Work Text:
It’s past midnight. The fridge hums like the migraine growing behind his furrowed brow. 2 months ago, when he got this job, his boss told him off for ‘looking so scary’ at the cash register, for putting off customers. Iwaizumi thinks the idiots buying 6-packs and scratch-offs at witching hour deserve to get a little scared.
Staring at the small print of his physics homework probably wasn’t helping his headache any, but it didn’t matter to Iwaizumi. What did matter was that he had less than 24 hours till the due date, and it was too early in the semester to constantly annoy his professors for extensions.
When he’s jotting down integrals in chicken scratch, a bell chimes, signalling a new customer. Which is commonplace enough that Iwaizumi just continues on with his work. Until he’s interrupted by hands on his notebook, freakishly pale. He lowers his pencil and looks up as some stranger crowds him, all up in his face. He already has an armload of instant meals, carelessly dropping them onto the counter.
“Hey,” light brown eyes glance down at his name tag, “Iwaizumi, where do I tap?”
All Iwaizumi can do is stare up at the idiot who walked into a 7/11 at 1:43 AM and points to one of the signs plastered across the store. Comic sans on colored paper: ‘cash and card only.’ When the customer scoffs at the dismissal, he throws his head to the side and makes show of searching for his wallet, over dramatic. The performance irks Iwaizumi, his attention caught by bright lights reflecting on the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his neck. He grips his pencil tighter and tries to remember a breathing exercise he saw on YouTube years ago. In and out…
“C’mon, Iwaizumi.” The man waves a bill in his face, worth ten times more than the trash hes trying to buy, before glancing down at his nametag again, frowning. “Do you guys at least have change?”
Iwaizumi slowly exhales and gives a curt “No.” The ‘no cash left overnight’ sign on the window is covered in yellow highlighter, glaringly obvious in the corner of his eye.
“What! Iwa-chan, I don’t have any smaller bills.”
Iwaizumi can feel his eye twitching, but tries to ignore it. And he definitely does not think about this college-aged guy calling him something as childish as Iwa-chan. “We empty out the register before 10 PM,” he grits out.
And this guy has the gall to pout. His big brown eyes kind of remind Iwaizumi of the bugs he used to catch in elementary school. His resigned, “alright,” reminds Iwaizumi of his younger cousins when he’s too busy to hang out. Which is crazy because they’re seven and this guy is at least twenty.
Again, he fumbles through his bag, brown and cross-body with a collection of noisy alien keychains and one volleyball pin. He clearly is unable to find whatever he is searching for because he looks up to Iwaizumi with newfound determination, firmly places one hand on the counter (and crumples Iwaizumi’s notebook in the process), and says, “I’ll be back.”
Which was twenty minutes ago. Luckily, Iwaizumi has finished one problem on his physics homework. Unluckily, at this rate it’ll take him two hours to finish his assignment. He blames the migraine for his inability to focus, and the five minutes he wasted having return the packets of ready-to eat-junk. His mind keeps wandering back to the weirdo with perfectly coiffed light brown hair and way too much energy for the time of day. Or night, whatever.
He stays hunched over his makeshift desk at the cash register, the night slow and quiet. Iwaizumi needs to be here for another four hours, and he resolves to finish his homework during that time. Which is easier said than done, especially when the bell above the door chimes again, the guy from earlier back with a newfound pep in his step.
“Iwa-chan!” He walks down the aisles, yelling at Iwaizumi from behind the instant ramen section. “Turns out the Student Union’s vending machines have cash, I guess no one robs them at night.”
Iwaizumi can’t help but reply, his attention piqued, “I thought the Student Union was locked overnight?”
The guy walks up to the cash register with a precarious stack of instant meals and energy drinks in his arms; he drops them all onto the counter. Iwaizumi quickly goes to grab a fluorescent can that threatens to roll and burst onto the ground, instead scanning it and placing it into a plastic bag.
“Yup!” He sticks his tongue out and winks before continuing, “but they haven’t changed their security codes once over the last three years.” The guy drums his fingers against the counter, doing nothing to prevent his stuff from spilling over. “It’s easy enough to get in after hours. Do you want to, Iwa-chan? When do you get off work? Have you tried their new ramen vending machine?”
