Let’s play pretend
“It’s not like she’s going to find out.”
One sentence and it’s like the bullet of a gun had been shot through the soft skin of your breast into the fragile muscle of your heart. It beat like the wind had been knocked out of you like it was fighting to stay alive. You were vulnerable, desperate. But as much pain as you were feeling, you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry out as you clutch your chest and suffer in silence.
There was a gross sacredness to the way Oikawa’s fingers tremble, ache, as they slid up the girl’s cheek, deliciously slow. He looks into her eyes with such ferocity—their wanton nature something you’ve witnessed for yourself and it only made the pain worse. Every glance of his eyes, her deceitful demure nature, the sly quiver of her lip as he closes in.
You’re the only one who makes me feel like this, he had said.
When he finally seizes her lips in his, you swear that was the killing blow.
You’ve had enough.
There are teeth marks embedded in your hand when you had to silence a heart-shattering sob—dimpling your skin with bitterness. Staying any longer meant imminent capture: you’ve seen the movies, heard the “It was just a mistake” and other pathetic strings of excuses. But there was a part of you that knew that maybe…just maybe…he would choose her over you.
You, his girlfriend. Who’s stood by him, supported him, through every victory and loss. His childhood best friend. It’s like those years of sandcastles and treehouses mean nothing to him.
That you meant nothing to him.
He didn’t deserve your tears, you think as you retreat.
But not even you could stop the torrential rainfall that was to come.
You be the princess and I’ll be the knight in shining armor
“Son of a bitch,” Iwaizumi grits out of his teeth, eyebrows furrowed, fists clenched. He wants to find Oikawa and deck him until his too straight nose was bent a completely wrong way. Pummel him until his ribs collapsed and everything else in between, was what he actually said to you.
It was only after you plead him not to, your fingers practically clawing into the skin of his forearm, that he sat back down on the bed, crossed his arms, and muttered some obscenities about what he would do to your boyfriend—is he even that anymore?—at morning practice tomorrow.
You vigorously shake your head. “No, you can’t do that.”
“And why the hell not?” Iwaizumi is indignant, fury barely contained as he looks at you like you were crazy not to send a hitman out into the dark of night to find Oikawa. “__________, he cheated on you! Do you really expect me to let him get away with it?” He’s pulling his hair out of his head.
You blow air out of your nose, irritated. “Yes! And I want you to respect my choice!”
“Why? He deserves to be beaten to a fucking pulp after what he did to you—”
“Because”—he's about to get up again, but it was your two hands on his bruised knees that kept him down— “I need to end it my way….and…you’re the only friend that I have left.” Your voice cracks and his expression softens into something akin to piteous apologies.
You hadn’t just lost a boyfriend.
You’d lost a best friend.
And it was the latter that hurt you the most. Maybe you should have never crossed the border of romance, hell, this wouldn’t have happened and you wouldn’t be feeling so much pain right now. You're shaking, wracked with anger but more with grief as Iwaizumi wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug that draws your breath from your lungs.
And you cry.
And you cry until your voice is hoarse and eyes are red and puffy and gross, as Iwaizumi rubs your back and sits silently as you let everything out. He ignores the snot and the tears smeared onto his t-shirt because he knows you need someone there for you.
And the one person you usually go to for solace, security…was probably preoccupied with someone else. The thought of that made Iwaizumi’s blood boil.
You are a sniveling mess as Iwaizumi passes you another tissue and he had actually snickers when mucus flies out of your nose and onto your hand.
“I can’t believe you missed, doofus,” he’s trying to hold back his laughter, he really is. But it’s so hard when you’re glaring at him like that with your puffy eyes narrowed and he sees it…a tiny smile on his face.
You roll your eyes.
Iwaizumi’s grin falters as he sees your drooping shoulders, the way the light has left your eyes as you stare out his bedroom window into the sparsely starlit sky. You hug your knees to your chest, spine arching and you look so small and helpless. Oikawa broke you, and he can tell you don’t think you can be fixed.
