#hqfics

Wakatoshi’s morning jog was hard. Physically, he could have easily run for another ten kilometers, but his mind kept pulling him back to the safety and warmth of his unmade bed. Annoyed that a steady and peaceful rhythm was out of his reach, he grudgingly circled back to his complex. But by the time he made it up the steps to his apartment, he was breathing hard.

Looks like he needed more rest after all.

Before going in, Wakatoshi took note of the nearly empty bowls of kibble and water beside his front door. He needed to refill them soon. There were several stray cats in the neighbourhood, and he always tried to feed as many as he could while he was home. They gravitated to him when he first moved in, which he thought odd because he didn’t have any experience with cats, or any animals, as a child. He enjoyed their company, though, as they were independent and showed affection once a bond was formed. He wasn’t the easiest person to interact with, so he appreciated the simplicity of his relationship with them.

Sighing, he unzipped his sweater and tossed it absently on the dark green counter top. The apartment was bigger than initially wanted, but his mother insisted that he’d regret it if he chose something smaller. She said that it was always good to have extra room in case people came over. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t have much time to entertain considering he would be on the road for games. However, when he realized the extra space would mean that she would always be comfortable during visits, he quickly put an offer in for the apartment.

The troublesome feeling of guilt tugged at him as he thought of his mother. He hadn’t spoken to her in a few weeks. Not since the Adlers loss to the Jackals in the V.League finals. Actually, he needed to touch base with several people in addition to her. Leaning against the counter, he thumbed through his phone until his messages popped up.

20 unread texts stared at him earnestly. The latest one was from Kageyama.

We should practice soon. Let me know when you’re free.

No apologies or words of comfort. He appreciated that. It seemed that Kageyama had already cut his losses and was getting ready for next season. He only knew of a few people that bounced back that quickly; Kageyama’s stubbornness and adaptability was an invaluable asset on the court.

The next message was from Romero.

Hey, Lefty. Drinks on me next time.

Wakatoshi wasn’t a huge drinker, but he enjoyed spending time with Romero. He was supportive and sociable, traits that he hoped would come easier to him one day.

Tendou was next.

Don’t get too down, Toshi-kun! I’ll buy you all the Hayashi rice you want the next time I’m in Sendai.

That made him chuckle. Tendou must be really worried about him if he was willing to take a break from his chocolatier apprenticeship just go out for dinner in their hometown.

The rest of the messages were of a similar nature. Sympathies and offers to hang out when he was available. People were genuinely concerned for him, and he was grateful. He hoped he didn’t worry his them too much with his lack of response.

Normally, he responded to any messages immediately, but he wanted a bit of peace after a long season. A month, however, was pushing it. After downing a glass of orange juice, he decided to respond to them methodically after a short nap and a hot shower. He flopped ungracefully on the couch and stretched his long legs out, calves protesting slightly at the movement.

Wakatoshi closed his eyes and hoped sleep would come, but his thoughts were pulled back to the final set against the Jackals. Everyone knew the match would be a close one. The players on both teams were talented, competitive, and exceedingly stubborn. The Adlers had been the champions for the last three years, but the Jackals were eager to claim that title for themselves. Once the team found out who their opponents were, they prepared to play hard through all five sets.

Because the Jackals would do the same.

Wakatoshi was more than excited for the match, as he always relished the chance to play the best of his contemporaries. He was especially looking forward to paying Hinata back for snatching his last chance to go to the Spring Tournament seven years ago. Wakatoshi couldn’t wait to test the redhead’s newfound skills against his own. They had both evolved into formidable players since their last encounter.

But the Jackals still surprised him, despite having played them twice during the regular season. He had spent hours analyzing their strengths, weaknesses, and overall playing style. The Adlers were deadly in their precision and technical prowess, but the Jackals matched that with their unpredictability and tenacity. Miya’s charisma leant itself well to his unconventional spikers. Bokuto, Sakusa, and Hinata were the personification of baseless confidence and relentless determination. Wakatoshi’s most disliked traits.

