Chapter Text
Oikawa sits in a small coffee shop, staring aimlessly outside the window at the people walking by. The chime of the bell on the door rings delicately every so often, indicating that someone was either coming in or leaving. He thinks he should leave soon - the white mug that his hot chocolate was served in had been empty for a while now, but still he holds it as if it provides a sort of comfort. He wonders how long he had been sitting in the same seat, how long he had managed to zone out and become completely oblivious to the passage of time. Maybe hours, maybe even days, but Oikawa wouldn’t know because any time less than a century seems insignificant at this point. To him it is, at least.
He tries to do new things every day, but at this point in his life he’s truly done everything there was to do, and now the days go by without him being able to distinguish between them. Did he get his hair cut last week or last month? Maybe it was last year, and he runs his fingers through his soft brown hair that he didn’t even realize had grown down to his eyes. It doesn’t bother him though, it happens all the time. He gets so deep in his head and the days start to blur together that when he refocuses he realizes that months had gone by already.
What day is it?
He sees how bright it is outside, and everyone is walking by wearing summer clothes. Cute dresses, shorts, T-shirts, everything that one would normally wear when going outside on a hot day. He looks down at his own clothes, dark jeans and a slightly large sweatshirt, and he sighs. He thought it was still spring - how was it already summer?
He couldn’t believe that spring was over already and he didn’t even get to see the cherry blossoms one last time. Every time he thought he should go he had gotten too lazy and decided that he could see them another day. He curses himself for letting himself get too careless, seeing the flowers was the one thing he looked forward to every year. Despite Oikawa’s repetitive life, every time he saw the cherry blossoms it felt like the first. Now he would have to wait a whole year, but at this point a year truly felt like nothing to him.
Oikawa has lived too long. He’s lived longer than any normal person should be able to and the beauty of life was fading more and more. He didn’t see a point in staying mad at himself for missing the cherry blossoms, he had already seen them every spring since the 13th century. Maybe if his own mortality was closer in reach he could actually pretend that he missed out on something, but he truly has all the time in the world. He hates that more than anything.
He isn’t suicidal, he just wishes he could die. He’s tried to die before, but no matter what he did he would wake up the next day, in the pink of health. He doesn’t know if immortal is the right word for it, he’s still holding out hope that maybe one day he’ll see a grey hair or that one day he’ll try running to catch a bus and realize that his body isn’t as young as it used to be. Those are fantasies that play out in Oikawa’s head, the only things he thinks about is what it would be like to finally die.
Maybe that counts as suicidal. But he’s stopped actively trying to end his life a few decades back. Now he just stares up at the clouds as he dreams of different ways he could get caught in a freak accident. Though, he’s not entirely sure if he’s even actually died yet. If he was to be more accurate he probably just always comes within an inch of his life before his body decides to do whatever magic trick to keep him alive. It was very annoying, especially during that time when he got tied to a boulder and tossed into a river after being accused of being a witch by his relatives. He didn’t blame them, he didn’t look a day over 20 when he should have been well into his 50s and dead by that point. He was quite the outlier in terms of life expectancy. But, he was stuck at the bottom of a river, fully aware of the fact that he was stuck underwater, until the ropes decomposed enough so he could swim back to the top (it took him a while to figure out how to swim).
He’s kinda been drifting around since then, living humbly in his day to day life, if he were to put it simply.
If he were to elaborate more, he’s been through a lot the past few centuries, been through so much emotional trauma that it could land him in a psych ward for the rest of his life. But that’s too complicated for Oikawa, and luckily it’s easy for him to forget a lot of his life with all the time that passes. He used to think that he’d want to remember everything that was once important to him, but he’s forgotten more about his life than anyone could ever know about their own.
The bell rings again, and Oikawa usually doesn’t care enough to turn around and see who just entered, but he hears thundering footsteps coming up from behind him and he can’t help but look. He regrets it immediately, whipping his head back around and hoping the annoying presence behind him didn’t see him, and he could just continue his usual routine of people watching until the coffee shop closed. And then he would wander around town before he would get too tired and eventually go back to his sh*tty apartment to finally sleep.
Oikawa’s never that lucky though.
“Hey! Oikawa!”
Oikawa tries to ignore the boy as he takes the seat across from him. The boy (technically adult, but boy by Oikawa’s standards) seems to be completely ignorant to the glare that was being shot his way. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Oikawa was looking at him with as much malice as he could muster, but unfortunately the boy didn’t seem to catch on.
He sighs. The boy, Kageyama Tobio, if he remembers correctly, was the worst thing to happen to Oikawa since finding out about his immortality. Was he being dramatic? Probably. Did he want to hide in another country until Kageyama died? Definitely.
There wasn’t anything wrong with Kageyama specifically, Oikawa just had a problem with the boy as a whole. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had talked to him, tried to befriend him, until Kageyama introduced himself one day while Oikawa was grabbing coffee. He seemed innocent enough, Oikawa just figured that he was a friendly person by nature (which he would soon learn couldn’t be further from the truth) and they had seen each other at the coffee shop before. It made sense for them to exchange a few pleasantries, but if that’s all it was Oikawa wouldn’t have been so annoyed.
“What do you want?” Oikawa says sharply.
“I want you to tell me about the Shimabara Rebellion,” he says. “I’m doing a research essay for my class and I thought it would be cool to talk to someone who was there.”
Oikawa’s grip on his mug tightens and he has to calm himself before he accidentally crushes it. Kageyama knew that he was immortal. He remembers the terrible moment when it happened.
They were both waiting for their drinks, watching the barista as they chatted a bit about their lives. Oikawa didn’t have much to say, he was currently unemployed and was looking for a job. Kageyama said he was attending the nearby university on a sports scholarship, more specifically volleyball. Oikawa had heard of the sport, but if he was being honest he never really got into it. His hobbies were more single person focused, like origami and writing, and sometimes deep sea diving (his own version of it).
“Um, this might be weird but,” Kageyama said nervously, as he pulled out his phone. “Can I ask if this is you in this picture?”
Oikawa was slightly confused, and wondered if Kageyama was going to show him a meme that somehow included a picture of Oikawa. That was one of his biggest fears; that he would accidentally do something embarrassing and someone would be recording, and then suddenly he’s the next viral sensation. He’s never lived so cautiously before the 21st century, but technology scared him more than he would like to admit.
Kageyama showed him his phone screen, and Oikawa was relieved to see that it wasn’t a meme. Instead it was the scan of an incredibly old black and white photo. Despite how worn out the photo was, Oikawa recognized himself at the center, his face neutral and dressed in his samurai outfit at the time. He mentally cringed, he wasn’t exactly fond of the feudal lord he was serving but he really didn’t have anything better to do.
He remembered when it was taken, sometime back in the 1800s when a photographer came from Britain with a camera. It was the first time Oikawa had ever seen something like it, and looking at the photo made him incredibly nostalgic. He didn’t really have a lot of memorabilia from his past, but the photograph would’ve been a nice addition.
“Can’t believe how serious I look,” Oikawa muttered, before he realized what he said and instantly looked to see Kageyama’s reaction.
Kageyama’s eyes widened a bit in surprise, but he seemed pretty calm otherwise. “I saw it at a museum, and when I saw you I thought you looked familiar.”
“Wait,” Oikawa said quickly, “I’m not-”
He had never felt this panicked before. His palms were suddenly clammy, he felt so incredibly warm, and he felt like he was hearing a static noise in the back of his head. He had never, ever told anyone about the fact that he had been living for far longer than he was supposed to, and he never had to worry about anyone catching on. He lived a few years in one place, before packing up his life and starting a life somewhere else. Especially now he could live anywhere around the world without someone looking at him strangely and wondering why a random Japanese man was in Russia. He never stayed in one place for too long, never made any long lasting friends, kept to himself and kept off the records.
He was at a loss for words, he felt like his whole life was crashing down on him. He didn’t know what to expect - was Kageyama going to call the police? The government? He didn’t even know what someone was going to do with the knowledge that he was immortal. How was Kageyama treating it so casually?
Kageyama took a deep breath, and Oikawa braced himself for the worst, wondering how fast he could run to his apartment to pack his things and hit the road again.
“Can you help me with my history homework?”
“Can’t you just tell me?” Kageyama begs. “You know, you literally count as a primary source!”
“God, you’re so f*cking annoying,” Oikawa sneers, “and so incredibly stupid. How the hell are you going to cite me as a source? You think your professor will believe that you found someone still alive from a war back in the f*cking 1600s?”
“Fine!” Kageyama says, “I won’t cite you, but can’t you at least tell me about it?”
“No,” Oikawa grumbles, “I can’t. Even if I wanted to.”
“Why not?” Kageyama complains. “Do you really hate me that much?”
“Yes, actually.”
It wasn’t a lie, but also wasn’t exactly the truth. Oikawa couldn’t say that he hated Kageyama, but he definitely hated the fact that he was in Oikawa’s life. In his long, long life he’s learned to never get too comfortable with people, because loss never gets easier no matter how many times he’s experienced it. And a century ago he had decided that he was never going to open himself up to more pain, he’d rather be alone by his own volition for the rest of his life if it meant he didn’t have to leave anyone ever again.
“Hey, that’s so mean!”
“Shut up,” Oikawa snaps, “I missed the war.”
Kageyama stares at him blankly. “What?”
“I missed the war.”
“What do you mean,” Kageyama says slowly, “you missed the war? You mean you didn’t fight? Even if you didn’t have proper, like, I don’t know- IDs or whatever, wouldn’t they take any soldier they could get?”
Oikawa grinds his teeth, he really hates this brat more than anything. He’s forgotten a lot of his life, but he sure as hell remembers most of the low points.
“I fell into a well and got stuck there for almost a century,” he says hesitantly. “Missed a lot of stuff, and I didn’t even know there was a huge civil war until I got out. It was already over for a few decades by that point.”
Kageyama blinks. Again, and again. Oikawa can feel himself burning up in shame.
“You got stuck… in a well?” Kageyama repeats in disbelief. “How- You- What? How did that even happen?”
“I don’t remember,” Oikawa says sharply.
He definitely remembers, but there was no way in hell he would ever tell Kageyama.
For the most part, Oikawa hated the fact that he couldn’t die. But it did have it’s perks. For one, he wasn’t afraid of dying, so he was usually able to live life throwing caution into the wind. Of course, even when he could find some perk about his immortality, it was usually a double edged sword. There was nothing good about Oikawa’s life without some sort of extreme downside.
It might’ve been his fault this time though.
In theory, he knew he shouldn’t have tried to seduce a married woman, but everyone who was his age was already married at that point. And he certainly wasn’t going to try to seduce a teenager. Not because of morals or ethics or whatever, but because teenagers were just so incredibly annoying. He just wanted someone his age (his physical age, because there was no way he could find someone who was 407 years old), who he could love for a little while. He wasn’t planning on sticking around for too long, maybe a few weeks and then he could leave and find another fling on the other side of the country.
Okay, it was definitely his fault this time.
In his defense, he didn’t expect for the woman he found to be so completely enamored by him that she would brazenly tell her actual husband that she was having an affair. And he definitely didn’t expect to be confronted by said husband in the outskirts of their village, with the sobbing wife begging for her husband to show them both mercy.
He felt bad for the woman. Oikawa could take whatever was coming his way, and could lay low for a few decades until everyone who knew him was dead before he could start his life again. But the woman would have to live the rest of her life in shame as an adulterer (if she wasn’t stoned to death). On the bright side, life expectancy was still low at this time so she wouldn’t have to live in shame for that long.
Her husband was absolutely ruthless. He was a lot stronger than Oikawa, and seemed to be determined to commit murder with his bare hands. It hurt, Oikawa couldn’t remember ever being in this much pain, but he grit his teeth to bare through it because he knew he would forget about it eventually.
He laid in a pool of his own blood, his entire body battered, bruised, and torn, until the man was satisfied. It wasn’t hard for Oikawa to play dead, all his bones were broken and his breath was so faint he could hardly tell he was breathing. The woman cried over his body, begging for him to wake up. She must’ve been a sad*st, he thought to himself in an attempt at humor. If Oikawa even moved a muscle he would’ve probably been beaten into the ground again.
He felt his body being lifted up, and he wondered if the man had taken some sort of mercy on him. Maybe take him back down to the village, try to get a doctor to tend to his injuries. He would definitely heal, and the doctor would earn a fantastic reputation. But any normal human knew that Oikawa was as good as dead. He hoped he wouldn't get buried alive, it would be such a pain to dig himself back up.
But when he felt his body being thrown and he fell for what seemed like forever until he hit the ground with a loud thud, he realized that he would’ve preferred to be buried alive.
It took a few days for his body to recover, and during that time he heard the woman’s voice in the distance, sobbing apologies to him. He wanted to look around, wanted to reach out, but when he sat up straight he found himself in the middle of a pit. He looked up and saw the sun shining down the hole he was in, and he wondered where the hell he was. It looked like a long climb to the top, and when he saw the broken wooden bucket at his feet he realized where he was.
The well had been dried out for a while now, and no one came by to use it. But it used to be plentiful with water, and he remembered someone telling him that the villagers had dug down the well for all the water it was worth. He thought the crazy old man in the village was joking when he said it was almost a hundred meters.
He wondered how the hell he’s going to get out, but the solution to his problems seemed to appear perfectly before him. The woman would come to the well every day to mourn him, if he could just get her to help him out then all would end well.
Of course it’s never that simple. Never for Oikawa.
“Oh, Tooru!” she sobbed, the sound amplifying itself down the well and straight to Oikawa’s eardrums. The fact that he can’t die but can still get headaches just fueled Oikawa’s want to sucker punch God. “I miss you so much!”
“Throw down a rope, you stupid woman!” Oikawa yelled back. “I’m not dead!”
Oikawa had weighed his options. Either he stayed at the bottom of a dry well for who knows how long, or he somehow gets out and has to come up with some miraculous explanation as to why he was completely fine. He definitely preferred the latter option, as he could just say the Gods were watching over him or something like that. People believed in God’s miracles enough for that to work.
“Sometimes I swear I can hear your voice!” she sobbed, “it’s you, right? Your ghost is watching over me, isn’t it?”
“If I get out in your lifetime I swear I’m going to kill you!” He tried to throw a stone up the well, but it was a pathetic attempt - the top was way too high up and the stone just fell back onto the muddy floor.
“I love you so much, Tooru!” she cried. “But I’ll try to be happy for your sake!”
Oikawa sighed and smacked his head against the wall. He did love her, yes, and he knew eventually he’d had to leave her. But usually it involves packing up and running to the other side of the country, not falling down a well and spending the next decade listening to his former lover crying into said well. The Gods were so cruel. This had to be some sort of karma, but in his opinion it was completely undeserved. It’s not like he wanted to abandon his partners, but he didn’t have a choice. Was this God’s way of saying he should never love anyone? That he was just supposed to live the rest of forever all alone?
Of course, Oikawa’s broken more hearts than he can remember. But it hurt him too - probably even more than it hurt them. When he left, they could always find someone else to spend the rest of their life with. He was so incredibly envious of that.
He wanted to grow old with someone. That’s the one thing he wanted more than anything. With his endless string of lovers, he realized that his feeling of love has long since lost its meaning. The point of love, the point of connecting with people, it was so they wouldn’t have to survive through life alone. But Oikawa didn’t need anyone, he would live no matter what.
He didn’t need anyone, but he sure as hell wanted someone.
He felt an incredible pain in his forehead, and pressed his fingers against his head. He felt a warm liquid against his fingertips and looked at his hand curiously. Blood. He was reminded of his curse - he was so completely human except in the way it mattered the most. He slumped down and buried his face in his knees, hugging his legs close to him. He wished he could shrink into himself. He wished he could care more that he was bleeding. He wished that he could actually be scared of dying at the bottom of a well, instead of wondering how long he could be stuck down there for.
He wished he didn’t have to be this alone.
Oikawa stops going to the coffee shop. He thought it was a shame, it was the only place where the workers didn’t heckle him for spending the whole day there and ask him to leave once it got too busy. (It was probably because their coffee was actually garbage and they were almost never busy). But he decides that it was probably easier to find another place to spend his days away than it was to ignore Kageyama.
Of course, the actual easiest option would be to just leave. He could pack his bags and run off to another country and wait until Kageyama dies before he comes back to Japan. Maybe he could learn another language to pass the time, like Spanish. He always thought Spanish would be a fun language to learn.
