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Oikawa grew up in a loving family. Truly. He wouldn’t trade them for the world—he’d always choose them, no matter what. His mother, who carried him for nine months, gave him a beautiful name, and whispered over and over that he was enough. His father, who introduced him to the sport that would shape his life and taught him how to stand tall like a man. His sister, who gave him his nephew and never once judged him, not even when the world did. He loved all of them—loved them so deeply it almost hurt.
People would often compliment them. “You guys are my dream family.” Oikawa learned to smile, nod, say “thank you” like it was second nature. And maybe it was.
His future had always been set in stone—born, raised, educated, married (to a woman, of course), children, legacy, done. From the moment he could walk, his parents had taken him to church every Sunday. There, he learned about the creation of the world, memorized songs sung in harmony, and was taught—no, told—that a man should love only a woman.
And for the longest time, he believed it.
He liked girls. He really did. But liking boys had never seemed wrong to him... until he was told it should be.
His chest ached when Iwaizumi—his best friend since before either of them could write their names properly—told him he liked someone.
"Oooh~ who's the lucky girl?" Oikawa teased, slinging an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder, pulling him close. It was their final year of middle school—soon they’d be high schoolers. Just like every day, Iwaizumi shrugged him off, walking ahead with that familiar huff.
"What girl?" Iwaizumi asked without looking back.
Oikawa froze. His steps faltered, eyes lingering on Iwaizumi’s back. The younger boy must’ve noticed the sudden stop and turned.
"Oi, Oikawa."
"You..." his voice trembled. "You like boys?" He hated how it sounded—like an accusation. It wasn’t meant to be.
Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah."
"Isn’t that... wrong?" His voice cracked. He hated himself for asking it, hated that he felt the question like a wound.
Iwaizumi laughed. Not cruelly, just like Oikawa had said something ridiculous.
"W-what?!"
Iwaizumi grabbed him by the arm, threw his arm back over his shoulder. Oikawa slouched under the weight—familiar, grounding.
"I guess? But when you love someone, you love them. No matter the gender."
"But the church said—"
"I don't care what they say, really." Iwaizumi grinned. "I like who I like. I date who I wanna date. I love who I love. As long as I'm happy, that's probably all that matters."
That night, Oikawa lay awake, eyes on the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark aliens and stars he'd once adored mocked him now. He used to imagine himself among them—dancing on stardust, riding spaceships. They were a safe place. But tonight, they were nothing.
He likes a boy. He likes a boy. He likes a boy. The thought churned in his mind like poison. His stomach dropped. He couldn’t breathe. He sat up and prayed—hands clenched, voice shaking—begging God to take the sickness away, begging for relief from whatever was infecting his chest.
Graduation came. The air buzzed with excitement. He smiled in pictures with Iwaizumi, wrapped his arms around him like nothing had shattered inside him the night before.
Before they left, Iwaizumi pulled him into a hug.
"I'll see you in Aoba Johsai, okay? You better be there."
Oikawa tightened his grip. A camera shutter clicked in the distance, but in that moment, it was just them.
"Of course, Iwa-chan! I'm planning to be your setter for the next three years after all."
Summer was unbearable.
They went to Okinawa. The ocean should’ve soothed him. It didn’t. Everything reminded him of Iwaizumi.
The sand—Iwa-chan would love this.
The hats—He’d look so good in this.
The ache—It’s never gone away.
He didn’t tell anyone. Not his parents. Not his sister. Only his diary knew the truth, because he himself didn't know.
"Tooru-chan, are you okay?" his sister asked one evening, sitting beside him on the patio.
He met her concerned eyes and felt guilt burn his throat. "I'm okay!" he lied.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" she smiled.
No, you’ll tell Mama and Papa. "Of course~"
He forced a laugh. Forced himself to eat. Forced himself to pretend. His mother talked about girls at dinner. His father mentioned high school romance. His sister watched him, suspicion in her eyes. Oikawa forced it all down like poison.
High School started. Iwaizumi looked perfect in his new uniform. Oikawa laughed when Iwaizumi complained about the fit, teasing him as always. But this time, it felt different. Heavy. Spending time with Iwaizumi was beautiful... unbearable. He watched him smile, talk, laugh.
He loved him.
God, he loved him.
So he lied. He went to church. Sat in the same pew. Clutched the same book. Prayed to the same God.
Take this away. Please. Please take this away.
