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“You can’t tell anyone, okay? Nothing leaves our secret spot.”
Iwaizumi makes sure the lid to his insect cage is closed so the beetle inside can’t fly out. “Okay. Nothing leaves our secret spot.”
It’s just the two of them, surrounded by silent trees and long grass. Up the hill into the woods like this, nobody will bother them. They can stay here and play and tell secrets and only the trees would bother to whisper.
Oikawa scrunches up his nose and chews an invisible mothball in his mouth. Iwaizumi’s not the type to tell secrets just because he feels like it. He didn’t even say anything when Sayaka fell asleep in class. “I’m… I’m a witch.”
“Oh. I thought you cheated on the math quiz earlier.”
“I don’t need to cheat!”
“Okay. What’s so bad about that?”
“You know the word for ‘witch’ right?”
“Yeah!” Iwaizumi says, thinking of early morning cartoons, “It’s majutsushi, 魔術師, right?”
“That’s not the word that most people use…”
“Majou, 魔女, then?”
“Exactly! Majou! I’m not a girl!” Oikawa sniffles, and bunches up his shirt. “And worse, if anyone else finds out, they’ll call me a monster!”
“But magic is so cool?”
“No! Magic is all hard work and waking up at really bad hours! I can’t even shoot a beam out of my eyes!”
“Can you mind control people? Do you think you could fight Godzilla?”
“Godzilla is a little too much, Iwa-chan! Mom probably can’t and if mom can't, then there's no way I could!”
“Well, Godzilla is the coolest ever." Iwaizumi proudly crosses his arms. "But you're cool too."
Oikawa blinks away his half-formed tears. "Even if I'm a witch?"
“So what? I don’t care if you’re a witch. But you have to learn to shoot beams, okay?"
Oikawa leans forward and kisses Iwaizumi on the cheek, then he’s back to rocking on his dirty sneakers. It’s all very quick, and all it does is make Iwaizumi stand still for a moment. "Thanks, Iwa-chan.”
“Was that magic?”
“No, I just thought I should. Did it feel like magic?”
“I don’t know what magic is like.”
“When I get good at it, I’ll show you. It’ll be great.”
“Better than Ultraman?”
“Better than Ultraman.”
One of Iwaizumi's teeth is chipped from biting into a chestnut, and he has a gap by the corner of his mouth, but his smile outshines the sun. “Cool, you should. Now come on, we have to get to the river!"
Oikawa doesn’t fall in love with Iwaizumi because he was a really good spiker, or that he could outplay anyone on the baseball team. Iwaizumi’s boldness would make people flock around him, or that he was really good at finding bugs and giving class presentations. He does, slowly and strongly, because Iwaizumi would tell him not to be a dumbass while everyone else bit their tongues out of politeness. No, it was because Iwaizumi was really bad at drawing but would sketch Oikawa’s face into Volleyball Monthly columns anyway. Iwaizumi would shake pepper flakes into his ramen as soon as the waiter brought their dishes over. Iwaizumi listens to him when he complains about reading scrolls into the night.
Oikawa gets better at magic, and Iwaizumi tells him he’s doing good, even though he has no basis for comparison. Oikawa kisses him again when they get into Aoba Jousai together.
He’s boiling in the heat-haze at the bus stop when he sees Iwaizumi. It’s just another daydream, and daydreams of Iwaizumi aren’t new or surprising.
But Iwaizumi is standing on a balcony, overlooking a glittering cityscape. The bedside table is cluttered with papers: old health bills, unopened letters, scrap paper with times written all over them, piles of unread books. His Godzilla alarm clock has a layer of dust on top of the snooze button, and his old jersey is stuck beneath a pile of jackets. His closet is full of shadows.
Dark circles sag his eyes down, and he sighs as he pours the contents of a watering can into some dead plants. He’s older, maybe twenty years down the line, but a few gray hairs are sprouting by his ears. As he puts the watering can down, he starts to open his mouth in a yawn, but swallows it back down. It looks like he’s swallowed many sighs before.
Oikawa starts to call his name, and then he’s back at the bus stop. The popsicle has melted all over his hand, staining his fingers sticky and blue.