“So…” you’re fragile and precious to him, but his only instinct is violence, but that’s not what you want. “…what are we going to do?” his voice is low, scared for you.
You’re silent. The room is tense, still. Because you don’t know what to do. The room fills with the muffled singing of cicadas, a chilling breeze that makes goosebumps pop on your skin. The bed creaks as Iwaizumi shifts closer to you.
You lean your head against his broad shoulder and he leans his head on yours.
A sense of dread fills you as you feel another wave of crying washes over you. It takes everything to suppress that lump in your throat, suppress that desire to give into the pity.
So you don’t.
Tears pool in the corner of your eyes and you give in.
“…I don’t know,” you’re crying again and it’s ugly. There’s nothing Hollywood glamorous about this. The heroine’s mascara doesn’t artistically smudge around her eyes, foundation still intact.
No, it’s guttural, it’s heart-shattering, grief-stricken cries that wrack your body. The girl doesn’t become transformed, craving revenge and retribution. It’s pathetic sobbing. But it’s the only way you know how to react.
And it fucking sucks.
I’ll always be there to save you from the dragon’s teeth
You leave thirty minutes earlier than usual for school the next morning.
He texts you that he’s been waiting outside for ten minutes and you haven’t answered the door. You stifle your initial reaction to reply, but after fifteen seconds of wringing your fingers together, you turn your phone off and step into your homeroom.
The sparse number of students scattered around the classroom give you concerned and even confused looks as they see that you’re arriving alone—they whisper: “Doesn’t her boyfriend usually drop her off?” “Did something happen between them?” “Maybe he’s sick today?” But none of them approach you as you get to your desk and lay you head down on the cool wood and close your eyes.
If you press your head against the surface hard enough you feel a tender spot forming at the center of your forehead. It kind of hurts but it does its job of distracting you from the pain inside.
You stay like that for a long time.
It’s five minutes until the teacher arrives that Oikawa walks into the classroom, spots you at your desk, and walks towards you. There’s an awkward grin on his lips—you’ve always walked with him to school, ever since your elementary years.
You hear his footsteps stop in front of your desk and you don’t want to look up—please dear God, you don’t want him to talk to you. But then he clears his throat and brushes his fingers on the back of your hand.
You flinch. He notices but attributes your reaction to surprise.
“Hey, ___________-chan,” he coos, squatting so he’s at your eye level. “I missed you this morning, it’s such a lonely walk without you.”
Finally, you pick you head up to look at him. If anything, he’ll think that you’re just teasing him if you ignore him—he doesn’t know that you caught him.
And he’s still breathtakingly handsome, it’s so unfair. After all these years, it’s still reminiscent of the younger boy you fell in love with in middle school. Cute and cheeky became tall and handsome when they became first years, and his looks only became more and more intoxicating. High aristocratic cheekbones, sharp lines and harsh angles, flawless skin. Tall, lithe, graceful, gorgeous—
Maybe it was your fault for falling in love with the popular pretty boy. It was your fault for knowing it would never work out, especially when he could have picked whoever he wanted.
“Oh, sorry,” you say simply, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap, cracking knuckles. You can’t look him in the eye because then you would just imagine her reflection in them, and you couldn’t handle that. No, you absolutely could not. “I just wanted to get to school earlier...”
“I’ve known you for years!” he chuckles and rubs your head affectionately. You just let him. “Since when did you become such an early bird?”
You shrug lamely. But that didn’t stop you…
In the peripherals of your vision, he tilts his head to the side, and you see his signature crooked grin falter as he regards you with a calculating sweep of his goddamned caramel brown eyes.
He hums. “Did something happen yesterday?” He sees your fumbling hands and how your head dips away from him and he knows something is wrong, he’s known you too long for him to just ignore it. You’re startled as his slips his hands from under the desk and clasps them over your fidgeting fingers. You freeze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
He’s warm and his thumbs are rubbing soothing circles into your skin. And damn it, you want to give in. You want your love for him to overwhelm the devastation out of your heart. You want to forget; you want to forget so bad.