He thinks for weeks that he’s going to leave soon. He even plans it all out in his head, he’ll go to Argentina, find a small local town, pretend he has amnesia and has no idea who he is. Oikawa knows that rural folk are usually nicer than big city people, and hopes that someone thinks he’s handsome and bright eyed enough to offer him a place to stay in exchange for some sort of labor. He even goes to the local library to learn some basic Spanish words so he isn’t totally confused while he’s there.
At night he memorizes words on his homemade flash cards, that were essentially just torn up pieces of blank paper (that he got from the kind librarian) with pen written Spanish words from a textbook that he can’t borrow, because he doesn’t have a library card and certainly can’t get one.
The light in his apartment doesn’t work, so he sits right beside his window to study in the moonlight. Well, actually, nothing in his apartment works. He’s currently staying in an abandoned apartment complex that was supposed to be demolished within the next few years to build a new shopping center. He wasn’t too worried about where he would go once construction actually began, he could always try tentless camping. He was a bit concerned about where he would keep all his stuff though, he wouldn’t be super thrilled if it got stolen, but he didn’t want to walk around everywhere with his ratty backpack and two duffel bags. But that would only be a problem if Oikawa was staying here until the construction pushed him out, and he would already be in Argentina by that point.
But a few weeks pass by and he doesn’t leave, for reasons he can’t really explain to himself all that well. Something about not wanting to miss the upcoming festival, not wanting to go through the hassle of packing all his stuff, not wanting to figure out how to even get to Argentina - all of them are half hearted excuses that somehow form into a proper explanation in Oikawa’s head as to why he has to stay in Japan.
As to why he’s currently wandering around Kageyama’s university campus, well…
It doesn’t matter - it’s a free country. He can walk wherever he wants.
He pretends to act annoyed (wait, he’s not pretending, right?) when Kageyama runs up to him suddenly and asks why they haven’t seen each other for so long. Oikawa crosses his arms and stares unimpressed as Kageyama talks about how he had gotten a C on his essay when he definitely deserved a B, and how his professor had threatened to fail him when he tried to get extra credit by saying he knew the person in the old photograph of Oikawa.
“I told him I would bring you in,” Kageyama sulks, “but then I didn’t see you again.”
It never ceases to amaze Oikawa how unbelievable Kageyama is. He scoffs, “You were planning to use me… to get extra credit?”
“Yeah!” Kageyama says, as if it was the smartest thing in the world. “It’s a Japanese history class, and you are literally… that.”
Oikawa thinks that if he rolls his eyes back any more he would see the back of his skull. “I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast. Do you honestly believe that I’m a walking Wikipedia page?”
Kageyama looks surprised, “You don’t… remember?”
“I remember things about my life,” Oikawa says pointedly, “But your professor definitely knows more about Japanese history than I do. I wasn’t exactly keeping track of every single war, you know.”
Kageyama looks disappointed, and Oikawa can’t help but feel a little bit bad. Only a little bit though, because it was Kageyama’s own stupidity that led to his disappointment.
“Guess you don’t need to talk to me anymore,” Oikawa says, “since I can’t help you with your homework.”
He tries to say it with a neutral tone, but he surprises himself with how dejected he sounds. It’s surprising, because this should be what he wanted. He wanted to be left alone, wanted to never have to listen to Kageyama complain about his school work, wanted to run away to Argentina leaving no strings attached.
But, of course, he knew he couldn’t. Because Kageyama had already entered Oikawa’s life, already told Oikawa about his life, talked about volleyball and his friends, and about the festival that they should all go to.
Sure, Oikawa could never see Kageyama again, but he would definitely wonder about the younger boy. He can’t help but do that with all the important people he had known in his life. People who had made a mark in his life, people his brain would randomly think about and wonder how they were doing. He would think about them from time to time to time, until enough time passes and he has to come to the conclusion that they’re probably dead at that point.
Loss never gets easier, especially when Oikawa’s the one leaving. Because he could have stayed until the end of their life, but that would require telling them about his immortality. And he thought it would be too messy, didn’t know how they would react, just thought that it would just be easier to go and let them think he was just an awful person. It would be easier for them to move on with their life if they hated him.
But Kageyama knows already, and Oikawa can stay. He knows it wasn’t just that, though. He’s selfish, and he doesn’t want to see the people he cares about die. So he leaves, he leaves and he thinks about them in the middle of the night, at random moments when his intrusive thoughts come knocking; and coming to the conclusion that they were dead hurts less than actually being there to see it happen.
This is what he wanted to avoid in the first place. Wondering when he should leave. Kageyama is the first person in more than a century that knows Oikawa’s name. If he’s being honest, he didn’t even notice that a century has passed. Because life without someone else in it was tedious, it was tedious and boring and unimportant. Having people in Oikawa’s life made it important - it gave him things to remember.
Was he really okay with just drifting through the rest of forever?
“What are you talking about?” Kageyama asks, breaking Oikawa’s train of thought. “None of my other friends can help me with my homework either.”
He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And Oikawa realizes that it is - to Kageyama it is, at least. Kageyama probably wasn’t thinking too hard about what it would be like to be friends with Oikawa, to grow old while Oikawa was stuck in the same place. But if he doesn’t think about it then it isn’t a problem. Oikawa used to think like that too.
Maybe he could do it again.
“Oh, uh,” Oikawa says awkwardly, “I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Oh!” Kageyama reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “You should give me your number and we can keep in touch.”
Oikawa stares at the screen for a few seconds before looking back up. “I don’t have a phone.”
“Huh?” Kageyama says, confused before it makes sense in his head. “Oh! Uh…”
“I’ll probably just see you at the café,” Oikawa mumbles, “or something.”
He cringes at how awkward he is, he can’t believe how ungraceful he had become after a century of becoming a social recluse. He didn’t think he could lose his ability to sync with people so easily this quickly, but he steels himself against his unpleasant feelings because he just needs a little push to get back into his groove.
“Why don’t we get dinner after practice?” Kageyama suggests. He turns his body and points to a building with a dome roof at the edge of their campus. “That’s where the gym is, and we usually practice until 6pm.”
“Sure,” Oikawa checks the watch on his wrist. It was a quarter to one, he could kill some time before coming back.
“I don’t, um,” Kageyama says, rubbing the back of his neck “I don’t mind paying for you if you can’t.”
“I have money,” Oikawa says, a bit defensively. He still had some money saved from his previous job, and he doesn’t have anything to really spend it on, other than a monthly gym membership so he could shower, and other stuff that he needed, like toiletries or the occasional new piece of clothing.
“I didn’t mean any offense!” Kageyama says quickly, “Just that I remember you saying you were looking for a job and if money’s tight then I wouldn’t wanna-”
“It’s fine,” Oikawa cuts him off. He remembers trying to find a job back when he first met Kageyama, but it was hard to find an employer that was willing to hire him without an impressive resume. He didn’t know why he even needed any important skills, most of the jobs weren’t anything impressive. But it was getting harder and harder to find under the table paid jobs that didn’t need anything other than his name and his available hours.
Kageyama’s phone starts to beep, and he looks at the screen in panic. “sh*t, my next class is gonna start soon! I’ll see you later!”
Oikawa can barely say bye before Kageyama runs off towards one of the university buildings. He sighs, feeling a bit sick in his stomach. His head feels a bit too heavy on his body, he feels a bit too light on his feet, but he tries to think that this could be good for him. He wishes he could shake off his nerves before he meets Kageyama again, but it’s useless because his nervousness is stemming from the fact he’s going to meet Kageyama.
He stands still as everyone around him walks around him as if he doesn’t exist, trying to reach their next class. They don’t pay attention to him; he’s a stranger and there’s nothing particularly special about him at first glance. It’s easy for him to hide in a crowd of people, with everyone around him who don’t realize that he’s living on borrowed time and they won’t remember him because he leaves nothing behind.
But now he has Kageyama, and whether it is a blessing or a curse is irrelevant because now someone knows that Oikawa exists. And he knows how this will end, he knows that he’ll have to hurt himself first before anyone else gets the chance to, but just for now he can pretend that nothing is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s selfish and wants everything - wants the warmth of people, wants to be seen; but also doesn’t want anyone to hurt him - wants to build up his walls as high up as possible. But the walls are flimsy, they’re flimsy and they fall at the first chance they get, at the first possibility that Oikawa won’t be alone again.
He looks down at his watch again. Ten to one. He still has five hours to kill.
He sighs. He’s tired. (He’s lived too long).
The last thing Oikawa remembered was falling. He had been wandering through a forest on a small mountain, rummaging through the vegetation to find something to eat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something, and his body was becoming more thin and gaunt. He hated how bony and weak his fingers were; they were shaking as he tried to pull up some mountain vegetables.
He was hoping he would have been able to come across a village before he reached this point, but he had been wandering for a little more than a week without any luck. He needed at least a little fuel to keep him from becoming a walking skeleton, which had happened on more than one occasion.
He was looking around cautiously as he walked around, keeping his eye out in case there were any bears nearby. It would be just his luck to get attacked by a bear, but he was hoping that if he was extra vigilant he could avoid any unnecessary situations. He just wanted to eat something.
He heard some rustling noise coming from behind him, and when he turned around he was relieved when he didn’t see a bear approaching him. He wondered what animal was making the noise, maybe it was a wild rabbit? He continued his foraging, until he heard a low growl that caused him to whip his head around.
It wasn’t a bear. It was three wild tanuki. Amazing. Oikawa knew that tanuki didn’t attack unless they felt threatened, but judging by the look of them they seemed to be very hungry. And Oikawa didn’t look intimidating; they probably knew that he wasn’t strong enough to fight them off from taking his harvest.
Any other person would probably throw the vegetables and run the other way. That was Oikawa’s plan too, but unfortunately being hungry also made him a little delirious because he just turned around and started running clumsily through the forest. His foot must’ve caught on the root of a tree, or maybe he slipped on a rock, but the next thing he knew he rolled his ankle and he was plummeting down the steep side of the mountain.
He was surprised when he woke up laying on a futon. His head was drumming with pain, and he didn’t feel strong enough to try and sit up. He looked around and saw a small table in the corner of the room with a lit candle on top of it, filling the room with a dim light. Even moving his head to the side was enough to elicit a pained groan from him.
“So you’re alive?”
The sudden sound startled Oikawa, causing him to turn his head down to the owner of the voice. There was a man sitting at his feet, watching him intently. He couldn’t make out his face that well because of the awkward angle.
“That was quite a fall,” the man said, moving slowly to Oikawa’s side. “Your head must be made of steel.”
The light was now against the man’s back, and the shadows on his face made him look a bit scary. Oikawa swallowed thickly, his throat felt incredibly scratchy and dry.
“I’m surprised you’re not dead,” the man continued, reaching out and gently placing a finger on Oikawa’s forehead. “You were bleeding quite a bit when I found you. I didn’t know if it would be worth it to patch you up at that point.”
Oikawa turned his head slightly to face the man. He swears he can feel his bones creaking at his movements.
“It’ll take more than that to kill me.”
His voice was barely above a whisper, and it came out a bit garbled, like his throat was slashing his words as they left him. The man leaned back, resting his weight on one arm while the other laid on his knee.
“You got a name?”
“Oikawa Tooru,” he said weakly.
The man hummed in acknowledgment. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”
He comes by the gym a bit too early, and he walks around the campus once to pass the time. When he comes back around, he wonders if he’s allowed to open the doors and wait for Kageyama inside. He’s not really sure what to do, and his hand hovers awkwardly over the handle and he stands there and wonders if they’re even close enough for him to watch Kageyama practice while he waits.
The door suddenly swings open and Oikawa jumps back in surprise. He feels like he’s a child caught with their hand in a candy jar, and his heart drops down to his stomach.
The boy standing before him is short, and looks too young to be a university student, but he’s wearing gym clothes and Oikawa can see the sweat that clings his bright orange hair to his forehead, and realizes that he must be on the volleyball team as well.
“Oh? Who’re you?” The boy asks, tilting his head to the side.
Oikawa clenches and unclenches his fists, trying to calm himself. “I’m, uh, looking for Kageyama. He told me to wait for him here.”
“Kageyama, huh?” The boy quirks his eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you friends with him or something?”
Friends? Definitely not. They’re definitely just acquaintances, bound by an unfortunate secret that Kageyama somehow discovered. But that’s too weird to say to a random stranger, so Oikawa just nods his head and hopes the questions will end there.
“Kageyama!” The boy leans back and yells into the gym, “Your friend is here!”
He stares behind him for a few minutes before looking back to Oikawa, leaning against the doorframe. “He’s talking to coach Iwaizumi right now, you wanna wait inside?”
Oikawa feels all the air leave his lungs, like the time when he accidentally walked too close to the edge of a cliff and accidentally fell all the way down the mountain. He lived, obviously, but the heat he feels on his body is akin to all the rock and weeds that left stinging wounds bleeding all over himself. But this time he feels like he has vines twisting themselves within his legs, and he’s becoming a puppet that fate will toy with until it forces him to run away again.
Iwaizumi. It can’t be.
It can’t. Logically, there’s no way it could be. But he still shakes his head and tells the boy he’s fine staying outside, hoping that he’ll leave before Oikawa’s voice cracks and the rest of him begins to spill over.
Iwaizumi.
Just the mention of that name, that just coincidentally belongs to Kageyama’s coach, is enough to upset Oikawa’s whole world. But he knows that he hasn’t been able to keep himself together without a desperate hold ever since he first learned the name Iwaizumi, all those years ago. A century ago. When he decided that he would never open himself up to anyone else ever again.
It’s almost laughable how pathetic Oikawa feels. He curses the Gods - it’s instinct at this point to curse the Gods, curse fate, curse himself. It’s something so small, so small, it’s small, but it’s enough to make Oikawa think that he should have never let Kageyama into his life, and this is his punishment. He’s spent a century trying to forget but he remembers too much, too little, it’s so much but it’ll never be enough if just the mention of a name is enough to send Oikawa over the edge.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. He’s thinking about breathing more than he actually is. He feels like all his ugly has manifested as sludge and it’s suffocating, breathe, breathe, breathe-
“Oikawa?”
Oh, Kageyama. Oikawa doesn’t want to cry in front of Kageyama. He'd rather die than be in such a embarassing state in front of his not-friend. He wishes he could, actually.
“Hi,” Oikawa says, as if he didn’t just spend the past minute being buried under the bricks of his life falling apart.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” Oikawa nods his head, “just peachy.”
“Uh,” Kageyama grabs Oikawa’s hands and walks away from the door hastitly to the side of the building. Oikawa doesn’t say anything, just lets himself be pulled behind because he’s not entirely sure if he would’ve been able to walk away by himself, or just implode in front of the gym doors.
They stop behind some trees, hidden away as Oikawa waits for an explanation as to why Kageyama pulled him away so suddenly.
“Sorry,” Kageyama says quietly, holding out a handkerchief. “I thought I should take you away from the rest of the team before they could see you like this.”
Like this? Oikawa doesn’t take the handkerchief, he doesn’t know why Kageyama offered it to him. They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds before Kageyama starts dabbing Oikawa’s face and only then does he realize that he’s already crying.
He turns away quickly, wiping his face with his sleeves. “I’m fine! I’m fine…”
“Did Hinata say something to you?” Kageyama asks hesitantly.
“No,” Oikawa says, “no, it’s really nothing. I’m just… nothing.”
Kageyama doesn’t press further, and Oikawa is thankful because he really wouldn’t know how to explain himself, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. Like how he doesn’t know which piece of himself he should pick up first to try and put himself back together, so they lay scattered on the floor, his feet bloodied and sore as he runs away from everything and just crushes himself more and more.
Oikawa can call Kageyama stupid until he turns blue in the face. But he knows it’s not true, he knows that Kageyama isn’t a total idiot and can vaguely tell when he’s allowed to pry and when it will lead to nowhere. Knows when his little jabs only prick Oikawa and when something will tear him into two. It’s annoying that Oikawa feels comfortable without doing anything to earn it. (It’s relieving that Oikawa feels comfortable without doing anything to earn it).
“Let’s go,” Kageyama finally says, gently placing a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “I hope you like ramen.”
Kageyama takes Oikawa to a small ramen shop hidden away in the back streets of Tokyo. The whole walk there is quiet, and Oikawa stares at his feet while he kicks at the rocks. Kageyama lets him set the pace, something agonizingly slow, but doesn’t complain and walks beside him. Oikawa sees Kageyama shoes beside his own, and wonders if he should pick up the pace. But he doesn’t, he walks like he’s dragging his feet through mud, and apparently Kageyama wants to dirty his shoes with him. Oikawa’s a hypocrite because he doesn’t think he deserves kindness like that but he’d trip over his feet to get it.