Two interlocking squares form a star of eight sides. Inside, a swirl of four magatama. Outside, a spell evoking protection from the four cardinal directions. He lights the edges with pale will-o-wisps and sits in the middle. When his thoughts churn into a typhoon, he comes to the woods on the other side of town and practices his magic. Something about feeling the veins of the earth and drawing it into himself puts his heart at ease. His feet come off the ground as the sky blooms high above. Beyond the sky are the stars and beyond that the infinite universe. He’s a plant that just broke free of the earth, stretching out as far as he can until finally, he—
Iwaizumi’s hand is tight on his ankle and his face is red from a mad dash through the woods.
“Iwa-chan, you know you’re not supposed to come inside a magical circle, right?”
“Who’s going to stop you from floating off, then?” He yanks hard, and grunts as he catches Oikawa’s body weight with his chest, and they tangle together like vines. Oikawa’s head ends up in a cushion of grass with his eyes parallel with Iwaizumi’s sneakers.
“You’re not usually this nosy with other people.”
“Other people don’t run off to their hiding spot in the middle of the woods and start floating.”
“Were you worried about me, Iwa-chan?”
“If anyone would end up accidentally in the clouds, it would be you. And then I’d have to rent a plane and dropkick you into the concrete.”
“So romantic.” Oikawa laughs as he grinds against Iwaizumi’s crotch.
He hears a groan, and then an exasperated, “Really?”
“Yep.” He snakes his hand down past the dip of his legs and feels the rough fabric of Iwaizumi’s old pants.
“Don’t just jerk me off. Let me see you.”
“You interrupted my spell, you don’t deserve to see me.”
Iwaizumi grabs his shirt with his free hand and pulls until Oikawa is smashed on top of him and all they can see is each other. “Cheat,” Oikawa grumbles, but Iwaizumi quiets him with a kiss.
It’s so unfair, to have Iwaizumi kiss him tenderly, to look at him like he is the world, to build up a universe inside his chest like it’s nothing. Iwaizumi calls him “Tooru,” and the hum of magic reverberates against the tight spiral of Oikawa’s ammonite heart. Iwaizumi’s left hand is a growing vine up his shirt, and his right hand is still gripping Oikawa like a chain.
“You stopped the spell. I’m not going to float away.”
“You’d better not,” Iwaizumi responds, and doesn’t let go.
They know each other their whole lives, but there’s always more. A fresh freckle on the side of Oikawa’s face, or the faint traces of a healing cut on Iwaizumi’s knuckles. More, more, more. Iwaizumi sigh is warm, but all Oikawa can think of is the Iwaizumi in his dreams, older and colder. He must have tensed up because Iwaizumi’s stops feeling the curve of his spine and looks at him hard. "If you're not in the mood, we can stop."
It hurts that Iwaizumi is so considerate sometimes. It hurts that the flush in his cheeks is pink and sweet and so far removed by the shade on his older self’s face in a stagnant apartment. Oikawa pinches Iwaizumi's nose and frowns. “You'd better not."
Iwaizumi’s breath smells like half-chewed gum and ramune, and Oikawa drinks it all up. At last, he feels Iwaizumi’s free hand move down his back, along his side, and into the space where his hips curve into his pants. "Are you sure?" Iwaizumi asks him one last time.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Oikawa says, pushing the doubts out of his head.
“I don’t have—”
“We don’t have to go that far. Just touch me.”
The beautiful witch and his big, dumb human. The stubborn human and his conniving witch. Iwa-chan, his Iwa-chan. Oikawa would do anything for him.
Back in that dreary apartment, Iwaizumi is checking his phone. His call history is empty, but he still thumbs through old notifications anyway.
There’s a knock on the door, and Iwaizumi looks at the handle like nobody’s come by for years. When he opens it, Oikawa’s on the other side, older and shrouded by light from the hallway. All the weariness falls away from Iwaizumi’s face as he invites Oikawa in, and nothing else matters, not the papers on the table, not the dead plants, nothing.
The hallway light still burns Oikawa’s eyes when he comes out of it disoriented on his bed. He knows what he saw was the future. Future Iwaizumi, sitting all alone, stuck in a swamp. The only thing that made things better was Oikawa. Whatever path he drove himself down, he could endure it, he could keep on going because Oikawa was there.
Oikawa wonders what his life would be like without Iwaizumi. The first thing that comes to mind is stepping in front of the morning train. He decides not to think about that anymore.