You should be enjoying this, you think. His good-intentioned affection. You catch the bittersweet smile curling on your lips—Oikawa presses a kiss to your hand, he promises he’ll love you forever. You promise to do the same and you’ve never known joy as blissful as this before—
But then an image of his hand cupping that girls’ face surges to the forefront of your mind and you’re violently shaken from your reverie.
You pull your hands out of his grasp and hug them around your elbows. Away from him.
He looks startled, a groomed eyebrow lifted. Because this wasn’t you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be between you two. He loved touching you, holding you, and you loved doing the same—you felt so safe in his arms as they wrapped around your waist and he pulled you to him for another breathtaking kiss, and he whispered I love you between every touch of lips on yours. So this… you pulling away…
It scares him. It fucking terrifies him to his core.
He swallows a nervous gulp. “____________-chan I don’t understand—”
But then the bell rings and swallows his words whole.
Seconds later your teacher walks into the classroom bellowing a hearty good morning, but then his eyes land on Oikawa and they narrow.
“Oikawa-san, last time I checked you weren’t on my roster,” the teacher scrutinizes his clipboard, confirming his assumption.
“Sorry, sensei, I was just saying goodbye to my girlfriend,” he smiles at you, and you try your best to smile back at him—act normal, no one knows what you know—but it doesn’t reach your eyes and he feels like it’s his fault.
Your classmates around you whistle and holler at the two of you, and all you want them to do is stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop—
“No excuses, just hurry it up and get out of my classroom,” the teacher replies, already starting to write something on the whiteboard.
He rolls his eyes and the class collectively snickers as he bends down to give you a goodbye kiss, but you turn your lips away at the last second so he ends up pecking your cheek. He acts like that’s what he meant to happen and the boys in the back of classroom start whooping again and he sends them a sly wink of acknowledgment.
But now he’s out in the hallway, your homeroom door slid closed and he’s frozen. You always give each other goodbye kisses—“We’ll be like all those clichéd disgusting couples if we do that,” you laugh. He grins, “But isn’t that the point?” You’re smiling at him and he smiles back at you like you’re the center of the universe, the answer to all his prayers—that was just your guys' thing.
You turned away from one of his kisses a few times before, but that was always reinforced with a smile that meant you were teasing him.
But there was no mischievous smile this time. Hell, there wasn’t even a smile.
You looked broken.
And he’s afraid that he won’t be able to fix whatever hurt you, not knowing that it was all him.
/ | \
He’s climbing up the side of the tower after slaying the beast
One day turns to three and he thinks you’re just in a mood.
Then it goes on for the entire week and he thinks maybe you have a family thing going on—you’ll definitely tell him when you’re ready right?
Then it becomes almost two weeks and he’s getting paranoid.
You just confuse Oikawa even more with your strange behavior of avoiding him and quickly slipping out of his hugs, moving away from his kisses. Your hand was tense in has as he weaved his fingers into the spaces between yours. It was awkward and the words you exchanged with him became less and less until it was like he the one carrying the conversation.
You continue to leave you home early, not wanted to be in Oikawa’s company alone. You stop staying in your homeroom class before the bell rings—he’ll just find you and that would be uncomfortable for everyone. So, you stick to roaming the hallways, sitting in your friend’s classrooms and busying yourself with their gossip, pretending that the floor beneath you hadn’t opened and swallowed you whole.
At lunch, you make excuses: “I have a club activity—” “I’m helping my teacher clean her classroom—” “I’m tutoring a friend—”
But you’re just sitting on the school rooftop and eating your lunch in silence because your feelings are so conflicted. You can’t decide whether you still love him or hate him. Being around him brings so much happiness but a strong undercurrent of distrust that makes you flinch from his touch.