They sit at the back corner of the shop and order their food. Kageyama gets a bowl of pork miso ramen, and Oikawa gets the same because his brain was buffering the whole time he was holding the menu and couldn’t register any of the words by the time the waiter came to take their orders.
The lighting is dim in the restaurant. Something ambient, painting them both in a deep orange glow. Nothing too bright, so Oikawa sees mostly shadows instead of features on Kageyama’s face, he guesses the mood is supposed to be something romantic but it just makes him feel a little sleepy. There’s a quiet chatter filling the restaurant, but the only sound he’s paying attention to is Kageyama absentmindedly tapping fingernails along the side of his water glass.
Oikawa’s an asshole, but he feels bad. He wishes he could reach out to other people without painting their insides with the same tar that fills him. He’s delicate and easily flammable, and all he knows is how to burn his fingerprints into people that don’t deserve it.
“Are you feeling better?” Kageyama asks, and Oikawa doesn’t know why he keeps reaching out.
“I don’t know,” Oikawa admits. Sometimes he wishes he could hit his head hard enough and get amnesia. Then he could forget all the hurt for real. It’s selfish of him to want to forget all the harm he caused, but he doesn’t have the luxury of dying eventually. Everything stays with him and he has too manys skeletons in his closet.
“Yeah,” Kageyama nods intently, “it be like that sometimes.”
Oikawa laughs weakly because it really does ‘be like that sometimes.’ “I just get too in my head sometimes. I don’t know.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t know.” He really doesn’t. He’s never had someone like Kageyama before, someone who knew about his immortality and is unbothered by it. He’s never been vulnerable like this in front of anyone, but he also has never felt this hurt before.
“I can distract you,” Kageyama offers, and takes Oikawa’s silence as approval.
Kageyama talks and talks, and Oikawa can tell that he’s definitely not used to being the one to fill up the space. His stories are awkward, messy, he keeps switching to backstories to give context and then somehow finds different ways to go down other rabbit holes. He started off telling Oikawa about a new setting technique he was working on, but somehow he was currently talking about the TA for his Japanese History class that works part time at the museum.
His name was Akaashi and apparently he was really nice. He helps Kageyama with his essays and lets him sneak into the museum for free. Apparently he used to be a setter too so he gives Kageyama some helpful pointers. And he didn’t laugh at Kageyama when he said he knew the person in Oikawa’s photo.
“How many people are you exposing me to?” Oikawa asks, breathless by his own disbelief. It’s not like knowing someone immortal was something casual, like saying you had a friend who was an Aries, or god forbid an Aquarius.
“I had to tell Akaashi,” Kageyama says. “He wants to meet you.”
“Absolutely not,” Oikawa shakes his head, “he’ll be very disappointed when he finds out how little I was paying attention to every event that was happening in Japan.”
“I already told him you fell down a well,” Kageyama says.
“What-”
“He wants to ask you a few questions about your life from the 13th century,” Kageyama says. “He’s just curious.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Oikawa groans. “I was born, got married, my wife died in childbirth, my son died because he was born premature, never remarried and just lived in my older brother’s house until people realized that I wasn’t growing older and then they threw me into a river.”
“You’re a widower?” Kageyama says in disbelief, completely disregarding the rest of what he said. Then solemnly, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Oikawa says, “I’m over it now. I’ve had lots of time to grieve. Lots of girls died in childbirth back then anyways.”
“Girls?” Kageyama pauses. “You married a child?”
“She was thirteen and I was seventeen,” Oikawa sighs, feeling a bit self conscious at his confession. “It was just the norm. It’s wrong now, and it was wrong then, too. I would like to think I was a good husband though.”
“Yeah, as good as a groomer could be,” Kageyama grimaces, “I don’t think I can be friends with you - you have a really problematic past.”
“Are you trying to cancel me?” Oikawa says in disbelief, remembering the term that Kageyama had used on more than one occasion. “You’re joking. Also, we are not friends.”
Kageyama brushes Oikawa’s last statement off as if he didn’t say it. “Aren’t you also a war criminal?”
“That was one time!”
Kageyama waves his hands around, “Wait, wait, wait. Did you serve in the Second World War? Because I would really have to draw the line there especially if you haven’t done anything to acknowledge the com-”
“I was not in the Second World War,” Oikawa immediately interrupts. “f*ck, I got lost in Peru in like, the early 1900s, and when I finally got out it was like the 1970s. Believe me when I said it took me almost a decade to adjust to the culture shock.”
“How did you get to Peru?” Kageyama asks incredulously. “How did you get back to Japan?”
Oikawa shrugs, “I swam.”
Kageyama doesn’t get a chance to question him before the waiter comes back and places their bowls of ramen before them. And Kageyama goes back to talking about volleyball, talks about how annoying Hinata is (Oikawa wants to point out his insults sound more like compliments but he bites his tongue), and how Akaashi is definitely in love with his white and black haired best friend that comes by to deliver coffee (even though they aren’t allowed to have drinks or food inside the museum).
The waiter comes by and tells them that the restaurant is going to close in half an hour, no pressure, but stands nearby with their tab and a card machine in his hand. Oikawa didn’t even realize how late it was already, and excuses himself to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. When he comes back he sees Kageyama scrolling through his phone, the dim light glowing against his skin.
Oikawa thinks that Kageyama is a little pretty. But that’s all he allows himself to think; he won’t entertain anything else in the same train of thought. He can’t drag Kageyama to the bottom of the ocean with him, because only one of them can survive having their lungs fill up with salt water.
Kageyama looks up when he notices Oikawa walking back. He smiles, “You ready to go?”
Oikawa looks around for the waiter. “Yeah, let’s pay.”
“No need,” Kageyama says, “I told them it was my birthday so it’s on the house.”
Oikawa snaps his head back, “You did what?”
Kageyama laughs, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I already paid.”
“Oh,” Oikawa says. “You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to.”
They linger outside the restaurant, neither of them wanting to be the first one to leave. One of them has better practice at it though.
“I should go,” Oikawa says, “don’t wanna keep you too long. You have class tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” Kageyama says, “an 8am. f*cking sucks.”
“I’ll see you around,” Oikawa says and he means it. He does hope he’ll see Kageyama soon. It’s buried under the vast amount of thoughts Oikawa has about shutting him out, leaving, leaving, leaving, but he swallows them down for now.
“Oh, wait,” Kageyama starts rummaging through his bag before pulling something blue out and handing it to Oikawa. Oikawa vaguely recognizes it as a flip phone.
“What’s this?”
“I stopped by my place before practice and found my old phone,” Kageyama explains. “And I thought that since you didn’t have one you could use it. I added you to my phone plan so you don’t have to worry about, like, bills and stuff.”
“Oh my god,” Oikawa says, f*cking bleeding heart, “you really didn’t need to-”
“I wanted to,” Kageyama says firmly. “Just in case you go missing for a few weeks again. Please take it?”
Oikawa’s compliant; he’s a bit stubborn but isn’t particularly good at confrontation. It’s harmless, just a phone. He nods his head, takes the phone with shaky hands, and mumbles out a thanks. He doesn’t really know how to use a flip phone but he’ll figure it out.
“I also put Akaashi’s number,” Kageyama says, “in case you change your mind. He’d really love to hear anything you have to say.”
“I’ll think about it,” Oikawa says. He pauses before speaking again, “I’ll call you.”
Kageyama can’t hide his smile, the same one he has whenever he tells Oikawa about his volleyball victories. “You better.”
If it weren’t for the fact that Iwaizumi had saved him (not that he really needed saving), Oikawa would’ve definitely thought he was a murderer. He lived by himself in a small house at the bottom of the mountain, and when Oikawa asked about his family he simply shrugged and said he didn’t have anyone. Which was fine, seeing as Oikawa also said he didn’t have a family, but Iwaizumi somehow managed to say everything in the most suspicious way. Oikawa felt like he was talking to an alien who learned how to speak by reading outdated novels, and couldn’t contain his laughter at Iwaizumi’s deadpanned face.
“You really don’t mind if I stay?” Oikawa asked, taking a break from chopping firewood. His arms were already sore despite only working for around ten minutes.
“I don’t mind,” Iwaizumi said. His replies were always short and to the point, as if he had a finite amount of words he could use and didn’t want to waste any. Too bad he was talking to Oikawa.
“What if I stay until the day I die?” Oikawa teased.
“Then stay and die,” Iwaizumi said. Oikawa didn’t know if he was going to laugh at his monotonous tone, or the unseen irony behind that statement.
“Iwa-chan! That’s so mean.” Oikawa tried to sound hurt, his voice going up a few pitches. The nickname was something that came to him on a whim, trying to get a reaction out of the other man. Unfortunately nothing seemed to faze Iwaizumi, and he paid no special attention to Oikawa. It was if they had a commensalistic relationship, where Oikawa was reaping all the benefits of living with Iwaizumi, while the latter hardly even acknowledged him.
“Sorry.”
“Whatever,” Oikawa shrugged.
He watched as Iwaizumi continued to chop the wood against the tree stump, the tedious sound of the axe cutting being the only sound to fill the space.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, unable to stop himself from talking. It was almost a talent, how well he could keep a conversation flowing like a river, and the fact that he was getting almost nothing from Iwaizumi irked him a little bit. Oikawa was nothing if not charming, and this was the first person he had run into in a few months, his skin was crawling with need for human interaction.
No response. Oikawa continued, “What’s the other side of the mountain?”
“There’s a village,” Iwaizumi replied.
“A village?”
“A village.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier that there was a village close by?” Oikawa questioned.
Iwaizumi swung the axe down, the piece of wood splitting into two and falling back onto the floor. He looked over at Oikawa as he pulled the metal out from the tree stump. “You never asked.”
Oikawa stared blankly at him, completely baffled. He pointed an accusatory finger, “You’re unbelievable! You hardly talk at all, are you a forest spirit or something?”
“Or something.”
Oikawa sighed deeply. He wondered if he should just leave and head over to the village, it’s not like he owed Iwaizumi anything. Still he felt a little bad, Iwaizumi had found him bleeding out and decided to save him, obviously he had enough kindness for that. Oikawa also felt a bit bad for Iwaizumi when he had said he didn’t have any family in his life. He must be lonely, and Oikawa is incredibly empathetic when it comes to that.
“Sorry,” Iwaizumi said suddenly. Oikawa looked at him.
“I don’t really talk to people,” Iwaizumi explained plainly, “so it’s weird having you here.”
“Why don’t you live in the village with everyone else?” Oikawa asked. “Might be less lonely for you. Or are you planning to die a sad old man?”
Iwaizumi paused. Oikawa thought he must’ve been hallucinating when he saw a small smirk form on the other man’s face.
“That’s the dream,” Iwaizumi said wistfully.
Oikawa quirked his brow; Iwaizumi was so weird.
Days slowly became weeks, and Oikawa had developed an interesting relationship with Iwaizumi. It was mostly one sided, with Oikawa finding new ways to bother the other male everyday, and Iwaizumi looking like he was five seconds away from committing murder at any given moment.
It was strange - Iwaizumi was strange, and the fact that Oikawa seemed to like their dynamic was strange. There was something about Iwaizumi that he was inexplicably drawn to, and their mundane day to day routine was something Oikawa hadn’t really experienced before. He was so used to charming his way into the hearts of various men and women, that having someone who had zero hesitance to hit him on the head when he was being annoying was a completely new thing for him.
Obviously he knew he shouldn’t expect something like that from Iwaizumi - the relationship they had was anything but romantic. But their friendship, if he could even call it that, was a nice change of pace for him. There was something so simplistic about being with Iwaizumi that Oikawa loved, and wanted to stay for longer to experience. He wondered what it was, why he wanted to stay close by, and the only conclusion he could come to was that Iwaizumi must be made of magnets. (It didn’t entirely make sense, but that was what he was sticking with.)
“I know I said you could stay for as long as you like,” Iwaizumi said, “but are you really planning on staying until you die?”
They were currently washing their clothes in the nearby river, the cold water greatly contrasting how hot the weather was. Oikawa could hear the cicadas in the forest behind him, the gentle buzzing sound was one of the only constants he’s had in his life.
“Why? Are you going to miss me when I leave?” Oikawa said playfully, dipping his hands to the water and allowing the stream to flow through his fingertips. He expected a snarky retort, or maybe another hit on his head.
“I might.”
Oikawa looked over at Iwaizumi, surprised.
Iwaizumi shrugged. “You’re annoying, but obviously I’ll think about you after you go.”
“Oh,” Oikawa said, “I suppose. There’s always an empty space after someone leaves.”
Iwaizumi hummed in agreement, cupping some water into his hand before washing the sweat off his face. He looked over at Oikawa, droplets of water falling from his nose, his chin, his eyelashes; the bright sun reflected off the beads and made his skin glow.
“So, will you leave soon?” Iwaizumi asked.
Oikawa lifted his hands from the river, the water falling from his skin and hitting his yukata. He shook his head, “No, I want to stay longer if that’s okay.”
Iwaizumi nodded his head. “That’s fine by me.”
Oikawa does call when he remembers to. When he’s able to keep track of the days and realizes it’s been too long without seeing Kageyama. The moments in between the times they meet he can’t help but feel lonely. Kageyama seems to help him keep track of the passage of time. So when Oikawa thinks of him he sends a text about anything at all. Mostly about the bird that built a nest outside of the coffee shop, and sometimes he’ll be even bold enough to ask when Kageyama’s free again.
It’s small and simple, they just go out to eat, sometimes meet up for coffee and have sarcastic conversations, but it works for them and makes Oikawa feel like he’s enough. It makes him forget that he’s getting closer to the inevitable goodbye. But then he remembers that one day Kageyama is going to die and he can’t seem to get himself off the ground without feeling like he’s going to fade away. And it hurts, it hurts, but Oikawa has a bad habit of doing bad things and then wondering why it hurts so much.
One night they go out to a bar, some place where Kageyama says he goes all the time with his teammates to celebrate occasionally. Oikawa can't remember the last time he’s had alcohol, and he soon remembers why that is. He’s not a lightweight per se, but he can’t stop drinking glass after glass, tipping his head back and enjoying the warm buzz that spread through his body. He soon feels himself crumbling, but he doesn’t mind because he does that all the time without alcohol anyways.
“Woah,” Kageyama says when Oikawa accidentally tips his head forward and crashes into Kageyama’s chest. “I think I should bring you home.”
Oikawa’s too weak to protest, and slings his arm around Kageyama all they stumble out of the bar. They end up at the rundown building where Oikawa sleeps, and Kageyama thinks that he must be joking.
“This is it,” Oikawa says sloppily, “home sweet home.”
“Absolutely not,” Kageyama says. “What the f*ck, dude, we’re going back to my place.”
Oikawa whines, he’s too tired to walk anywhere else. He’d be fine if Kageyama just left him on the street - he’s definitely slept in weirder places. But Kageyama throws Oikawa over his shoulder, and he eventually stops trying to wiggle free because it makes him feel like he might throw up.
He doesn’t realize they’ve reached Kageyama’s apartment until he feels his back hit something plush and soft and he thinks wow maybe beds are worth the hype. He snuggles his face against the pillow and Kageyama pulls a blanket over him.
“I’ll go sleep on the couch,” Kageyama says quietly. “There’s water here if you need it. And a garbage can, but it’s okay if you puke on the floor. I’d prefer if you didn’t, though.”
Kageyama gets up to walk away but Oikawa grabs his hands and pulls him back onto the bed. Kageyama looks at him, confused. The sober part of Oikawa is also slightly confused, but there’s hardly a fraction of him left right now.
“When you do that I feel like I can’t breathe,” Oikawa mumbles.
“Do what?”
“Nice things,” Oikawa says, “make me feel like you care.”
“I do care,” Kageyama says, lightly brushing Oikawa’s bangs out of his face.
It’s too much for Oikawa. He wants to tell Kageyama to stop, he’s not worth it. He wants to tell Kageyama to stop, he can’t handle it because he cares about Kageyama and it hurts him. It hurts him that he cares, that Kageyama cares, because it makes him feel like he’s a normal person - that he’s like everyone else in the world.
But he’s not. He’s Oikawa. He’s Oikawa and he doesn’t know what he wants because his brain keeps telling him to push everyone away, but his body is pulling Kageyama into bed with him. He knows he shouldn’t do this, knows he shouldn’t wrap his arms around Kageyama and press his face into his chest but it feels so nice. Nice things hurt Oikawa eventually, but he’s addicted to it - addicted to feeling like he’s not alone even though that’s his fate.
