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Iwaizumi spent his summer nights holed up in his dorm room, trying his best not to tear his hair out. Taking two summer classes should be a breeze compared to a 12 hour schedule, especially since he’d taken them during the spring semester.
After earning a respectable 39 in Biology and a 46 in Calculus, he had to take them again. Turns out, they were just as hard as the first time, and remembering a few vocab words from the first round wasn’t enough to save him.
A knock sounded at the door, startling him. “What?” He yelled, pushing his chair out from under the desk to stand up.
“Taco delivery,” called a familiar voice from the other side of the door.
He opened it to find Osamu standing there, wearing Christmas pajamas and a black snapback. He held up the take out bag proudly next to his smiling face.
Iwaizumi snatched the tacos and shut the door.
“I don’t have a key,” said Osamu. “You have to let me in.”
“This isn’t your dorm.”
“It is every other month of the year,” he said. He stuck his shoe in the crack beneath it. “Please? I just got you food.”
“Yeah, so you’d have an excuse to try the new tex-mex place.”
“Hajime, you selfish asshole, let me into my room.”
Iwaizumi burst out laughing, and finally opened the door.
“Do you get kicks out of watching people snap?”
“How’d you tell?” Asked Iwaizumi, falling back into his chair. He opened the bag and stacked everything out on the desk: two beef tacos, one chicken, and an order of chips and guac.
“A hunch,” said Osamu, sitting down on the bottom bunk. “I don’t know how anyone stands you.”
“You do,” Said Iwaizumi. “Chip?”
Osamu leaned forward to take the tortilla chip from Iwaizumi’s hand.
“What brings you here?”
“Well,” said Osamu, leaning back, “no one has seen you for four days and we were worried you would starve to death.”
“You know I always have the minifridge stocked,” he said with a shrug.
“Protein shakes aren’t food, Iwa,” said Osamu. “You weren’t even at work Saturday.”
“I got off.”
“Joyce let you off on a weekend?”
“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi, taking a bite of his taco. He shut his eyes in bliss. His favorite protein shake came in three flavors, but none of them compared to this. “I said I was sick, though.”
Osamu’s jaw dropped. “Man, what happened to you? You’ve never lied to an authority figure before.”
“That’s a really odd comment to make,” said Iwaizumi, covering his mouth as he chewed.
“It’s true. Remember the cowboy incident?”
“Do not,” Iwaizumi snapped, holding up his hand. “Bring that up.”
“One little lie would’ve saved you a whole lotta trouble,” said Osamu, shrugging.
“Yeah, well,” said Iwaizumi, not having anything else to say. His mother had been able to sniff out lies like a bloodhound. He once said he’d finished his homework, then came downstairs to find his half-written essay taped to the fridge with a chore-list as punishment.
“What have you been doing in here?”
“Studying,” Iwaizumi groaned.
“All weekend?” Osamu asked.
“Yeah, I have a test on Thursday.”
Osamu stood up, stretching his arms above his head. His fingers nearly brushed the ceiling. “Well, that won’t do,” he said.
“I don’t have any other choice,” said Iwaizumi. “I can’t fail these again.”
“You could drop out.”
Iwaizumi cackled. “As if.”
“Well,” said Osamu, heading toward the door. “I’ll be back in the morning with more real food, and then you’re coming out.”
“I already did,” said Iwaizumi. “That’s why I had to take out loans.”
“Coming out with me, dumbass,” said Osamu. “Jesus, did they really disown you?”
“Nah,” said Iwaizumi. “But you should’ve seen the look on your face.”
“Asshole,” said Osamu. “I’m picking you up at eight.”
“If I finish studying.”
“Regardless,” Osamu said. “Have fun.”
Iwaizumi wolfed down the food as soon as the door shut. He wasn’t even tasting the food, he’d gotten so hungry that nothing mattered except getting something in his stomach.
As soon as he’d returned to his textbook, his phone rang. Oikawa had set himself a custom ringtone for Rhianna’s Only Girl (In the World), so Iwaizumi knew who it was without looking at the screen.
He answered and set the call to speaker mode. “Hey,” he said, pulling a study guide out of his desk.