He sniffled when he held a ceremonial knife in his hands. Back then, he only came up to his mother’s knees. ”No! I don't want to do it!"
His mother shook her head, and let out a tired groan. "Maybe we started him out too young. Darling, we can try some other time."
But his father knelt by his side and took his hand, no lighter than the briefest wind. "Why are you so upset, Tooru?"
"Because the rabbit didn't do anything wrong!” Oikawa looked at the rabbit bound in the middle of a magical circle his parents drew in mercury. “Why does it have to die if it didn't do anything wrong?"
His father stroked his chin. "Think of it like this. Let's say you and Hajime are walking along the riverside, and he sees something shiny in the river. He picks them up, and he finds two things: a big diamond and a big glass bead. He wants to give them to you, but your bag is tiny, so you can only bring one home. Which one do you pick?”
Oikawa closed his eyes, just for a second. “The diamond, then!”
“Why’s that?”
“Because diamonds are rare and pretty!”
“Exactly. The same goes for what we give the gods. Everything has value, and the gods know what has value. If we offer them store-bought meat when we have fresh blood lying around, they’ll question our devotion. Why would we offer them beads when we could give them diamonds?“
“But rabbit must have had friends…”
“Yes, and a family too. That’s why his life is valuable.”
“So I shouldn’t be sad?”
“No, be sad. This is a sad event, to lose your life. But rabbit’s sacrifice won’t go to waste. Today we’re praying for you, that you’ll have a long and successful life. You’ll eat its flesh, and all the possibilities of its health will flow into your fate.”
Priests pray for the community. Witches pray for themselves. The knife handle felt cold in his hand. “Can you two turn around? Please?”
“Witches are most vulnerable when they’re casting a spell. We’re here to protect you. Don’t worry, everyone’s first sacrifice is never perfect. We won’t get angry if yours isn’t. Are you ready now?”
The rabbit twitched against where it was chained. It had long been exhausted, and lay there, waiting. Tired, but still brimming with life.
“Sorry,” Oikawa mumbled and brought the knife down.
They lose to Shiratorizawa again.
“That Ushiwaka! I’m going to curse him for seven generations! No, that’s not enough! Nine!”
Iwaizumi has been equally bitter their whole walk home, but he’s silent now. “You’re not going to actually curse Ushijima, are you?”
Oikawa flinches, wondering if Iwaizumi finally realized that witchcraft consists of curses and not traditional spells. “No…” When Iwaizumi gives him a hard look, Oikawa sputters, “No! I’m not going to, even if I’ve really, really thought about it!”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it! Well, if another witch curses him so that he breaks his arms, or his kneecaps, or hits his head and forgets who he is…”
“You’re really a piece of crap.”
“But that wouldn’t be me, though! It would be someone else! Besides, if I used my magic to get a win out Shiratorizawa, I’d have cheated. I want to beat Ushiwaka on the court.”
Iwaizumi’s grin is all sharp teeth and it lights him up from the inside out. He slaps Oikawa on the back and sends him stumbling. “Got that right. We’re going to beat him at his own game, no matter what.”
No matter what. Oikawa knows his determination is made of steel, but sometimes Iwaizumi needs to feel around his chest to remind him of that. If there’s anyone who refuses to give up, it’s Iwaizumi.
“No magic. I promise. I don’t think we’d be able to pay the price anyway.”
Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow. “Price?”
“Don’t you know? No magic is free.”
Oh. Of course. Oikawa knows what he has to do.
“We’ll beat Ushiwaka fair, no tricks. And then I can curse him for nine generations.”
“Never mind, you’re still a piece of crap.”
Makoto from Class 5 pulls Iwaizumi to the roof as soon as lunch begins. She’s pretty, with shiny black hair, long legs, and perfect makeup every day. He normally wouldn’t mind a girl pulling Iwaizumi away, except for two things:
1) She’s a miko for the shrine up the hill.
2) She comes to all of Seijou’s games with her friends, but she hasn’t cheered for Oikawa once.
So she’s bad news.
It’s not technically eavesdropping if he’s watching out for Iwaizumi’s safety, is it? He’s not exactly conspicuous, but he will sure try.
“Tell your witch-boy to quit messing around!”
Iwaizumi scratches his head, a little thrown off on being cornered between the fence and the staircase. “What did Oikawa do this time? If he messed with one of your friends, you should beat him up yourself. I won't stop you.”