The Adlers won the first two sets: 25-22 and 25-23.

The coaching staff was fairly confident that they team would take the final set and the match itself, with his, Houshiumi’s, and Romero’s spikes at textbook perfection. But Wakatoshi knew better. From across the court, he felt the energy shift in the Jackals’ team huddle. He could tell Hinata was rallying his team with some choice words; Bokuto was getting worked up, along with Sakusa. They weren’t going out quietly, and frankly, Wakatoshi would’ve been disappointed if they didn’t put up a fight.

The Jackals took the next two sets: 28-26 and 25-23.

Like most players Wakatoshi didn’t like being pushed to the fifth set, as switching courts halfway could effectively kill any hard-earned momentum. He scored the first few points of the set, connecting with Kageyama’s tosses like he always did. But a feeling a dread crept to the front of his mind once he felt that shift of energy again.

It started with Hinata and quickly spread to the rest of his team. The time he spent with Oikawa in Brazil had changed him. He was faster, smarter, and even more fearless than the first time they played. Wakatoshi had to stop himself from admiring his skill and presence. Miya had a grin on his face every time he set to the redhead. Few setters had the chance to work with a wing spiker like Hinata.

The Jackals disrupted the flow of the game with two hard volleys to the back corners of the court on the second hit. The placement confused the back-line players because the ball’s trajectory was on that razor-thin line of in and out. Indecision cost them two crucial points. Then, Sakusa forced him to dig for a few a tips that were just outside of his reach.

And shockingly, he was forced to tip when he realized that he couldn’t power his way through an impenetrable three-man block. It was sloppy and picked up with ease by the libero. This was new territory for him, and he normally wouldn’t have minded, but the unforgiving pace of the fifth set didn’t allow him enough time to adjust to their tactics.

The Jackals won the final set. 25-23. Hinata’s final kill blasted through a hole through his, Sokolov’s, and Romero’s outstretched arms.

Wakatoshi had never been one to dwell on the past, but he couldn’t help but remember his final loss against Karasuno seven years ago. He looked over at Hinata, who was currently dog-piled under his teammates and coaching staff. Their celebration was drowned out by the roaring and unruly crowd, shocked at the defeat of the defending champions.

The little redhead managed to best him again.

No. He was the Little Giant now.

Wakatoshi was still recovering from the outcome when Romero gently nudged his shoulder and said it was time to line up. The man’s darkly stubbled face was sweaty and flushed, probably not unlike his own. But he gave him a solid thump on his back and complimented his spikes before walking past, and it was all Wakatoshi could do to hold his head up high and line up with the rest of the team.

That was a month ago, he thought angrily, resting his forearm over his eyes. The pressure was somewhat comforting. Move on. He hated that he was still dwelling on this loss. That wasn’t like him. He felt out of place for the last month, unsure of how to process his feelings. He hated that even more. Why? He was already a champion, so why was this loss different? Was it because he failed in his duty as the Adlers’ Ace?

Or was it because Hinata beat him again?

His last coherent thought before he finally drifted off to sleep was a fierce promise that he would continue to push forward and improve.

No matter what stood in his way.

~

Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiiii—

Wakatoshi turned over, causing the phone on his chest to fall face down onto the floor. The loud thud brought him back to reality. He rubbed his eyes gently with the heel of his hand. How long had he slept? And who was calling him? He briefly considered ignoring the call, but then remembered his decision to reach out to people again. Might as well start now. But by the time he reached his phone, the ringing had stopped. His brow furrowed when he saw the name pop up for the missed call.

SAITOU-SENSEI.

Curious, Wakatoshi sat up and pressed the call button.

“Hello?”

“Saitou-sensei, it’s Wakatoshi-kun. I’m sorry I missed your call.” He smiled when the warm, familiar voice echoed in his ear.