“Hey,” Oikawa imitated. “I haven’t heard your voice in four days and all you have to say is ‘Hey,’ mi querido?”
“Sorry,” said Iwaizumi. “Hey, Shittykawa.”
“Ay,” he said. “I’d prefer ‘hello darling, sorry I forgot to call, I’ll make it up to you by mailing your favorite chocolates down to Argentina right away.’”
“You prefer caramels,” said Iwaizumi.
“Por eso te amo.” Iwaizumi could hear the smile in his voice even through the static of the phone.
“I don’t know what you said but it sounded cute.”
“You should learn!” Oikawa said. “It’s a romance language! And our kids will be trilingual.”
“You teach them Spanish, I’ll cover English.”
“You underestimate me,” said Oikawa in impeccable English, albeit with a southern twang.
“How did you do that?”
“Hinata loves Western movies, I picked up a thing or two. ‘This town’s only big enough for the two of us,’” he said through a fit of giggles.
“Do you actually play out there?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I don’t want to bore you with strategy, you’ve already dealt with all of that.”
“I’m all ears,” said Iwaizumi, writing down a formula for an amino protein. “I kind of miss it, actually.”
“Aww, Iwa, you’re getting soft,” said Oikawa. “I think I heard emotion in your voice.”
“Shut it,” he said. “I miss you.”
“Did you fall in the shower?”
“What?” Iwaizumi asked. “No, I’m just, uh, expressing affection.”
“Well, I miss you too then. But I’ve been dying to tell you about this new attack that we just got to minus tempo.”
Iwaizumi spent the rest of the night half studying, mostly listening to his boyfriend chatter over the phone. It wasn’t the same as having him around, but hearing his voice on the phone made school a bit more tolerable.
“I gotta go,” Oikawa said finally. “We have practice in the morning and I need to sleep.
“Yeah of course,” said Iwaizumi. “I love you.”
“Te amo,” said Oikawa. “See you soon.”
“Christmas is not soon,” he said, but the beeping from his phone signaled that the call had ended.
Osamu left a to-go order of oatmeal and a latte on Iwaizumi’s desk with a note that read “Found a spare, bitch <3.” He practically inhaled them as soon as he climbed down his ladder and got to his desk.
The hours flew by, but by the end of it, he could still barely tell the difference between a plant and animal cell. On a practice test he wrote “their shapes,” and completely forgot about the organelles that were required for full points.
He jumped out of his chair when Osamu entered the room.
“What are you doing? Get dressed, we have to go.”
“No, I can’t,” said Iwaizumi, rubbing his eyes. “I have work tomorrow and I can’t be sick again.”
“Well it’s Fourth of July, you aren’t staying in,” said Osamu. He grabbed a hoodie off the floor and threw it at Iwaizumi’s chest. “Come on, just for tonight.”
“No,” said Iwaizumi. “I’m not going out, that’s final.”
Twenty minutes later, he was in the back of Osamu’s car, sitting between two guys he didn’t know the names of. They were talking around him about a band Iwaizumi knew nothing about, so he let his head fall back on the headrest and tried to tune them out.
“We’re here!” Said Osamu, turning around in his seat. “Iwa, you good?”
“Yup,” he said, eyes still closed. The two guys elbowed him as they climbed out of the car, and Iwaizumi undid the seat belt to crawl out after them.
They were at the abandoned fire station outside of town, normally the designated stargazing spot for the city kids. Now there were a bunch of college kids, all armed with illegal fireworks and booze.
“Is this legal?” Asked Iwaizumi, yelling in Osamu’s ear. Someone had a boombox set up and playing 90s radio rock.
“I backed the car in,” said Osamu. “Just be ready to run.”
Iwaizumi scowled. “I can’t lie to cops.”
“Run fast, then,” said Osamu. He clapped Iwaizumi on the shoulder then gestured to the station. “I’m getting a drink, you have fun.”
Iwaizumi crossed his arms over his chest. Sparklers sizzled in as people ran around and drew letters in the air. Firecrackers were thrown at feet, sending people screaming and laughing. Someone hijacked the boom box to play Vienna by Billy Joel.