Iwaizumi tries not to get actively annoyed at the barrage of questions, to no avail. He feels his brow furrow further as he rings up the total. “No thanks,” is his simple response, before asking, “cash, right?”
“Yup!” The guy smiles, wide and bright, way too happy. It freaks Iwaizumi out, and he’s too disconcerted to do anything but stare at the perfectly counted change on the counter. On his 18th hour of being awake, Iwaizumi can’t even rely on muscle memory, and his tired hand rests on the cash register. He’s still counting out coins with one hand, rolling them through tired and calloused fingers, when the guy grabs his bags and waves, tossing a quick “Good night, Iwa-chan!” out the door before disappearing into the night.
It takes him a second (or thirteen) to catch up. He organizes the change before rubbing his eyes, suddenly more exhausted than he was before. He kinda feels like he had stared straight at a bright light for a few minutes, or like he had been left to dry out in the sun.
Whatever. He has homework to finish.
⋆ ☾ ⋆
Somehow, this becomes a fucked-up type of routine. Where Iwaizumi is trying to complete his work at a truly hellish hour, and the same guy comes in to buy ‘groceries.’ Or whatever you call two grams of sodium and a can of cardiac arrest.
It only took one more visit for ‘the guy’ to give his name. So Iwaizumi now refers to the stranger as Oikawa (thank god, ‘the guy’ was getting repetitive). Unfortunately, being able to place a name to the face is not helping Iwaizumi at all. It somehow makes him feel nervous for the stranger. Every time he walks in, Iwaizumi can feel his heart clench and his stomach get all twisty with what must be concern.
It has been an uninterrupted four days of Oikawa’s shopping sprees before Iwaizumi finally bursts. “Stop buying that shit. Do you ever eat vegetables?”
The outburst seems to have the opposite effect Iwaizumi was aiming for. If anything, Oikawa gets more excited as he collects instant ramen packs. “Aww, Iwa-chan cares! Don’t worry, I’m actually very healthy.” Which Iwaizumi already assumed, having noticed Oikawa’s toned arms two nights ago. “I eat like normal for lunch, I just get too tired to cook dinner.”
And then Oikawa pouts again, something he has an infuriatingly consistent habit of. He’s like a hyperactive toddler in a grown man’s body. It drives Iwaizumi crazy, and he feels a pressure growing between his eyes again. “This is your dinner? Every night? How the fuck are you still alive?”
For some reason, his coarse tone does nothing to dissuade Oikawa, who fucking skips up to the cash register. What was wrong with this guy?
“Don’t you worry Iwa-chan.” And Oikawa, the asshole, has the nerve to smile down at him. “I eat a big and healthy lunch and then finish dinner after I study. I even take multivitamins every morning!”
Oikawa places his usual combination of energy drinks and ramen on the counter, along with a pack of milk bread. Which is less bread and more a freak-concoction of preservatives and sugar. Iwaizumi refuses to believe that this overgrown child has any sense of what counts as a healthy meal.
“You’re so annoying. You’re going to have a heart attack before you graduate.” And any of his other friends would call Iwaizumi too gruff, but Oikawa just laughs him off. His laugh is musical, like a wind chime in a warm summer breeze. Altogether, just too much joy and whimsy for Iwaizumi to bear. He leans over the counter to grab his bags and gives a cheery “See you tomorrow Iwa-chan!” while walking out the door.
Iwaizumi eventually finishes his shift and goes home, but Oikawa is still on his mind. It’s just too infuriating. Clearly, Oikawa wasn’t completely stupid, and he spent some time taking care of his body. So why was he constantly just eating like shit?
He’s still pissed off once he gets to the gym. Like, annoyed enough that Hanamaki decides to ask someone else to spot him, scared off by Iwaizumi’s clenched jaw.
It’s only when the pair are waiting at the lat pulldown machine that Hanamaki asks, “What’s wrong with you?”
And Iwaizumi has the sense to be embarrassed, trying to pass by the topic with a gruff “nothing.” Not that it matters to Hanamaki, with a raised brow and the patience of a saint, he just waits for Iwaizumi’s turmoil to settle.