He’s smart. So, so, smart. So you know he doesn’t buy your excuses after the third time. And he talks to Iwaizumi about it.
“Do you know where ____________-chan’s been during lunch?” He asks, taking a bite of his sandwich afterward, chewing thoughtfully as he looks around the cafeteria.
Iwaizumi grunts and wipes chocolate milk from his lips. “If I did, do you really think I’d tell you?”
Oikawa pouts. “What’s that supposed to mean, Iwa-chan?”
“Forget what I said,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he takes another sip from his box of milk.
“Fine, if you can’t tell me where she is,” Oikawa continues. “At least tell me why you think she’s acting so weird.”
Iwaizumi keeps his mouth closed as he stares down his friend, and he finds it hard to keep the contempt out of his eyes so he draws them away to become fascinated with the milk’s nutritional facts. One hundred fifty calories, total fat eight grams, saturated fat five grams, cholesterol thirty-five grams, sodium—
“Iwa-chan, I really doubt that your milk is as interesting as this conversation,” Oikawa complains, resting his sandwich on the tabletop.
—one hundred twenty-five milligrams, total carbohydrates twelve grams, dietary fiber—
“Iwa-chan you can’t just ignore me, I’m right here,” Oikawa waves a hand in between Iwaizumi and the milk carton, the latter just grits his teeth and resist the urge to rip his best friend’s arm off.
—twelve grams, dietary fiber zero grams—damn his hand is so wide, where was I?—dietary fiber? Fuck—
“Why are you always so mean to me?” Oikawa retorts, dropping his hand and dramatically leaning onto the table. “We three have been best friends since pre-school! Doesn’t that account for anything?”
Iwaizumi reflexively squeezes the cardboard carton in his hand. Don’t say what you’re about to say Hajime, you made a promise to her—
“Don’t do this to me too, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whines. “She doesn’t talk to me as much anymore; I can’t have you doing the same thing!”
Iwaizumi breathes through his nose. “Maybe, crazy idea,” he spits. “She doesn’t want to be with you anymore?” He apologizes to you in his head, he knows you wanted to handle this your own way, but his patience with Oikawa is wearing thin.
Oikawa actually has the gall to laugh, and it’s equal parts condescending as it is bewildered. “You’re just being ridiculous, Iwa-chan,” he says between chuckles. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, so you wouldn’t know how this works.”
Iwaizumi completely crushes the milk carton, drops of chocolate milk splatter onto the table. “At least I know now to sleep with other women…” he grumbles to himself.
“What?” Oikawa couldn’t have heard that right. He feels guilt rise in his chest and his fingers grip on the edge of the table with such force his knuckles go white. “Did you just say—”
Shit. Iwaizumi clears his throat. “I said…that at least I know not to flirt with other women?”
“My fangirls are nice to me, so I’m nice to my fangirls.” The captain’s eyebrows furrow. “…was that a question?”
“That wasn’t a question,” Iwaizumi asserts.
“Um, yeah it was,” Oikawa counters.
“Believe what you want.” Iwaizumi stands up and picks up his lunch tray and he’s about to walk away to throw away his leftovers, but he sees the contemplative look on his friend’s face. And he knows that that cheating bastard he calls his best friend is thinking of you. How can he not when you’ve been avoiding him like crazy and denying him left and right? You weren’t very subtle, but he saw the pain it inflicted on you to be near Oikawa, and it hurt him too.
So, he sighs and looks back at brooding Oikawa. “I’ll talk to ___________, alright?”
Oikawa immediately perks and sits up. “Really?”
Iwaizumi groans. “Only because I’m tired of you complaining all the time, it’s pathetic.”
“Thanks, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa calls out as Iwaizumi walks away. “You might be boyfriend material after all!”
Iwaiuzmi ignores that last part as he tilts his food into the trash can and places his tray on top of the stack. He rolls his shoulders back and steps out of the cafeteria. I’m tired of your complaining because you’re such a fucking ass, is what Iwaizumi wanted to say. But he almost fucked up by letting slip that he knew Oikawa was cheating.