He hugged himself tighter as the wind picked up and he joined the fray. He wandered from group to group, just listening to the chatter around him. He eventually settled next to a metal trash can whose contents were on fire.
He wished he could leave. Studying was hell, but being alone at a party was somehow worse. All he had to do was introduce himself to someone and he’d be occupied for the night, maybe even having fun. But something he couldn’t name held him back.
He whistled to himself as he tried to spot Osamu in the crowd, but his silver box dye was nowhere to be seen.
Across the field he made eye contact with someone else, though.
He was mid-conversation, holding one of those red cups from the movies and laughing as he spoke. He froze as soon as his eyes landed on Iwaizumi, and he walked away from the group, leaving his story unfinished.
Iwaizumi barely took three steps before he was there, crushing him in an embrace.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked, pulling back to look at him, just to make sure it was real.
“Oh, you know,” said Oikawa. “I just wanted to see a traditional American Independence day. I expected more fireworks.”
“I can’t believe you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you love surprises,” said Oikawa, taking a sip of his beer.
“I hate surprises.”
He looked beautiful with a shit-eating grin. “Well I’ve been here for at least two minutes and you haven’t kissed me, which I hate.”
Iwaizumi crashed into him, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Oikawa’s jeans. Oikawa laughed against his mouth before sliding his hands into Iwaizumi’s hair. The solo cup ended up on the ground by their feet, forgotten.
“I see you found each other,” said Osamu, making Iwaizumi jump.
“God,” he said, wiping his mouth. “You have to stop doing that.”
“Samu!” Said Oikawa, hugging Osamu. “How’ve you been?”
“Good, good,” said Osamu. “You?’
“You know,” he said, pulling away. “Absolutely amazing, I’m living my dream.”
Osamu laughed. “Cheers to that,” he said, holding up his cup.
“Fuck, my drink,” said Oikawa. “Babe, will you get me another?”
“I got it,” said Osamu. “I don’t want to take any of your guys’ time.”
“Did he know?” Iwaizumi asked, putting his arm around Oikawa.
“He’s the one that picked me up from the airport,” said Oikawa, laughing.
Iwaizumi’s face fell. That had to have been hours ago. That was so much time they could’ve spent together, wasted on a petty joke.
“I know school’s been rough so I wanted to give you a couple extra hours to catch up. I know you wouldn’t have gotten anything done with me there.”
“You’re an idiot,” said Iwaizumi.
“A selfless idiot! I could’ve easily eaten up your study time, but I didn’t because I’m a good boyfriend.”
“Mhm,” said Iwaizumi.
“You’re such a grouch,” said Oikawa, kissing him on the cheek. He looked out at the firestation, and Iwaizumi followed his gaze to see Osamu talking to a boy with sharp fingers and swooping hair.
“I think we lost him,” said Iwaizumi.
“So much for my beer,” said Oikawa. “Come on, I want to dance.”
“No,” Iwaizumi groaned, but he was already being dragged to the steps of the firestation. The boombox was playing EDM too fast to keep up with, but that didn’t stop Oikawa from trying.
“Ow,” said Iwaizumi as Oikawa stepped on his foot.
“Don’t put your foot where I’m dancing,” he said, jumping to the music with his hands over his head.
“Clumsy-kawa,” Iwaizumi grumbled.
Oikawa stopped, gasping. “Take that back.”
“No,” said Iwaizumi.
Oikawa smiled. “Aww come on, lighten up a little.” He moved closer to put his hands on Iwaizumi’s waist, forcing him to sway to the music.
Oikawa wasn’t graceful as a player. Most of his talent came from raw power, which showed in the way he danced. His moves were choppy, but strong, making him fascinating to watch in his own way.
“Having fun?”
“No,” Iwaizumi said, but he knew he was doing a terrible job of keeping the smile off his face.
“Good.” They danced through the boombox hijackings, making it through several musical genres before someone said the fireworks were about to start.