“So, I’ve told you about Oikawa…” and he recaps everything that happened last night (this morning?) in sharply minced sentences. He’s angry by the time he finishes talking about “the stupid bounce in his step as he left, like he isn’t killing himself,” and maybe he should chill out a little, be more careful as he pulls on the bar instead of letting the weights slam down. He’s definitely being side-eyed by at least three worried gym-goers.
He looks up at Hanamaki, who’s laughing because all Iwaizumi’s friends are assholes. “You’re such a mama bear, dude. It would be cute if you weren’t so terrifying.” Whatever that means.
“It’s upsetting, seeing people neglect their health.”
“Relax, you were a nutrition major for one week. And he just eats like 75% of all college students, that's not ‘neglecting his health.’” Hanamaki looks down at him through his pink bangs, making lazy air quotes with one hand. “But I’m sure Oikawa appreciates you caring about him so much.”
Iwaizumi splutters, grip on the bar faltering, “I don’t care about him! He’s annoying.”
“Okay dude.” And Hanamki is bored enough (or just done with Iwaizumi’s bullshit) to go back to his phone, leaving Iwaizumi to finish his reps in silence.
That night, the nuisance on his mind enters the store with a flourish, heading to the cash register immediately. He’s singsongy, repeating “Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan.”
“What?” Iwaizumi technically hasn’t lifted his head the entire time, resolutely staring down at his notebook and watching Oikawa’s energetic hovreing around in his periphery.
Any attempts to not continue being distracted by Oikawa quickly fail (because really, he should have finished this assignment during the day, instead of wasting 20 minutes looking at the salads they sell at the student union). Instead, a phone is shoved in Iwaizumi’s face, and an image of bland but healthy food shines up at him.
“Seee, Iwa-chan doesn’t need to worry, I take care of myself.” And Iwaizumi identifies some salad and chicken breast, along with a surprisingly large smoothie, before Oikawa pulls his phone back. Somehow, he is staring up at Oikawa again, him and his smiling eyes and blinding grin.
“Who says I care?” He looks at his notebook again. Maybe the LEDs are getting to him, because looking up is making Iwaizumi feel kinda dizzy and flushed.
“A little brodie told me. Iwa-chan, don’t be embarrassed.”
Iwaizumi feels his face pull into a frown, and he’s curt as he says, “I don’t care about what you eat. Die of sodium overdose if you want.”
Oikawa laughs his musical little laugh and says, “Okay, Iwa-chan,” like he’s humoring a child. Which, fuck that, Iwaizumi is not the idiot kid of this duo. He watches Oikawa flutter down the aisle before finally returning to his homework.
He’s able to spend a solid ten minutes on a problem before Oikawa moseys on up to the cash register again; he waits for Iwaizumi to brush his notebook aside before placing his things down. Iwaizumi ignores how his heart squeezes at the green juice bottle placed in front of him, no energy drink in sight.
“Don’t think this is healthy either. Do you know how much sugar is in juice? You’re lucky you don’t already have diabetes.” His voice might be blunt, but Iwaizumi still scans each item, quick but sure. There’s a sense of happy relief bubbling in his chest.
Oikawa is laughing at him again, something that has been happening a lot lately. “Iwa-chan is so silly when he is worried.” His smile now is warm, soft at the edges, matching his eyes.
It takes Oikawa skipping out again for Iwaizumi to realize he’s smiling too; there’s a slight soreness in his cheeks. He should save the entire campus from scurvy if rescuing stupid college kids from their terrible diets makes him this happy.
He’s still smiling when he goes back to his work. There’s a lightness in his chest--something like the satisfaction of a job well done, just as warm as Oikawa’s smile.
⋆ ☾ ⋆
A brisk Saturday night comes and goes without Oikawa showing up. Over the last six weeks he’s popped in every day, something annoying on the tip of his tongue and a small snack in hand.
Not that Iwaizumi cares. And he definitely doesn’t notice the hours passing him by as he watches the door.
It’s not a big deal. There’s a decent chance Oikawa has just gone home for the weekend, or is doing something else normal. Iwaizumi tries to settle on an out of sight, out of mind kind of attitude and stops thinking about Oikawa.
But eventually Monday bleeds into Tuesday, and Oikawa still hasn’t shown up. Something akin to nerves is bubbling in his gut, a deep-seated sense of dread.
