Chapter Text
Leather satchel strapped to his side while spinning a multitude of keys meticulously wound onto one key ring around his index finger, a golden-skinned male let out a sigh--It had become a habit, a habit he was far from breaking. The man didn't intentionally stoop to a pessimistic low in the later years of young-adulthood, but instead fell there blindfolded and helpless. Unfortunately, he hadn't quite realized how trapped he was until it was far too late; however, that's just a story for another time.
This was Iwaizumi Hajime: a graduate student living on the salary of a musculo-skeletal therapist...'s secretary and errand boy. His days for the past year and a half had consisted of running to fetch hazelnut coffee, light on french vanilla cream with extra whipped topping, and sorting client reports and recovery sheets day by day--oh, and let's not forget the hours of studying he still managed to squeeze in to maintain decent...well...passing grades. When he wasn't contemplating dropping out or getting a basic degree in psychology just to get out of schooling, Iwaizumi found himself at the local elementary school. Not that he particularly liked children, in fact his reputation was less than notable when it came to people under the age of sixteen, but an offer had presented itself to him not many months ago. The children's' after school volleyball club's coach had withered in his old age and found himself unable to continue leading the program. However much of a coincidence, word got around that Iwaizumi was once on one of the top volleyball teams in the nation; therefore, with little coaxing and hollow complaints, Iwaizumi accepted the position. Hell, it was something to keep him occupied, right? And occupied he most certainly was.
At first, the position seemed impossible to fill. He'd forgotten what being a child was like; he'd forgotten just how many questions kids asked, or how many different ways they could ask the same question. Several of the older kids wouldn't listen to his instruction, or would purposefully cause Iwaizumi trouble--that is until he threatened to make them teach the club. Something about watching kids infatuated with the sport ignited a long-lost feeling within Hajime, a feeling he couldn't quite place, or maybe he just didn't want to.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
An abrupt vibrating from within his pocket snatched Iwaizumi from his deep reminisce before he pulled out his phone to see a notification from Kindaichi, one of the few people from high school he still talked to.
Kindaichi: Hey, how was volleyball today? How's life treating you? I've been busy with classes recently. Sorry for not reaching out to you sooner.
Iwaizumi let a smirk pull at his mouth before shaking his head silently. Kindaichi had always seemed a bit antisocial or detached throughout high school, but after Hajime had graduated Kindaichi always managed to find sometime within each week to check up on him. It was reassuring to know that at least someone hadn't forgotten about him throughout the years. Suddenly, his countenance fell into a frown as melancholy memories threatened to overwhelm him here in public, but repressing them, Iwaizumi scrolled through his messages while taking a seat at the bus stop on the corner street.
His thumb carefully swiped over the name on the screen as a solemn smile graced his features.
How many years had it been? Six? Maybe seven? Six years without crazy theories about alien abductions, six years without having to fight off annoying groupies while sprinting to practice, six years without playful jabs and inside jokes, six long years without having that intoxicating laugh that somehow managed to boost the morale in any situation, six years without late night calls for answers to how work, six years without forced flirting or fake smiles, six years without that refreshing, yet overpowering shampoo smell of the morning. He'd spent six long, lonely years without him, and it hurt.
It hurt like hell.
But Iwaizumi wasn't allowed to think like that. From the moment he and his friend had chosen separate universities, Iwaizumi knew that the likelihood of keeping in contact with one another was quite slim. They'd both be busy with studies in different cities with different activities. Schedules would be hectic. He had tried to prepare himself for the years when his best friend would no longer be around by putting forth a more approachable front and trying to connect with people pursuing a similar interest. It was just so hard when your best friend set a standard not achievable by anyone else.
Oikawa Tooru.
Iwaizumi let out a shaky breath while clicking upon the archived conversation to keep up a daily tradition he used to keep himself sane. The past several thousand messages he'd sent to the number went without a single reply, but that was okay, or well, that's what he told himself. Iwaizumi quickly typed out a brief message to the inactive second party.
To Shittykawa: Hey. I doubt you'll see this, but the weather looks sad today. I think it might rain. Do you remember the days it would rain and you'd complain about how long it took you to do your hair? I hated you for that. Hm, I hated you for a lot of reasons...of course, I'm simply kidding. Maybe shoot me a message someday? It gets a little lonely these days. The kids at the elementary school talk about you sometimes. One has the potential to be a better setter than you ever were, but that's a fairly easy task right? Just kidding, shittykawa.