They found a spot on the ground, sharing Iwaizumi’s discarded jacket as a blanket, as they waited for someone to get the first firework lit. There was an entire box of explosives to get through, and a drunk college kid was struggling to get the match lit.
“Can I tell you something?” Asked Oikawa, leaning his head into Iwaizumi’s chest.
“Yeah,” he said, his jaw clenching.
“I’m here for a surgery,” said Oikawa. “It’s on the 9th, and if all goes well, I’ll be on a plane to Buenos Aires that night.”
“And if it doesn’t go well?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
The firework went off, whizzing into the air before exploding in a shower of red. There were hollers and oohs and aahs, and Iwaizumi’s ears rang like sirens.
“What’s it for?” Iwaizumi asked as soon as they got to Oikawa’s hotel room.
Oikawa sighed, falling onto the bed. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“No, you said you didn’t want to talk about it at the party,” said Iwaizumi. He gestured to the room around them. “We’re not at the party.”
“It’s just a simple Arthroscopy, it’s more preventative from anything else. Hopefully I won’t have any issues for a few years after this.”
“Hopefully?”
“Relax,” said Oikawa. “You know there’s risk involved in any surgery. But for me, there’s more risk in putting this off.”
“Should we have been dancing?”
“I was cleared to do whatever I want leading up to it,” he said, taking off his jacket. “It’s no big deal, they’re just repairing some cartilage. It’s just a keyhole incision, I’ll just have a teeny tiny scar.”
“I can’t believe this,” said Iwaizumi, pacing the room. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
“I meant before.”
“Because I thought you would freak out!” Oikawa said, raising his voice. “Clearly I was right.”
“Of course I’m freaking out! This is big, Tooru.”
Oikawa sighed. “Can you just come to bed? I got upgraded to a King, see?” He said, patting the space beside him.
“We should talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Oikawa insisted. “I told you everything official about it. I don’t want to think about the worst case scenarios.”
“We should prepare.”
“This isn’t a ‘we’ thing, Hajime,” Oikawa snapped. “This is between me, my doctors, and my coach.” He slid forward on the bed, propping himself up with his elbows. “I’m scared out of my mind, believe me. I don’t need two of us.”
Iwaizumi leaned back against the desk. He’d seen Oikawa during his first surgery. It was horrifying, seeing Oikawa without the fire in him. It was like a husk was making its way through physical therapy.
It wasn’t until he was back on the court that he regained his spark.
“Okay,” Iwaizumi said. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” said Oikawa. “Now come on, Club Atlético is paying for this room, we might as well put it to use.”
Iwaizumi laughed, then kicked off his shoes before climbing onto the bed. Oikawa was straddling him in a second, struggling to get his shirt over his head without breaking the kiss.
“Party of one,” said Oikawa, leaning on the host stand. “I made a reservation.”
“I see that,” said Iwaizumi, checking the book. “Your name was?”
“Tooru Oikawa,” he said. “It’s for 6:30.”
“Mhm.” He clicked his pen as he checked the clock. “Well, it is 4, but if you’re okay with bar seating then I could accommodate you now.”
“Perfect,” he said, smiling.
“Go ahead and sit, I’ll follow you with menus and water.”
Iwaizumi carried over a pitcher and a drink menu, then went to the other side of the bar to get a glass. “Are you new in town?” He asked, pouring.
“Well, you know,” said Oikawa. “Just stopping by for a while.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Oikawa’s face darkened for a second, but he regained his composure a moment later. “I have a boyfriend here.”
“Do you?” Asked Iwaizumi, sliding the glass over. “He’s a very lucky guy.”
“Aww, you’re too sweet,” said Oikawa.
The bell over the door jingled as a party of four walked in. “Sorry, I have to seat them.”
“No worries,” said Oikawa, pulling out his phone. “Come back when you can.”
He bounced from the stand to the bar, catching wisps of Oikawa’s plans for the future season between seating tables. Every time Oikawa told him about new plays or lineups, Iwaizumi’s heart sank a little. He couldn’t stop thinking what if. What if the surgery went wrong? What if Oikawa wouldn’t play this season?
Finally the other host showed up for his shift, so Iwaizumi went behind the bar to work on glasses.