“Stop caring,” Oikawa mumbles into his chest. He doesn’t hear Kageyama’s reply before his mind crashes and he falls asleep.
“You’re such an idiot! I can’t believe you jumped off a cliff!”
Oikawa rolled his eyes, “I told you I’m fine.”
Iwaizumi pressed the cloth he was holding against Oikawa’s injured leg harder, causing him to yelp in pain.
“That doesn’t sound fine to me,” Iwaizumi taunted. Oikawa has half a mind to kick him and run, but with his bleeding leg he doesn’t think he’ll make it very far.
“I don’t know why the stupid tanuki keep attacking me,” Oikawa grumbled, “they must be rabid or something.”
Iwaizumi dipped the bloody cloth into the bowl of water beside him. He twisted the cloth and the pink tinted water wrung out slowly before he pressed it back against the wound. “I heard that sometimes tanuki will sneak into small villages and eat other people's garbage if they’re really desperate for food.”
Oikawa squinted his eyes, “What are you trying to say?”
“That you’re trash.” Iwaizumi mocked, “Trashykawa.”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said dramatically, “you wound me far more than these stupid tanuki ever could! Don’t you feel bad for being so mean to your only friend?”
“I didn’t really really have a choice in becoming your friend,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, “you’re like a parasite.”
“Well you seem to care an awful lot about me despite being a parasite,” Oikawa sneered.
He was met with silence, and he instantly wondered if he said something wrong. His mind is plagued with worry that somehow he mistook the underlying joking tone, and that Iwaizumi actually found Oikawa to be a pain to deal with. He bite back his need to blabber out more, cover up his words with more dumb remarks. He had learned that it got him nowhere with Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi began wrapping the wound, his hands skillfully binding the cloth around Oikawa’s leg. Oikawa didn’t know how to interpret the silence, or why Iwaizumi seemed to be lost in thought instead of having his face contorted in anger.
“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, “don’t worry about me.”
“You do a lot of stupid stuff,” Iwaizumi said suddenly. “You get a new injury every week. Aren’t you afraid that you’ll die?”
“No,” Oikawa immediately said. He knew he was careless, but that was because he can be. He didn’t have to worry about dying, and maybe that was why a part of him did all these reckless things - hoping that one day something will kill him. “I don’t care about dying.”
Iwaizumi clicked his tongue, a sound of annoyance that Oikawa was all too familiar with. He tied a knot to secure the cloth, but he didn’t pull his hands away. He let them linger near Oikawa’s leg, as if he was still trying to heal some other injuries.
“Then I guess I’ll have to care for you,” Iwaizumi grumbled.
Oikawa didn’t know why he suddenly felt so weak.
Actually, he did know why - he was such a sucker for having people care about him. This was affection, this was what Oikawa thrived off of. It’s the only thing he’d been looking for for the past who knew how long.
But it felt a little different this time. Maybe it was because it was coming from someone who he had more than a shallow relationship with. He knew that it might hurt a little more than he’ll expect it to when he has to leave Iwaizumi. He wished he didn’t have to, but of course it was inevitable. He can’t stay for too long. He can’t ever stay for too long. The comforts he feels now will eventually become a distant memory he’ll look back on, until one day it fades away completely.
“Remind me again why you’re taking a wounded man up a bloody mountain?” Oikawa grumbled, his arm slung over Iwaizumi’s shoulder as they both stumbled through the leaves and dirt. His leg was taking longer to heal than it normally did, and he didn’t really understand why. He wasn’t exactly complaining though - Iwaizumi seemed to take it upon himself to tend to Oikawa’s every need and to redress the wound everyday. Oikawa felt bad that Iwaizumi was working so hard for a wound that would heal anyways, but he liked the attention, and it seemed like Iwaizumi liked having something to take care of.
“I told you it’s - watch out for the tree roots - it’s a surprise,” Iwaizumi replied, one hand holding onto Oikawa’s and the other around Oikawa’s waist.
“It’s getting dark,” Oikawa complains. They had brought along a small lantern which he was currently holding with his free hand, but going down a mountain in the dead of night was not an activity that he had on his bucket list. Especially with those goddamned tanuki that just wouldn’t leave him alone.
“We’ll be fine,” Iwaizumi said, “I’ve done this before.”
Oikawa paused. “Are you... taking me up the mountain to kill me?”
“It’s a surprise,” Iwaizumi said conspicuously. Oikawa shuddered.
“I’ll haunt you,” Oikawa warns. “I’ll sing songs of misery while you try to sleep at night.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “You’re so dramatic.”
Oikawa simply stuck his tongue out, and they continued walking.
When they had arrived at the top the sun had already set, and they walked towards a small opening in the trees that led to a short cliff. The grass was patchy, and the dirt spots were light and dried out. There wasn’t much of a need for the lantern, the moon was full and there weren’t many trees to cast shadows and obscure their view.
The view was breathtaking, Oikawa felt like his blood was tingling as it flowed through him. Something about being so high up was a bit scary, but the view from the top was exhilarating.
“It’s pretty,” Oikawa said quietly. Iwaizumi held his hand and pulled him closer to the edge, but he hesitated to follow.
“It’s safe to sit on the edge,” Iwaizumi reassured, brushing his thumb over Oikawa’s knuckles.
“Do you think we’ll see a lot of fireflies here?” Oikawa asked, holding onto Iwaizumi tightly as he awkwardly sat with his legs hanging off the edge.
“We’ll see something a lot better than fireflies,” Iwaizumi grinned. He pointed to a spot down the mountain that was glowing with light.
Oikawa squinted his eyes, trying to make out what he was looking at. “Is that… the village?”
Iwaizumi nodded his head. “Every year at the end of summer they have a small festival. It’s too crowded for my liking, but up here we get the most amazing view of the fire flowers.”
Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows, “Fire flowers?”
As if on cue, he heard the sound of an explosion. He whipped his head around and saw… fire? Sparks were flying out and forming circles in the sky. More and more sparks followed suit, exploding in the air and floating for a few seconds before fizzing out. A multitude of colours filled the space, and Oikawa started in disbelief. With every thundering sound his grip on Iwaizumi’s hand tightened more and more, watching the light show in awe.
He turned to Iwaizumi and pointed excitedly at the sky, “Are you seeing this? Oh my god, this is so amazing!”
Iwaizumi smiled, his features soft, the bursts of colours reflecting off his skin and painting him in a gentle glow. Oikawa swallowed thickly, feeling a heat begin to form on his face. He looked away and exhaled heavily.
“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi asked, leaning his face closer.
“Beautiful,” Oikawa muttered.
“Isn’t it?”
Oikawa looked over at Iwaizumi and contemplated for a second how much he had to lose in this moment. It felt like a lot, and he thrived off of adrenaline rushes like these. The drumming through his body, the warmth in his chest; being alive sucked for the most part but god if he didn’t love the feeling of being alive.
He leaned towards Iwaizumi’s face slowly, giving ample time for the other to pull away or stop him. But he kept going forward until he felt his lip press against Iwaizumi’s own. And for a second he froze, feeling like the fire flowers were going off in his chest and the colourful sparks were buzzing within him. Iwaizumi placed a hand behind Oikawa’s neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.
Iwaizumi was a bit of an awkward kisser, no grace or fluidity behind his motions - the only thing he was concentrating on was connecting their lips together for as long as possible. When they finally pulled apart for air they rested their foreheads against each other and tried to steady their breathing.
“Oh my-” Oikawa smiled widely with his eyes still closed, “Oh my god.”
“f*ck,” Iwaizumi panted out.
“Do you still think I’m a parasite?” Oikawa teased, his grip on Iwaizumi’s yukata’s loosening.
“Shut up,” Iwaizumi said, his eyes half lidded, and he pulled Oikawa back for a shorter kiss.
“Don’t ruin this.”
Oikawa chuckled, their bodies slumping clumsily as he wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s torso. He pressed his head against Iwaizumi’s chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart.
It sounded like fire flowers.
He wakes up the next afternoon with a splitting headache and a turning in his stomach. When he realizes who he’s holding he starts to feel sick, like he’s eaten spoonfuls of sugar and now his teeth are rotting. He tries to peel himself away without waking Kageyama up, but his body feels sore and he moves like he has weights tied to his limbs.
“Good morning,” Kageyama says sleepily, stretching out his arms. “How are you feeling?”
Oikawa wants to say terrible, but the second he opens his mouth his hands fly up as he stumbles over to the small garbage can. He clutches the side desperately as he vomits, and Kageyama rubs his back soothingly.
Kageyama helps Oikawa back to the bed and makes him drink some water.
“You should sleep some more,” Kageyama says.
Oikawa groans in response.
“I have practice later today,” Kageyama says, “in case you wake up and I’m not here. I have a spare toothbrush you can use.”
“Sorry,” Oikawa says, “I’m a bad guest.”
“Compared to my other friends you’re like an angel,” Kageyama chuckles.
Oikawa says nothing, just watches as Kageyama empties his sports bag onto his table. He seems to go through a mental checklist as he repacks his stuff - shoes, socks, clothes, water, and… tape? Oikawa shakes his head and coughs, and Kageyama places the tape on his desk and walks over to him.
“Are you getting sick?” Kageyama asks.
“My throat just hurts,” Oikawa says. “I’m fine.”
“Go back to sleep,” Kageyama says. “Sleep is good for you.”
Oikawa tries to look annoyed, but he is still tired. He turns away from Kageyama, burying his face into the plush pillow as he drifts off again.
Oikawa had never felt more alive. He wondered if it was because his attraction to men seemed to be different from women, but it was probably more accurate to say that his attraction to Iwaizumi specifically was different compared to everyone else. He hadn’t intended to be involved with Iwaizumi romantically, but Oikawa thought with his heart instead of his head. He lived in the moments and acted impulsively - that was just who he was.
Ever since the night they saw the fire flowers they had started going up the mountain more frequently to watch the sunset together. Although Iwaizumi was a bit frugal with his affection, he never stopped Oikawa from dealing out his own. Oikawa was someone who was affectionate without remorse, knowing that hugs and kisses were not finite. He kissed promises into knuckles and weaved red strings to connect their ribs. And as much as Iwaizumi would pretend to be annoyed with all the closeness, he would never be the first one to pull away.
The weather was getting colder, and the fireflies that flew around the mountains were starting to disappear. Oikawa wondered if they would continue this little ritual of theirs when winter came, thinking about what a pain it would be to trek up the mountain if it was covered in snow.
He watched the sun set, feeling more content than he’s ever been in his life. The rays shone on Iwaizumi’s face and the colours bled beautifully on his skin, and Oikawa realized in that moment how wonderful it is to see nature compliment the person you love.
Oh.
His face got warmer as he could finally put a word to what it was he was feeling. He had thought multiple times before that he was in love, but none of those instances could compare to how he felt about Iwaizumi. The fullness in his chest, the electricity he felt when their eyes met and skin touched - that was love, wasn’t it? Feeling his life moving forward and imagining moments in the future they could share together fills Oikawa with a certain giddy feeling that he’s never experienced before.
He shyly leaned his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, who immediately wrapped an around him to pull their bodies together.
“Are you cold?” Iwaizumi asked, gently trailing his hand down Oikawa's side before resting on his hip.
“No,” Oikawa replied. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“I think I love you,” Oikawa admitted, his voice small and airy.
Iwaizumi tensed a little, before turning his body to hug Oikawa. This was probably Iwaizumi’s favourite form of affection - just holding each other, their faces hidden away from view from any onlookers (not that there would be any in the middle of a mountain, although Oikawa would argue that the tanuki were always watching). They held each other gently, listening to each other’s breath and feeling their chest rise and fall. It was a quiet moment they shared, a vulnerable moment they had together.
“Me too,” Iwaizumi said, which was enough for Oikawa. But he continued, “I love you too.”
It took everything in Oikawa to not tease Iwaizumi and ruin the moment. His skin was crawling as he tried to hold himself back, but Iwaizumi saying I love you was one of those things that felt like it could cause world peace. And in Oikawa it did, he felt like his body was being taken over by a serene feeling spreading through his body that started at his heart.
But he began to feel a pit form in his stomach - an intrusive thought that would consume him until no trace of him is left behind. Oikawa was showing Iwaizumi beautiful flowers while hiding the thorns in his palms, reveling in the beautiful scent that hid the awful red that would seep into the stem and spread through the petals.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispered, “can I ask you something?”
Iwaizumi hummed, and they pulled back to look each other in the face.
“If you could live forever,” Oikawa asked slowly, “what would you do?”
Iwaizumi looked shocked for a split second, before his face morphed into a frown. “Um… that’s a weird question.”
“You’re right,” Oikawa mustered his best smile. “Sorry. Forget I asked.”
“What would you do?” Iwaizumi asked.
Oikawa laughed weakly. “Try to die. After everything that’s all you can do.”
He was too good at this. Pretending to be asleep and slipping out of his lover’s embrace. Slowly packing his things and quietly sneaking out the house. He took everything that could be traced back to him, the awful origami crane he made, the pretty rock he found on the mountain and insisted to Iwaizumi that he bring back home; and all he left was a kiss on the cheek that’ll fade by dawn. He left nothing behind that could be held onto.
He was too good at this. Too good at pretending he never existed, too good at being a ghost, too good at leaving. Too good at hurting himself.
He had, in a lapse of judgment, written out a letter to say goodbye. He didn’t explain why he had to leave, just that he did have to. Explain that he didn’t want to, please don’t hate him. But Iwaizumi needed to hate Oikawa to get over him, and needed nothing to remind him of their past. It’ll hurt for a little, but out of sight out of mind, and Oikawa was going to disappear into nothingness. So he took the letter with him too.
He swore that his heart was beating loud enough to wake up Iwaizumi, but the other laid asleep peacefully, oblivious to what was happening. Oikawa wanted to just crawl back into bed and stay another night- just one more night. But he was running on borrowed time and had long overstayed his welcome. He stared at the house, the moonlight casting a taunting shadow over him. He tried to tell himself to just go, get it over with and deal with the hurt later. He had done this countless times before, so why was it so hard now? Why couldn’t he just move his legs? Why can’t he just leave?
Just go, he tried to convince himself, just move your legs and go.
Oikawa didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay so badly, he wanted to stay and love recklessly, love Iwaizumi until the day he died. But it hurt him. It hurt him to think that Iwaizumi will die one day and leave Oikawa in this existence all alone, he’d mourn all alone and live for the rest of forever having to start all over again. He didn’t want to start all over again, he wanted to live and die with Iwaizumi, but he just can’t.
That kind of life wasn’t meant for Oikawa. The life with a mundane daily routine, living domestically with the person he loved. That kind of life wasn’t his to live, the most he could do was wear a mask and play house. But eventually the porcelain starts to crack, and the pieces shatter bit by bit, and when Oikawa looked in the mirror he knew that all he is, all he’ll ever be, is an imposter. He hated it. Hated that he hid the thorns in his palms and now his hands were bleeding like his heart.
“Hajime,” he sobbed quietly into his hands, clutching his letter tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He felt a bit disconnected from himself, his body felt light but his eyes felt heavy, and he felt like a ghost drifting away as he turned away from the house and started walking away. The rest was a blur. Oikawa had gotten better at zoning out and letting his brain cloud up. The days started bleeding into each other and he can’t remember the face of anyone he had run into after that. The memories are patchy, there are holes in any place that wasn’t significant enough to remember. He remembered moments in flashes, he walked for what seemed like forever until he was faced with the ocean. He doesn’t remember why, just remembers that he kept walking into the water, his clothes getting soaked and his bones were shivering, until his head was completely submerged and he just kept going forward.
Maybe if he walked far enough he would end up in the underworld.
(Oikawa was never that lucky though.)
Sleep is good for you, yes, but it turns out that too much sleep seems to have the opposite effect. Oikawa wakes up feeling what he can only describe as sleep tired, which doesn’t exactly make sense but his bones feel like they’ve rusted and he’s somehow more groggy than before.
Stupid Kageyama.
He yawns as he forces himself out of bed, but he just flops back down on his back with his limbs stretched out like a starfish. He wants to just lie down forever, but he remembers that he’s just a guest in this space, and Kageyama was probably too kind to kick him out. Oikawa can’t help but feel like an invasive species, like a lecherous bug that hides itself in pretty flowers until everything in the garden is dead. The bed feels nice but it’s not his, so he sits up. He notices something white on the floor beside the table, and realizes that it’s tape.