Why do I even send these anymore? Hajime let out a frustrated huff while slipping his phone into his pocket and rising as the bus appeared on the city-scape. The funny thing was that he knew exactly why he still bothered to send messages to an unresponsive recipient.
It wasn't mere habit, but out of yearning that one day he'd meet up with the silky-haired extravagance he had grown up with.
Six years had proven his hopes pointless.
To clear the melancholy recollections of years already lived, Iwaizumi shook his head silently and boarded the bus, depositing the fee in the small jar next to the driver before taking a window seat toward the middle of the bus. Not many people were on board thankfully. Iwaizumi always hated being forced into large crowds, especially ones that he couldn't escape from...just like those large flocks of girls that would always cling to Oi--
Stop thinking like that, Hajime. He pulled the glasses from the bridge of his nose to clear a smudge on the left lens with his shirt.
The rest of the ride to his apartment was dull and routine as Iwaizumi occupied himself by going through his to-do list over in his head and trying to name the songs which played over the radio. The only reason he knew half of them was because he rode the same bus nearly every day. Riding the same bus, doing the same work, listening to the same songs, teaching the same things, Iwaizumi's life was probably the most exciting life within the entire universe.
Casually waving to the driver as he hopped off of the public bus at the stop oh-so-conveniently placed in front of his apartment complex, Iwaizumi swiftly took to the stairs and ascended to the fourth floor, down the first hall, and to the fifth door. He paused momentarily to shuffle through his collection of keys--most of which he had no clue what they were actually for--before unlocking his door and entering the bleak atmosphere.
Throwing his satchel down by the door alongside his three favorite pairs of shoes, Iwaizumi stretched while making his way to the kitchen in search of something to eat. Unfortunately, his refrigerator was as barren as an African desert; his cabinet wasn't far off, but at least held a package or two of instant noodles which would have to suffice.
Without a second thought, Hajime began to heat water in his coffee maker not willing to dirty another pan on the stove. He paused for a moment, staring at the uniform package labeled in large letters 'Chicken'; it momentarily made him laugh as he thought back to his second year in high school.
Oikawa was spending the night--Iwaizumi hadn't invited him over, but Oikawa 'accidentally' followed him home and declared that he was too lazy to walk all the way home in the middle of the night. Iwaizumi actually agreed that Oikawa shouldn't be walking home that late; the latter was too pretty to be roaming the late night streets. The duo both half-starved after practice had found themselves arguing over what to have for dinner when Iwaizumi instinctively began preparing chicken-flavored instant noodles.
Oikawa scrunched his nose at the sight of the block of noodles. "What even are those, Iwa-chan?"
Iwaizumi had turned, astonished that Oikawa had no knowledge of instant noodles despite being a teenager. "They're instant ramen noodles."
The milk-chocolate-haired, taller male scoffed, "More like fake."
"I guess that's why they remind me of you," Hajime laughed as he placed the noodles into the boiling water on the stove before turning around to see Oikawa's jaw halfway to the floor.
With a flip of his hair, Oikawa spun away from Iwaizumi, placing one hand on his cocked hip while the other flailed in the air like the diva Oikawa truly was. "Iwa-chan you are so mean to me. Why are you my friend, anyway?" Of course, the taller male was only half serious.
Iwaizumi's best memories were mainly of that one strange man he no longer knew; it was difficult. A sigh escaped his lips for the thousandth time that night before he placed the noodles in a bowl, pouring the water over them and mixing them slowly. He never expected to miss the pompous bastard as much as he actually did; Oikawa was simply one among many he lost contact with, so why didn't the others haunt him?
Ah, yeah, that's right.
"One doesn't simply forget Oikawa Tooru," he murmured, studying his noodles without any appetite. A frustrated groan rattled deep in his throat before he trampled off into his bedroom no longer having any desire to eat or even stay awake.
Dammit. He crouched over himself, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and pinching the bridge of his nose. It's always like this. Let me forget it all. "Just leave me alone," he whined pathetically. Just as he was about to throw himself into his bed, Iwaizumi's phone vibrated in his back pocket.
Instinctively he whipped it out desperately to see a familiar face was calling him. Suppressing all frustration (and confusion), Iwaizumi answered curiously, "Hello?"