No wonder you took it so hard, it was an ultimate betrayal in a relationship. He had heard from both you and Oikawa how happy you two were together. It was gross at first, but he got used to it eventually. And honestly, he missed you eating with them at lunch—the space where you usually sat next to Oikawa was uncomfortably empty.
You needed to end this, he decides. It wasn’t good for either you or Oikawa.
It needed to be a clean break up, but the actual reality of it was far from it.
He kisses the sleeping princess and they’re in love
“You’re suffering, ____________,” Iwaizumi pleads, he’s running his hands through his hair, obviously upset. He appeared at your doorstep only minutes before and his first words were “you need to end it with him.” not even bothering to say Oikawa’s name. “If you don’t end it cleanly now…I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I know it’s hard,” he says quietly. “and I don’t know if you guys can be friends again,” –he takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes reassuringly— “but I can tell you that this pain will go away so much faster if you let him go.”
So, that’s why you were standing at Oikawa’s front door, with your heart pounding hard against your chest and continually shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You pull back your hand from knocking on the door for the nth time, you’re psyching yourself out.
You reminisce of simpler times:
You and Iwaizumi running onto Oikawa’s porch to ask if he could play Knight and Dragons. Iwaizumi was always the dragon, but sometimes Oikawa would be knight saving the princess, you. Other times it’d be you saving Oikawa.
He had first asked you to marry him when he was eight and he had saved you from Iwaizumi the Terrible for the fifteenth time.
“We’re too young to get married, Tooru,” you say sternly.
"But I love you, __________-chan! At least be my girlfriend then!”
“How about you ask me again when we’re in high school?”
“Okay!” he beams.
And he did, and you were surprised he remembered, especially with all the attention he was getting with all the other girls in your class—people always seemed to gravitate to the most beautiful, and he was definitely it. You resigned yourself to just being his best friend, and kept your feelings to yourself as you watched him flirt and date other girls.
But then he asked you the fated question your second year. And when you said yes, he even carved the date into a fallen tree—the most romantic of gestures. And that was history.
Despite your current situation, your heart still brimmed with love when you thought of your boyfriend. He was sweet and kind and an absolute nerd—the part that barely anyone knew about him. Your mind drifted to blanket forts and sci-fi marathons where you cuddled to his side, his well-muscled arm around your waist. To your sick days when he’d bring you ice cream and lie with you in bed and get sick the next day because of it. To hard-fought losses when you’d cradled his sore body in your arms as he brooded and sobbed quietly.
It was all there and more, and maybe…maybe you could give him another chance!
Maybe this love story isn’t over yet, you think, hope.
Your hand finally goes to knock on the door.
One knock and the door swings slightly open, the hinges squeaking lightly.
It was unlocked.
It was almost like your second home, his parents loved you and you started to care for them as the years passed and you matured. But the house is strangely cold as you step inside and slip off your shoes.
“Hello?” you call out. Your voice echoes back to you, bouncing on the walls decorated with family photos and pictures of Oikawa as a kid, some even of you two together.
“Tooru? It’s me, I just wanted to talk…”
With every footstep against the floors your feel the creaking of the wooden boards beneath your feet. The lights are off downstairs, windows shut, and a shiver goes down your spine as you reach the staircase.
The lights are lit on the second floor, and your hand grazes the railway as you make your ascent.
“Apparently he wasn’t feeling well today,” Iwaizumi says as he ties his shoes. “So he’s not coming to tonight's practice. Maybe that’s the best time you could talk to him, huh?”
Maybe it could finally be like in the movies: The Universe has set up this exact time for you two to get back together. It was so naïve to the point that, maybe, not even ten-year-old you would have faith in that notion. It was completely romantic and idealistic but you could care less.
There’s still a chance you could fix this rift.
He must still love you.