He stares at the roll of tape beside the table leg. He walks over, picks it up and inspects it closely. It doesn’t look like the normal tape he’s seen at the craft store, but he remembers seeing Kageyama take it out of his sports bag. He wonders how important it is, wonders if he can just throw it back underneath the table and pretend he never saw it. He pulls out his phone and flips it open instead.
[3:43pm]
do you nfed the wiite tape
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:43pm]
huh???
what tape?
do you mean *white tape?
OH sh*t MY SPORTS TAPE
DID I LEAVE IT AT HOME???
[3:44pm]
stop spammimg pls. do u need it
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:44pm]
i mean i don’t NEED it need it but it’s good to have
[3:45]
i can bring it if u want
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:46pm]
could you bring it to the gym?
[3:46]
yes
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:47pm]
thank you! i don’t know what i would do without you lol
Oikawa flips his phones closed and places it on the table. He knows that it’s not Kageyama’s fault that Oikawa’s weirdly sensitive and sometimes he says things that make him uncomfortable, and that when he treats Oikawa like he’s something permanent it makes his skin crawl. It makes him feel like an imposter, like a mangled monster wearing a jester’s hat to seem completely harmless.
Oikawa’s decided to stay though, so he can’t complain when he’s treated like normal. That’s what he wanted right? It’s what he wanted, but it still makes him uncomfortable. He still wants to keep his guard up.
As he gets himself ready to bring the tape to the gym he allows his mind to wander a bit. He doesn’t want to get lost in his head though, so he tries to keep himself grounded. Washes his face with cold water, notices the faint smell of Kageyama on his sweater, feels the sharpness of his keys and he walks absentmindedly across the campus.
He wonders if he could love Kageyama.
Before Iwaizumi the answer would probably be yes, he definitely could. But it would’ve been the shallow version of love he had before, someone to hold close but not within, someone he loves from a distance and no matter how hard he tries he knows they can’t permeate the surface of himself and love all of who he is.
But ever since he’s met Iwaizumi he doesn’t ever believe he can love someone like that again. He could pretend to be satisfied, but there’s a hole in his chest that’s aching to be filled and he knows he can never be anyone’s other half. Oikawa wants to be loved, wants to be seen. Everything in his life is a blessing that transforms into a curse and Iwaizumi is the one person that he wanted more than anything else, but he’ll never ever get. Because his fate has already dictated his life, and someone to love is apparently something that he doesn’t deserve.
But Kageyama is relentless and Oikawa’s desperate to feel again. And it’s not love, but there are moments that his chest feels less heavy and he lets himself think maybe I can have this. It’s not love, but at the same time it is, and it’s enough to satiate the storm that’s thundering inside of him, but he’s still sitting in a rocking boat waiting to tip over.
Oikawa wants to apologize. Not about anything specifically. Just wants to look at Kageyama and say sorry I’m a messy person. He thinks that Kageyama would probably understand, but not in the way Oikawa wants.
Sorry that I think that I’m unworthy of love even from myself, he wishes he could say to no one in particular. Maybe just a message to the universe to know that he’s trying, he’s trying but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.
He looks at the roll of white tape he’s holding. He’s supposed to give Kageyama his sports tape.
That’s enough for now.
When he reaches the gym, he opens the door open a bit to peak inside. He sees a bunch of people he doesn’t recognize tossing and hitting volleyballs to each other and over the net in the middle of the gym. He creeps in quietly, looking to see if Kageyama’s in the crowd but the only person he recognizes is the boy with orange hair from the other day. As if on cue he turns and sees Oikawa standing awkwards by the door, and immediately runs up to him.
“Hey!” he greets, and Oikawa’s trying to remember his name. Hanta?
“Hi,” Oikawa says, discreetly scratching at his cuticles. There’s a swirling inside of him that makes him feel a little sick. He wonders if it’s possible to melt into a puddle of anxiety, wonders if he’ll be forgiven if he actually does since he hasn’t been the most sociable person on the planet for quite some time.
“We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves last time,” the boy says sheepishly. “You must be Oikawa, right? I’m Hinata.”
There’s something about Hinata that reminds him of Kageyama. A look in his eyes - passionate but aloof at the same time. Oikawa’s thankful that Hinata doesn’t say hey we didn’t get to introduce ourselves because you started crying out of nowhere, you absolute weirdo.
“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m here to, um, give Kageyama his sports tape?”
“Oh!” Hinata nods, “He’s talking to our coach right now.”
Coach Iwaizumi. Breathe.
Hinata points to a spot beside the bleachers that Oikawa didn’t see before. He sees Kageyama talking to another man with spiky black hair, but Oikawa can’t see his face.
He thanks Hinata and starts walking towards them, fiddling nervously with the sports tape. Kageyama glances over and catches his stare, waving him over eagerly. Oikawa’s only a few feet away from them when Coach Iwaizumi turns around and Oikawa can finally see his face, see the face that has the same name as his past lover and oh.
Oikawa trips. Or maybe his legs just straight up stop working, but whatever it was doesn’t matter because he’s falling. Iwaizumi catches him, but Oikawa feels like he just had all the air pushed from his lungs. Iwaizumi isn’t holding him tightly, but his hands still linger on Oikawa’s arm. Iwaizumi’s hands seem to be stuck to Oikawa, and Oikawa’s eyes are stuck to Iwaizumi’s face, and he can’t breathe.
The man is beautiful, but not in the way that immediately catches your eyes. But if you stare at him you notice the beautiful woven carefully into his features, delicate but strong because he exists in a paradox in that Oikawa feels like he has just fallen in love at first sight, but he has also fallen in love after a long time of familiarity.
Oikawa has spent so long forgetting, so long convincing himself he could forget. But he looks at the man before him and his heart picks up right where it left off, right where he left off, and he remembers this is one person he will never be allowed to forget, because he remembers this feeling that topples him over right when he thinks he’s finally learned to balance himself again. No, no, no - Oikawa will always fall. It’s his curse, afterall.
It’s Iwaizumi. His Iwaizumi. From all those years ago, standing before him like God had hit pause because he looks exactly how Oikawa remembers. His hair is short now, but it’s still dark and pretty and makes Oikawa want to reach out and touch it again-
“You okay?” Iwaizumi asks cooly, helping Oikawa right back onto his feet.
“Uh, yeah.” Oikawa musters out. He’s so stupid. How could this possibly be his Iwaizumi? Oikawa’s so desperate, but the man doesn’t seem to recognize him so in a way, he’s safe, but in another, he is so completely devastated.
This was just someone who has the same name and face as his ex. Yes, that’s definitely it. What’re the chances though? He doesn’t know. Probably the same chances that he’s f*cking immortal. sh*t happens when you’re God’s least favourite.
He hears his heart beating through his body and feels like his blood is buzzing within his veins and realizes that he’s definitely going to start crying in front of a random stranger who just happens to be a carbon copy of the person he left. But it’s too much, Iwaizumi’s touch is too familiar for Oikawa’s liking, and his bones are crumbling away.
“Tape,” Oikawa shoves the roll at Kageyama, “here. Your tape. Bye.”
He turns around and runs, literally runs, out the door and as far away from the gym as he can get. Because he needs to go, needs to go far away, hide away from the rest of humanity. Doesn’t stop when Kageyama tells him to wait, because Oikawa has never waited for anyone and when he feels the last bit of sand reach the bottom of the hourglass there is absolutely nothing that can stop him from leaving.
“Bet you’re having fun,” he says bitterly, looking up at the sky. He doesn’t get a reply.
He’s alone. He gets tired from running for so long, but he keeps walking because he’s afraid that if he stops the cement will turn to quick sand and swallow him up. His head feels blurry, buzzy, he feels like a ghost, wishes he could be a ghost, he hates his life, he’s lived too long-
He collapses on his knees and actually hopes that he’ll sink into the ground. He screams and cries and his lungs are burning but he doesn’t care about pain because he always gets better. His body gets better but the burn still stays within him. The bruises on his skin will heal but he will always see their shadows, darkening him from within. He is a wilted shell of a person, and there is nothing left to keep him up.
He doesn’t know how he ended up home, just that he’s there. It’s pure muscle memory that’s keeping home going, packing his bags and slinging the straps over his shoulders. And he’s going, walking with purpose as the only thing he’s thinking of is Argentina, Argentina, Argentina.
When his brain catches up to his body he realizes that he’s not in Argentina. Probably not in Argentina, he actually doesn’t know where he is. He’s at a beach, standing at the shoreline. He watches the water rushes up to his shoes before receding back. He thinks the ocean is taking little bits of him along with the sand and he stumbles back and falls down.
It’s dark out, and the wind is cold on his face. He stares up at the sky and can’t help but relate to the amount of empty space there is in the universe. But the darkness is embedded with stars, little gems decorating brightly against the deep blue. The stars are beautiful, and Oikawa is not. The stars can die, and Oikawa cannot. People make wishes on stars, Oikawa only knows how to steal the brightness away from other people.
He notices a rumbling coming from his pocket. He curses as he realizes that he brought his phone along with him. He realizes that he’s tangled up in a web of strings, he’s too connected to Kageyama to go. Leaving isn’t as simple as it used to be. He pulls out his phone and reads the slew of texts.
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [4:05pm]
hey!!!!! you left in such a hurry is everything okay?
can’t be on my phone for too long or else coach will get mad
text me when you see these
please
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [5:20pm]
hey im on break rn
i hope your phone is just dead lmao
i don’t wanna be too nosy so you don’t have to tell me what happened
but like please lemme know where you are rn?
<3
IGNORE THE HEART STUPID HINATA STOLE MY PHONE
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [6:00pm]
practice is over
wanna get food?
i’m thinking cold soba
jk i know you hate cold soba
did the baby birds hatch from their eggs yet?
tsukishima called me stupid today
are you gonna agree with him again?
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [6:23pm]
please agree with him again
MISSED CALL(S) FROM TOBIO KAGEYAMA (6)
[9:05pm]
youre not stupid
youre special
Kageyama’s special. Not like Oikawa is. Kageyama’s got stars in his mind and Oikawa can see it through his bright eyes. Sure, Oikawa’s immortality is special, but there’s nothing about him specifically that you can make galaxies with. Nothing about him is special enough to make people stay the rest of forever by his side.
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [9:06pm]
where are you
i’m at your crappy excuse for an apartment
all the rooms are empty
i found one room with spanish flashcards wtf
dónde estás mi amigo
[9:07pm]
those are mine
i dont know where i am
im at a beach
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [9:07pm]
i’m omw
Oikawa doesn’t know how long it takes for Kageyama to find him, or how he was even found in the first place. He just feels the heavy weight of a jacket being placed on his body, and he looks to the side and sees the younger boy sitting beside him.
“Where are you going?” Kageyama asks. No bitterness in his words, no underlying tone of betrayal. Just a question to a friend that he cares about. It makes Oikawa feel sick.
“Argentina,” Oikawa rasps out.
“Wow,” Kageyama says. “How’re you planning on getting there?”
Oikawa shrugs, “Swim.”
Walk along the bottom of the ocean as his muscle tissue implodes over and over again. The remnants of his bones will be shark bait until he’s better again and then he’ll kick more sand clouds up. His version of deep sea diving.
“Your stuff will get wet.”
“Oh,” Oikawa says. “That would be bad.”
“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees. “Guess you should stay then.”
“They’re gonna tear the building down soon.”
Kageyama holds out his hand. “Come stay with me.”
Oikawa looks at his own hands and realizes he’s picked the skin around his nails raw. Specks of blood are seeping through and staining his flesh. He balls up his hands into fists and hopes he can ignore the hurt.
“I can’t.” Oikawa says. “I can’t lead you on like this.”
“You’re not leading me on,” Kageyama says pointedly. “I’m an adult, making my own adult decisions.”
“You annoy me and I like you a lot,” Oikawa says. “And I wanna have you as a friend forever.”
“Then I’ll be your friend forever.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Oikawa has to keep himself from crying, but he’s not very good at it, “you’ll leave me. You’ll die and I’ll be left without you. Without anyone.”
“Then I won’t die.”
Oikawa scoffs, “That’s not-”
“That’s what you’re doing, right?” Kageyama interrupts. “Not dying. You make it look pretty easy. Bet I could do it too.”
Oikawa shakes his head, “You’re so stupid.”
“Yeah. I know.”
There’s a moment of silence. Another moment when Oikawa feels like his chest doesn’t hurt as much and his lungs don’t burn when he tries to breathe. Another moment when his heart reacts to the warmth before his brain can catch up to keep himself from being burnt.
Oikawa takes Kageyama’s hand.
Oikawa learns quickly that Kageyama is a terrible roommate. He’s messy, doesn’t wash his dishes, and leaves clothes strewn all over the place. But he doesn’t complain because there’s only one bedroom and Kageyama offered to let Oikawa sleep in his bed while he stays on a futon on the floor.
Sometimes though, Kageyama sneaks onto the bed with Oikawa and wordlessly hugs him. It happens when Oikawa can’t sleep and feels himself sinking, and Kageyama must have a sixth sense for this because he crawls under the covers every time without fail and holds Oikawa until his breathing has evened out and they both fall asleep.
Oikawa’s a little bit in love with Kageyama. But they’re just friends. Maybe a little more than that, but what term is he supposed to use with someone whose line between friendship and romantic relationship has been blurred this much? What do you call someone who insists on you staying in their life even though you’re both just wandering down a dirt path where they’ll eventually fall off and you just have to keep going?
… Best friends, maybe?
Kageyama doesn’t push any boundaries though. It’s almost as if he knows that Oikawa’s still recovering from something, and he doesn’t want to take advantage of that. He’s so perfectly in tune with Oikawa that he’s sure they must have some sort of cosmic connection. Maybe in a parallel universe, where Oikawa was normal, they’re dating. (Or maybe they’re actually enemies.)
And Oikawa still can’t help but proceed with a little bit of caution, because he still has the ghost of his walls standing up strong. But without any of his original hostility there’s no awkwardness between them, and Kageyama’s more than happy to fill up any space that Oikawa refuses to take up. And sometimes he can’t help but start shutting down, but when he tries to push Kageyama away the younger simply refuses to let it happen. Which makes him feel bad, because he seems to be reaping many benefits that he didn’t put half the effort into sowing, which makes him insecure for a whole new reason because why on Earth would someone be so kind to some like Oikawa? What has he done to deserve this? He deserves being eaten alive by sharks and falling from cliffs, not warm beds and lingering touches. Those things make him feel like he belongs and he knows he doesn’t, he’ll always be the odd one out. But until Kageyama stops spamming his flip phone with texts to ensure that Oikawa hasn’t run away yet, he has no other choice than to accept whatever love he’s receiving. It makes him feel nice, at least.
It’s another day when Oikawa’s feeling a bit floaty, and he’s laying on the bed staring at the ceiling. He wonders why anyone would ever put a weird grainy texture on the ceiling, but he’s been gliding his eyes between the dips and mounds for what has probably been the whole day. He vaguely remembers Kageyama telling him that there was lunch for him waiting in the fridge but he has yet to confirm that fact.
However, it seems too late to do so when the bedroom door slowly opens and Oikawa’s eyes drift from the ceiling to the boy standing impishly at the doorway.
“How are you?” Kageyama asks gently.
And Oikawa, for reasons beyond himself, feels irritated. And he doesn’t want to speak because if he does he know he’ll lash out at the one person who doesn’t deserve it, and if he hurts Kageyama that will really be the last straw for him, and he might actually bury himself alive and live the rest of his pathetic life alongside the earthworms. So, he refuses to say anything because he’s too exhausted to be angry and then regret it later, because he knows he’ll kick himself over and over again for being angry without a reason. It just happens sometimes.
Kageyama slowly enters the room. Oikawa knows he’s being judged, there’s probably a whole string of questions that Kageyama wants to ask like, have you eaten? Have you showered? Have you even gotten out of bed? All the things that Oikawa could get away with before he couldn’t now because there was someone here to make sure he was functioning like a person. Maybe that’s why he was annoyed. Having someone care about you feels nice, but when he doesn’t even care about himself it just feels patronizing.
And maybe he’s angry because he just can’t understand why someone wants to care about him. He’s angry because he’s self destructive but innocent people are getting hit in the crossfire. He’s angry because he hates himself but just keeps on taking up space where he doesn’t deserve it and he just wants to die so badly.
Kageyama sits on the edge of the bed. “Some of the guys are coming over later today to have a viewing party of the match we won.”