“Oh, not to worry! I’m sure you wanted some peace and quiet after a busy season.”

“Yes,” he stated, leaning back on the plush cushions. “It’s good to be home.”

The excitement in his coach’s voice was instant. “Ah, I was hoping you’d say that! I know it’s last minute, but would you be interested in helping me coach a middle school rep team on Saturday?”

“Coach?” He echoed. Saturday was two days away.

“Just for this Saturday,” his sensei clarified. “My assistant is sick and having an extra pair of hands at practice is never a bad thing.”

Wakatoshi nodded in agreement. Having two coaches was always a benefit to the players. He learned as much from Saitou-sensei as he did Washijiou-sensei during his time at Shiratorizawa. “Where are you holding practice?”

He could hear the smile in sensei’s voice. “Home court. Shiratorizawa Academy. It’s from 1 to 4 in the afternoon.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes widened. He was going to already going to say yes because it was Saitou-sensei asking, but that solidified his decision. “If it’s acceptable, I’d like to be there at 11 to warm up. I haven’t played in a month.” He paused and tried to think of another way to help. “I can set the net up as well.”

“That would be great because I don’t have a manager yet.” Sensei sounded relieved. “I was planning on coming early and doing it myself, but I’m in Tokyo until Saturday morning.”

Wakatoshi shook his head. It wouldn’t take long for sensei’s young team to realize how lucky they were to have him as a coach. He was always willing to do everything to ensure everyone would have a good experience. “Please leave it to me.”

“You’re still reliable as ever, Wakatoshi-kun. I’ll take you out for dinner as a thank you.”

Wakatoshi’s ears grew hot. He never expected anything in return for helping. “T-that’s not necessary, sensei,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is the least I can do for the years you spent coaching me.”

“Ah, now you’re embarrassing me!” Sensei’s laugh was infectious. “It was a joy to help you grow into the player you are now. You played a hell of a game last month.”

Wakatoshi’s fingers tightened over his phone. Did he really play his absolute best? If he did, it still wasn’t enough to win against Hinata and—

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Sensei’s steady voice effectively cut through Wakatoshi’s negative thoughts and insecurities. “I know you hate losing.” The smile returned to his tone. “But when you do, there’s no shame in losing to the best of them. It just happened to be the Jackals that day.”

Wakatoshi swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He didn’t realize how much he needed to be reassured that losing didn’t mean he was inadequate or lacking. He was just used to shouldering the burdens and pressure that came with being a top player. Not to mention the high expectations he set for himself. But that left no room for failure, and it was exhausting.

“Besides, you love playing more than you hate losing, right?” His sensei sounded hopeful, imploring. “I’m sure you’ll feel better once you get back on the court.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes widened. His love for volleyball was lost in the wake of self-pity. Suddenly, Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. He missed practicing until his arms and hands were red. He missed the satisfaction of hearing the ball land in the opponent’s court after a spike or a tip. And he missed growing and learning with his teammates.

“I-I’m looking forward to it,” Wakatoshi said softly. “Thank you, Saitou-sensei.” He still wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but he knew that sensei understood him enough to understand that he was grateful for the words of encouragement.

“Hey, now! You’re a coach now too, Ushijima-sensei. Get used to it. You’ll be hearing it a lot from the players on Saturday.”

Wakatoshi frowned. He was only filling in and didn’t deserve that distinction. “But it’s only for the day—”

His sensei laughed again. “Well, that still counts! I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Goodbye, sensei.”

Wakatoshi placed his phone on the coffee table. The heaviness he felt in his chest throughout the last month was gone. Instead, he felt restless. Just like all the other times he took on a new challenge. It had been a long time since he trained anyone. Perhaps he could show these young players that falling short of a goal wasn’t the end of the world. And having a solid support system was essential to growing as an individual and as a player. After embracing his newfound insights, a smile threatened split his face in two.

