Archive of Our Own

If you're going to hit it, hit it till it breaks.

•••

Oikawa is limping.

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa Tooru intimately, has known Oikawa for almost his whole life. For practically his whole life, he's been Oikawa's best friend, and he's watched him for years, knows his speech, his movement, his smile, even better than he knows his own. He's watched out for him too, taken care of him and been there for him.

They're at semifinals. It's their last year, and Iwaizumi is wound up as taut as a bowstring, his hands itching to hit the ball. It's their last chance, and he wants to be part of the team that leads Seijoh to nationals. He flexes his hands absentmindedly. Win this set, and they've got it.

And Oikawa is limping. Limping ever so slightly, but he is. He was fine this morning, but ever since the second set against Karasuno, he's been favouring his right knee. Iwaizumi is probably the only one who sees, the only one who notices the slight change in the familiar movement. Not to mention everyone's preoccupied with their own body, with the trajectory of the ball. He glances at Oikawa and bites back a curse.

Oikawa is sitting on the bench, in a trance like always, except his leg is placed Just So, and his hand is almost absentmindedly rubbing his knee, and he's not quite wincing, but it's close. Iwaizumi pinches his nose with his fingers. Stupid stubborn Shittykawa. He marches over.

"Hey, Trashykawa, don't be an idiot."

Oikawa's eyes briefly fill with panic before he covers it with a cheeky wink. "Iwa-chan! What's up?" It's so painfully awkward that Iwaizumi briefly considers just throwing him across the court.

"Asskawa, your knee is acting up, isn't it? You're limping. You should tell coach."

"Ahahaha Iwa-chan~ So sweet of you to be worried!" Oikawa's laugh falls flat. "Don't scare the juniors by looking so serious! It's almost time for the third set to start!" He gingerly stands up, stretching languidly, and looks around at the team. He breaks out into a grin. "Let’s go. We got this."

The team straightens up, and Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kunimi, and Kindaichi head out onto the court.

Even limping, Oikawa's jump serve is a work of art. Iwaizumi's seen it a million times over, he knows it so well that he could recognize how it sounds in his sleep. Oikawa jumps, serves, and Karasuno receives and sends it right back over. It's only as he's dashing for the free ball that Iwaizumi hears it and stiffens: The sound of Oikawa's landing, slightly off beat, and his running, more uneven than it usually is. But then Oikawa sets, and Iwaizumi spikes, and the game is all that matters.

•••

The team's not blind. The teams aren't stupid. The stupid observant silver haired setter from Karasuno sees the hitch and sends a spike right at Oikawa. He dives to receive it, and Iwaizumi watches in horror as his leg crumples as he passes the ball back. They spike, and they pull ahead by a point.

Oikawa is kneeling on the court, gritting his teeth. He glares at Iwaizumi, daring him to say something. And he pulls himself up and slowly and painfully limps his way over to serve the next ball.

Iwaizumi's hand on his chest stops him. "Oikawa. Don't."

Oikawa turns around and smiles flippantly at him. "Iwa-chan, don't you think I know my own limits better than you do? Besides, these are the rules of the game."

"We can sub in Yahaba. Tooru, I'm serious. Don't." Oikawa is standing awkwardly, all his weight on his left. Iwaizumi briefly considers just picking him up and depositing him next to the coach.

Oikawa narrows his eyes at Iwaizumi. His expression is set and serious. He shrugs him off and limps heavily to grab the ball. He tightens his knee brace and shakes his leg out, testing it. Iwaizumi doesn't even bother getting ready for the serve. He's facing Oikawa, his body tense and forehead creased. Oikawa winks at him, and tosses the ball in the air. He serves.

It's a perfect serve, and Karasuno has to break formation, scrambling to receive the ball. But Iwaizumi is watching Oikawa land in slow motion, and his right leg gives out with a sickening crack. Oikawa is the one falling, but Iwaizumi is the one who screams for him. And Iwaizumi is running, but it feels like he's moving through quicksand, and he's not moving at all.

"OIKAWA!"

Every single Aoba Johsai player whips their head over at the sound.

The ball hits their side of the court with a thump, but no one, not even Karasuno, cares about the game right now. Every single player, on both courts, in both matches, is frozen to the spot.

Oikawa tries to get up, but his leg crumples under him and he collapses with a wordless scream. Iwaizumi is there to catch him, lowering him down to the ground gently and undoing his knee brace. His knee is swollen and turning purple, and looks distinctly wrong. His whole leg is crooked. Iwaizumi wants to throw up. God, his leg.

Oikawa opens his eyes and looks up at him. "Iwa-chan." His voice is trembling. "Iwa-chan, my leg." He makes to stand up again.

"Stop." Iwaizumi's warm hand covers Oikawa's eyes. "Oikawa, don't. For the love of god, don't look. Don't move. I'm going to lift my hand now, okay? Keep your eyes fixed on me." Iwaizumi can feel his eyelashes flutter against his hand, and the dampness of his eyes. He surreptitiously wipes the tears away as he removes his hand.

The silver haired setter is pale and shaking like a leaf. "Oikawa-san, I-" One of his teammates clamps their hand over his mouth, and Iwaizumi is grateful for the sense rarely shown. Oikawa is trying very hard not to cry through the pain, eyes squeezed shut once more, and Iwaizumi wordlessly offers his hand. He grabs it and squeezes it like a lifeline, and yeah, the squeezing hurts, but it must be nothing compared to what Oikawa is feeling. Coach Irihata moves towards them, but stops at Iwaizumi's glare. Iwaizumi jerks his head towards the doors, and he nods, slipping out silently.