Oikawa feels his eyes burning as he blinks.
“Just wanted to let you know,” Kageyama’s voice is too kind. “You don’t have to come out of the room if you don’t want to. Akaashi is coming too, though, if you want to meet him.”
“I haven’t showered.” Oikawa’s voice is hoarse, scratchy. He hates hearing it compared to Kageyama’s smooth and deep one. He feels embarrassed, he hates being so exposed to someone like this. Everything is messy, he’s messy, his life is messy, it’s just one big mess.
“You still have time to. They’ll be here in a few hours.”
Oikawa pauses, weighing his options. Thinking about what’s important to him.
“You’re watching the game you won?” Oikawa asked.
Kageyama nods.
“Okay,” he says, struggling to push himself to sit up. “I’ll get ready.”
Kageyama smiles, and Oikawa feels the anger slowly drain from his body.
Oikawa wishes he had met Akaashi sooner. All of Kageyama’s friends were nice, but Oikawa was especially drawn to Akaashi. He wasn’t exactly quiet, but he was a man a few words, most of them being witty retorts. And while most of Kageyama’s teammates were watching the TV on the couch, drinking beer and throwing chips around, Oikawa got a chance to talk to Akaashi more sitting around the dining table.
Maybe it’s because he had some practice with Kageyama, but it was easier to open up to Akaashi. Mostly because Akaashi doesn’t really force him to talk about himself, and is more than happy to talk about himself, talk about Kageyama, and talk about his research for his Masters degree. And it’s quite funny to see the way Akaashi stares at Bokuto, the way he thinks he’s holding a secret so close to himself he doesn’t realize anyone with eyes can see what’s spilling from him.
Akaashi’s nice.
A few beers later Oikawa retells his whole life story, the other nodding along solemnly as he listens. It feels good to finally get it all out, and even though he never wanted to drag anyone into his mess, damn if he isn’t desperate to overshare to this perfect stranger. Eventually some of Kageyama’s teammates leave, some stay behind to just hang out, and Oikawa is still caught up in conversation with Akaashi.
He tells him everything, even things he hadn't told Kageyama yet. Tells him about his dreams, all the love he wishes he had, the time with Iwaizumi that was never enough and now he’s seeing ghosts in Kageyama’s coach.
“He looks exactly like him,” Oikawa says, “what a f*cking coincidence, you know?”
“It could be him,” Akaashi offers, popping the cap off another bottle with his ring. Oikawa shakes his head, telling him there’s no possible way. He doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, but he doesn’t want to think about what would happen if Akaashi is right. Akaashi shrugs, “You never know. You could take a chance.”
“What about you?” Oikawa asks hesitantly. He points to Bokuto who’s sprawled out on the couch, sleeping soundly. “Why don’t you tell him you like him?”
Akaashi laughs. “I dunno. Everyone’s always asking me that.”
“You both obviously like each other,” Oikawa says.
“You really wanna know why?”
Oikawa nods.
Akaashi takes a swig of his beer, then exhales sharply. “When I told my dad I liked boys he beat the sh*t out of me. I was… thirteen? Or turning thirteen. But since then I kept a part of myself shoved deep inside me where no one else could see it, because I thought that I was dirty and defective and wrong.”
Oh. Oikawa shifts in his seat uncomfortably, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Another swig. “I haven’t spoken to my dad since I moved out when I turned 18. But I had spent, like, five years drowning in shame and humiliation because of something I couldn’t change. I really wanted to, though. And even though I’m now surrounded by people who love and accept me- hell, who are gay too, I just… can’t.”
Akaashi sighs deeply, “I look at him and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m doing something so wrong, and I’m bringing him down with me. I know it’s not the case, I know that no one cares, but I can’t help it. I don’t mean to keep him on his toes, but I can’t help but push him away when he gets too close.”
“You’re a good person,” Oikawa says. Unlike me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “You’re actually a genuinely good person, Akaashi.”
Oikawa knows that his insides are just rotting, knows that he can’t help but use and hurt people to try and make himself happy. Knows that he’ll push them away when he feels like it’s getting too much.
“I hope you know that none of us see you like that,” Akaashi says.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re just pretending to be a nice person,” Akaashi replies. “I know you feel like you’re cheating your way to happiness by using us, so it feels like that happiness is tainted in a way. But none of us think you’re a bad person.”
Oh no, he tricked Akaashi too. Oikawa can’t help but continue to con the people in his life, he’s just so awful.
Akaashi shakes his head. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”
“How do you-”
“It’s an automatic response at this point, right?” Akaashi says. “The second you feel good, you feel like you have to beat yourself down to the ground. To humble yourself. Make yourself feel like you’re the worst person in the world. It’s an endless cycle of wanting to do things nice to yourself, but when you do it, it just feels dirty.”
“How… how do you know?”
“I guess I recognize some parts of you,” Akaashi says, not looking in his eyes. “Feels like I’m looking in a mirror whenever you start to laugh but then force yourself to stop.”
For some reason he feels like Akaashi understands him, if that’s even possible. Like Akaashi knows what it’s like to be followed by a storm of bad luck while he runs around with bloodied fingers hidden in his pockets. Knows what it’s like to want something that’s just out of reach and he can't help but tear himself apart to try to get it.
Oikawa takes a deep breath. He takes a sip of his drink, liquid courage. Courage to reach out to someone who might understand. “I just wanna die so badly.”
“Yeah,” Akaashi nods solemnly, “me too.”
“What’s stopping you?” Oikawa whispers out. It’s a bad question, too intrusive, but he’s curious. There’s nothing that can stop Akaashi from dying, so why doesn’t he just do it?
Akaashi shrugs, “I dunno. Your immortality stops you from dying. I guess I have something like that too.”
Oikawa follows Akaashi’s gaze over at the other side of the room and sees Kageyama, Hinata, and Bokuto fast asleep on the couch.
“Is he what’s stopping you?”
“No,” Akaashi shakes his head. “They all are. It feels nice when I’m with them, feels nice they laugh at my bad jokes. Make me feel like it’s enough for me to live through the bad if I can have more nice moments like that. It’s kinda stupid for something so small, right?”
Oikawa thinks about the moment he accepted Kageyama’s old flip phone, when he flung himself into a spider’s web. He’s a tangled mess of connection and couldn’t leave as easily as he could have before. Akaashi’s reason is small, the string that tethers him here is so thin it’s almost invisible. But it’s a connection, and the silk’s strong enough for him to cling onto to keep him here. Oikawa’s incredibly grateful for that. Grateful to know that maybe Akaashi has a little bit of rotten inside him too, but he’s learned how to live with it, keep it in check.
“Don’t feel like you’re using people to be happy,” Akaashi says, “it’s what we’re all doing anyways.
“I’m gonna miss you guys a lot when you die,” Oikawa says.
“Yeah,” Akaashi says, “if God is real I promise I’ll drop kick them for you. Also, Kageyama told me not to tell you, but he said him and Hinata are gonna spike a volleyball at God’s head.”
Oikawa chuckles, “You’re all going to hell.”
“I hope I’ll see you there one day.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
He tries not to think about how he’ll have to remember them longer than he’ll know them.
Oikawa wishes he could hit pause on the nice moments in life. He wouldn’t mind living forever if it was a frozen moment with his friends. He thinks about what Akaashi said, how he has to live through the bad moments in betweens to get to the next nice moment. It hurts when they end, but when he’s in them it does make him feel better about being alive.
It’s another day of feeling a bit floaty when he somehow finds himself at the beach, the harsh breeze blowing on his wispy bangs. It’s cold, and for a second Oikawa thinks that he should find someplace else to manage all the feelings bubbling inside him. Instead he lies on the cold sand, watching the fog that forms in front of him everytime he takes a breath. It blurs his view of the sky, but there’s already grey clouds in the way of the bright blue anyways.
It hurts. Everything hurts when Oikawa gives himself space to think. He wishes there could be a button he could push to undo all the hurt he’s caused to other people, to himself. But it seems like he’s been living in an endless loop of feeling good and then feeling bad again. There’s a lot of guilt that comes with existence, and Oikawa wishes he had never dug the pit of despair he resides in. He never meant for it to get this deep.
“So you’re here?”
Oikawa immediately recognizes the voice and sits up to see if his ears are deceiving him. Iwaizumi. He shoves his hands in his pocket and tries to pretend that they aren’t shaking.
“Oh, hi,” Oikawa says awkwardly. He tried to avoid his feelings, because the man in front of his wasn’t his Iwaizumi. It was Kageyama’s coach, that’s all they are to each other.
“Kageyama’s worried about you,” Iwaizumi says, sitting down beside Oikawa. He pulls his phone out from his pocket and gives it to Oikawa, showing him his text messages.
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:45pm]
hey coach!
is oikawa at the gym rn?
[3:46pm]
No, the gym is closed.
We don’t have practice today, remember?
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:46pm]
i know
i told oikawa that too
[3:47pm]
Is everything okay?
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:48pm]
ahhh maybe???
idk
it’s just uh
okay not to freak you out or anything
i’m just a bit worried
this morning he just seemed a little
off?
like he was being a lil angsty
and i just thought since he hasn’t been an edgelord in a while he was just getting it out of his system
but i just came back from my class and he’s not at home
which isn’t a big deal but at the same time
i’m kinda worried
question mark ?
because whenever he leaves he always texts me
and he hasn’t been answering my calls
i just wanna make sure he’s okay
[3:51pm]
First of all who taught you how to text
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:51pm]
HEY THAT’S MEAN
I’M WORRIED ABOUT MY BF
[3:51pm]
Bf? I didn’t know you guys were dating.
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:52pm]
huh???
OH
LMAO
BFF*
[3:53pm]
Please stop sending multiple texts when it can be sent in one
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:54pm]
i’m just typing as i think coach no need to be a hater
[3:55pm]
So what’re you gonna do about Oikawa
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:56pm]
cry until he comes home i guess
[3:56pm]
Do you know where he could be? I can help you look for him
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:57pm]
there’s a cafe we always go to so i was planning to go there
the next place i can think of would be the beach
where the team went this summer to hang out
AND f*ckING HINATA ATE ALL THE BBQ
NOW IM SAD AND ANNOYED
n e ways yeah the beach is the only other place i can think of
[3:57pm]
Why would he be at the beach?
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [3:58pm]
um
he’s a little weird sometimes
whenever something goes wrong he kinda mumbles to himself about swimming to argentina
it’s okay someone just has to hit him until his brain comes back
[3:59pm]
If I find him I’ll hit him for you
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [4:00pm]
OUCH that’s gonna hurt
getting hit by a former ace
he’ll never see it coming
[4:43pm]
I found him
TOBIO KAGEYAMA [4:43pm]
spike his head like a volleyball for me pls
Oikawa lowers the phone, sighing to himself. Before he has a chance to pull out his phone to apologize to Kageyama, Iwaizumi smacks his head.
“Ow!” Oikawa exclaims, grabbing onto his head. “What the hell was that for?”
“For leaving,” Iwaizumi says plainly. “You’re always leaving and making everyone worried about you.”
“I’ll apologize to Kageyama,” Oikawa mutters, rubbing his head. He wonders how much Kageyama has confided in Iwaizumi about his flaky behaviours. Probably enough to make Iwaizumi hit him this hard. “Ow…”
“Don’t pretend like this is the worst injury of your entire life,” Iwaizumi murmurs. “I know your head is made of steel, dipsh*t.”
Oikawa pauses, eyes slowly widening. His head turns gradually, as if his brain is trying to make time to think of what to say. The words are bouncing around his head, jumbling his thoughts, and when he finally looks at the person beside him he can only manage to say one thing clearly.
“Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi inhales sharply. “It really is you.”
“Is it really you?” Oikawa asks in disbelief. “It can’t be - you should be dead.”
“So should you,” Iwaizumi says. “I can’t believe you’re actually f*cking immortal too.”
“How do you…” Oikawa shakes his head, “When did you…?”
“I overheard Tobio telling Shoyo about a friend he had,” Iwaizumi said. “Said he was born in the 13th century.”
Oikawa clenches his first slightly. His hands are like ice and moving them hurts, but he does it because it hurts. It’s bad, but it’s the only thing he can do to help keep his brain in his head so it doesn’t shut down completely. He hears a familiar static play in the back of his head, and he tries to ignore the dots forming in the corner of his eyes.
“He said your name was Oikawa Tooru,” Iwazumi continues, “and I really couldn’t believe it at first. And then I saw you that day you came to give Tobio his tape and I… really couldn’t believe it at all.”
“I… I thought you didn't know who I was,” Oikawa says quietly, “You looked so… unsurprised.”
“I was so f*cking surprised,” Iwaizumi admits, “But it was because I really didn’t believe it was you. You looked so… so different… from how I remember you.”
The person Iwaizumi would remember died a lifetime ago. Like a white fluffy cloud turning into dark smog, it makes sense Iwaizumi couldn’t believe this was the same person. A terrifying realization settles into Oikawa’s head. He wasn’t the person Iwaizumi loved anymore. It made sense that he didn’t say anything earlier, and he was only here because Kageyama asked him to. He probably never wanted anything to do with Oikawa.
Oikawa left without a word because he wanted Iwaizumi to hate him. But that was before he knew that Iwaizumi couldn’t die. He f*cked up big time, he had been harboring feelings of love for the past century while Iwaizumi had been doing the exact opposite. Just his luck. Just his f*cking luck.
Why does this keep happening to him? Why can nothing he does ever be right? Why does he hurt himself like this, why does he always run away, why can’t he just reach out and tell Iwaizumi that he loves him more than he can possibly say?
Argentina, Argentina, Argentina- he mentally hits himself, stop f*cking thinking about Argentina.
“I’m sorry,” Oikawa says, but he knows his weak apology doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the mess he has to clean up. “I’m sorry for leaving.”
“Oh… I forgive you,” Iwaizumi says. I forgive you, not it’s okay, and Oikawa feels a sickness in his stomach. He knows it’s not okay, it’ll probably never be okay. “I was really… surprised when I woke up and found out you were gone. I was really... worried and thought something had happened to you. And then I realized all your stuff was gone...”
“I always left,” Oikawa says, feeling as if he has to explain himself. Explain that he wasn’t a piece of sh*t to only Iwaizumi. “I- I didn’t know what else to do. I always left after a few months.”
“Without saying anything?” Iwaizumi questions.
“Yeah. I just thought… it would be better not to say anything.” Oikawa feels himself shrinking in on himself. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Iwaizumi says.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Iwaizumi repeats. “You were the first person I was with since I found out I was immortal. I was gonna tell you, and I wanted to stay with you until you died, or something.”
Oikawa chews on the inside of his mouth until the flesh tears and his tongue is met with an iron taste. He picks at his cuticle and hopes the blood will keep flowing until all the tainted parts of him are gone; until he’s been cleansed. But Oikawa can’t get rid of the dirty parts of him without it being replaced faster than he can blink. He’s rotten to his core - he is a terrible person.
“I’m sorry,” is all Oikawa can muster himself to say.
Iwaizumi doesn’t look at Oikawa. They both just sit beside each other at a safe distance away, close enough that they can reach each other but far enough so they don’t. Oikawa hates it, he wishes he could build a bridge between the two of them again, but he knows he doesn’t have a right to. He’s the one who burnt it down in the first place.
He feels a weak jab on the side of his arm. Iwaizumi’s still not looking at him, but he doesn’t move his fist away. It just rests on Oikawa’s side. He wants to ask why Iwaizumi hit him, but deep down he knows the answer he’ll receive. For leaving. For leaving without a word. He doesn’t know how he knows, it must just be a gut feeling you get when you’re in tune so well with someone else.
Iwaizumi begins hitting him lightly over and over again, his own face hidden behind his knees. They’re pathetic hits, it’s almost as if he’s knocking on a door and begging to be let in. Oikawa doesn’t say anything, just lets Iwaizumi tap weakly against his walls. They were never good at shielding him anyways.
Iwaizumi walks Oikawa home, trailing behind him wordlessly as if he’s making sure that Oikawa doesn’t run away again. He doesn’t know if he should tell Iwaizumi that he doesn’t do that anymore, but deep down he knows he can’t. He can’t say it without feeling guilty because his first response is always to just leave.
Kageyama doesn’t yell at him when he comes home. Oikawa doesn’t expect him to, but wishes he would. He wishes that Kageyama would stop treating him like he’s fragile glass, when he knows he’s the one who’ll cut deep and jagged when people try to pick up his shards. He knows he’s not worth bleeding for. Just the thought of Kageyama’s hands turning red like his own makes him nauseous, and he stumbles into the bedroom to try to sleep it all away. He collapses onto the bed and passes out immediately.