"Hajime. What are you doing tonight?" A low, sultry tone spoke from the other end of the line over loud bass-heavy music in the background.
As he suspected, that was Kuroo Tetsurou's voice. He's known the lanky feline man for a few years now, forgetting how they actually grew to be relatively close. Kuroo was nothing special to Iwaizumi other than the occasional emotional support and distant friend, but the overly-casual bartender seemed to have an instinct to know when Hajime was feeling down. It was strange. Kuroo worked nights at a popular club and bar downtown which Iwaizumi had come to visit more times than he probably should have, but that was fine because Kuroo never charged him full-price to get drunk off his ass (sometimes he didn't charge at all. How did he stay out of trouble? Iwaizumi never knew).
"Nothing actually. I was going to head to bed actually; it's been a long day," Hajime laughed dryly as he scratched the back of his head.
"You should come here. Drinks on me," Kuroo suggested. Iwaizumi could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
"I don't know i--"
"Get your ass down here or I'll bring the party to your dingy place," Kuroo commanded, a forceful tone prevalent as he spoke, "We both know you don't like people. It's not that busy here tonight. Just come and we'll talk or something. I'll see you here in ten. My break's over." With that last statement, Kuroo abruptly hung up, leaving Iwaizumi no time to respond--or defend himself.
Fuck you too, Kuroo.
Technically, Iwaizumi didn't have to go. Technically, he didn't want to go either, but not twenty minutes later he was showered and dressed in tight dark-washed jeans, a sky blue button-up neatly tucked in his belt-line, and a black overcoat. He combed his hair thoroughly before deeming it presentable enough, and then made his way down flights of stairs and out of the apartment complex.
The sky had fallen into a starless, black expanse. Artificial light from flashing advertising signs turning the buildings exotic color while car horns created an irritated symphony as traffic piled up in the streets. Nameless people walked down the street: men, women, children, humans.--all with their own purpose whether they’d found it or not. It made Iwaizumi laugh, life was hectic and different for everyone. People shuffling to work at such a late hour, briefcases in hand. Mothers guiding their dreary-eyed children out of the store, heading home to tuck their little ones into bed with a goodnight kiss. Yet, here walked Hajime down the same exact street with his only intention being to make it to the bar and drink away his past. Funny how he was the only one who knew that, wasn't it?
A humored laugh escaped his lips, drawing the attention of the man passing him quite hurriedly; Iwaizumi waved to him in apology before tucking his hands into his pockets turning down the side street where the club was located. A familiar figure stood beneath the blinding neon sign, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a cigarette pursed tightly between his fingers. A devilish smirk came to his face as he saw Iwaizumi headed his way.
“I knew you would come,” He laughed stomping out the bud of his cigarette beneath his shoe before extending an arm to Hajime.
“Don’t think it was because I wanted to,” Iwaizumi sighed. “Didn’t you say your break was over nearly forty minutes ago, Kuroo?”
The latter smirked casually allowing his arm to lay over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, “Yeah, it was. I just took another one.”
Iwaizumi let out a laugh and shook his head before asking, “How busy are you tonight?”
Kuroo laughed, “Well there’s no show tonight, so the usual audience isn’t present. There’s a few young college students celebrating something or another, and a few people at the bar. It’s pretty lax despite the blaring music.”
Iwaizumi nodded. Pretty quiet, huh?
Spinning around on his heels, Kuroo grabbed the door for Iwaizumi while straightening his tie. “Go on in and take a seat at the bar, I’ve already got your glass poured. I’ll be back at the bar in a minute. There’s a few things I have to take care of behind the scenes.”
Nodding in understanding, Iwaizumi paced through the open-floor room to the bar built adjacent to the right. Was it darker in there more so than usual? He didn’t spare anyone a glance as he made his way to where a singular glass sat at an unoccupied seat which he assumed was designated for him. Unfortunately enough, the seat directly to his left was taken by another man, but he seemed troubled enough to not bother Iwaizumi. That’s just how things were in places like this. There were only two kinds of people in recesses like this: those with worry and those without it.
Carefully, he took the glass within his hand and swirled the light-gold liquid around before taking a large gulp. It warmed his throat and almost immediately made his vision blur. Something strong...thanks Kuroo. You better pay my fucking cab fare.
The man beside Iwaizumi clanked his ice around in his glass, letting out a quiet sigh. “Whatcha in for?” He asked dryly.
