#iwakyou

Hepicked up his bags and stared at the door, sure that whether helooked back or he stepped forward, there was no going back fromeither. He heard a sniffle behind him and he just had to look.

“What’swrong.” It was gruff and rude, just like everything Kentarou eversaid. He winced. Iwaizumi deserved to be handled with gentleness. Heturned to apologize in some way or another, only to startle at thesight of Iwaizumi so close behind him. There were tears streakingdown his face and a heartbroken twist to his lips. He reached out andtangled his fingers in the hem of Kentarou’s shirt.

“Stay,”he whispered. “Please.”

“Ican’t.” Iwaizumi nodded and let Kentarou go. He turned away andpadded down the hall. Kentarou heard their bedroom door shut -Iwaizumi’sbedroom door, not theirs anymore - and what was left of his heartthat was still intact shattered into a thousand pieces. He shoulderedhis bags a little higher and walked out the front door.

Drivingaway down the quiet suburban streets, Kentarou didn’tlet himself cry. There would be plenty of time for that when he gotwhere he was going.

-

Forweeks, Kentarou avoided anything that would remind him of Iwaizumi.He stopped going to his favorite places, because they had been theirfavorite places. He stopped seeing his friends, because they had beentheir friends. He quit the community volleyball team, because it hadbeen their volleyball team. He threw himself into work, because workwas the only thing left to him that wasn’ttouched by Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumibehaved exactly as Kentarou expected him to. He didn’tcall, he didn’t show up at Kentarou’s job, he didn’t make anyattempts to contact Kentarou. He respected the distance Kentarou hadput between them. A part of Kentarou wanted to know how he was doing,wanted to check in on him and make sure he was okay, or maybe makesure he was as miserable as Kentarou was.

Itwas a thought that ate at Kentarou. Himself being miserable he couldhandle. He deserved it, after all. But Iwaizumi deserved to be happy.He deserved all the happiness in the world. And Kentarou couldn’tgive that to him.

Hestared at the water-stained ceiling of his new apartment in the dark, wishing himself away. There wasn’tmuch to do without Iwaizumi in his life; even things like watching tvand eating takeout hurt without him. He was just debating going tosleep at six in the evening when his phone rang.

Ithad been ringing off the hook since he’dleft, friends and former teammates calling to tell him to get his acttogether or whatever. He let it ring.

Itrang itself out, then rang again. Kentarou glanced at it, charging onthe nightstand, and something in him shriveled with foreboding. Hepicked it up.

“’Lo?”

“Isthis Kyoutani Kentarou-san?” asked a woman’s voice on the otherend.

“Yes.”

“Thisis Hamada Echiko with Saitama Hospital. I’m calling in regards toIwaizumi Hajime, who has you listed as his emergency contact.”

Kentarouwas suddenly very, very awake.  “Ishe okay?” he demanded.

“Iwaizumi-sanhas broken his leg in three places and needs someone to drive himhome and stay with him through the night,” Hamada said. “Can youcome and pick him up?”

Kentarouconsidered lying. He could say he was out of the country,unavailable, give her Oikawa’snumber, or anyone else’s. But Iwaizumi had kept him as hisemergency contact for a reason. Even if that reason was just that hehadn’t thought of it, or was too lazy. He still trusted Kentarouenough to take care of him if something happened.

“I’llbe there in twenty minutes,” he promised Hamada. She thanked himand hung up the phone.

Herushed through getting dressed. He barely made sure to grab hiswallet and phone before darting out the door and down the stairs.

SaitamaHospital was a thirty minute drive away, but Kentarou made it infifteen. He barged through the door into the waiting room, startlingthe nurses and waiting patients. He shrugged his shoulders up to hisears and tried not to glare as he made his way up to the front desk.

“IwaizumiHajime?” he asked the woman.

“Oh,are you Kyoutani-san?” she asked, her voice familiar. “I’mHamada Echiko. Come right this way.”

Hamadaled the way into the emergency room proper, passing down the hallwayat a fast clip. Kentarou had to half-trot to keep up with her, hisheart in a knot of worry. Finally, she stopped at a room where afamiliar figure was lying on a bed, a doped-out look on his face.

“He’son pretty heavy medication,” Hamada explained. “He may be out ofit for the next twenty-four hours, so we require someone to sign thatthey will stay with him through the night.”

“I’llsign,” Kentarou said, his eyes on Iwaizumi. He looked like shit.His clothes were dirty and he hadn’t shaved in what appeared to beseveral weeks. Hamada thrust a clipboard at Kentarou and he lookedaway from Iwaizumi only long enough to sign where she pointed.