"Oikawa." Iwaizumi handed him a ball. "Set for me. I wanna try this new spike I saw."
I can't. "Sure, let me warm up."
He stretched. Tried to breathe. Couldn’t. The open gym felt like a coffin. Still, he played. Set after set until his body forgot the ache in his chest.
But then someone else looked at Iwaizumi. A second-year and Oikawa noticed the look. He hated it.
"I'll walk you two home," Ishiki offered. He didn’t mean you two. He meant Iwaizumi.
Oikawa dragged his feet. Stalled. But when he reached the gate, he saw it—them.
Laughing. Together.
His stomach turned.
"Oi, what took you so long?" Iwaizumi called, annoyed. Not like he was with him.
"I left my phoneee," Oikawa lied, dragging out the vowel like it would cover the bile rising in his throat. It helped because they kept walking like he wasn't there, like he was nothing but the cold air in Miyagi.
On the way home, Iwaizumi's hand brushed his. Oikawa noticed. But Iwaizumi let go, and Oikawa wanted to reach out again, to hold Iwaizumi's hands again- like those hands are the only thing keeping him alive.
"You don't like him, do you?"
Yes. "What?"
"Ishiki-senpai. You don't like him." Iwaizumi repated
"How are you so sure I don't?" he scoffed, tried to.
"Your eyes say otherwise." That look. That damn look Iwaizumi gave him—it was the same one his father gave his mother when she wasn’t looking.
"He's just annoying! Always clinging to you." he finally complained and Iwaizumi laughed, that damn laugh always gives him butterflies.
"Well, so are you. You don't hear me complaining."
I'm different. "Sure, as if you can live without me."
"Ha. I know damn well I can. You're the one who can't live without me." Iwaizumi joked.
Oikawa flinched.
He couldn’t—anything but Iwaizumi living his life without him- no, anything but that.
That night, he cried again. Iwa can live without me? No—yes—no—yes— Until he collapsed into himself.
He didn't go to school the next day. Too tired to stand, to tired to care.
When Iwaizumi showed up in his room in the afternoon, Oikawa didn’t even have the strength to be annoyed.
"Go shower. You reek." Iwaizumi barked the moment he went inside, food in his other hand while his other was filled with books.
"Okay."
When he came out, towel on his neck, Iwaizumi was on his bed.
"Iwaizumi, You're sweaty from practice! Get off my bed!" he scolded, hands on hips.
"Woah there, tiger. Who the fuck is Iwaizumi? I'm Iwa-chan. And I didn’t even go to practice." Iwaizumi raised his hands in defeat
"...You skipped?" he asked skeptically. He reached for the plastic bag filled with food "ooh, nice you got me candies."
"Yeah, i skipped practice."
"Why?"
"Because I went here? And I can’t play without you anyway." Iwaizumi shrugged. That night they played and talked and- just everything. But one thing never left Oikawa's mind
I can’t play without you anyway. That thought kept him awake the whole night. Oikawa watched him sleep. Peaceful. Vulnerable. His. And the thought of someone else seeing him like this?
He felt sick.
And then it hit him.
Oh.
He liked Iwaizumi.
No.
He loved him.
He went to church the next morning. Alone. He dropped to his knees. His mind wanders to his parents, what would they think if they saw him like this? Would they be disappointed?
"Dear God," he whispered, voice breaking. "Please... please help me. Help me get rid of these feelings. Please, I beg you... I want to be a good son. A good man. A good believer."
Tears streamed down his face. He wiped them away. Then stood, shoulders squared. As he walked home, his mind kept praying and praying and praying, like it was the only thing that he knew.
He didn’t tell Iwaizumi. He buried it. Every feeling. Every glance. Every stupid heartbeat that skipped when Iwaizumi brushed past him in the hallway, or laughed at his dumb jokes, or defended him from upperclassmen who thought they could bully the “pretty boy.” He buried all of them. He kept the love locked tight in a box inside his chest, chained, the key thrown into the deep ocean.
And then… Iwaizumi started dating someone.
"I'm dating Ishiki-senpai."
Oikawa smiled when Iwaizumi told him. Laughed. Punched his arm and said, “Took you long enough, Iwa-chan~ I was wondering when you'd finally get a boyfriend!”
Iwaizumi looked unsure for a moment. Like he expected something else, then smiled. But Oikawa just smiled wider, but he noticed. He noticed the way Iwaizumi's eyes lied for a second, but he kept his mouth and heart shut.