He tries to brush it off, glad for the lack of distraction as midterms approach at full speed. God knows he needs the extra hours to figure out integer representations. Now he can actually take advantage of the (few) perks of his job: a clean desk, free WiFi, and plenty of snacks. But his mind keeps returning to Oikawa, like mindless picking at a scab.
It’s bad enough that his mind keeps wandering off from his textbook. But apparently, his unease is obvious enough that Kiyoko questions him before her Wednesday morning shift. “Are you okay?” Her concern is apparent as she affixes her nametag.
“Just midterms, don’t worry. Call me if you need anything.” Kiyoko looks up at him, clearly not buying his excuse. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now, and he can easily read the disbelief packaged in her polite “Alright, Iwaizumi.” The same way she knows he’s stressed about something other than exams, but lets the issue rest.
Later that day, he’s back in the gym with Hanamaki. It’s emptier than usual, and the treadmills are full of people last-minute reviewing lecture videos and flashcards.
Iwaizumi makes a valiant effort to hide his troubled mood, quietly doing bicep curls in a corner. He succeeds for maybe ten minutes before Hanamaki sidles up next to him, asking about his classes or “what’s up with the cutie that keeps bothering you at work.” Which is totally just putting words in Iwaizumi’s mouth, but also an accurate description, so he can’t object.
“I haven’t seen him in a while.” And his eyes are squarely fixed on the point where two walls meet, avoiding Hanamaki’s questioning gaze as he yelps out a surprised “What?”
“He hasn’t shown up in a while, that’s all.”
“I got that, idiot.” And Iwaizumi can feel Hanamki crowding in closer, looking up at his face, “But why are you all sullen about it?”
“I’m not.” Because really, Iwaizumi isn’t ’sullen’. He’s not some child, he’s just…concerned, worried, afraid. “Knowing Oikawa, he’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere. Because he’s so stupid.” Nice save.
Hanamaki is laughing at him again. “Dude, he’s probably just crashing from midterms or something. Literally everyone is swamped right now.”
And Iwaizumi does actually feel stupid. Anyone could walk onto campus and tell it was exam season, with the library packed and the halls silent. But for some reason, he never considered that Oikawa was just studying.
But Hanamaki isn’t done. He has that off-putting omniscient look on his face when he asks, “Why don’t you just text him and ask?”
Which is honestly a good question. Because Iwaizumi thinks of Oikawa as his friend. Up until this week, he talked to him every day. And Hanamaki hears him talk about Oikawa each week. But they never exchanged numbers, and he doesn’t even know Oikawa’s full name. Or any of the other basic factoids you know about your friends.
He’s thinking about it later at work. The fact that he doesn’t have Oikawa’s number, somehow. He totally seems like the type of guy who would love to spam his friends, wake them up with twenty notifications.
But it would be nice to have Oikawa’s number. If only to confirm that he was alive, that he wasn’t being murdered by midterms. Maybe even wish him good luck on his exams.
Not that it matters right now, no point wasting time thinking about spilled milk. Iwaizumi decided to take executive control and focus on the textbook in front of him. He was glad he had the next three days off because he was totally screwed for his Engineering 233 exam (fuck getting a STEM degree). Thinking about Oikawa would have to wait for later.
⋆ ☾ ⋆
Iwaizumi is walking out of his god-awful engineering exam when he sees a shock of light-brown hair. Perfectly styled despite the (genuinely evil) three-hour test and the 8 AM start time. He’s been thinking about that hair (or at least the person it's attached to) constantly for over a week now, would recognize it anywhere.
He waits at the exit of the lecture hall for Oikawa to pass him by. It doesn’t take long for Oikawa to recognize him, the shock of familiarity obvious on his wide brown eyes He quickly makes his way to Iwaizumi, pushing through the crowd.
“Iwa-chan! It's been forever!”
“Whose fault is that?” It's cold and curt, Iwaizumi’s typical M.O. It doesn't put Oikawa off; if anything, his smile grows. But Iwaizumi didn't mean to be so crass and tries to amend, asking, “Since when did you take this class?”