The look on her face says she has plenty to say there. “That’s a different story. But I’m not talking about that. How much has he told you, about what he is and what he does?”
“Just that he’s a witch, and does magic in his spare time. What’s this about?”
She glares up at him but steps back after a moment. “You really don’t know.”
“No, I don’t.”
She thrusts out her phone, and the tiny bell charms clang in the wind. “Look at this.”
Iwaizumi squints at the image. “I can’t read that. Is that really Japanese?”
“I can’t read it either. But he’s drawn them all around the temple.” Makoto pauses and thumbs her phone charms. “Are you sure he didn’t tell you anything? Positive?”
“No, but I’ll wring them of him out if you want.”
She taps her foot, considering it. “No, it’s okay. I’m going to find out eventually, anyway.”
Oikawa quietly steps back into the staircase and hurries down the stairs. He digs into his bento so it’s more believable when Iwaizumi comes back down.
“Did Iwa-chan get a confession from a cute girl?”
Iwaizumi shoots him an exasperated look as he takes a seat. “She just wanted to ask me something.”
“Mmm, are you giving out love advice? Because if that’s what she wants, then she’s better off asking the great Oikawa-sa—”
“If you were planning something, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
Iwaizumi’s bluntness leaves his tongue numb. “Of course.”
He’d gladly give the secrets of the world to Iwaizumi. But not this time.
“Our sons get along well, don’t they?” Iwaizumi’s mother has a bit of a strain in her voice, coming off a bad cold. “It’s almost a shame the law is…”
“But in the meantime, we’re all practically family anyway. Oh, watercress is on sale. Tooru, grab two bunches for me!”
Oikawa sighs, and picks out the ones with the freshest leaves. He swears his mother only brings him along on her shopping trips with Iwaizumi’s mom so he can be manual labor. It’s not like he really needs to make a good impression on Iwaizumi’s mother either. She’s known him since he was a kid!
“Spend 1000 yen, get a spin!” A lottery wheel is on the table by the exit, towering above a cluster of small white balls. All failures.
He shows his receipt from before and touches the omamori in his pocket. One chance for luck, one time.
The wheel spins round, round, round, and spits out a small golden ball.
With a gasp, the attendant rings the bell. “We have a winner!” he exclaims. “Congratulations, dear customer! For pulling the grand prize, you win a trip for four to an onsen in Kusatsu!”
His mother’s eyes widen when she sees the tickets. “Tooru, that’s wonderful! You should go with your friends, the ones from club.”
“We have the exhibition match this weekend in Tokyo, remember? Mom, why don’t you go with Iwaizumi-san? Take dad and Iwa-chan’s father with you.”
Iwaizumi’s mother reaches up to pat him on the head. “You’re so sweet, Tooru-kun, thank you.”
His mother fixes a sly smile on him. “You just want us out of the house so you can have some time alone, don’t you?”
“Mom, no.”
The tickets are plucked from his hand before he can complain more. “It’s been too long since we’ve all had dinner together,” his mother tells Iwaizumi’s mother. “You’ve needed some relaxing, right?”
“If I’m being honest…”
They go ahead down the street, chatting away, and the power of the omamori in his pocket fizzles out.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He fakes a very convincing cough. “I haven’t been feeling very well lately, but I think it’s finally got me for good.”
“You’re our starting setter, we really needed you for the final exhibition match.”
“Sorry, coach.”
Irihita grumbles on the other line. “Well, if you’re sick, there’s nothing I can do. But try to convince Iwaizumi to come on the trip too.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“Feel better.”
He messages Iwaizumi next: Looks like I got sick! Go beat up some Tokyo kids without me!
Iwaizumi calls him in an instant. “Did your parents already leave?”
“You know our parents left together.”
“Can’t you just wish yourself better?”
“You know to do that I’d have to end up cursing someone else.”
Iwaizumi grumbles and lets out a sigh. “I’ll tell coach I’m staying back. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t faint and fall down some stairs.”
“You’re definitely my mom, Iwa-chan.”
“Shut up, who’s the idiot who got sick right before the exhibition match again?”
Oikawa laughs before hanging up the phone.