“What did you think of the truffle fries?” Asked Iwaizumi, waving away steam as he opened the dishwasher.
“Well I’ve had three orders of them, so they’re disgusting and I want a refund,” said Oikawa with a grin.
“No can do,” said Iwaizumi. “But I can get you a fourth order.”
“Deal.”
He spun around to put it into the POS. “Scooter, what’s your number?”
“No way,” he said, pushing Iwaizumi aside. “I’ll do it.”
Iwaizumi put his hands up and backed away, letting Scooter take over the machine. Almost everyone shared numbers.
“Are you taking any fun classes this year?” Asked Oikawa.
“Yeah.” He threw a few glasses into the machine and turned it back on. “They have a class just about vampires.”
Oikawa smiled. “How much is there to learn?”
Iwaizumi shrugged. “Guess I’m gonna find out.”
“What about the PT ones?”
Iwaizumi wiped his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“I was just curious if your major had anything fun.”
“Oh,” said Iwaizumi. He was afraid Oikawa predicted needing his help in some way. “I get to shadow a trainer for the women’s volleyball team.”
“Thank god,” said Oikawa, clutching his pearls. “I’d get worried if you were with the mens team.”
“Ha ha,” said Iwaizumi. The washing machine lurched in its place, and he kicked it to get it running smoothly again.
“You don’t deny it,” said Oikawa.
“Deny what? You didn’t accuse me of anything.”
“I implied it, and you didn’t even try to deny it!”
Iwaizumi sighed, throwing his rag aside to lean over the counter. “Tooru, you’re the only men’s volleyball player I’d ever want to look at.”
He smiled. “That’s better.”
“Boss is coming,” said Scooter.
Iwaizumi straightened, hurrying to get back to work. He glanced down the hall to the back to see it was empty.
Scooter howled with laughter.
“You want a nosebleed?” He asked, cornering Scooter by the beer tap.
Oikawa laughed too, reaching over the bar to give him a fist bump.
Finally it hit 9 o’clock, and Iwaizumi could finally put in his tips and leave. He was having a battle with the POS when Osamu snuck up behind him, lifting him clear off the ground in a backwards hug.
“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, thrashing.
Oikawa turned red as he laughed. “Iwa-chan, if Mattsun had done that to you you’d have punched his lights out.”
“I can’t exactly beat a sudsbuster on the clock,” he said, shoving Osamu off of him.
“Actually,” said Osamu, beaming. “I got promoted to commis.”
Iwaizumi’s jaw went slack. “Dude, really?”
“Yeah, I’m just gonna be doing food prep and some plating here and there, but I’m working my way up!”
“Samu, that’s wonderful!” Oikawa lept from the bar stool to wrap both Osamu and Iwaizumi in a hug.
The door to the kitchen opened, and Osamu broke away from the embrace. He straightened and jutted his chin out as a heavily tattooed chef with red, blistered hands walked over to them.
“Prepared for tomorrow?” He asked in a thick, Eastern European accent. He took hold of Osamu’s shoulder, and Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if the gesture was meant to be encouraging or menacing.
“Yes, chef,” he said, managing to hold the man’s glare.
“Very good.” With that, he went back to the kitchen.
Oikawa looked as terrified as Iwaizumi felt, but Osamu looked absolutely ecstatic. “Isn’t this amazing?”
“Definitely,” said Oikawa. “I’m sure he’s nicer than he looks.”
“Nope!” Said Osamu. “Come on, let’s get drinks!”
“And after that,” said Osamu, swirling his Sidecar, “I’m gonna be promoted to sous chef, then hopefully be in charge of my own restaurant.”
“How long will that take?”
He shrugged. “Depends on how hard I work. Right now we can’t keep line cooks, so if I prove myself, I could be there by the end of the summer.”
Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile. Osamu had this faraway look in his eye when he talked about cooking, and it was fascinating to watch. It was similar to how Oikawa looked when he talked about volleyball.
“We’re really happy for you, Samu,” said Oikawa, resting his hand on Iwaizumi’s thigh. “To think one of the best spikers in Japan ended up in California working up the restaurant ladder.”