That gets a laugh as Oikawa explains, “I've been enrolled the entire semester, I just don't come to lecture.” Oikawa seems almost sheepish, and Iwaizumi has the urge to explain that he usually skips too, in favor of an extra hour of sleep. “I figure if I do poorly in the course, I would just make it pass/fail.”
That catches Iwaizumi’s attention, as they’re making their way across campus. Unfortunately, he doesn't have that luxury since the course is one of his major classes. Which brings him to ask, “What are you studying?”
“Aww, Iwa-chan, have we not been formally introduced?” And somehow, Oikawa becomes more annoying and preppy as he stops and stands straight, sticking out his hand. “Oikawa Tooru, Junior, astrophysics and earth biology double major, cancer sun, living north side right now, but originally from Sendai.”
Which is a lot. But Iwaizumi decides to take things one step at a time. “Why are you taking a coding class?”
Oikawa shrugs, “just felt like it.” But there's no way anyone who studies as much as Oikawa ‘just felt like’ taking the most infamous computer science classes at their school. If Iwaizumi has learned anything about Oikawa over the past few weeks, it’s that he is far less vapid and idle than he presents himself.
“C’mon, Iwa-chan, introduce yourself.” Oikawa waves his hand in Iwaizumi’s face, making him lean back to avoid getting his face hit or eye poked out.
“Iwaizumi Hajime, biotech major. Also from Sendai.” As he shakes Oikawa’s hand--warm and slender--Oikawa vibrates with excitement. “Iwa-chan, you're from Sendai too? How did I not know about this!”
“We kinda bypassed the introductions stage.”
Oikawa purses his lips, “That’s fair.” He turns around, walking with his head facing Iwaizumi, “I definitely would've known if you played volleyball.” There's pep in his step again as he says, “Iwa-chan must play a sport,” while poking Iwaizumi’s arm. His tone is light, teasing, but there is intent in Oikawa's stare, adding weight to his flippant words and frivolous gestures.
Iwaizumi is keenly aware of the warmth of the sun on his cheeks. He ducks his head, embarrassed for a reason he can’t name, before explaining that he used to play baseball in high school. Oikawa reacts with clear disgust when Iwaizumi’s brain catches up, and he asks, “Wait, do you still play volleyball?”
“Yess… Iwa-chan, aren’t you paying attention?” Oikawa is pouting again, but Iwaizumi has bigger fish to fry.
“So you know Matsukawa”
“Yes? Mattsun and I talk about you all the time.”
Which, wow. That makes Iwaizumi smile, something warm and fuzzy growing in his chest. But that also proves that Iwaizumi’s friends really are assholes. He and Hanamaki have been meeting business as usual for months. And he never thought to mention that his boyfriend and Oikawa knew each other?
But thinking about his gym conversations (or lack thereof) finally makes Iwaizumi remember: “I need your number.”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa coos, “so forward.” But he takes Iwaizumi’s phone without any more fuss and quickly types in his contact information, multiple emojis included.
“Asshole, you dropped off the face of the earth for a week, and I had no way to make sure you survived.”
Oikawa looks straight at him, passing his phone back, and starts to giggle. “You're such a mother hen, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi feels the ever-familiar rage rising up his neck and dusting his cheeks, but it doesn’t bother him like usual.
Oikawa blows up his phone every day. It's annoying like most things Oikawa does. It’s like waking up every morning to a hyperactive child poking your face, asking you why you aren’t talking to them. Literally, Oikawa will text him at 6 AM and complain about Iwaizumi not texting back. But Iwaizumi doesn't even mind. It probably has to do with the vindication of being proven right, for having thought that Oikawa would be a spam-texter weeks ago.
Iwaizumi received daily pictures from Oikawa, usually with an additional text serving as a caption. These range from colorful photos of vegetable-filled lunches (still surviving iwa-chan) and cheerful selfies of Oikawa with Matsukawa and Hanamaki (save me from third-wheel hell iwa-chan!!). It's nice, talking to Oikawa throughout the day. It's the same as talking at the store. Still quick humor and sly smiles from Oikawa, brash voice and quick takedown from Iwaizumi. But it's also somehow completely different. A good difference, something more sensitive, a positive growth.
It's been a while since Oikawa has come to the store (he still has midterms somehow). But it's not a problem. The pair still finds plenty of time to meet during the day.
