dig back into his brain for a face to match the name.
Kageyama reddens a bit, "Hinata." He explains. Oikawa still reads a blank. Kageyama frowns a bit and adds further clarification, "He played on Karasuno with me. Orange hair, quick toss, short-"
"Ah! Chibi-chan!" Oikawa smiles, relishing the little annoyed grimace Kageyama has to push down. How cute. "You two are still friends?"
Kageyama reddens even more, and Oikawa's eyes glint a little. More than friends, he easily reads, quirking his lips up.
"Yes." Kageyama responds with a cough, "We are still on the same team playing professionally."
Oikawa's heart clenches but he ignores it, "How sweet, I didn't know Tobio-chan could keep a friend for so long."
Kageyama frowns, "Speaking of friends," He quickly changes the subject, "I was surprised to not see you at the wedding."
Oikawa's veins turn icy, his heart stops beating. There's an immediate thought that comes to his mind at this new piece of information but he it pushes down and plays it cool, "Oh? You were? How come?"
Kageyama blinks, "Because you and Iwaizumi-san were always so close."
Oikawa can't feel his heart anymore. It's gone. There is only a cold lump in his chest that weighs down his lungs and scrapes against his ribs, settling itself in his stomach. He's nauseous.
He laughs, "He was upset with me too." He lies, "But I really couldn't get away. I had a really important game that weekend." Kageyama blinks but nods after a moment, buying it. "How was the ceremony?"
"It was...uh...nice." Kageyama scratches the back of his head.
"Is that all your little brain could muster up?" Oikawa chuckles again, stabbing his pastry with a fork, perhaps a bit too roughly.
A flash of orange barrels into Kageyama, interrupting the both of them. "Tobio!" The man looks up with a bright grin, "I was calling for you, idiot!"
"Sorry." Kageyama murmurs, trying to push down the natural smile that sprung up on his features. Oikawa's eyes narrow. "I bumped into someone."
Hinata looks over, blinking his eyes, as they go wide. He points at the brunet, mouth dropping, "It's the Grand King! The Grand King! The Gran King sits before us!"
"Shut up, dumbass." Kageyama glowers, trying to cover the hyper man's mouth with his hand. It's no use with all the bouncing he's doing.
Oikawa grins, Kageyama frowns. He stands up, bowing deeply, "It was nice seeing you again, Oikawa-san." With that he turns to leave, Hinata following after him, arms looped around his. Oikawa waves them off.
As soon as the pair disappear from sight the smile falls off Oikawa's face. He stares at the table.
Wedding.
Iwaizumi's wedding.
Iwaizumi got married.
Iwaizumi is married.
Iwaizumi's moved on.
Iwaizumi is in love.
Iwaizumi is in love with someone else.
Iwaizumi is married.
Iwaizumi is gone.
Oikawa wants to scream.
He doesn't.
It was selfish of him to ever think he'd have another chance. That Iwaizumi wouldn't move on. Selfish and insane.
He takes in a deep calming breath.
He opens up his laptop again. The e-mail with the job opportunity lights up his screen. He presses reply,
Hello,
Thank you for this amazing opportunity! I would love to apply for this position. Who should I send my resume to?
Thank you,
-Tooru Oikawa
He sends it off and closes his laptop.
He'll stick it through here.
There's no salvation in Japan.
Not anymore.
No more second chances.
The best was far behind him.
this chapter is meh
im very sick atm (why im writing fic instead of doing hw)
reviews make me smile
see you next time!