Iwaizumi threw back the rest of his whisky and flagged down the bartender for another.
“That was all Atsumu,” he said, laughing. “But thanks I guess.”
“I would’ve loved to set for you,” said Oikawa.
Iwaizumi’s stomach tightened.
“You still can,” he said. “Our school has open gym on Thursdays.”
“Great!” Oikawa leaned to Iwaizumi’s ear. “What do you think? Want to return to the court?”
“Not with your condition,” he mumbled back. The bartender slid his drink over, and he shouted a thank you over the noise.
Oikawa laughed awkwardly. “What condition?”
“Your knee, love,” Iwaizumi said through gritted teeth.
“Wait what?” Osamu asked, leaning forward to hear.
“Nothing,” said Oikawa. “I didn’t want to advertise it, darling,” he whispered to Iwaizumi.
“Then maybe don’t make plans to endanger yourself while I’m around.” Iwaizumi drank the rest of his drink. “I’m getting some air.”
He slid off the bar stool and out of Oikawa’s touch, pushing his way to the front of the building. The city was just as bustling as the bar, but there was more space to breathe. He sat on a low windowsill, letting his eyes unfocus as headlights blurred by.
“Hey.” Osamu sat beside him, forcing him to scoot over to avoid being used as a chair.
“Hey,” he said. He wished he had a cigarette, just for something to do with his hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” Osamu asked.
Iwaizumi blinked at him. “Sorry?”
“That was really shitty of you,” he said. “If he told you something in private you should’ve kept it that way.”
“I didn’t want him doing anything stupid.”
“Tell him that in private!” Said Osamu. “And if his doctors cleared him, it isn’t your business.”
“I’m going to have to watch him suffer if something goes wrong,” Iwaizumi mumbled. “It is my business.”
“No,” said Osamu. “If he suffers, you get to choose whether or not you’re there for him. That’s how it works.”
Iwaizumi scoffed. “You think I could choose not to be there for him?”
“That’s what you’re doing now by being an ass.” Osamu pointed at a man walking dog down the street. “See that?”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t it cute?”
Iwaizumi waited for more, then laughed when there wasn’t any. “I thought you were making a point.”
“No, I said what I needed to,” said Osamu, standing. “You think I can pet it?”
“If you run fast enough.”
Osamu jogged down the sidewalk to catch up to the man, then squatted down to be at eye level with the dog. Just a few moments later he was pulling out his phone and handing it to the man, no doubt getting his number.
Iwaizumi shook his head and looked down at his feet. He needed to go back in there, but his shoes felt full of cement.
An image flashed in his brain of Oikawa sitting alone at the bar, staring down into his drink. Iwaizumi had done that to him.
He pushed himself up and made his way back inside, his hands deep in his pockets. The air was stuffy with the heat of bodies. He pushed through them to the bar to find Oikawa animatedly chatting with the bartender.
Oikawa glanced Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye, then excused himself to come across the room.
“Hey,” he said, hugging himself. “I got worried, you were out there for a while.”
“I’ve been an asshole,” said Iwaizumi. “I hate the idea of you being hurt, and I’ve been using that as an excuse to be a jerk. I’m sorry.”
Oikawa reached out to ruffle Iwaizumi’s hair. “Well, I’m glad we agree.”
“I’ll be there for you leading up to it, after, and everything. And I’ll be a good sport, I swear.”
“Will you make me chicken soup?” His mouth quirked slightly as he waited for an answer.
“You prefer tomato basil,” said Iwaizumi. “But what you really like is Pho, and I know a great Vietnamese place near campus.”
Oikawa wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. “That’s why I love you,” he said in Iwaizumi’s ear. He pressed a kiss to his temple.
“I love you too.” Iwaizumi put his arms around Oikawa’s waist, pulling him closer.
“I wanna dance,” said Oikawa. “Come on.”
Iwaizumi opened his mouth to protest, then remembered his promise. “Of course, darling.”
Oikawa laughed. “I should get surgery more often,” he called as he dragged them to the middle of the room. “That was the easiest I’ve ever gotten you to dance.”