Iwaizumi looked around to see who the other was talking to, but they were the only two in the room. Shit. Here goes my night to a drunk stranger. With as much politeness he could possibly muster up, Iwaizumi smirked and ran a hand through his own hair before responding, “Just needing to forget. You?”
The stranger laughed bitterly burying his face within his hands and rubbing his face, “I’m trying to outrun life before reality catches up to me.”
The song playing over the speakers switched from an upbeat pop song to a low bass-filled love song. Disgusting.
“Don’t waste your breath. Reality will always catch up to you and beat you down,” Iwaizumi grumbled, finishing off what was in his glass, unhappy that Kuroo hadn’t yet made his promised appearance.
“What? You’re experienced?” The stranger posed another question while removing his glasses and placing them beside his empty glass.
“Several years in training,” the short-haired male laughed in an attempt to joke.
A chuckle sounded from the nameless man sitting beside him, “Guess I’m not the only one then.”
The last comment placed an uneasy silence over the two, but Iwaizumi was just glad he wasn’t having to interact any longer. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and looking up, he saw a younger bartender making his way to the two with more glasses for both occupants. The man’s name was Lev according to what Iwaizumi had heard from Kuroo; however, he and Iwaizumi had never really spoken before. He placed the glasses in front of the two before silently disappearing down the hallway leading to the back once more.
Iwaizumi finished his second round off in half the time it took him to finish the first, but it still wasn’t enough. I came here expecting some better service than this, you assholes. Impatiently, he began tapping his finger on the counter before being interrupted once more by the man sitting beside him.
Unfortunately, the lighting was so dim that Iwaizumi could barely make out any facial features of the man, so that he knew to never drink with the guy again. Romantic drunks were always the worst to be in the company of.
“I really fucked up in life,” the latter sighed. “Lost contact with all my friends when I was young. Thought that leaving them all behind wouldn’t affect our friendships too much. I was pretty fucking stupid back then.” He let out a solemn laugh, “Making my way throughout life alone was hell. To make it worse, had to get a new phone when I moved. It was great. Fucked up my future. Fucked up and lost my friends. That’s just life.”
He paused momentarily, and Iwaizumi silently prayed that he would pass out soon so he wouldn’t have to hear yet another life story. His prayers went unanswered.
“I tried to fill the loneliness with anything I could get my hands on, especially sex. Unfortunately, that just made me feel like a whore, but I guess I always was one, huh? My high school years were filled with countless girls surrounding me, so were my first years in college, but nothing ever felt right you know--”
That voice.
“--took me years to realize that I had fallen in love a long time before, and my heart was still with that person.” He shifted uneasily in his seat, hunching over the counter hanging his head. “Do you know what it’s like to be a fraud? A heartless fraud? A fuck-up? Probably not. It’s just a bit depressing to know that I could have avoided this future if I was a bit smarter. If I would have been a little bit better. Making it all worse, I don’t think that person ever knew I liked them. Actually, I know they didn’t because I didn’t realize it until after I lost th--”
It’s gotta be the alcohol.
“--probably off somewhere changing the world., you know? I was never that important, so I’d be pretty easy to forget with the promise of something great before your eyes. They’re--He’s probably out their living with a new group of friends. Hell, he might be married and have kids by now. Yet, I’m sitting in a bar talking to a fucking stranger trying to get numb for the fucking millionth time this month. It’s too--”
But I’d never mistake him...
“Tooru,” Iwaizumi called out a bit more hopeful that he should have. Maybe he was further gone than he thought, but that voice sounded too familiar. It was a gamble. This couldn’t be Oikawa could it? Hell no. Why would he be here? Damn it he’s silent again. Shit. I was wrong. Fu--
“Iwa-chan,” the other spoke with a breathy tone, voice noticeably wavering .
The world seemed frozen in layers of ice as Iwaizumi’s heart lurched at the childhood nickname. It all felt like a dream. Did he dare look at the other man? How did Oikawa find him here? Why didn’t he say something sooner? The sound of music and people was completely drowned out by the blood pounding in Iwaizumi’s ears. His throat felt as if it were going to completely close up, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Dammit, his mind was racing as memories surfaced and jumbled together all at once. ,em>What could--
Then everything came to a halt.