They start studying together, at more normal hours. Those times when the student union is totally unlocked and the sun is clear in the sky (quite a feat for the shortening days). It's quieter than the store ever was, but it doesn't matter. Clear light pours in through giant windows to illuminate Oikawa as he diligently notetakes. It's just proves a hunch Iwaizumi has had, the he was thoughtful, capable, whenever necessary.
Oikawa sometimes acts like he doesn't know. It's strange, when he’s self effecting. When his usual pompous smile dims and he stares off into the distance. It's then, during those quiet lulls, that Oikawa admits that things don't come easily to him, like it's a weakness. Which is crazy because this guy is taking a full course load while being captain of the volleyball team and hasn't imploded with exhaustion yet. Clearly he whats things figured out.
Iwaizumi watches Oikawa pull out color-coordinated notebooks and feels his heart tug. Oikawa is clearly smart, completely dedicated to everything he does. But he refuses to fall behind, does everything he can to avoid anything shaped like failure. It's no surprise that Iwaizumi is moved by his commitment to success. Anyone would be, like planets orbiting the sun.
Honestly, the biggest change is the aliens. Oikawa never shuts up about them. Every day, he either brings Iwaizumi a a new video or sends him a scientific article about proof for extraterrestrial life. Most of the content goes straight over his head, but Iwaizumi still makes an effort to read through everything. It's endearing to see the childish side of such a hardworking man. Iwaizumi probably would believe in aliens if he thought about them (he kinda has too much going on right now to bother), but he makes fun of it all to Oikawa just to rile him up.
Oikawa always gets really annoyed; he points at papers and seizes phones. Don't you see Iwa-chan? He always whines, caught up in the moment. It's only when he notices Iwaizumi’s small laugh and fond smile that he finally becomes flushed, flustered. And that always makes Iwaizumi satisfied too.
⋆ ☾ ⋆
By now, Oikawa doesn’t just bother him at the store. Instead, he also corners him in the gym or bombards him with texts. Not that Iwaizumi is complaining.
It's been nice studying together. Sometimes at the library, sometimes at the store. Iwaizumi finds that his late-night studying is much more productive with a partner, no one else barging in and bothering him halfway through his work. It's interesting, spending his nights watching Oikawa be quiet. Thoughtful and focused. It's another side to him, one full of grit and precision, one that makes him seem softer at the edges.
It makes a strange feeling bubble up in Iwaizumi’s gut, something like admiration and camaraderie. It drives him to laugh at Oikawa’s jokes, or buy him milk bread, or let him steal pencils.
Hanamki still laughs at him whenever he brings up Oikawa. Iwaizumi calmly accepts it as par for the course as he fights the urge to throw dumbbells at the pink-haired idiot. Who never apologized for knowing Oikawa the entire time, by the way.
Weirdly enough, it takes another month for the four to hang out together; it only happens after the second wave of midterms.
It's one of many early mornings when Oikawa is walking him home that they get a text from Matsukawa. It's part of a group chat Oikawa created a while back (one Iwaizumi has long since muted), and he shows Iwaizumi his screen.There are two messages: a demand to meet for dinner on Saturday and a location shared, an American fusion place that just opened up.
The rest of the week rushes by like a waterfall, and Saturday evening arrives with Iwaizumi getting ready, weirdly nervous. He cycles through his few formal shirts before realizing they all look the same: quarter sleeves that are tight around his biceps and a top button that (embarrassingly) refuses to close. He gives up on deciding and sticks with his simple navy polo.
It takes a minute (or twenty), but he eventually starts his walk down to the restaurant. It's a newer place downtown, trendy enough for college students to afford to splurge, and fancy enough to have dim lighting and reservations. It’s a short walk from Iwaizumi’s apartment, the sidewalks crowded with other students taking advantage of the weekend and trees turning red.
A brisk wind shakes some leaves onto Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders when he sees him. Oikawa is walking towards him, slowly, with a cream cardigan and green button-up that makes him look both cozy and chic. They meet at the restaurant door, and Iwaizumi swallows his tongue. Has to clear his throat before telling Oikawa, “You look good.”
