IwaOi; Holding Onto You

From: Tooru 16:26

“My girlfriend broke up with me, Iwa-chan. 😖

   Iwaizumi can’t help but  groan a bit when  he  reads the message, but taps  the reply button all the same.

To: Tooru 16:26

“Another? You go through girlfriends like socks.”

To: Tooru 16:27

“…Is it because you wouldn’t fuck her?”

The reply is swift.

From: Tooru 16:27

“Blunt, Iwa-chan! No!!!”

From: Tooru 16:29

“I don’t get it! I thought guys were supposed to be the horny ones, why are all these girls so pushy??”

   Iwaizumi isn’t quite sure what to say, but Oikawa quickly begins typing again. He lets out a small sigh of relief, but it’s quickly overtaken by a feeling that settles like a stone in his stomach when Oikawa hits send.

From: Tooru 16:31

“Is thgere sometyhinmg wronfg with mre iwa-chan?? Isd it realkly tht big of a deasl that i sat no whemn i m uncomftable???”

   Iwaizumi tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Oikawa usually has impeccable typing. Iwaizumi picks out the problem almost immediately. Oikawa is crying.  Iwaizumi tries for a while to think of a reply, typing and erasing countless times before simply tapping over to his best friend’s contact information and hitting Call.

   Oikawa answered much more quickly than Iwaizumi could have expected. Neither of them speak for a while, though. The ace waits, listening to his friend hold back sobs and try to talk, for some time before he opens his mouth.

“It’s okay. Let it out, I’m not gunna judge you.”

   The setter whimpers a bit before he lets out a wail. Iwaizumi turns on speakerphone and sets the phone on his bedside table so he can grab himself a jacket. He listens to the voice on the other side of the phone blabber as he pulls it over his shoulders. He grabs his phone again, turning the speakerphone off and pressing it to his ear as he walks outside. The walk to the setter’s house isn’t long, but Iwaizumi resents every moment his friend isn’t in his presence, being comforted by him. There’s a momentary pause on the other side of the phone, and Iwaizumi takes the chance to speak.

“I’m at your door. Could you let me in?”

“O-of course, Iwa-chan! I’ll be right there!” His voice still shook, but it seemed talking had helped, if just a little.

   The ace heard footsteps clumsily making their way to the front of the house as he hangs up the phone. Oikawa pulls the door open, and Iwaizumi has little time to respond before his friend grabs both his hands and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Thanks for coming, Iwa-chan…”

“I wasn’t going to let you sit in here and cry all alone.”

Oikawa didn’t reply, but that was okay. He didn’t need to. He laid his head on the ace’s chest, tears stinging at his eyes. And they stayed like that for a while, Iwaizumi hugging Oikawa close,  Oikawa wetting Iwaizumi’s shirt with tears. It was almost completely quiet, save for the occasional sniffle from the setter.

“…I really liked her.” Oikawa’s voice was quiet when he finally decided to speak.

Iwaizumi’s fingers tangle in the gentle waves of his captain’s hair.  “I know.”

A sniffle, and a small hiccup. “I guess… I guess she didn’t really like me.”

The ace’s hand moves to wipe the newest tear away from Oikawa’s cheek. His lips curl into a soft smile. “I can’t imagine why. There’s just so many things about you to like.”

He begins, softly, with, “Like your smile. Your real smile. It makes me happy just thinking about it. So bright and genuine…”

They find their way over to the couch as the ace keeps talking. “Your laugh. The one you make when somebody makes a dumb joke in the changing room, and you tell them how stupid they sound, but you can’t help but find it funny.” He goes on and on, listing all the things he loves - likes - he reminds himself, totally platonically.

“…The look in your eyes when you serve. H-hell! Those girls don’t even deserve a guy as great as you–” His face grows hot, and he quickly shuts up. He looks down, embarrassed, only to find Oikawa, eyes still wet from tears, giving him a little smile.

“Iwa-chan… If you were jealous, all you had to do was tell me.”

“I’m n–” He’s cut off, by a pair of lips pressed against his own. He can taste the salt of the tears, but as his eyes flutter closed and his body relaxes, he can’t think of one thing that would taste better right now.