Their parents are relaxing in Kusatsu. The team is practicing in Tokyo. His sister and Takeru live up by the tip of Miyagi. Everyone he cares about is out of reach, all except Iwaizumi, who needs to be right here.
A slice of red ink seals off the circle. Just in case, Oikawa reads over his notes for the fifth time. There was no official recipe for this spell, so he’s had to pull what he can from four different scrolls and meld them into something vaguely coherent.
All the sigils match what’s written in his notebook. Theoretically, it should be good to go. He stretches his arms and drums his fingers in the air.
Time to get started.
The language is foreign on his tongue, but they reverberate in his throat with reverence. The circle swirls with impossible colors, an aurora turned sublime, and the land stirs beneath his feet. A warmth wells up inside him, wider than anything he’s ever felt, more than starbursts and comet trails and the dots of light behind his eyes— and the earth remembers its heartbeat. Above, the clouds churn and excitedly bend over the land to get a closer look.
No, more. If he doesn’t give it his all, then his determination is weak!
He raises his hand to the faraway edge of his hometown and traces a line across it. One heartbeat across the leyline and the border erupts in a wall of light. Shadows stretch and vanish under the tidal wave of magic, and the warmth inside him becomes fire, burning his throat. Every breath feels like exhaling ash, but he feels the magic, bends it around him, resonates with it like a perfect conductor.
Footsteps rustle the leaves behind him, running up the hill. Of course.
“Hi, Iwa-chan.”
“Oikawa, what—” Iwaizumi isn’t sure what to take in first, Oikawa completely healthy, the glowing magic circle, or the leylines of the earth beating madly across town. His eyes fall to the edges of the magical circle by his feet, and the script Oikawa has carefully penned from mercury and vermillion. “This is the same stuff that Makoto showed me. Have you been writing these around her temple?”
“Sure did.”
“Where else?”
“Everywhere.”
Everywhere for the past two weeks he’s been preparing. Slowly scrawling his sigils on buildings, under rocks, behind signs, by the sidewalks.
“What is this? I thought you came here to sulk, not— what are you trying to do?”
“Changing fate.”
“Can you even do that? Whose?”
“Yours, of course.”
“Mine? Why?”
Because Iwaizumi used cheap soap for three weeks to save up for replacement soles for Oikawa’s shoes. Because he doesn’t go asking Oikawa for easy spells when he's in trouble. Because he said “So what?” when Oikawa thought he’d have to hate himself forever.
“I had a revelation. I know you, I know you’ll bend but never break. I know you’d never give up, no matter what. Not even if it kills you.”
Iwaizumi would smash himself into the cliffside rocks and keep on going, even if his legs had been snapped. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so terrifying. Even the strongest stone can be worn down.
Not Iwaizumi, if Oikawa can help it.
“What do you have to give up?” Iwaizumi shouts over the hum of magic, because of course he’d remember that detail. “Magic’s never free, and if you’re going to ruin yourself—”
“No!” he shouts back. “Never!”
“Then who pays the price?”
“Everyone else.”
Iwaizumi blinks. “Everyone who?”
“Everyone in town.” To alter someone’s fate means you’d have to sacrifice the fate of someone else, and all their potential successes. “Sadamoto who runs the Lawson’s on the corner. Iwamaki whose cat always makes you sneeze. Wagahara who teaches first grade. Everyone.”
The sigils he placed all over in deep red vermillion form a perfect isolation barrier and chops their town off from the rest of the world. Nobody goes in, nobody comes out, not until the ritual is complete.
The horror on Iwaizumi’s face is a frigid wind on a winter’s day. A look for when a human first catches sight of a monster.
—Perhaps he was a monster all along. Only a monster could do something like this, so calculated, so effortlessly. He should feel worse about it, but it doesn’t matter how monstrous he becomes if Iwaizumi can live a happy life.
With a roar, Iwaizumi shoves his way into the circle and grabs Oikawa by the collar. Even though Oikawa’s taller, Iwaizumi’s rage is pushing him down. “Don’t get so angry!”
“Are you kidding me? You’re going to kill 13,000 people!”
“I sent our families away. The team’s out practicing in Tokyo. And everyone else—”
“‘Doesn’t matter’? Say it, I fucking dare you!”
“Everyone else isn’t you,” Oikawa snarls back. “Fate won’t let you have a good life. So I’m going to force it to change its mind.”