He has too.
But then you’re face to face with his bedroom door and your stomach drops as you hear a moan come from behind it. You hear their whispers and an impossibly familiar female giggle that grates against your ears and makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.
It’s just like three weeks ago and you’re back in fight or flight. Your entire body screams for you to run, run and forget. Run and never come back. But you can’t bring yourself to just walk away from this travesty.
Your hand moves to the doorknob—the metal is cold in your sweaty palm.
It clicks as the latch unlocks—you can’t deceive yourself from the truth any longer.
The doorknob twists effortless—there’s nothing you can do about it.
His bedroom door swings wide open and everything you fear lies beyond the three inch thick wooden block.
The girl is straddling him, and you recognize that long black hair that trails to her lower back. She’s wearing his white button down uniform dress shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the rest of the milky white fabric pools around her legs. He lies beneath her, satisfied and content as he sits up to kiss her again.
This can’t be happening, but you knew what was going to be there. You were a glutton for punishment, but you had to confirm it. And it shatters your heart to oblivion. Your mouth goes dry and you feel everything: shock, disgust, betrayal…emptiness.
He pulls her hair to the side with his elegant fingers and he continues to kiss her, groan into her and he loses himself in the long forsaken physical intimacy that he craved from these past three weeks of you avoiding him. It was baseless. It was selfish. It was wrong.
But he knew that. He knew that from the beginning, but Oikawa never thought he’d have to face the consequences.
So when he hears your broken sob and his eyes fly open and he sees you with a hand covering your mouth, eyes wide, shoulders shaking, he pulls away so fast that his teeth clack against the girl’s.
But he can’t feel the throbbing of his teeth because his conscious is ripping apart his heart and soul.
He whispers your name so quietly that you barely catch it.
The girl whirls around and she practically jumps out of her skin when she spots you standing at the doorway. She yelps and her hands immediately move to cover her breasts—like her sudden modesty changes the depravity situation.
You can’t help but appraise the girl that he committed this betrayal with. And you hate yourself because she’s gorgeous and everything that you’re not. And you’re shaking your head and he’s looking at you with the eyes of a dead man.
“Get out,” he whispers to her, voice dangerously low.
“Excuse me—what’s going—”the girl starts to stutter.
“I said. Get. Out.” He all but growls.
She gulps and hurriedly slips off his lap and onto the floor. She grabs her clothes with haste, holding them to her chest as she runs past you—she smells like expensive perfume and peppermint.
The front door slams shut and you two are finally alone. But you wish that you had followed her out because this is the last place that you want to be.
“I can explain myself, I promise—”
“E-explain what…?” You were almost at the point where you were laughing hysterically, it bubbles deep inside of you. “Did I…did I do something wrong…?” Your voice shook, but you kept it all inside, your feelings of pain and sorrow.
The mattress squeaks as he gets off the bed, he takes a moment to zip up the fly of his pants and button his waistband. He’s shirtless and you can no longer look at him with any admiration as he walks towards you.
You can hear his quivering breaths and see his hands shake—his hands never shake, they never shake. And he stands in front of you, holding his hands out to you, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes are screaming, pleading apologies.
“I know this looks bad, but believe me, it’s not exactly as it seems,” he spoke softly and he takes another step towards you. His skin briefly grazes yours before you flinch away—always, always flinching away. He swears he hears something snap inside of him. “Y-You believe me, right?”
The first tear breaks the surface tension of your eye and plummets down your face. “That’s all I’ve ever been doing, Tooru, believing you…” Your breaths come fast and feel so, so empty and useless and worthless and unwanted. A cavity opens inside and it was taking you apart piece by piece. “W-When is it going to start being real?”
Your voice cracks.
“It’s always been real! This has—” he tries to croak out.
“When are you ever going to be honest with me?” But you can’t shout at him, you can’t bring yourself to be angry, even though ire is running through your veins. He could deal with your anger, he could calm you down, he’s done that for so long now.