And in a cruel turn of events, Oikawa blushes, and Iwaizumi feels blood rush through his own ears. Heat rises to his cheeks when Oikawa returns the compliment. It's only thanks to muscle memory that he’s able to hold open the door and let Oikawa pass. A waitress smiles as she walks them to the table where Hanamaki and Mattsukawa are waiting. Iwaizumi pulls out a chair for Oikawa before sitting to his right; both pairs are on their own side of the table.
And it’s only after the greetings are traded and orders are made that Iwaizumi realizes. That he scolded Oikawa for immediately looking at the dessert menu, the same way Matsukawa helped Hanamaki decide on his order. Or that Oikawa looks at him every time he laughs, the same way Hanamki smiles every time Matsukawa makes a joke. Or the way he and Oikawa have their knees pressed together under the table, the same way Hanamaki and Matsukawa are holding hands.
And Hanamaki and Matsukawa are dating. And Iwaizumi and Oikawa are not. But still, these are four people eating dinner together. And the couple is sitting on one side while Oikawa and Iwaizumi sit on the other, like they would on a double date.
Strangely enough, Iwaizumi is not freaking out. Even though he now has the words to describe the heat in his cheeks and the churning in his stomach whenever Oikawa glances at him, hair brushing his eyes. Instead, he can’t stop smiling. Doesn’t stop for the rest of the dinner. Hanamaki gives him a look, confused, but whatever. They’re all talking and laughing, having a good time.
Because when he rests his arm against the back of Oikawa’s chair, Oikawa leans in. While he lets Oikawa steal sips from his drink, Oikawa also gives Iwaizumi his fries. And it’s Oikawa that knocks their knees together under the table.
It’s within the minutes after sunset when they pour out of the restaurant. The sky is dark gray, no longer pink but not yet black. Still, after they say their goodbyes and Makki and Mattsun walk off, Oikawa turns to him, whining, “You know it’s not safe for a pretty boy like me to walk home alone.”
Iwaizumi just laughs, already having started towards Oikawa’s apartment. He continues to complain about Iwaizumi not offering to walk him back from the get-go, but there’s a smile in his voice as he presses their shoulders together; it’s obvious he’s not upset.
Oikawa lives far from campus, deep downtown. It’s ten minutes into their walk when the brisk wind picks up, and Oikawa shivers. His cardigan is more style than substance, and the cool air easily cuts through it. Iwaizumi is quick to take off his jacket and shoves it into Oikawa’s chest. Oikawa complains, “Such a brute, Iwa-chan,” but there’s a blush high on his cheeks. He snuggles into the denim and fleece, clearly pleased as he shoves his hands deep into the jacket pockets.
Another ten minutes pass as they continue to walk and talk. Their conversations range from Oikawa’s complaints about his cousin--and then he called me old Iwa-chan!--to Iwaizumi fervently explaining how King Kong (1933) revolutionized the movie industry--and then the puppet comes to life.
Sooner than they realized, they reached the front door of Oikawa’s walk-up. It’s a classic apartment, fit for movies, with dying plants on the balcony and a rusty fire escape. Oikawa walks up his steps, and Iwaizumi is only one behind him. Oikawa stops at his door and turns around; he leans in, and the stairs make him a solid six inches taller. He’s facing Iwaizumi when he says, “I had a really nice time tonight.”
It’s cute. Oikawa stands pin-straight, determined, but he can't help smiling. That sweet, faint blush brushes his cheeks again, and Iwaizumi is close enough to see his light brown eyes go down, then up, and down again.
But Iwaizumi also feels his heart thundering like a late train, his palms grossly sweaty. He only manages a soft “yeah, me too,” before trying to swallow his nerves. He fails, the thought of failure ferments deep inside, and Iwaizumi is only able to follow up with a quick, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His heartbeat echoes in his ears, accusatory.
Suddenly, the spell is broken. Oikawa’s shoulders slump. His smile deflates before it’s quickly painted on again. He walks into his apartment and doesn’t say goodbye.
Iwaizumi spends a solid minute just staring at the door. He notices the crack in the peephole, the way the paint is peeling off, before walking down the apartment building’s steps.
Then he finally gets some sense and runs back up them, and he knocks on the door. There's no response, but he waits, knocking again before pressing the buzzer. He holds his ear to the door but doesn’t hear anything, trying again another time.