He’s actually kind of happy Iwaizumi is so angry on the behalf of invisible people. Iwaizumi’s a good person, something he could never be.
“Don’t worry. You’re always helping me out, so this time, I’ll take care of it.”
“No way.” Iwaizumi slams his forehead into Oikawa’s own. A supernova explodes inside behind Oikawa’s eyes, and a pressure builds up along the bridge of his nose. A crack, like a shattering window, echoes through his head. It’s windy, but Iwa-chan’s here, Oikawa thinks before his head cracks open.
“Are you kidding me? You’re going…” Iwaizumi is yelling something, but there’s too much fog in Oikawa’s ears. His mouth slows, and Iwaizumi’s fury is replaced with momentary confusion. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard, did I? Oika…”
A witch is utterly defenseless while spellcasting. He didn’t think it would mean his physical defenses would also be an absolute zero, but there’s blood running down his ears and pooling below him.
Ugh, this is awful. He at least wanted to have spicy miso ramen at the ramen shop by school and beat Ushijima and Tobio-chan in college! Dying young has never been high on his list of priorities.
Iwaizumi is holding him now, frantically shouting something. He can’t see Iwaizumi’s face, but he can see a shape moving where his mouth should be. He doesn’t want to die. But if he has to die, then this isn’t so bad.
An aurora coils around the town like a massive snake and erupts, spiraling into the sky.
Iwaizumi opens his eyes in space. No, space stretches itself vast, but he feels like it’s is cramped somehow. Even if he can’t see the ends of this place, it feels like a galaxy inside a mausoleum. Silent as a grave, in the engine of the universe. Is he floating? Is there an invisible path below him? Is there anyone else here with him?
With the way he talks, I thought you’d be a giant. But you’re very, very small.
A voice echoes through the cramped infinity, and Iwaizumi turns to face a great sun. Its light is even brighter than the one Iwaizumi wakes up to every morning, and he has to avert his gaze. If he stares for too long, his eyeballs will start boiling in his skull.
“Is a sun really talking to me?” he wonders, without realizing that thoughts and words are the same.
If that’s how you see me, then so be it.
He knows that voice. “Oikawa?” He instinctively reaches out, but pulls his hand back when a heat wave singes his fingers.
Close. The great magic that your witch cast returned everything in that isolated space to zero. Those in the casting circle were meant to be spared but you destroyed his body at the very last minute. Thanks to your mistake, you see this form instead.
“Oikawa’s soul?” It’s too dazzling.
You don’t need to flatter me. I already know your commitment, as well as his commitment to you. You’re a strong, hopeful young man. Filled with determination. Do you know how terrible that is?
“Terrible?”
Hope gives you unparalleled strength. With it, you can power through anything. It is also the key to endless agony. You will keep going and going, long after you should have given up. Your fate is ordained to be one of misery; struggle, and you’ll be smashed into a thousand pieces. Compromise and you’ll be bent into something unrecognizable. In despair, but too stubborn to realize it. Hurting, but in love enough to ignore it. Truly pathetic.
The sun doesn’t have a face, but Iwaizumi can tell it’s sneering at him.
“Oikawa’s dead, isn’t he? He did this for me, and he’s dead.” A tremble creeps through Iwaizumi’s body. “Dead, for me.”
Yes, but the life-blood of a witch is the strongest ingredient that can be offered. The ritual was a success. Now, take your step forward into your new life. Your happy life will be filled with hardship, but you will be the only being alive with guaranteed happiness.
“What happy life?” Iwaizumi glares at the sun through his tears. “I can’t be happy if Oikawa’s dead.”
I see. Once you are reshaped, if you make it your goal to search for him, you will see him again. You have a guarantee. Although who knows how long that will be? But if you remain steadfast, then we will meet again.
“But I’m still here. The spell activated, but nothing’s happened. Because I haven’t said yes, right?”
Correct.
“Good, because I don’t want it. You have all this magic floating around, waiting to work? Then use it to put everything right back to normal.
The sun burns bright, silent.
You would throw your happiness away?
“I’m perfectly fine with my life! And the future, I’ll take it, good and bad. But my best friend’s a fucking idiot who thought I needed magic to be happy. I was already happy.”
The universe rumbles as the sun laughs.