Yua could feel Rui’s excitement build with each hurried step they took towards the main gymnasium. Rui’s grip on her hand grew firmer as the sharp, repetitive thud of a volleyball hitting the wall reached their ears. His pace quickened and Yua matched it so her shoulder wouldn’t be ripped out of its socket.

“Someone’s doing a wall spikes drill!” He all but squealed just before he dragged her through the doors. “Coach Hayate made us do that yesterday!”

Yua grinned at his energy; it reminded her of Tak when he started playing. That same childish excitement and passion for the game landed him the starting middle blocker position on the men’s team at Waseda University.

“Tak hated that drill until he learned how to snap his wrist properly,” she chuckled. “He almost drove mom crazy because he’d practice outside against the kitchen for hours.”

But Rui had barely heard her. He had tossed his duffel onto the floor and begun rummaging through it quickly, muttering something she couldn’t quite hear. Not wanting to disturb him, Yua checked her watch. 11:58. Practice didn’t start until 1, but she hoped that they weren’t imposing by being early. Punctuality was a hard habit to break since her profession repeatedly insisted that there was no such thing as being “too early”. And they weren’t wrong. She had witnessed several events almost derail despite everyone arriving early and doing their best to account for any surprises. It never hurt to be on the slightly paranoid side.

Yua quickly found the source of the steady thud, thud, thud, they heard on the way in. At the back of the spacious gym, a man was diligently performing a wall spikes drill just like Tak said. He wore black shorts and a white long-sleeved shirt and Yua could tell that he was tall, but that was no surprise as most players were close to six feet and over.

What did surprise her was his technique. Even from this distance, she noted that his movements were effortless and precise; habits that could only be honed through hours and hours of practice. As the ball bounced toward the man, he cranked his left arm back and paused for a breath before a hard and fast overhead swing sent the ball hurling back to the wall to start the endless cycle again. Yua hadn’t played in years, but she knew enough about the game to understand that this man’s skill was something special.

No doubt he was a wing spiker.

That surprised Yua even more. There were very few lefties in any sport, and she only knew of one volleyball player who made a name for himself playing Southpaw. As she eyed him more closely, his features and bearing seemed familiar, but she wouldn’t be able to discover more until he turned around. She noted the net, posts, and antennas laying haphazardly on the ground nearby; he must have started to set up for practice before deciding to warm up instead. Besides, it was easier to set up with two people. He’d most likely accept her offer to help if she extended it.

As Yua considered more options, she was reminded about how much she missed going to Tak’s games. The Waseda campus was only a twenty-minute ride from her apartment, but she could barely find time for even herself in the last six months because of the back-to-back events she had to plan and execute for the firm. Anything social had to take the unfortunate backseat. Tak always had tickets saved for her, though. It made her heart clench every time she thought about it, because she was his biggest fan other than mom and dad.

Yua shook her head, opting not to give her guilt a chance to creep in. There was enough of that to deal with in her other relationships. She crossed her arms and went into planning mode. Eying the man again, she decided that he was either the head coach or, at least, an assistant coach. The net had to be up and level before the rest of players and coaching staff arrived, so he’d definitely benefit if she offered to help him.

Plus, she could introduce Rui and ask if he’d be willing to pepper with him or practice a drill before everything started. Yes, that could work. Tetsu and Amaya probably knew the coaches’ names, but she forgot to ask when they called yesterday. Ah! She turned back to Rui, hoping that he’d know at least one of the coaches, but her brow furrowed when she saw him gaping at the man on the other side of the gym.

“Rui-kun, what’s wrong?” She murmured as she squatted beside him. He instinctively reached for her and closed her hand over his smaller one, hoping to provide him with some reassurance.

“Yua-chan…” His normally strong voice was timid, so she could barely hear it above the ball’s constant thudding.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

He swallowed, trying to find his voice again. He turned to her, his brown eyes blown wide with awe and realization.