Long arms fastened around his waist as soft hair was nuzzled into the back of his neck. Oikawa’s chest pressed against Iwaizumi’s back, body trembling as choked sobs escaped the taller male’s lips. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry Iwa-chan--H-Hajime, I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up, and fuck--”
Iwaizumi stood up and whipped around in Oikawa’s arms as tears threatened to form in his eyes. He raised a hand and knitted it within soft, wavy, brown hair, pulling Oikawa’s face down into Iwaizumi’s neck. Suddenly, the hold around his body tightened almost desperately while a tremble rattled his long-lost friend’s body.
There were so many emotions that swept Iwaizumi in those few minutes. He wanted to slap the ever-loving shit out of Oikawa for disappearing, wipe the falling tears from his eyes, abandon him on the side of the street, laugh in his face and pretend like life was perfect, but also...cry and scream and laugh. It was all too much to handle in the spur of the moment.
Pushing Oikawa off of him, Iwaizumi studied his old friend carefully while wiping his cheeks of the fresh tears. His large brown eyes, now red and puffy, seemed to be studying Iwaizumi as well. Oikawa’s skin was still the soft, beautiful, gentle ivory it had always been, and his hair still as perfectly styled as well. Six years and the brown-headed male hadn’t changed a bit (despite maybe a few more inches in height), six years and he was still as beautiful as the day they first met. Iwaizumi’s heart lurched in his chest almost painfully.
“Let’s...sit down...Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi suggested motioning to the black leather couch up against the wall only a few steps away.
Oikawa gave a slight laugh as his lips turned upward in the first smile he’d flashed that night, and not one of the forced fake smiles he always wore during high school. They sat closer to each other than Iwaizumi expected, but then again, Oikawa had always been one for close proximity.
No words were spoken for several minutes. Iwaizumi gently fixed Oikawa’s hair, pushing it from his eyes with a slight smile. Oikawa twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he took in his friend’s appearance. The atmosphere was extremely awkward causing both men to shift uncomfortably every so often before Oikawa tentatively broke the silence.
“I’ve missed you-your company,” he glanced at the floor.
“You wouldn’t have if you’d bothered to tell me you had to get a new phone!” Iwaizumi accidentally lashed out causing Oikawa to flinch and squeeze his eyes shut to prevent anymore tears from falling. Shit. Instinctively, Iwaizumi waved his hands, “Wait no. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh- I- Shit.” He paused. “Why’d you suddenly appear?”
Oikawa let out a forced laugh, “Iwa-chan, you make it sound as if you want me to leave.”
Iwaizumi blinked at the taller man who looked at him with desperate interest. “Why would I want that? You’ve left me alone for six years after we spent our entire childhood together.”
A dry laugh escaped his friend, “You make it sound like it’s all my fault, Iwa-chan, but you didn’t bother to find out where I might be.”
Iwaizumi gaped at the accusation, pulling his phone from his back pocket as if it would save his life, “I’ve sent you a message every fucking day for the last six years, since the day you left! I have tried every fucking day to reach you, Oikawa Tooru! Don’t you dare accuse me.” He shoved his phone into Oikawa’s hands with his messages open.
Oikawa flinched as he scrolled through the messages, reading the most recent ones and scrolling onward. He covered his mouth with one hand before handing Iwaizumi his phone, “I guess it was my fault then.” He paused and lowered his head, “It always has been, hasn’t it?”
Iwaizumi cocked a brow as Oikawa began speaking more so to himself than Iwaizumi, “Ever since we were young I was the one who crowded people around myself. I faked it all to pretend like I was okay. I would hurt people, but mostly myself and even you. You know, I never could do anything right. I just pretended like I could because I wanted someone to be genuinely proud of me. I wanted to be something great, but I was always a fucking fraud. I put you through hell and back, and eve--”
“That’s not true, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi sighed shaking his head, “None of th--”
“Shut the fuck up, Hajime,” Oikawa shouted and slammed his hand against the wall, rocketing up from where he sat. “If it wasn’t true then why did nothing I try worked? Do you know how much I had to force myself to do just to maintain a fucking relationship? My entire life has been a shitty love song that everyone fucking listens to just to make fun of. I couldn’t make anything of myself in high school or college other than a pretty face!”
Shut up, you’re so much more than that.
“And making it all worse, that’s not who I really am!” He paced the floor rampantly.
Tooru, stop. Iwaizumi watched his old friend tug at his hair, his voice once again wavering.