But he can’t deal with you when you have that blankness in your eyes as you gaze at him. There’s no light, there’s no fondness, and he hates himself for stealing that away from you. In that moment, he regrets everything. He would give anything for you to look at him with love again. That’s too much to ask for, though.
“…T-this isn’t the first time, is it…?”
He looks away, down at his hands and says nothing. Nothing.
You can’t even scoff. “I already knew that,” you cry out, and it takes all the life out of you to make that confession. You’d been living with that knowledge for two weeks and it was eating you alive. Having to see him every day at school pretending like everything was normal when you felt like dying inside. It was cruel for you to still want his touch when he burned so much.
His head pops up to look at you and you see his eyes glistening with tears. He chokes out your name and tries to touch you, hold you again.
“Please don’t,” you whimper. “I-I can’t, I can’t right now, not with you. Oikawa don’t—”
“Ple-ase,” his voice cracks and there’s a complete look of devastation on his face. “Please don’t call me that. Call me Tooru again, you can’t go back to that!” –he grabs your hand and presses it flat against his bare chest, right over his bleeding heart— “It’s Tooru, I’m your Tooru, no one else’s, yours.”
You pull. You pull hard, but he’s his grip remains strong, his fingers pressing into your skin to keep you there.
“No, no, no, no, no,” you’re whimpering. You’re shaking your head and looking at him with tears in your eyes. You’re trying to pull away but he’s pleading and goes down on his knees.
“You can’t leave me, you can’t leave me,” he mutters into your hand, lips against your knuckles.
“W-was I-I not good enough for you or something?” You want to cry, scream, kick him, just anything besides standing silently. Because as much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn’t so you let the tears flow and sobs wrack your body. “Because I tried so hard, so hard to be good to you—”
“You were—you were perfect!” he replies. “I don’t deserve you—”
“Then why did you do it?” It was a question you hated to ask and didn’t even want to know the answer to.
He opens and closes his mouth, voice stuck in his throat. Then he finally says, “You were ignoring me…and—and you’d avoid me whenever you saw me, flinch when I touched you. I-I was lonely, you know? It doesn’t mean anything, it didn’t,” he promises. “I just…wanted to get some urges out of the way.”
“You don’t think I’m lonely, too?”
Shocked, he loosens his grip and you pulled your hand away, clutching it to your chest.
“I was always there at your practices, always. There during your matches. But you wouldn’t even acknowledge me until the end. You were always so busy, so I didn’t want to bother you because I understand how important volleyball is to you. I didn’t want to get in the way.
“But when you’re always pandering to all the girls for their attention, it hurts—”He’s ambushed by three good looking girls in your class and he’s flirting with them and they have their hands all over him. But you know he’s not serious, it’s just his nature, you trust him—“I’d walk myself to class after the first few times because I didn’t want to bother you. I never wanted to be a burden to you.
“I was so lonely, Tooru. I always thought of our walks home together at the end of the day. Just us being alone to be ourselves together. That’s all I thought about when you were busy. You were all I thought about, but…” you snort ironically. “I guess that was just me…” And the sad smile that curls onto your lips does the finishing blow.
“I loved you, and you’ve changed me—”
"I still love you," his voice breaks, "I love you so damn much—”
“—and I don’t know if it’s for the better or the worse—”
“We can still make it work, I’ll be better, stay—”
“But I fucking hate you, and I fucking love you, and…and…”
You run your hands through your hair, completely drained and give him one final once over before you wipe your face with the edge of your shirt and give him one last teary eyed smile. “Thank you for all the happy memories.”
You turn to walk away from him but the urgency in his voice makes you pause.
“W-what are you doing?” He sputters, he's panicking at this point. There had to be a chance left! He didn’t want to let you go! “You can’t leave, ____________-chan!”
He struggles to get up, but when he does he grabs your wrist as you try to turn away again.