They stumbled back into the room, refusing to pull apart as they crashed into walls and knocked over luggage. Iwaizumi ran one hand over the wallpaper to flick the lights off, keeping the other firmly on the small of Oikawa’s back, pressing their hips together.
They fell onto the bed, Oikawa straddling Iwaizumi and holding him by the collar. He traveled from Iwaizumi’s mouth to his jawline, his neck, and back to his mouth, all the while pulling on his shirt so hard he threatened to tear the cotton.
“Can I tell you something?” He asked suddenly, sitting up to break the kiss.
Iwaizumi blinked, his head foggy. “Um, yeah, of course,” he said, pushing himself up to his elbows.
Oikawa didn’t bother to move, so they ended up sitting face to face, one in the other's lap. Both swaddled in the darkness.
“I was ready to quit volleyball,” said Oikawa. “When I first hurt my knee.”
“What?” Asked Iwaizumi, placing his hand on Oikawa’s cheek.
“I was just gonna take it, accept that it was over,” said Oikawa. “The way it felt, then the muscle tore--” he shuddered. “I thought someone had cut me for a moment. Which makes no sense, but that’s how it felt. Before I realized.”
“I still don’t get it.” Iwaizumi’s eyes had adjusted, and he was able to make out Oikawa’s face. His gaze was down, his cheeks flushed.
“I didn’t start taking my physical therapy seriously until you did. I thought it was hopeless, but you forced me to commit, and now,” he said, running a hand up Iwaizumi’s chest. “Now I’m here.”
Back in the same place, Iwaizumi thought. About to go through it all again.
“I bounced back once,” said Oikawa. “For something way more serious. This surgery is going to be a cakewalk with you.”
Iwaizumi swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I put in a request with the team to do my rehabilitation here. They approved it. If you want me around, I’ll stay.”
“Of course I want you to stay,” said Iwaizumi. “How is that even a question?”
“I know it’ll be hard on you, seeing me like that.”
“I’ll be happy to see you at all.” Iwaizumi felt a tear roll down Oikawa’s cheek to his finger, and he swiped it away.
“I’m gonna need help. With walking, and then with my strength exercises.”
“I’ll be there,” said Iwazumi. “I promise.”
Oikawa turned his face to kiss his palm. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” said Iwaizumi. He knew at that moment that this truly was what he wanted to do. He loved helping Oikawa more than anything, but helping other people get back to the sports that they loved was his calling.
He’d go through any amount of hellish school to get there.
Oikawa kissed him again, harder than he had before. He pressed Iwaizumi back into the mattress as he kissed down his neck, then pulled his shirt up to kiss his chest.
“Turn that light on,” he mumbled against his sternum. “I wanna see you.”
“As you wish, Honeykawa,” said Iwaizumi, throwing his shirt over his head and to the floor. He turned the bedside lamp on, trying not to lose his mind at the sight of Oikawa looking up at him as he fumbled with his belt.
In carrying linen boxes and food orders for the restaurant, Osamu hadn’t lost any of his strength from his volleyball days. It showed as he soared through the air, gaining unbelievable height before slamming the ball down to the other side of the court.
“Yeah!” Iwaizumi yelled, pumping his fist.
Osamu landed as if he hadn’t just been flying, then turned back to Oikawa. “Another?”
“Sure,” he said. “Iwa, toss.”
“You guys need to celebrate your plays,” said Iwaizumi. “Just brainlessly being perfect makes it worse when you mess up.”
“I don’t mess up,” said Oikawa, turning up his nose.
“Everyone does,” said Iwaizumi, putting his hands up. “But you get really angry when you do.”
“Excuse you,” said Oikawa. “I’m perfectly calm and wonderful when I happen to make a fluke.”
Osamu burst out laughing at that.
“Here, Osamu,” said Iwaizumi, tossing him a ball. “I want one.”
“Alright,” he said. He waited for Iwaizumi to get in position before passing to Oikawa, who was already waiting for the set.