He has a weird dream that night. He can’t see anything, his eyes are too heavy to open. He feels warm though, and feels like something is brushing through his hair. It’s soothing, and makes him feel relaxed.
“I’m glad you found him.” The voice sounds closer, like it’s right beside him. It’s soft.
“I am too.” The second voice sounds like it’s coming from further away.
“He does that sometimes. I-I wanna give him space but I just… wanna always be by his side.”
“I get it. You love him, don’t you?”
“It’s silly, isn’t it? I have no chance with him.”
“Would you ever tell him?”
“No. He said he wants me as a friend forever. I’m not ruining that.”
“He’s really different from when I first met him.”
“What was he like?”
“Um… Brighter? He was sassy, sarcastic, and he laughed with his whole body. When you look at him you can’t help but feel like everything is gonna be okay.”
Silence. He feels someone combs through his hair again. “Funny. I would describe him now the exact same way.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Ah… Don’t be.”
“No, no. I’m just being petty. You’ve hardly spoken to him now. But the cat’s out of the bag, and I can’t help but feel a little jealous.”
“Oh.”
“I felt jealous before, when I saw how he looked at you. But now I feel even more jealous because you look at him the same way.”
“Tobio-”
“It’s fine. I wanna be his friend forever, too. That’s all I can be.”
After Kageyama leaves for school the next morning Oikawa calls Akaashi over to their apartment. He wants clarity in his life, wants to know what to do, and he’s tired of suffering alone even though he feels like he deserves it. He just wants a break to breathe, and he knows Akaashi is probably the best person to help him. They’re both hypocrites and great at giving the other advice, so it works well for them.
When Akaashi arrives they sit at the dining table with two mugs of hot tea resting untouched between them. Oikawa holds a brown piece of paper in his hand nervously, his index finger playing with the dull corners.
“I want to show you something,” Oikawa says, breaking the silence. “You have to promise to not laugh.”
Akaashi places his hands over his heart and wears a solemn look on his face to show that he’ll be serious. Oikawa takes a deep breath to calm his nerves as he hands the paper to Akaashi.
Akaashi glances it over quickly before his eyes widen. He looks back at Oikawa, “Is this…?”
Oikawa nods, “The letter I wrote to Iwaizumi.”
He watches Akaashi closely as he reads the letter, feeling a little embarrassed. He could probably recite the contents in his sleep, he still remembers the floating feeling he had when he covered the paper with the inky words.
Dear Iwa-chan,
I wonder if I will actually have the courage to give this letter to you. I wonder if you’ll actually accept it. I know I don’t deserve it, because I’m leaving you without a word.
But I have so many words I wish I could say. I have so many things I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you that I’ve never been happier in my life than when I’m with you. I wish I could tell you that I have loved so many times in my life and yet with you it’s different.
With you I feel seen. All my life I’ve only ever wanted to be seen wholly and completely, and to still be accepted as all I am. With you I feel understood, like you are truly the other half I’ve been looking for this entire time. With you I felt like life was moving forward again, like my internal clock was finally ticking again, and you were the person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with.
Would you believe if I said that for the first time in my life I feel like I could die? This terrible emptiness in my chest where my heart should be pushes the air out of my lungs and I know death would hurt less than this. Without you here by my side, my life will go back to being pointless. I’ll go back to being a ghost, someone who can’t make any lasting impression in someone’s life, someone who can’t make a life with someone I love no matter how much I long for that.
I wish I could tell you these things but I can’t. I can’t because I don’t want you to love me. I don’t want to leave you longing for me because I can’t be the one you love. I left you because that’s all I know how to do, no matter how much I love you God has cursed me and I can’t bear to see the inevitable day you will leave me behind because no matter how much I want you, I can’t have you for as long as I want. I can’t have you forever.
I wish you were the person I could spend the rest of forever with.
Oikawa Tooru.
Akaashi rests his hands on the table. “Wow.”
Oikawa cringes, “It’s embarrassing.”
“This is literally an artifact,” Akaashi says, eyes wide. “I can’t believe I’m holding a piece of history right now.”
“Way to make me feel old.”
“Holy sh*t, please let me use this for our next exhibit,” Akaashi begs, “all the other curators are finding sh*t that are weirdly sexual and kinda pedophilic, which is- it’s still history I guess, but this-”
Oikawa doesn’t speak as Akaashi struggles to find his words, “This is so goddamn cute.”
“It’s a breakup letter,” Oikawa deadpans. “I f*cking cried writting that.”
“Well duh,” Akaashi says, “but this is like some Shakespear tragedy sh*t. Star crossed lovers, who love each other so much but can’t be together because being gay is wrong-”
“It was because I was a f*cking immortal,” Oikawa interrupts, “we were living in the middle of the mountains somewhere. We weren’t exactly getting hate crimed everyday. I couldn’t stay with him because I knew he was gonna die one day, not because I was afraid of being a sinner, or whatever.”
“Yeah,” Akaashi says, “but no one has to know that. This can be easily read as a couple battling hom*ophobia.”
“That would be inaccurate reporting though,” Oikawa grimaces. “Aren’t historians supposed to find out the truth?”
Akaashi sighs. He waves the letter around gently. “This is proof that gay people existed back them. This is proof of love. This is queer people of the past finally getting to have their experiences seen, to be validated, by us today.”
“I am queer people of the past,” Oikawa snatches the letter back, “I would prefer to not have my feelings paraded in front of an audience. That’s not what this is about.”
Akaashi rolls his eyes, “It’s not like the person you wrote this for will ever see it.”
Oikawa suddenly becomes extremely interested in looking everywhere except at Akaashi. Akaashi looks at him in disbelief.
“Oikawa…” Akaashi drawls out, not exactly knowing what he’s going to ask.
Oikawa scratches his arm awkwardly.
“Oikawa.” Akaashi says again, but this time more firmly.
“Um,” Oikawa starts to say. “You remember Kageyama’s coach? The one who looks exactly like the guy I’ve been heartbroken over for the past century?”
“The one who has the same name…” Akaashi says slowly before the realization suddenly hits him. “You don’t mean…”
“Ha, uh, funny story,” Oikawa says, laughing awkwardly. “Turns out, it is indeed my ex.”
“Holy sh*t!” Akaashi says, “Oikawa, what the f*ck? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What the hell am I supposed to say?” Oikawa exclaims, “Oh hey, by the way, turns out the guy I’ve been avoiding out of guilt because he looks too much like the guy I ghosted without a word is actually him? The guy who I believed was my other half is actually alive? Is immortal like me?”
“Yes!” Akaashi scoffs, “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’ve literally been convincing yourself that you’re fated to be alone, and now you have someone who’s exactly like you? And it turns out he’s the one person you’ve ever truly loved? You think that’s some sort of coincidence?”
“Um, yes.”
“You’re so stupid,” Akaashi groans, “Oh my god, Oikawa. Did you tell him you love him?”
“What? No,” Oikawa shakes his head, “He just told me he was indeed the Iwaizumi I knew, and then we left it at that.”
Akaashi slaps his hand against his forehead, “Why… Why would you ever do that.”
“Because I left him, Akaashi,” Oikawa says quietly. “I loved him and then left him without a word. I’m the worst person in the world and he doesn’t deserve someone like me.”
“Oikawa,” Akaashi says, “I love you, but I seriously feel like I need to hit you.”
Oikawa jerks back in defense, “Why?”
Akaashi claps his hands together in front of his mouth. “I’m gonna ask you some questions, okay?”
Oikawa nods.
“You left Iwaizumi because you were immortal and didn’t want to see him die, right?” Akaashi asks.
“More or less,” Oikawa replies.
“Did you know that Iwaizumi was immortal when you first met him?”
Oikawa furrows his brows. “No. Of course I didn’t.”
“If you knew, would you have stayed?”
“Of course.”
“Then go to him,” Akaashi says softly. “And if you don’t know what to say, then show him your letter.”
“You don’t get it,” Oikawa shakes his head. “I don’t know if he even likes me anymore. I hurt him so badly, he probably never wants to see my face again.”
“But you didn’t know,” Akaashi says, “and now you do. You just have to talk to him. Apologize. Please, I just know you were special to him too.”
It sounds simple - the end of his anguish is just a conversation away. But it feels like anything but, and Akaashi probably knows how Oikawa’s feeling more than anyone. Oikawa has spent a lifetime convincing himself that Iwaizumi died hating him, that everyone he loved died hating him, and he built up his life like that. It’s why he breaks so easily, everything he believes is meant to hurt him. That can’t change overnight, the hatred for himself and the love for another swirls together in a bitter harmony, it burns his throat as it tries to come up but he forces it back down.
“I’ll think about it,” Oikawa says. “But I am not showing him the letter. It’s so embarrassing.”
“I’m gonna steal the letter and give it to the museum,” Akaashi said pointedly. “It must be public domain at this point.”
“Absolutely not,” Oikawa hisses. He makes a mental note to never leave Akaashi in the apartment alone.
“That’s kind of crazy though,” Akaashi says, “that you guys found each other here in Tokyo. That’s like… fate, or something.”
Oikawa snorts, “Fate’s a little bitch.”
Coming back to Japan after getting lost in South America for a few decades was… interesting, to say the least. Oikawa didn’t know what to do with his time, he picked up a few odd jobs here and there, but for the spaces where he was alone he was hit again and again with existential dread. After a while he got tired of wallowing in his own sadness, it felt like he was dying and he was exhausted all the time.
Discovering what the modern day bar was like was probably one of his biggest mistakes. At the time he felt like he had stumbled upon a gold mine - he didn’t really have anything else to spend his money on, all if he could drink something that made him feel dissociated and numb the pain then it wasn’t even a question if he would do it. The only question would be what drink could get him f*cked up the fastest, what could he drink to make him forget about the sadness and pain, how many shots does he have to down before he can finally let loose and cry without anyone batting an eye.
He nursed the drink he had in his hand (he had no idea what he was even drinking), and wondered how long he had been in this town. Was it a month? Maybe a year? Have people started noticing that he isn’t aging? Is it time to leave again? He wondered where he should leave to next. He thought maybe he would try to go to another country - experience some different scenery, different culture. He downed the rest of his drink - different alcohol too. Different ways to forget himself, forget faces, different ways to throw his life away until it becomes so beaten that he can’t pick himself up anymore without the fragments crumbling to dust.
“I think I have to cut you off, sir,” the bartender said, sliding a glass of water towards him. Oikawa vaguely recognized her, she was no stranger to his bad spending habits. He liked her, even though it’s her job to care, it made him feel special whenever she asked him if he needed her to call a cab. Although, it’s easy to impress him when it’s alcohol flowing through him instead of blood.
“Where should I go?” he asked, clumsily drinking the water.
“Uh,” she furrowed her eyebrows, “maybe home?”
“Can’t go home,” he slurred, “hafta go away away away.”
He started to fail his arms around, “Far away! But I dunno where to go.”
“You wanna move far away?” she asked while wiping a glass. He nodded lazily. She thinks for a moment before answering, “Why don’t you go to Tokyo? Tons of kids around here are moving there, you know.”
“Tokyo?” Oikawa scrunched his nose, “What’s in Tokyo?”
“I’m here,” Iwaizumi announces upon entering the gym. “Sorry I’m late.”
Oikawa’s sitting on the bleachers playing a game of snakes on his phone and he was so close to beating his high score but Iwaizumi’s abrupt entrance completely threw him off. He stares annoyed at the screen that displays a small GAME OVER message, completely harmless, but it feels big and taunting to him. He can’t help but feel like everything is a personal attack.
He probably should’ve been paying more attention to the players that were practicing - this was the first time he had come to the gym to watch a practice. Kageyama insisted that Oikawa come today since another team was coming to their gym today for a practice match. He didn’t have the heart to say no, but he probably should’ve since he was so out of place sitting all alone while the other people on the bleachers came with their friends.
He feels awkwards in most social situations, but he felt extremely uncomfortable being surrounded by so many fangirls. One of the volleyball managers, Yachi, was sitting with him earlier, but she eventually had to leave to do some obscure errand. The game starts and everyone’s attention turns to the court.
He watches the game, not entirely sure why some points don’t count, or how it’s even possible for Hinata to jump that high, but it’s captivating to see how fluid every move is. How natural Kageyama looks when he moves around the court and sets the ball to his teammates. He thinks, in another life maybe, he’d like to play volleyball with a team.
When the game ends he stands outside the gym doors, playing another game of Snakes as he waits for Kageyama.
“Hey.”
He whips his head up, and sees Iwaizumi standing in front of him with his hands in his pocket.
“Hi.” Oikawa wonders if Iwaizumi can hear the shake in his voice. He feels a bit cornered.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Uh, good.” Oikawa feels awkward.
Iwaizumi hums. “I think we should talk.”
“We… could,” Oikawa says. He sighs, fiddling with his phone, “Yeah, okay. I’ll text Kageyama.”
They end up going to the cafe, which is unsurprisingly empty. Iwaizumi buys them both iced coffee as they settle into seats across from each other in the corner of the store. Iwaizumi stares at him while Oikawa stares at anything else, nervously sipping on his drink.
“So…” Iwaizumi says, unfortunately breaking the silence, “how have you been?”
Oikawa tries to swallow but it unfortunately goes down wrong and he coughs violently into his sleeve.
“F-fine,” he manages to say. “How… how have you been?”
“Fine,” Iwaizumi repeats back, and Oikawa awkwardly nods his head in acknowledgement.
They fall back into a silence and Oikawa wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“How did you meet Kageyama?” Iwaizumi asks, uncomfortably trying to make small talk. Oikawa pulls his lips into a line, he wishes Iwaizumi would just curse him out and get it over with.
“We met here,” Oikawa says. “He, uh, found an old picture of me and recognized me. Still can’t believe he was stupid enough to ask me if it was me.”
“Or smart enough,” Iwaizumi points out, “he was right, you know.”
“Right,” Oikawa says slowly. “You got a soft spot for him or something?”
“Don’t you?” Iwaizumi counters, and Oikawa can’t deny it. “He’s a good kid.”
“He is,” Oikawa hums in agreement. He looks down and smiles, thinking about all that Kageyama has done for him. “He’s been… taking care of me. I’d probably still be a depressed ass if it wasn’t for him.”
“Oh yeah, I’m glad you met him,” Iwaizumi says nonchalantly. “You deserve to be happy.”
Oikawa feels like he just got punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of him. Iwaizumi said it so casually, like it was something he truly believed. Why? Oikawa wants to ask, Why are you so nice to me? He feels something inside him swell up, a little warmth in his chest. Iwaizumi never bullsh*ts people, and always says what he thinks. He doesn’t fluff his words and is honest if nothing else.
He believes that Oikawa deserves to be happy.
Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa and his face is filled with panic. “Oh sh*t.”
Oikawa breathes out, shaky and heavy, and realizes he’s crying. Iwaizumi reaches over and pulls some tissues from the tissue box and hands them to Oikawa. Oikawa is slow to wipe his face, and they both sit underneath a cloud of discomfort.
“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi says gently, “I keep making you cry.”
Oikawa wants to point out the irony, how it’s actually his fault that he’s in this situation. The blame is all his, he’s too sensitive, he hurt Iwaizumi first; Iwaizumi shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Oikawa’s a storm of misery and everyone else always gets caught in it.
“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi asks.
“I hate myself,” Oikawa says, “and I’m really tired. I’m really tired.”
He’s exhausted. He’s tired of everything he thinks of himself, tired of everyone telling him otherwise. He’s tired of being the worst friend in the world and feeling guilty being around people who still shower him in love. He feels guilty, guilty how everyone else spends so much time trying to build him up but his hands are only good for destruction.
“I don’t deserve any of this,” Oikawa continues, “I hurt you so much and I hate myself.”
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi places his hand over Oikawa. Oikawa can’t help but see the blood crusted around his fingertip, his hands are dirty, he’ll stain Iwaizumi with all his ugly. He yanks his hand back, holding it safely against his chest and turns his body away.
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says again. He sounds almost desperate, “Stop pushing me away.”
He can’t. He doesn’t know how to. Even with Kageyama and Akaashi, all his friends, he still thinks about leaving from time to time. And he feels guilty, he’s opened himself up so much to them and he knows it’ll hurt like daggers stabbing all over his body, but he can’t help but want to leave.