When Oikawa was 3, he met Iwaizumi for the first time. Their parents were close friends and figured that their sons could use a playmate. Iwaizumi had felt an instant, childish connection to the smaller brunette, and soon, they were practically inseparable.

When Iwaizumi was 5, Oikawa had developed a fascination with two things: space and volleyball. Iwaizumi had never been interested in either, but for the sake of his friend, he would practice for hours on end in the large field behind Oikawa’s house, the pair clumsily swinging at the oversized ball until the brunette’s parents urged them to come in for dinner. Iwaizumi wasn’t very good at anything volleyball related, but the smiles that it brought to his best friend’s face were worth it.

When Oikawa was 8, he got into his first fight. Some bigger, older kids from one of the upper grades had decided to start picking on Iwaizumi one day at recess. Oikawa couldn’t stand to see his best friend, the one person that would consistently stand up for him, be pushed around like some broken old toy. He punched the biggest boy in the face, leaving him with an impressive black eye. In return, he received a bloody nose, a variety of bruises and scrapes, and a concerned slap from Iwaizumi. He also got a hug from both Iwaizumi and his older brother. Those kids never bothered them again.

When Iwaizumi was 10, he and Oikawa joined their first competitive volleyball team together. Oikawa had been so excited to have a team, he talked about it for weeks, Iwaizumi listening patiently and smiling. The brunette would lay awake at their almost-nightly sleepovers, wondering what it would be like to be playing with 8 or 9 other people. The coaches that ran the organization were so impressed with them that they both ended up on the 11s team. Iwaizumi would never forget the light in his best friend’s deep brown eyes the first time he stepped on the court, in his new official jersey.

When Oikawa was 13, he won his first championship with Iwaizumi at Kitagawa Daichi Junior High. He remembered every second of it, from the moment he stepped into the lights for the first match, to leaping into Iwaizumi’s arms, mussing his spiky dark hair, seeing the pure joy in his friend’s eyes after the 25th point of the final match. That was the year he began acquiring excessive amounts of fangirls. They were fun to flirt with, but he never really took an interest to them, or any girl for that matter. He’d find the right one eventually, or so he told himself.  

When Iwaizumi was 15, the difference between his and Oikawa’s skill level was rapidly growing. It wasn’t that he wasn’t working as hard as the setter, it was just that Oikawa was a fucking genius. Not that the outside hitter was jealous or anything. He loved seeing the smile that lit up the brunette’s entire face at his success. It was that rare, genuine smile that only came out when volleyball was involved. Not the polite, smug smile he wore around fans. Iwaizumi loved his best friend more than anything. He was willing to spend hours after practice, improving, just so he could spend every possible second on the court with Oikawa. He would never forget the pride in his best friend’s eyes when the coach announced that he would be the ace.

When Oikawa was 17 he realized he was gay, and not only was he gay, he was in love with someone he had called his best friend for the past 14 years. Everything else was perfect, except for that one little irksome detail. His career was at its peak. He was bound to go to a top university and probably play at an international level after that. He wished that his stupid feelings for his stupid hot best friend would go away. Damn Iwaizumi, why was he so attractive and muscular. And his abs. Oikawa was a huge sucker for a man with abs. He spent practically every night with him, like he had always done for most of their lives. But now, every time Iwaizumi made casual contact with him, or brushed up against him, his heart would skip a beat. It was painful. Some days, Oikawa couldn’t stand it. Iwaizumi was probably straight anyways. The brunette was better off not knowing.