Oikawa truly was amazing. Iwaizumi couldn’t jump as high as he used to, and they hadn’t played together since their final game against Karasuno. But the ball still flew directly to his hand, perfectly guided by Oikawa’s set. Iwaizumi could feel the ball mold to his palm as he hit it, and a moment later, it was slamming the ground so hard it flattened before bouncing up.
“Hell yes!” Cried Osamu. “You two still got it!”
“I don’t got anything, that’s all him,” said Iwaizuimi, walking over to Oikawa. He wrapped his arms around Oikawa, and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
“Get off me, you’re sweaty,” said Oikawa, squirming in his grasp.
“So are you, dipshit!”
“Aww, come here you guys!” Said Osamu, coming up to wrap the two of them in a hug.
Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa groaned, trying to get away from their friend.
“I wish you were always around,” said Osamu, still holding tight. “Iwaizumi’s more fun when you’re around.”
“Oh I bet,” said Oikawa, finally escaping. “He took a while to train, though. You know the first date he picked was at a McDonalds?”
“Hey!” Iwaizumi said. He was still stuck in Osamu’s iron grip, unable to wiggle free. “You love McDonalds.”
“Shh,” said Oikawa, giggling with his finger over his lips.
“Get off me, you hacksaw.” Iwaizumi kicked Osamu’s shin, trying to get him away.
“No,” said Osamu. “If Oikawa wasn’t here you would’ve beaten me to a pulp already.” He sighed as he looked over at Oikawa. “God, I really wish you could stay.”
Oikawa ran a hand through his hair. “Well, um, I’m gonna be here for a while.”
“I wouldn’t call two more days a while.”
“No, I’m here for knee surgery. And Iwa-chan’s gonna help me with PT after.”
Osamu let Iwaizumi go. “What?”
“Don’t worry!” Oikawa said. “It’s nothing serious, but I’ll be up here for a month or two.” When Osamu didn’t say anything, his jaw slack with shock, Oikawa did jazz hands. “Surprise!”
“It’s not a big deal,” said Iwaizumi, putting a hand on Osamu’s shoulder. “Seriously, it’s gonna be okay.”
“Well, if you’re calm it has to be okay,” said Osamu, making Oikawa laugh. “Is this what your bar brawl was about?”
“Yes,” Oikawa said at the same time Iwaizumi said, “Don’t call it that.”
“I’m making you all the chicken noodle soup you want,” said Osamu.
“He prefers Pho.”
“Pho, then,” said Osamu. “Are you okay to play right now?”
“All cleared by the best doctors in Argentina,” said Oikawa. “But I won’t be in a few days, so toss me another ball.”
The janitor had to remove them with force when open gym hours ended. They ran to the grocery store still dripping with sweat to get ingredients, then made their way back to the dorm kitchen so Osamu could cook for them. He and Oikawa took turns quizzing Iwaizumi over Biology terms. When it came to the Calculus study guide, all three of them were lost, so they looked for a tutor as they enjoyed Osamu’s homemade fettuccine alfredo.
When Osamu left, Oikawa was too tired to make it back to the hotel, so they pulled all the blankets from the bunks and piled them on the floor.
“I hate being long distance,” Oikawa mumbled. He was curled up in Osamu’s comforter, which was adorned with cartoon rocket ships.
“Maybe I can study abroad in Argentina.”
“No,” said Oikawa. “This is the best school for you, I don’t want you to leave. I’m just complaining.”
Iwaizumi pressed a kiss to Oikawa’s forehead. “We have a month or two.”
“Not enough.”
Iwaizumi laughed. “I know, baby.”
He snaked his arm under Oikawa to pull him closer. His breath was warm on Iwaizumi's neck.
“Do you think we’ll end up in Japan? Or somewhere else?”
Oikawa responded with a soft snore.
Iwaizumi glanced up at the clock. It was barely ten p.m., but they’d spent a lot of energy that day.
“Lazykawa,” he mumbled, kissing the top of Oikawa’s head.
“I heard you.”
He shook his head as he closed his eyes, settling into the makeshift bed they’d pulled together. He was lulled to sleep by the rhythm of Oikawa’s breath.
The recovery would be difficult, but even a single extra moment like this would make it all worth it.