Work Text:
Oikawa had grown since middle school.
The crushing fear of being surpassed, of not being good enough no matter how hard he tried, used to cloud his vision. Everything had become static, a numbness he felt down to his core that drove him to push himself to his limits, just to feel something. Anything. And when he finally did, the black void quickly morphed into blinding, white-hot anger, only fizzling out when he felt Iwaizumi’s firm grasp around his wrist.
Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi, and some words from his coach, was the reason that Oikawa was able to grow. He now understood that there were some things in life that couldn’t be helped. No matter how hard he worked, there was always going to be someone better than him, someone who’s natural talent beat out his efforts. It hurt, but it wasn’t Oikawa’s fault, or Kageyama’s, or anyone else’s. No. It was out of his control, so Oikawa learned to control what he could. Iwaizumi had told him that there were six people on the court, stronger together, and he was right. So Oikawa started to tap into his teammates’ abilities, bringing out the best in them to construct the best team he could with the resources that he had. He still tended to overwork himself at times, but hey, old habits die hard.
Sometimes, though, flashes of that old mindset would come back to him. It would wrap its black tendrils around his soul when he least expected it, like a kick to the teeth. Oikawa found himself trembling with insecurity. Suddenly, he wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t good enough at volleyball, wasn’t a good enough person, wasn’t a good enough partner.
As he lay in bed that night, eyes wide and unblinking at the wall next to his bed, the familiar hand on his hip that usually brought him so much comfort felt hot, burning.
Oikawa jolted away from it, curling in on himself.
What the hell had he done to deserve someone like Iwaizumi? Ever since they were kids, whatever shit Oikawa got into, whatever mistakes he had made, Iwa-chan was always there. He was the one who picked him up again, who made him go from feeling helpless to invincible in a matter of minutes. He took care of him, made sure he didn’t stay up too late watching volleyball tapes or overwork himself after practice. An outsider may have seen Iwaizumi’s methods as rough or brutish, and although Oikawa did joke about that at times, both of them knew his true intentions. Iwaizumi didn’t actually think Oikawa was shitty, or trash, or whatever other awful pun on Oikawa’s name he came up with that day. Behind his insults was a stern “stop overworking yourself, I care about you” or “Oikawa, I know that’s not how you really feel”, and a lot of the time, that’s what it took to knock some sense into Oikawa. He was stubborn, he admitted.
A stubborn, insecure asshole. Oikawa screwed his eyes shut, breath coming in short gasps. A stubborn, insecure asshole who didn’t deserve someone like Iwa-chan in his life. He wasn’t good enough. Never good enough for anything, anyone.
“Oikawa?”
The familiar voice, groggy with sleep, startled Oikawa’s eyes back open. He didn’t respond, completely motionless and holding his breath. Maybe if he was still enough Iwa-chan would go back to sleep.
He was wrong, of course. Iwa-chan could always tell.
“Oikawa, is something wrong?”
Silence.
Iwaizumi shifted, gently prodding the other with his foot.
“Hey, I know you’re not asleep, dumbass. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Oikawa’s eyes. Why did he care so much? Why did he bother? He pulled the covers over his head.
“No,” he pouted, voice cracking.
Iwaizumi sighed. The weight of his body lifted from the bed for a moment, and Oikawa wondered if he had left. But then it all came back down, only this time directly on top of Oikawa’s curled form. He yelped in surprise.
“I’m not getting off of you until you tell me what’s wrong,” Iwaizumi announced.
“Iwa-channn so heavy,” Oikawa whined. “What, you can’t even muster up the energy to smack me like you usually do?”
“Well you did wake me up at three in the morning with your pouting,” Iwaizumi teased back. “So yes. Now talk.”
“Mm-mm,” Oikawa shook his head. “Don’t wanna.”
Iwaizumi huffed. Before Oikawa could comprehend what was happening, the blanket had been torn from his body and he was laying on his back, Iwa-chan straddling his hips. Oikawa opted to cover his face with his own arms instead, still not willing to let his best friend see his expression. Even so, he could practically see Iwa-chan’s furrowed brow and determined purse of his lips. He really didn’t like making Iwa-chan worry about him, but he also didn’t want him to know that he was slipping again.
“Come on, Oikawa,” he asked again, softer this time. “Please?” All the teasing and gruffness was gone from his voice, and Oikawa felt his insides melt a little. This was the Iwaizumi only he got the chance to see- all guards down, vulnerable. The one who held Oikawa and ran soothing fingers up his spine after a nightmare, the one who pressed gentle kisses against his cheeks when he thought he was still asleep.
The one who looked at Oikawa like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered.
Oikawa choked back tears. He didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve him.
“Do you ever feel like…” Oikawa began tentatively.
Iwa-chan stilled, listening.
“Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough?”
A pause.
“What?”