He threw himself into volleyball. Set after set after set. Until his fingers bruised and his knuckles cracked. Until the coach told him to rest, for god’s sake, Oikawa. He refused. Told him he had to improve. Told him he needed to be the best. He wanted to be best, he couldn't possibly let his parents down. Because if he was perfect, maybe everything else wouldn’t hurt so much.
If he was perfect, maybe Iwaizumi would—
No. Stop. Don’t think about it. Don’t even let yourself hope. He told himself. That day he stayed longer, practiced longer, until he couldn't.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," Iwaizumi said one evening, bandaging Oikawa’s fingers like he always did.
"No such thing~" he laughed but the feeling of Iwaizumi's fingers carefully bandaging him after he successfully pulled Oikawa out of his practice
"You're going to break something if you keep this up." Iwaizumi didn't look up, continued to bandage Oikawa's delicate fingers gently.
"Then I’ll break."
Iwaizumi stopped, this time he looked at him.
"What’s going on with you lately?" he asked as gently as he could.
Oikawa’s lips twitched into a smile. Everything. "Nothing~"
"You’ve been acting weird."
"You’re imagining things, Iwa-chan."
"Cut the crap. I know you."
That’s what made it so hard. Because Iwaizumi did know him. He probably knows him better than he knows himself which makes everything so hard.
Knew how he liked his coffee. Knew the song he always hummed under his breath when he was nervous. Knew his tells. Knew his smiles. Knew his silences.
How could Oikawa not fall in love with him when he looks at him the way Ishiki looks at Iwaizumi? How could Oikawa not fall in love with this man who has been with him for years? How could he not fall in love with Iwaizumi?
So Oikawa did what was best for himself—he distanced himself from Iwaizumi. He kept contact with Hanamaki, though. And Hanamaki watched him break himself. Hanamaki listened to his calls at 2 a.m., begging for Iwaizumi not to love him anymore—Hanamaki told Oikawa everything.
Everything meant Iwaizumi and Ishiki broke up after a month, missed assignments, their coach mad at him now because he was overworking, and the guards had to call him because Oikawa wouldn't go home.
Until one evening, Iwaizumi accidentally called him, accidentally told him why he and Ishiki broke up, and accidentally told Oikawa that he likes him. And after that, Oikawa just... stopped. Oikawa stopped waiting for Iwaizumi outside his porch, stopped waiting for him every day after school.
He didn’t respond when Iwaizumi messaged:
"Where’d you go?"
"Oikawa."
"Hey, answer me. Are you okay?"
He threw his phone across the room. It didn’t break. Unfortunately.
He started missing practice. Once. Twice. Three times.
The coach pulled him aside. "Is something going on, Oikawa? You never miss practice."
"Just a stomach bug," he lied. From his peripheral view he saw Iwaizumi scowl before walking towards them
Iwaizumi wasn’t fooled. He never was, because he knows Oikawa. "Coach, can I talk to him for a second?"
Their coach looked at them before sighing and leaving them be.
"We need to talk," Iwaizumi deadpanned.
Oikawa laughed. "No, we really don't."
Iwaizumi grabbed his wrist. "Tooru."
That name. His first name. It felt like a slap. He just had to call him by his first name at times like this.
Oikawa yanked his hand away. "Don’t."
"Why are you pushing me away?" Iwaizumi asked, hands clenched.
"Why are you acting like you don't know?" Oikawa scoffed inwardly, his hand burning when Iwaizumi touched him. "You're lying."
"Because I don't!" Iwaizumi snapped. "God—do you think I know everything?! I don't, Oikawa. I don't know why you're like this, or why you just started to distance yourself—I don't know!"
"You do, Iwa!" he yelled back, louder. His voice rang through the gym, louder than the sound of the balls hitting the ground.
"No, I don't!"
"You like me," Oikawa said it. He finally said it. And those words came out like poison. "And you can't like me, Iwa. That's wrong."
Iwaizumi blinked. Once. Twice. Oikawa knew that habit. Iwaizumi does that when he's trying to stop his tears, trying to keep his eyes from letting out the pain his heart is aching to release.
"That's it? That's why you're distancing yourself from me?" Iwaizumi scoffed. "That's a pathetic excuse."
The gym was cold that day. Oikawa felt cold that day, which was weird because the sun was shining outside.