When Iwaizumi was 18, he and Oikawa confessed a secret, but the dark-haired hitter was still hiding something from his best friend. No. Not best friend. Not anymore, at least to Iwaizumi. To him, Oikawa was the love of his life. Yes, Iwaizumi Hajime was gay, and so was Oikawa Tooru apparently. Not that he had a chance with the brunette. This was his last year with Oikawa. Sure, they had the summer and would probably talk on a daily basis in college, but it wouldn’t be the same. He wasn’t sure if his heart could handle it if the beautiful brunette with the electrifying smile came home in the arms of another man. There was only one thing to do…

It was Oikawa’s last year at Aoba Johsai. He was still in love with Iwaizumi, and he knew he had to tell him eventually. The brunette would probably explode otherwise. He had managed to keep the secret pent up in his heart for a little over a year, but it was slowly starting to break free, to all come spilling out. The school year was almost over. Volleyball, for now, was also over. Oikawa had promised himself he would confess to the spiky-haired hitter before they graduated and went their separate ways. He felt his hands shaking. Everything had to be perfect.

There was only 2 and a half weeks of school left. Iwaizumi met Oikawa at their usual spot for coffee and studying, but today was different. Iwaizumi checked the bathroom mirror one more time to make sure he looked perfect. He was not going to mess it up. His usually spiky hair was significantly tamer. His heart did, well something, when he saw Oikawa casually lounging on a bench. God this man is perfect he thought.

“Iwa-chan,” the sing-song voice came from the bench.

“Hey Oikawa, still trash I see,” Iwaizumi snickered, nudging the brunette with his hip. Oikawa visibly blushed, but Iwaizumi didn’t notice. “Move your lazy ass. I have a proposition to make.”

“I’m intrigued,” Oikawa sat up, smoothly sliding his arm around his crush.

“Ah, em, I was thinking that we could go watch the stars tonight or something, you’ve always liked stars and we don’t have practice because of well, exams and graduation,” Iwaizumi said, hoping he didn’t look too flustered.

“Well duh of course I want to,” the brunette smiled, one of his genuine perfect ones, “Actually, I know this really great place like ¼ of a mile from my house. I used to go there a lot whenever you took those looooong vacations.”

“Sounds awesome,” Iwaizumi tried to subtly lean on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Now let’s gooooo Iwa-chan, I’m hungry, it’s getting late, and I want ramen,” he whined, pulling Iwaizumi up with him, “It takes like half an hour to walk to the place and you were so late getting here.”

“Sorry, had to talk to the guidance counselor, and also, half an hour of walking is nothing Mr. I-spend-all-my-time-in-a-fucking-gym,” Iwaizumi smirked.

“So rude Iwa-chan,” he pouted, earning a slap on the back of the head.

“I’m just doing my job assykawa,” Iwaizumi shrugged.

It took an hour to get to the little ramen shop near Oikawa’s house due to the brunette’s amazing abilities to become extremely distracted by everything and anything. It was fairly crowded when they entered, but the pair got their usual spot in the little corner table. Music was softly playing in the background. Iwaizumi would even go so far to say it was kind of romantic. He and Oikawa got into a heated argument over who was paying, that was only resolved by the outside hitter stealing Oikawa’s wallet and refusing to give it back, despite the whining, until the bill was paid and they were outside.

“Iwa-chan, I was gonna pay,” he pouted. He’s so cute when he pouts thought Iwaizumi.

“Too bad shittykawa, you can buy the ice cream if you want.” Oikawa’s face brightened considerably at the suggestion.

Iwaizumi wished he had let Oikawa pay for the ramen. The brunette had gone way overboard with the whole ice cream thing, and had bought around three gallons of around 50 different flavors. The pair slowly made their way up the hill, enjoying the cool breeze on their faces. There were long periods of contented silence, only interrupted by the rustle of the plastic bag Oikawa was carrying. When they reached the summit, Oikawa dropped the bag and flopped on the ground dramatically.

“That was such a workout,” he mock-panted, “Iwa-chan, carry me, I don’t think I can stand.”

“No, we’re at the top dumbass,” he said bluntly. Oh how I’d love to carry you Oikawa fucking Tooru you fucking tease.

“Sooooo meeeeean,” Oikawa said, playfully throwing a handful of grass at the spiky mass of dark hair.

“Shush, or I’m eating all the ice cream,” Iwaizumi growled playfully, weaving his hand through Oikawa’s hair.