“Y’know, like…” Oikawa floundered, grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. “Like you’re not good enough. Like you’re not good enough at volleyball no matter how hard you try, like you’re a shitty person who doesn’t deserve the good things that happen to him, especially your boyfriend who’s so fucking sweet and caring and knows just what you need and is such a good ace and partner and you love him so much but he could do so much better than you and-” Oikawa broke off his ramble with a choked sob. Shit. “A-and you’re not good enough for anything or anyone.”
“Oh fuck,” Iwaizumi swore under his breath. “Hey now, don’t say those kinds of things about yourself. Come here.” He got off of Oikawa in favor of kneeling next to him, hands settling on Oikawa’s wrists to gently pry his hands away from his face. Oikawa obeyed, bolting upright to hide his teary eyes in Iwa-chan’s shoulder instead. Iwa-chan held him close as he always did, which just made Oikawa cry harder. He gripped the back of his partner’s worn t-shirt like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
“What’s got you this way? Did someone say something mean to you? I’ll kick their ass.”
Oikawa huffed out a bitter laugh and shook his head.
“Was it…” Iwa-chan’s embrace tightened. “It wasn’t something I said, was it?”
Oikawa shook his head again. “Of course not. My Iwa-chan would never.”
Iwaizumi let out a gust of breath- a sigh of relief, maybe? “Just in your head then?”
Oikawa shrugged his shoulders.
“Well.” Iwaizumi’s fingers dragged calming circles against the other’s back. Oikawa shuddered out a sigh in response. “In your head or not, that’s not how I feel. At all.” He pressed his lips against Oikawa’s temple. “You deserve the fucking world, Oikawa. I mean it. If I could give it all to you on a silver platter, I would.”
Oikawa whimpered, pressing his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck.
“You work so fucking hard. Harder than anyone I’ve ever met,” Iwaizumi continued. “You deserve every single good thing that happens to you and more. Honestly, I’m just happy to be a part of it.” His hands slid up to either side of Oikawa’s face, coaxing him out of hiding.
Oikawa sat in front of him, all emotions bared. He knew he could be kind of an ugly crier, but at this moment Iwaizumi didn’t seem to care. He smiled at him, bittersweet with eyebrows knit, and wiped away Oikawa’s tears with his fingers.
“I’m so fucking proud to be your partner, your best friend, boyfriend, everything we have together. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, Tooru. Understand?”
Oikawa’s breath hitched. He nodded, leaning into the other’s touch with a smile. “I love you,” he whispered, voice soft and wrecked.
Iwa-chan grinned. “I love you too. So much.” He leaned in to kiss him, on the lips this time, and Oikawa happily let his eyes flutter closed. It was gentle, only soft lips against his own, but Oikawa could feel the rush of pure emotion behind it, the desperate press of his mouth like Oikawa was the only thing he ever wanted, the only thing he ever needed.
It only lasted a moment, but it left Oikawa breathless, heart stuttering in his chest.
Iwaizumi backed away with a final chaste kiss on the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. “I’m gonna go get you some water, okay?”
Oikawa nodded, watching silently as his boyfriend rose from the bed.
Iwa-chan looked back behind him, giving Oikawa a once-over. “And some tissues. For someone so pretty you sure are an ugly crier.”
“Hey!” Oikawa frowned dramatically. “What kind of back-handed compliment is that, you asshole?” He grabbed the nearest object, a pillow, and chucked it at the back of Iwaizumi’s head.
Iwaizumi stumbled out of the room laughing, pillow throwing off his coordination. “I said you were pretty though, didn’t I?” he called from the kitchen.
Oikawa flushed. He was glad Iwaizumi wasn’t there to see him getting worked up over a simple compliment. Iwa-chan just had that kind of effect on him. “It doesn’t count if you call me ugly in the same sentence, Iwa-chan! Pick a side!”
They continued to bicker back and forth, but there was no sign of malice in either of their voices, fond grins and laughter filling the house with light and color. There was no one else on earth that Oikawa could do this with, that Oikawa wanted to do this with, and he knew Iwaizumi felt the same way. He always knew Iwaizumi felt the same way. He just had trouble believing his luck sometimes, but he was sure Iwa-chan shared that same sentiment as well.
Soon the now-empty glass of water was forgotten on the bedside table, a handful of tissues was littering the waste basket, and Oikawa was back in Iwaizumi’s arms, laying down this time, his partner’s fingers lazily playing with his brown curls as the two drifted back to sleep.
Yes, Oikawa could fuck up sometimes, get upset over the non-existant worries that krept into his mind at night, but Iwaizumi would always be there to pick him up and piece him back together again. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to, and Oikawa knew that when the time came, he would do the same for him in a heartbeat.
Oikawa deserved Iwaizumi, just as Iwaizumi deserved him.
And Oikawa would continuously thank any gods that gave the two of them that chance.