You really are something! Only a great fool would throw away a miracle! I can see why he always calls you names. But, that foolishness is endearing.
Iwaizumi shouts as he launches into freefall, away from the finite universe and dazzling sun.
And very, very human.
Oikawa wakes up with his brains back in his head. The vermillion circle is charred, and he can’t feel the earth anymore. Warm arms are around him, and he smells Iwaizumi’s minty toothpaste.
“I’m alive.”
Iwaizumi’s head snaps up, red-eyed and furious enough to decimate him on the spot. Oikawa squeaks and manages to squirm out of Iwaizumi’s grip on pure self-preservation. “Yeah, you’re alive. You were going to die, you were really going to die, if—”
There’s no way Iwaizumi could have reset his fate and brought Oikawa back to life. All that work, for nothing. Iwaizumi’s going to end up eroded years down the line.
Iwaizumi slaps him upside the head, but this time it actually hurts. Iwaizumi never hits him to really hurt him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Wh- I did this for you!”
“I know! But you went too far!” Iwaizumi’s voice cracks, and he exhales, exhausted. “You were going to kill almost everyone we knew! What kind of…” He trails off, head slumping against Oikawa’s shoulder.
Any words don’t seem right. Still, Oikawa tries with a small, “I’m sorry.”
“For upsetting me or for nearly destroying our town?”
Lying to Iwaizumi is out of the question, so Oikawa stays silent.
Iwaizumi sighs. His shadow stretches far out beyond the clearing. “We should take a break.”
The summer day becomes a blizzard. Ice creeps up Oikawa’s limbs, and stings his heart with every heartbeat. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asks, so small that he hates it.
“No. No, I just— I can’t see you for a while. And you shouldn’t see me, either. You need to calm down and think things over.”
When he gets up, Oikawa’s fingers are still pinching the end of his shirt. “Iwa-chan, I’m sorry,” Oikawa’s words come out jumbled, like he mashed them up in the accident. “It’s okay if you break up with me. We don’t have to hang out anymore. But can we just,” I want to keep seeing you around, please don’t rip my soul in two, “get along?”
Iwaizumi doesn’t turn around, or act like he’s kidding, or kiss him. He very carefully pries Oikawa’s fingers off, gentle enough to hurt. “You’re the most important person in my life. Always.”
An “Iwa-chan” barely leaves his mouth before Iwaizumi dashes away.
The clouds are thin in the sky, but there’s a tension that comes right before a thunderstorm. He misread the revelation. This is all his fault.
Gasping, Oikawa runs down the hill, away from burnt vermillion, and into the cluster of trees. “Wait,” he calls out with a half-throttled voice. He stumbles in the morning light, trying to catch sight of the back he’s known since he was young. “Wait, wait, wait!”
His ears aren’t enough to handle the birds chirping, the leaves crunching and the far echoes of the town starting up again after a spectacular light show.
The wind comes up between the houses and slaps him hard when he stands in front of Iwaizumi’s house. The lights are on, and he sees a shadow through the curtains in Iwaizumi’s room. A large shadow hovers by the window for a moment, and slips back inside.
Nobody comes to the door.
Oikawa’s seen the revelation plenty of times, even if it never came back after the aurora burned the town to nothing. It’s a different town now, with many years behind them, different lives apart.
Twice he glances at the peephole, and wonders if it’s been long enough. After a long swallow, he knocks hard, twice.
Iwaizumi opens the door, and the light from the hallway floods his dark apartment. “Oh,” he says in a small voice. Then, “How did you find me?”
Oikawa smiles politely, but he can’t help the eagerness that pricks his cheeks. “I saw the whole thing.”
“Of course you did. Going to burn this town down too?”
He looks at Iwaizumi, older and colder, but he’s still alive. Still going. Still living, magic or no magic. “Don’t think so.”
Between his teeth, he doesn’t regret casting that terrible spell. But he hates that he was wrong. He hates nothing more than the deep abyss Iwaizumi’s absence left inside his lungs, and that’s more than enough for him to regret everything.
“Can I come in?” Oikawa mumbles, digging his fingers deeper into his coat pockets.
The apartment smells like dead plants and store-bought curry, and it’s as messy as he’s seen before. It doesn’t smell like stagnation or rot.
Iwaizumi gives him a hint of a smile, small with no teeth, and steps to the side.