He walks back down the steps and sees a light turn on through the curtains on the second floor: Oikawa’s room. Inspiration rushes in, and Iwaizumi has a brilliant idea. He has a running start before he jumps, latching onto the ladder. And he is glad his workouts are finally paying off as he’s able to haul himself onto the fire escape steps. Suddenly, he’s on Oikawa’s balcony, knocking on his window.
Oikawa brushes his curtains aside, mouth slack and fingers quick, stumbling as he unlatches the window. He’s confused, asking, “Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi leans in, feeling warm air rush out of the apartment. He has one knee on the windowsill and doesn’t want to waste another second doubting himself. Quickly, quietly, he admits “I might be an idiot,” before cutting off the end of his own words, leaning into Oikawa's half-parted mouth. Cupping his face, brushing his cheekbones. His hands are freezing, cold to the touch, but Oikawa doesn’t mind.
He grabs Iwaizumi’s hands and kisses him back, warm and sweet. Oikawa runs a hand through Iwaizumi’s short-cut hair, and another grabs the collar of his shirt. Their teeth clack together, and they stop when Iwaizumi loses balance, falling into Oikawa’s room. It’s awkward and imperfect, and they laugh as they part. There’s a bright July’s worth of fireworks in his chest right now.
Iwaizumi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Oikawa smile that big or blinding. It’s uneven and endearing, and he feels his cheeks ache in return. His palms itch to hold Oikawa’s face again, place another kiss onto those perfect, reddened lips. But he’s far too aware of the darkened sky and the half-hour walk waiting for him, so he holds himself back, just a few more kisses. He can't help but continue to smile at Oikawa, fireworks popping, and he says, again, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
⋆ ☾ ⋆
Dating Oikawa is a lot like being friends with him, in Iwaizumi’s experience. He still studies in the 7/11 instead of at a library ‘far away from Iwa-chan.’ He just sits behind the counter now, resting his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder or fiddling with his Godzilla keychain.
There’s still the rare customer, but Oikawa doesn’t care. If anything, he cuddles closer. Not that the random student minds, probably too dead-to-the-world to process annoying PDA at 3 AM.
Even outside the store, they still study together during the day, just sometimes at their apartment instead of on campus. Iwaizumi still buys him milk bread, just from bakeries across town. And Oikawa gives Iwaizumi his fries since they share lunch almost every day.
Oikawa still walks Iwaizumi home, but now he hangs off of Iwaizumi’s arm whenever Kiyoko comes to start her shift. Kiyoko just smiles while Iwaizumi collects his things as Oikawa rambles on about a movie he wants to see or student athlete drama. (Which: Kiyoko is far too prim and proper to make her judging obvious, but she did come in laughing one morning, saying “he's far too pretty for you Iwaizumi-san” on one of those rare occasions where he was alone).
Hanamaki just gags every time Iwaizumi mentions Oikawa, constantly complaining about how annoying the couple is. Iwaizumi hits back with “I suffered through your honeymoon period with Matsukawa,” which has Hanamaki go quiet and stare at Iwaizumi. Before pulling out his phone and scrolling through his chat history with Matsukawa, showing a series of texts where the two were complaining about how ‘down bad’ he is for Oikawa. The texts are from September.
So clearly, his friends don’t think much has changed after they started dating either.
Iwaizumi isn’t that much of an idiot, though. He knows everything is different now. With the fire in his chest now a steady flame. With every week passing with holding hands in movie theaters. The volleyball season is wrapping up, but Oikawa still finds Iwaizumi when he’s on the court; he’s made a habit of winking up into the stands every time he serves. Onlookers are confused to see his flirtations being directed at a young man face-palming.
The end of November approaches, and Oikawa is as annoying as ever. He makes Iwaizumi finish his pumpkin spice lattes, and gives him an incredibly ugly sweater he ‘crocheted’, and still stocks up on instant ramen. But Iwaizumi wouldn’t have it any other way.
They spend a calm weekend driving down south, as winter starts to set in. The last of the fire-red leaves are falling, and the sun is dawdling in a sky filled with pink-stained clouds. Iwaizumi has another realization, that he’ll be seeing many seasons change alongside the loveable idiot that’s falling asleep, cheek pressed to the window in the passenger seat.