“You wouldn’t dare,” the setter’s face contorted into an expression of mock horror.

The setter and the outside hitter sat and talked aimlessly while waiting for the sun to set. It wasn’t about anything in particular. Mostly, they discussed volleyball, or college, or school. Oikawa had made a flower crown out of dandelions and placed it on Iwaizumi’s head, much to the latter’s protest. But Oikawa’s smile, that perfect, electrifying, heart-stopping smile, made even the most annoying things worth it.

“The sunset is beautiful,” he said aimlessly, trying to ignore the fact that Oikawa was mere inches from him. The sky was a canvas of oranges, reds, pinks, blues, and purples, with the occasional random cloud fragment.

“Like me,” Oikawa winked, tossing his hair. Iwaizumi agreed with that statement.

“Nah, I think the sunset wins,” he said. They sat in silence for a little while longer, watching the sky fade into a darkened twilight, and then, into pitch black, the only light coming from the round surface of the moon and the millions of tiny stars that dotted the sky, like little drops of paint. Around ¼ of the ice cream was gone, and somehow, Iwaizumi found himself lying on the ground with his head in Oikawa’s lap, the setter aimlessly fiddling with his hair. Not that he minded. The stars were so beautiful, just like Oikawa. The night was calm except for a light breeze. Iwaizumi felt himself starting to fall asleep. He fought it, desperately. There was still so many things he had to say to Oikawa. He opened his mouth to speak, only to have a soft, elegant finger press itself to his lips. Oikawa smirked at him.

“Shhhh Iwa-chan,” he said smoothly, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too much. Oikawa felt his palms begin to sweat. This was it. He was going to confess. It was now or never. He reached into his bag and pulled out a bundle of red and white roses, dropping them into Iwaizumi’s lap.

“Wha-” the dark-haired hitter began to say, but he was cut off by Oikawa’s voice, which was surprisingly shaky, and full of emotion.

“H-Hajime, I can’t even begin to describe how much I feel for you. You’re more than my best friend. I love you. I love you Iwaizumi Hajime. I can’t keep it to myself anymore, I had to tell you, because I love you, more than anything,” the brunette’s voice was overwhelmed with emotion. His heart pounded. “And you probably don’t feel the same way towards me, so, well, I’m sorry. I’ll go.” Iwaizumi was silent. He was stunned. He was happy.

“No. Tooru. Don’t go. I have…I have a confession, to make,” he said, sitting up and taking the calloused hands in his own. He stared into the deep brown eyes he had come to know so well over the past 14 years. “Oikawa Tooru. I asked you here, because I wanted to tell you something too, but you clearly beat me to it,” he smirked, “I, I love you too.  I want to be with you. I don’t want this year to end because I don’t want to leave you, Tooru please don’t leave me,” tears began to sting the back of his eyes as fear consumed his heart.

“Hajime…” Oikawa pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi, “I’ll never leave you. I promise okay?” Their eyes locked, and Iwaizumi went in. Their lips smashed together as their bodies and souls collided. Their shadows appeared to dance in the moonlight and the stars were perfectly aligned for that night as Oikawa and Iwaizumi began to kiss. Oikawa felt a shock run through his body. It felt so perfect, so filled with love and emotion, he never wanted it to end. When they finally broke apart, Iwaizumi was practically radiating light. He was like a star, Oikawa’s star. He stared into the brunette’s eyes which were glowing like two perfect moons of pure happiness.

“Now…put your stupid cute head in my lap and sleep, you were about to anyways, we can have more fun in the morning,” Oikawa pressed another kiss to his new boyfriend’s forehead, letting it rest in his lap. Iwaizumi hummed in response, a deep beautiful, powerful noise. It sounded content. He felt himself drifting off, surrounded by the smell of fresh grass and Oikawa. He felt soft hands, worn from constant practice, gently stroke his hair. He snuggled deeper into the lap. This was perfect. He was happy.