In the blink of an eye, they were a bunch of third-years now. Everything felt quick, like it wanted to slip out of Oikawa's grasp.
But it was okay, because Iwaizumi and Oikawa were okay. They never talked about that again, like it was one of those stories best left in the past.
But they both knew a part of them missed what they used to be, and they couldn't blame anyone but themselves—they knew that.
"I like you," Iwaizumi whispered under the cherry blossoms. They lost to Karasuno today, and their last chance at reaching Nationals was gone.
Oikawa stared at him. All those hidden feelings, all those locked thoughts—it all came rushing through his veins like they were a part of him to begin with. He smiled bitterly. "You can't."
"I know."
"My parents would be disappointed. I can't have that," he said, voice barely above a whisper, but Iwaizumi heard him loud and clear. "You can't like me. We can't be what we both want us to be.""
"Yeah. I know, it's okay." Iwaizumi said before leaving. But he knows better; he knew it was far from okay. Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi walked further and further away until he was no longer seen by his own two eyes—
Then everything just broke. He loves Iwaizumi, yes, but he loves his family more.
They never talked after that, only when needed. They were strangers outside the gym.
They walked past each other like they didn't share the same bed when they were younger, like they didn't grow up attached hip to hip, like they didn’t fantasize about their future together. They acted like they didn’t share a huge part of each other.
The night before their graduation, Oikawa invited Hanamaki to the park.
"Really, at 10 p.m.?" Hanamaki groaned as he sat on the swing next to Oikawa.
"Is this about Iwaizumi?"
Oikawa smiled the moment Hanamaki mentioned Iwaizumi's name.
"After graduation, I'm leaving for San Juan. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but can you do me a favor and tell Iwa-chan one thing?"
"Wait— that’s a lot to unpack," Hanamaki scoffed. "And if anything, why don’t you tell Iwaizumi that yourself anyway?"
"Tell him that I love him." Oikawa looked up at the sky, the stars shining brightly.
He remembered when he and Iwaizumi used to go to their garden to stargaze. Oikawa loved talking about the stars while Iwaizumi loved listening to him talk until he fell asleep. He wished he could go back to those times again, and maybe he can hug Iwaizumi for the last time. He should've hugged Iwaizumi tighter when he had the chance "And tell him that I have a letter written for him. Give it to him, okay?"
Hanamaki stayed silent, watching him. But Oikawa knew that look painted on the wing spiker's face.
"Don’t feel bad, you bastard." He flicked Hanamaki’s forehead. "Just... give it to him."
"Okay."
Their graduation came, and there was no photo of Oikawa and Iwaizumi together—no final memory frozen in time, just the two of them.
The only picture they shared was the obligatory club photo, and even in that, they stood on opposite ends like strangers forced into the same frame. No smiles. No glances. Just space—aching, between them. It was as if the universe itself had agreed: they didn’t belong next to each other anymore.
As Oikawa packed his things later that day, he looked at the photo of him and Iwaizumi from middle school, holding each other like one of them would slip away. Ironic now.
When Oikawa arrived at the airport with a heavy heart, he never told Iwaizumi he was leaving. He didn’t know whether Hanamaki even gave the letter to Iwaizumi, just like he asked him to. But with his passport and ticket in hand, he looked back at the sign that said “Welcome to Japan” and whispered to the wind:
"I’m sorry I can’t have you, Iwa-chan. Maybe... maybe in another life it wouldn’t be this cruel," he whispered.
"I love you."
He turned around and started to walk toward his assigned gate, his heart aching with every step he took.
And it forever felt that way.
To my Iwa-chan,
Hello, dear Iwa! It is I, the great Oikawa Tooru.
I think by now... I’ve already left? Hehe. Iwa, first things first: I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for everything that happened between us.
Truthfully, Iwa—
I love you.
I love you the way you love me.
I like you the way you like me.
But I hope you understand why we can’t do this, Iwa.
Love is a law I would risk everything for if it were only up to me... but religion—
Religion was taught to me.
And if I ever disobey that, then my parents…
They would be disappointed.
And I can’t have that. Not now. Not ever.
So I'm sorry, Iwa.
I'm sorry you had to fall in love with someone like me—someone who did nothing but hurt you.
Iwa, I’m not asking you to forgive me.
But the only thing I am asking is:
Please, let yourself be loved the way you deserve to be.
And maybe...
In another life, it would be me and you. But in this life, we can't be that.