“He’sall yours,” Hamada said. “I’ll have someone come round with awheelchair for him in a few minutes.” With that she was gone,striding away like she had more important things to worry about thanthe end of Kentarou’s world. Kentarou stepped into the little roomwhere Iwaizumi was laid out and closed the curtain.

“Hajime,”Kentarou said, then silently cursed himself for it. Iwaizumi’s namefelt too sweet on his tongue. “Hey. Wake up.”

“Kentarou?”Iwaizumi slurred, his bleary eyes focusing on Kentarou for a moment.Then they screwed up with pain and he burst into tears.

“Hey,what’s wrong?” Kentarou asked, his hands fluttering overIwaizumi’s prone form. “Do you need more pain meds? I can callthe nurse or-”

Iwaizumishook his head, slapping his hands over his face. “Whyare you here?” he wailed.

“BecauseI’m your emergency contact,” Kentarou said. “They’re sendinga wheelchair, and I’m gonna take you home, okay?”

“Promise?”Iwaizumi asked. A nurse came around the corner with a wheelchair andKentarou nodded.

“Ipromise,” he said, stepping to one side to let the nurse do herjob.

“Don’tleave, okay?” Iwaizumi asked, one hand reaching out for Kentaroueven as the nurse wrestled him into the wheelchair.

“Iwon’t,” Kentarou said. “I’m here. I’m right here.”Iwaizumi nodded and let his hand drop, letting the nurses help himinto the wheelchair. Kentarou nodded at them and took the handles ofthe wheelchair, wheeling Iwaizumi out into the waiting room forcheckout.

Whenthey got back to the apartment Kentarou argued with the cantankerousold elevator until it allowed them out on the third floor. Threedoors to the left and Kentarou found himself standing in the placethat had been his home for five years.

Itwas a mess. Takeout cartons were stacked everywhere, dishes piledhigh in the sink, dirty laundry all over the floor. It was as thoughIwaizumi hadn’tbeen taking care of himself while Kentarou had been gone. But thatwas an insane thought; Iwaizumi was always the stronger of the two ofthem.

Kentarouhelped Iwaizumi into bed, pulling the covers up over his waist butnot his chest, exactly the way he liked it. Sure Iwaizumi wassleeping peacefully, he set about cleaning the apartment.

Itwas well past midnight by the time Kentarou finished and made up abed for himself on the couch. There was a picture of the two of themon the coffee table, smiling and holding on to each other after a winwith their college volleyball team. Kentarou found himself smiling atit when suddenly the door to the bedroom opened and Kentarou heardthe tell-tale sound of crutches on the carpet.

“You’resupposed to be in bed,” Kentarou said.

“It’slonely in there.” Iwaizumi’s voice was clear, free of the drughaze. He hobbled out into the living room and stood in the doorway,considering Kentarou while Kentarou considered him right back. “Youcleaned,” Iwaizumi remarked.

“Youlet this place go to shit,” Kentarou remarked right back. Iwaizumishrugged.

“Notmuch point in keeping it up when you’re not around to hate themess,” he said.

“No,”Kentarou said.

“No?”

“No.”

“No,what?”

“No,you don’t get to do that,” Kentarou snarled. “You don’t getto fall apart without me. You were supposed to move on, to be thestrong one, to be better without me, or, I don’t know, something-”Kentarou cut himself off with a grimace. He hated how Iwaizumi alwaysgot him to babble like this, without even doing anything.

“Newsflash,genius, it hasn’t exactly been easy without you,” Iwaizumi said.“The love of my life just walked out without a proper explanation,and you expect me to be okay with that? That’s not how real lifeworks, Kyoutani.”

“Ileft because you deserve better,” Kentarou snapped. “Because youdeserve someone who-”

“Whowon’t leave!” Iwaizumi shouted. “I deserve someone who talksthings out with me, instead of leaving me thinking I had donesomething wrong, or-”

“I’msorry!” The words were out before Kentarou could stop them, andwith them came tears. He looked down, but he could still hearIwaizumi making his slow and painful way over to the couch. Heflopped down next to him and then flopped into Kentarou’s side.

“I’msorry too,” Iwaizumi whispered.

“Forwhat.” Kentarou grumbled through his tears.

“Formaking you think you had to go. For making you think I was anythingother than head-over-heels desperately in love with you. Foreverything.”

Kentaroulooked at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi looked at Kentarou, and for a momentthe entire world hung in the balance. Then Iwaizumi looked down.

“Isthat my shirt?” he asked. Kentarou glanced down and flushed.

“Iguess it got mixed up in all my stuff,” he muttered.