“God dammit, Hajime, why doesn’t anyone understand! This is why I fucking left. Why can’t anyone under--”
Call it adrenaline or insanity or even the alcohol, but Iwaizumi jolted to his feet and jerked Oikawa into his arms warmth flooding into his chest because damn it he’d missed this piece of shit so much. It was hard enough to handle. His hands found their way up the lanky male’s neck to cup his cheeks while Iwaizumi tilted his head upward, putting on the most serious expression he could muster. “Tooru, I understand.” Oikawa went rigid beneath Iwaizumi’s touch before he jerked out of the latter’s hands and swatted them away.
“Don’t lie to me, Hajime,” Oikawa breathed as he leaned against a wall facing away from Iwaizumi. “You haven’t the slightest clue on how it really feels to be rejected time after time, to see people grow tired and abandon you, to know someone you were once close to--someone you once loved move on without you. You don’t know what I’ve been through: break up after break up, attempt after attempt to fulfill some crazy desire within myself that I’m not even sure I know what it is. Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself.” He laughed, “I’ve already realized that the only way I can find fulfillment is to be the fucking person I’m not.”
Iwaizumi frowned at the sudden exclamation before violently spinning Oikawa around to face him and slamming him against the wall not caring if he hurt the other anymore. “How dare you say I don’t know what you’ve been through! You’ve always been an asshole, but apparently your years alone have made you into an even bigger one. Oikawa, you don’t know shit about me anymore. You don’t know anything, so don’t you even dare to try and make a half-assed accusation when you know nothing. Claiming I haven’t seen someone I loved move on and forget about me? Who the fuck do you think you are? We were best friends, and you just up and left one day and lost contact with the world. Who was the one who brought you breakfast before all of your exams? Who was the one who put up with your flock of fangirls? Who was the one who dried all of your tears when they grew tired of you? Who was the one person who helped you maintain your grades so you could play volleyball?” Iwaizumi had already noted the tears stinging at his eyes, plus the possible bruises he was beating onto the other as he listed each point, but ultimately, he didn’t care. Angrily, he looked up at Oikawa whose cheeks were already streaked with new tears, “Who was your ace?” He slammed his fist against Oikawa’s collarbone causing him to flinch one final time; however, the milky-haired male stayed silent.
Iwaizumi shook his head. “You’re the one who forgot about everything Oikawa. You’re the one who ran away. Too bad you couldn’t have taken your memories with you.” The shorter man shoved his victim into the wall one final time before turning away.
How long had Iwaizumi waited to simply see Oikawa again? How long had he yearned to just find himself in his presence for old times’ sake? This wasn’t how he expected it to go. Hastily, Iwaizumi saw that his glass had once again been filled, so he went and tossed another shot down his throat before lividly pacing a trench in the floor as Oikawa remained silent in stupor.
His head buzzed and his fists clenched as he turned to Oikawa one final time, “I loved your sorry ass despite all your girlfriends and suggestive jokes. I loved you and you left. You abandoned me like a dog on the street, and you know what? You know what? I couldn’t abandon a single thought of you! Not one in all of these six years. I remember your alien theories. I remember your fear of loss. I remember how you always liked being hugged from behind, and you can’t even remember to send me a single text message in all of these years. You’re a real asshole, Oikawa Tooru.” He wanted to scream, but instead his words came out as a suppressed whine, “Just get the fuck out of my life.” His eyes locked with hurt-filled brown ones, but there wasn’t any sympathy left within Iwaizumi. He scowled, shook his head, and glared at the other party before whipping around to head for the door.
It hurt like hell.
He hurt like hell.
Things would have been better off if he’d never seen Oikawa. He wanted to cry. Perhaps he already was crying. It wasn’t the alcohol that had buzzed him out of the world, but instead the boy who had once made him feel so much at once had just made him feel numb to the world.
With too much on his mind, Iwaizumi failed to notice the hand grasping at his wrist and whipping him around. He didn’t feel the arm wrap tightly around his waist or the tears that fell upon his cheeks.
He didn’t notice anything until soft lips were timidly pressing against his own and thin fingers were attempting to unclench his balled fist. Tears fell onto his cheeks, but they weren’t his tears.
Then, Oikawa released him and turned away, and with a voice full of conflict and sorrow he muttered, “I’m sorry. You may go.”