“I can’t do this, Tooru…Please, let go of me…” His grip tightened around your limp wrist, and you had to place your hand on his for him to realize the strength he was gripping you with.
Your touch is so gentle and loving as you rubbed the back of his hand and smiled, memories of his caring touches flitting through your mind.
“I-I’m sorry, Oikawa, that I’ve been holding you back this whole time,” you whisper, backing away and slipping out of his grasp. He savors the way your fingertips linger on his skin before they were completely gone. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
You’re at the top of the staircase when he wraps his arms around your waist, his arms barely applying any pressure.
“I…I just want to hold you, one last time,” he whispers in your ear, tickling the skin there.
You’re silent as you turn around and bury yourself into him. Your arms reflexively curling around your torso to his upper back. You cry into him and he’s holding you so tight because he wants to bring together all the broken pieces inside of you. It may be impossible but he wants to try.
You hold each other for so long, because once you let go…that’s it. So he savors every moment of it, ingraining the feel of you into his mind. He presses kisses to your forehead to the crown of your hair, nuzzling his nose to smell your shampoo for the last time.
And for a second it’s almost like nothing has changed.
It’s just another goodbye hug, and you’ll see each other in the morning. He’ll walk to you school, hand in hand, and tell you a joke that’s cheesy and terrible and your laugh will ring in his ears like sleigh bells. You’ll eat together at lunch with his arm casually around your shoulders as he feeds you. You’re cheering for him at the match tomorrow night and he’ll take you out to your favorite restaurant to celebrate his success. You’ll fall asleep in his arms, after staying up to talk about college and aliens and the new mole you found on his body and he’ll kiss you goodnight before he falls asleep with you.
It’s a complete fantasy, but at one point it was real. And now it has come to an end.
All of his angles fit perfectly into your curves and your shaking has finally stopped and your breathing is even when you pull away.
He has his crooked grin back as he looks down at you.
You get up on your toes and gently kiss the corner of his lip.
You say nothing as you walk away, leaving him empty and angry at himself.
He punches a wall and the skin over his knuckles peel.
He does it again and again until they're swollen and bleeding.
The knight marries the princess and they live happily ever after
Oikawa goes to school the next day with gauze around his right hand.
It stings as he adjusts the straps of his sports bag and the space beside him feels cold as he walks without you. He doesn’t bother to text you good morning, you wouldn’t reply and he wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.
He’s fucked up big time, and he knows it. It obviously wasn’t fun to explain to his parents why he’d taken down every picture of you and him in his house. He keeps them in a box in the corner of his closet and he likes to look at them from time to time.
His fingers trail across the glass, across your face, and he cries himself to sleep the night after his volleyball match. They lost—and you weren’t there to tell him you’ll love him no matter if he wins or loses.
It destroys him.
The first time he sees you after that is one week later.
And he spots you waiting at the front gate of the school before the boys' volleyball morning practice.
You’re on your phone, smiling down at the screen and he’s one hundred meters away. He can’t help but grin when he sees you, and as he gets closer he’s already coming up with a way to say hello to you.
Your head looks up and he thinks that you’ve spotted him when a familiar ace appears around the opposite corner. You turn to face Iwaizumi, the biggest smile on your face, and it’s the happiest he’s seen you in the weeks. And he’s jealous that he’s no longer the reason for that happiness.
Iwaizumi’s grinning like crazy and he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a quick kiss before he spins you around. You’re laughing and pounding at his shoulders to let you down even though you were perfectly fine with him carrying you into the gym.
And Oikawa is caught off guard, he should have expected this. His stomach drops as you intertwine your fingers with his best friend and swing it back and forth before walking towards the gym. Iwaizumi whispers something to you that makes you laugh and swat him on the shoulder, and neither of them turns to look at his aghast face.
And all Oikawa can think about it how he’s ruined the best relationship he’s ever had in his life.
He’s lost you, and it’s like when you left, a piece of him left with you.
And he knows he'll never get it back.