It’s comforting to him, to be able to default to thinking he can just go. It’s comforting - until it’s not. Until the thought of leaving makes him feel like his bones are made of glass, like his heart is burning smoke inside his chest, but that’s the only thing he knows how to do.
“I hurt you,” he says weakly, “you hated me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t do that,” Iwaizumi says, his voice sharp. “I already said I forgive you. So you don’t get to use me to hurt yourself anymore.”
“Use you to- what?” Oikawa feels a tightening in his chest, his insides are winding inside of him and it’s making him sick. “You should hate me! Why don’t you hate me?”
Iwaizumi has a pained expression on his face. “How could I hate you? You hurt me, I’m not saying you didn’t. You left me, and it hurt, but you’re here now telling me why you did and I-“
Iwaizumi pauses to slow down the pace of his words, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “f*ck, Oikawa, I loved you and I never stopped. All I ever wanted was to make sure you’re okay.”
Something washes over Oikawa. A serene feeling, bringing peace to his nerves. He feels a bit out of it, if he’s being honest. Whenever feelings get too much, the floating feelings always overtakes him. But he doesn’t want to float away.
Oikawa never knows what he wants. He wipes the tears off his face and sniffles. “Can we just like- I don’t know- start over? I don’t mean forgetting but just… I wanna take a break from remembering.”
Iwaizumi nods, “If that’ll make you feel better. Of course.”
Their version of starting over wasn’t going back to complete strangers with awkward introductions. But they didn’t jump right back into anything extreme, like professing their undying love for each other. Oikawa’s too skittish for that, and if Iwaizumi did something like that the world would probably end tomorrow. They exist in a place in the middle, where they know their lives are too intertwined from the past to just be friends, but neither of them are sure if they’re ready to go back to being more.
Oikawa’s still in love with Iwaizumi, but he’s not ready to say anything. And Iwaizumi seems to understand - they have all the time in the world, don’t they? But everytime Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa he feels like he’s on fire, like his blood is flowing with little sparks, and he wonders how long he can get away with blushing into his hands. Until he is ready to do something about it, he supposes.
Some days are easier than others. The others are still hard for Oikawa, but he’s able to find little victories to keep him going through the day. To keep himself from disappearing again. Even though he complains, he likes to wash Kageyama’s dirty dishes because in a weird way it makes him feel wanted. Reminds him that he’s sharing a space with someone else, that other people are in his life again. He stops by the museum and lets Akaashi tell him about the Shimabara Rebellion and realizes wow he really did miss quite an important war. He also sees Iwaizumi more often, when he’s free.
They spend a lot of time in each other’s company. Especially because Kageyama’s busy with school, Oikawa tends to hang around with Iwaizumi during the day. They do menial things together, like doing chores, sometimes going grocery shopping together. They fall into a quiet routine, doing everything that lovers do without the label of it.
They're grocery shopping when Oikawa thinks about how he should re-confess to Iwaizumi. It’s not that he really needed to, more like it was for his own self satisfaction. To start a relationship with no secrets, no waiting for the inevitable goodbye. He also really wishes he could kiss Iwaizumi again, but he still can’t calm his nerves well enough to do it. He’s still a little scared that Iwaizumi hates him, even though he knows that’s not the case anymore.
He’s walking down an aisle at the grocery store filled with various plates and cups when his eyes land on one in particular and he stops in his tracks.
He looks at the design on the coffee cup, and can’t help but smile. The cup had a cute lineart drawing of three tanuki sleeping peacefully, underneath a comically large leaf. He reaches out to grab the coup, tracing the design gently, feeling a bit nostalgic.
“Do you like it?” Iwaizumi asks, suddenly appearing behind him. He jumps back in surprise, his grip on the mug tightening to avoid dropping it.
“sh*t!” Oikawa says, “You scared me.”
“Do you like it?” Iwaizumi asks again.
Oikawa frowns, holding the cup up between the two of them. “It’s cute. Kinda minimalist in a nice way.”
“You should buy it.”
Oikawa laughs, “Why? Kageyama has plenty back at home.”
“For my place,” Iwaizumi says, taking the cup out of Oikawa’s hand. “It can be your designated cup, or whatever. Bokuto has one at Akaashi’s apartment.”
“Oh.” Iwaizumi wants him to leave something behind when he’s not there. He shakes his head, he’s being silly, reading too much into it. It’s harmless, just a coffee cup. “Yeah, okay.”
Iwaizumi smiles, satisfied as he places the mug into the shopping cart. Oikawa looks curiously at everything Iwaizumi has gotten.
“What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Cold soba.”
“I hate you.”
Another day Oikawa is at Iwaizumi’s house, folding paper cranes as Iwaizumi sits across from him, reading a book. He thinks that if he finishes folding 1000 paper cranes then he’ll finally ask Iwaizumi to be his boyfriend again. He’s mainly just stalling for time though, but he doesn’t want to disturb the quietness.
“Does Akaashi ask for your stuff too?” Iwaizumi suddenly says, putting down his book to look at Oikawa.
“What do you mean?” Oikawa replies, taking another square paper and folding it diagonally.
“Like… he keeps saying he’s going to break in one day and take some of my old stuff,” Iwaizumi says, “and donate it to the museum. Says it’s important history.”
Oikawa folds the paper again. “What kinda stuff?”
Iwaizumi pauses before shrugging. “An old hairpin I have from the 1800s. I really like it, so I told him he can’t have it.”
“That’s pretty cool. Definitely counts as a historical artifact.”
“Is it history if I’m still here?”
“The things people leave behind after they die,” Oikawa does another fold, “that’s history, I guess.”
“I haven’t died, though.”
“Then people don’t need anything to remember you by,” he says simply, “so you should keep your stuff.”
“He keeps telling me that at this point if he just comes in and takes my stuff it doesn’t count as robbery,” Iwaizumi sighs. “I need to put more locks on my door.”
Oikawa places the crane proudly on the table. “You should keep this. In a thousand years it’ll be important history.”
Iwaizumi snorts. “Do you know how many paper cranes people have made?”
“One day we might run out of paper,” Oikawa sticks out his tongue, “and this will be kept in a glass box away from everyone else in case they ruin it with their greasy hands.”
“You should give it to Akaashi then,” Iwaizumi says.
“It’s not important yet,” Oikawa says, “besides, I don’t need to give him anything to remember me by. He said he’s gonna hunt me down if I leave before he dies.”
“Yeah?” Iwaizumi leans back in his chair. “Why do I need it then?”
“In case I die,” Oikawa hums, “and you don’t.”
His tone is too bright and he’s too nonchalant for Iwaizumi’s liking. He’s not taking himself entirely seriously, though, but he knows he’s not being snarky enough to be interpreted as a joke. Oikawa’s not good at jokes, especially when he’s not entirely sure he’s joking. There’s a hint of hope in his voice he wishes Iwaizumi doesn’t catch.
“That’s sh*tty,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “Did you finally figure out how to die and are planning to not tell me?”
“No,” Oikawa shakes his head. “I just think about it a lot. If I die then I can finally leave things behind.”
At this point it’s obvious that he can’t die. But he thinks at a certain point, there must be some kind of end. The end of the world, when the sun expands and collapses, when their galaxies get sucked in by a black hole. Eventually, there must be some sort of end for him. If he survives through all of that he thinks he’ll humbly accept his immortality at that point, and drift through the ends of the universe. It sounds painful though; he hopes some sort of end comes before that.
Iwaizumi reaches over the table to the small stack of papers. He picks one up and begins folding it diagonally.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Akaashi gives Oikawa a free ticket to the exhibit he’s been talking about. He notices that Kageyama has been acting more nervous around him too, but he doesn’t exactly know why. Iwaizumi also got a ticket, and they make plans to meet up at the museum to look at the art together before going to get dinner afterwards. Akaashi calls it a date, and Oikawa would too but he’s embarrassed, so he just calls it “old friends just hanging out with each other.”
He’s fluffing his hair out in the mirror for the nth time, trying to make the strands fall perfectly, though a part of him knows that the wind might blow it out and ruin all his hard work anyways. But he’s a little stressed out, can’t help but try to keep himself busy while Kageyama gets dressed, not wanting to get too stuck in his head about his date-not-date.
“Are you nervous?”
Oikawa turns and notices Kageyama, dressed up in an oversized button shirt over a white t-shirt, tucked into some dark pants. He looks good - well, he always looks good, but there’s a certain handsomeness that has Oikawa blushing a little, thinking that Kageyama cleans up nicely.
“A little,” Oikawa admits, “it’s still- I don’t know. A bit awkward. Between him and I.”
Like there’s an invisible wall that’s still up. A line in the sand that Oikawa can’t cross. He drew it haphazardly, and now he’s just waiting for the tides to wash it away. (Maybe he has to take things in his own hands though, erase it all with the storm that thunders inside of him, make the rainfall useful for once.)
“You’re fine,” Kageyama says, standing beside him and combing his hand through his hair before letting it fall on his face. “It’s normal to get nervous before a date.”
It’s not a date, he almost says, before he notices the way Kageyama’s staring at him in the mirror. Lips pulled in a line, the only thing holding back the words he wants to say. Oikawa knows that face well, has worn it so many times - it doesn’t do any good to keep it bottled inside, he knows, but he’s a hypocrite so he lets Kageyama have his secrets.
“You…” Kageyama says, before taking a deep breath. “You don’t have to, like, force yourself. To be with him.”
Oikawa blinks, remembering the dreams he has of gentle hands massaging his scalp, rocking his body and ridding him of his nightmares. Hands that vaguely look like the ones in Kageyama’s hair, the same voice firm and gentle speaking promises and hopeful thinking. Hands that he might reach out and hold in another life.
“I know,” Oikawa says, on the side of too quiet.
“I- f*ck-” Kageyama curses, “I don’t mean, like- okay, look, I know you like him a lot, and I know he likes you a lot. And you both have this immortality thing that bonds you-”
Oikawa can tell he’s trying not to sound a bit upset (jealous, his mind supplies, but he settles on upset).
“-but he’s not the only person you have, you know. You have me, always, and Akaashi. We all love you. I- I love you, and I promised I'd take care of you. I still mean that.”
Oikawa reaches out, smoothing the wrinkles in Kageyama’s shirt, barely there touches before he rests his hand firmly on Kageyama’s shoulder.
“I love you too,” Oikawa says, too quiet, “I don’t- I mean, I know you’ll always be there for me, and I’m grateful for that, but I just- I don’t want to hurt you more.”
“You haven’t hurt me,” Kageyama’s voice drops into the same quietness. “You just said you love me.”
“I’m sorry, Tobio,” Oikawa says, “I wish I could love you the way you want.”
“No,” Kageyama shakes his head, his hand goes to cover Oikawa's, “whichever way you love me is the one I want. It’s all- it’s all the same to me. You care about me and I care about you. I said I’ll be your friend forever, and I meant it.”
“Forever’s a long time,” Oikawa muses.
Kageyama smiles, “I’m sure it still won’t be enough.”
They arrive at the museum a bit early, and Kageyama promptly leaves him to go find Akaashi. He walks around a little bit, grimacing a little bit at the explicit art, but like Akaashi says, it’s still history I guess. He gets a text from Iwaizumi telling him he’ll be there soon, and he goes to walk back to the entrance when one particular display catches his attention. It’s a letter, strangely familiar, and he feels his heart sink in realization as to what is in the glass case.
Oikawa stares at the letter behind the glass and swears this is what dying must feel like (he’s sworn that quite a few times but this one definitely takes the cake). Because the letter he was looking at was his letter, the one he had written to Iwaizumi. The letter he had poured so much of his heart and soul into until he was left empty, was currently on display at a museum for anyone to see. This moment definitely made it to one of his top ten moments that he wishes he was dead.
There’s a little plaque beside the framed letter that gives a short description of it.
“Dear Iwa-chan,” written by Oikawa Tooru. Circ. 1900.
He wonders if he could get away with murder. He probably could, and he quickly starts looking around the room to see if he could find either Akaashi or Kageyama and promptly kill them. He walks past the people who were standing beside him, and he wants to desperately beg them to not read his embarrassing love letter, but he couldn’t see how he could do that in a way that made him seem sane.
He stops when he sees what’s on display beside his letter. He’s frozen in place and his eyes widen when he sees that it’s another letter. He feels his heartbeat echoing through his body as he reads the engravings on the plaque.
“Dear Tooru,” written by Iwaizumi Hajime. Circ. 1900.
He can’t help the tears that begin to gloss his eyes, he feels something caught in his throat and his breath becomes shaky. Everything around him seems to quiet, the people around him begin to blur, and all he can focus on as he walks slowly towards the glass is the browned piece of paper with black ink before him.
Dear Tooru,
I feel like if I don’t write down what I’m feeling I might go crazy. But maybe I already have gone crazy without you here.
Where did you go? Why did you leave me without a word? Was everything we had so meaningless to you that it was so easy to just get up and walk away? Did you leave because of me? Was I too stingy with telling you how much I loved you?
I remember that night you asked me what I would do if I could live forever. I know I brushed it off as a joke, but maybe you were looking for a serious answer. I’ve lived for what feels like forever before I met you, wondering what the point of my life was. I wanted to tell you there was no point in living forever, and that’s why mortality exists - to give what we do in our life meaning. But for me nothing I’ve done ever felt meaningful enough, I wish I could tell you why.
And then I met you and my life’s pieces seemed to fall into place. I don’t know what it is about you specifically that makes me feel like I’m truly living life. But I do know what it is about you that makes me love you. Your brightness, your laugh, the burning feeling I get in my heart when you look at me like I’m the only person in the world. How you’re so graceful in your movements but still manage to trip over nothing. How you’re so lighthearted but have more wisdom than anyone alive. Selfishly, I wish I could keep you all to myself, I wish no matter how the world sees us at least we’ll be together. To me the world doesn’t matter when I’m with you. It feels like when we hold and hide our faces in each other the world shrinks into us and anything outside of our warmth is meaningless.
And I know what I would say now if you asked me that question again. So, won’t you please come back to me?
Iwaizumi Hajime
“Sir! Please keep your hands off of the display case!”
Oikawa doesn’t even realize that his hands are pressed up against the glass and everyone around him is staring. He takes a step back too fast, muttering out an apology, but his voice cracks and his knees feel weak because all the pieces of himself that he’s broken were rebuilding themselves in his chest.
He feels too hot in the room, it’s too crowded and he doesn’t like that everyone here could see him in such an intimate moment that they couldn’t even begin to understand. He feels too small, too big, the room is too hot but he’s got chills running down his spine, he’s lived for too long and yet he’s never had enough time to build the courage to ask to stay with someone he loves.
Until now.
He looks around frantically, his body trying to find something before his brain can catch up, but everything clicks into place when he sees a familiar face standing a few feet away, reading the letter Oikawa’s written.
Iwaizumi was reading the letter Oikawa had written for him.
His instincts kick in and he feels like he has to run away. That he has to run far, far away. That he has to leave the good things he has because nothing in his life would ever be permanent and he has to hurt himself before anyone gets the chance to.
And he runs.
But he doesn’t run away.
“Hajime!”
He wishes he could be more graceful, but he’s stumbling through the crowd and his voice comes out in a pathetic cry, but neither of them have time to think about it because Oikawa crashes into Iwaizumi with a hug. If he paid more attention he would hear the people around him muttering to themselves about his strange behaviour, but he’s holding Iwaizumi’s body as close as he can, and he hides his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder. And he remembers again, the precious feeling of forgetting that the world outside of the two of them exist.
“Hey, sh*ttykawa, people are staring.” Iwaizumi tries to sound annoyed but Oikawa can hear the softness that cushions his words. He wraps his arms around Oikawa, holding him like he’s a delicate flower whose petals are threatening to fall off.
“Shut up,” Oikawa tries to scoff, but all the feelings he’s been keeping shut inside him for the past century have finally tipped over and he’s spilling with no end in sight. “I’ve waited so long to hold you again.”
Iwaizumi hums lightly, pressing the side of his face against Oikawa. His mouth is right next to Oikawa’s ear as he whispers, “You have all the time in the world now.”
It takes a few minutes for Oikawa to regain his composure, but once he does he feels too embarrassed to move. His face is burning red as he hesitantly pulls his face back to look at Iwaizumi.
“If you-” he starts to say but Iwaizumi’s stare makes him nervous as he buries his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder.
“If I?”
“If you could live forever,” Oikawa mumbles clearly enough, “what would you do?”
“If I could live forever,” Iwaizumi says as he cradles Oikawa’s face to look back in his eyes, “I’d like to live it with you.”