The stadium is silent. Iwaizumi gently shakes Oikawa. "Tooru, you're going to stand up now, okay? Slowly, and leaning on me." Oikawa nods, mute, and everyone watches in fascinated horror as Iwaizumi pulls him up. Oikawa chokes back a scream as he slings his arm over his shoulder, and they slowly and agonizingly make their way to the door. Iwaizumi can hear horrified whispers behind him, and grits his teeth, blocking them out. Vultures. At least save it for later. Oikawa's leg drags behind him as he hops forward, leaning heavily on Iwaizumi, and his face is screwed up with the effort to not cry. They're almost at the doors when-

"Wait." Oikawa's voice is trembling in his ear. The hand wrapped around his arm squeezes him hard and lets go. "Stop."

They stop. Iwaizumi adjusts his stance to hold up Oikawa better. Oikawa quickly scrubs at his face with his free hand and smooths back his hair. He turns to face his team, a glowing martyr in green and white.

A dazzling smile blooms across his face. "I'm counting on you."

Iwaizumi feels his heart crack even as the words warm his soul.

Oikawa smiles at them, eyes suspiciously shiny. Someone stifles a strangled sob. He turns around, and he and Iwaizumi limp painfully away.

•••

As soon as they're out the doors and out of sight, Oikawa lets go of Iwaizumi and staggers towards the wall, biting his lip. He slides down it into a sitting position, tipping his head back to lean against the wall. "Iwa-chan, you should go back. You're the ace, you need to play."

Iwaizumi almost chokes on his spit. "Trashykawa, have you lost your mind? No way you're making your way to the first aid room by yourself like this."

Oikawa smiles emptily. "Iwa-chan, just because I can't play doesn't mean you shouldn't."

Iwaizumi crouches down next to him. "Oikawa, don't be an idiot. You can't walk in this state. Who knows how much more damage that show you put on did to your knee?"

A tear leaks from the corner of his eye. "Iwa-chan, I couldn't do it. I couldn't lead them to nationals. You should do it at least. We owe them that much."

Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa. "You can't be serious. Do you really think anyone is thinking about going to nationals right now? It doesn't matter, okay? You come first. You always come first."

Oikawa pushes weakly at his chest. "Hajime, I'm serious! The team needs you! Their captain is out of commission. You should go and bring them to nationals. Obviously I can't be the one to do that now." He tries to stand up, but as soon as his right foot makes contact with the ground, he goes bone white and his eyes roll back briefly. Iwaizumi darts under him, hands firmly around his midsection, and lowers him back down slowly.

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi says, his forehead creased with worry. "You can't even stand up. Just… just don't move, okay? Stay here and the paramedics will be here in a minute."

Oikawa nods shakily, then changes his mind and shakes his head. "They need you out there. It's our last chance at going to nationals. You owe it to them at least when I can't get them there!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Iwaizumi shifts till he's practically nose to nose with Oikawa. "You're the best captain this team has ever seen. And what's an ace without his setter?"

•••

The paramedics are painfully, disgustingly late. They lift Oikawa onto a stretcher, and they drive him to the hospital in an ambulance. Coach Irihata takes care of all the paperwork, and all Iwaizumi does is take care of Oikawa. Oikawa's pretty sure he blacked out at some point, but he doesn't let go of Iwaizumi's hand the whole time.

He wakes to find himself in a hospital bed, covered by a thin blanket. The light of the setting sun trickles through the window. Iwaizumi is sitting by his side worriedly, still holding his hand. "The doctor should be along any minute. God, how useless is this system?"

Oikawa smiles weakly. "Ah, Iwa-chan, so concerned for my well-being~" It comes out flatter than usual.

Iwaizumi side-eyes him and continues glaring at the door. Both of them know that Iwaizumi will never not be concerned.

"They stabilized your leg and took you for a scan, but that's about it. I think they gave you some painkillers, which is why it doesn't hurt so much now." Iwaizumi gently brushes Oikawa's sweaty hair out of his eyes. "Feel okay?"

"Except for the useless leg, you mean?" Oikawa says, his voice soft and bitter. "It's okay Iwa-chan. It's not your fault."

"Should've tried harder," Iwaizumi mumbles. "Should've just dragged you off the court to coach."

Oikawa tilts Iwaizumi's face up to meet his eyes. "Not your fault, Iwa-chan. Mea culpa, okay?"

Iwaizumi nods silently.

"Now give me your hand and hand me that first aid kit." Oikawa gently lifts the hand he was holding. Slowly and tenderly, he wraps Iwaizumi's fingers with sport tape. "Don't think I didn’t see that moment with the block.” Oikawa weaves the tape around his fingers, his pale fingers standing out against his dark skin. “There, all better," he presses a kiss to his neatly bandaged fingers.

Iwaizumi slowly turns a dull red.

The door opens and they both look up. A tall doctor in a long white coat comes in. "Oikawa Tooru?"

"That's me." Oikawa says, wiggling his fingers. His carefree smile is affixed on his face again, and Iwaizumi can see the doctor sneer under his breath. His eyes harden fractionally.

"So, Oikawa-san, how are you feeling?"

"Well, seeing as how my leg is apparently badly injured, not so good~" Oikawa says, as if he was speaking to one of his fangirls. "What do you know, doctor?"

"Mmm. And how did you injure your leg?" the doctor drawls, flipping through his notes uninterestedly. "I'm guessing some kind of sport, seeing as how you're in an uniform."

Oikawa opens his mouth but no words come out. The doctor raises an eyebrow at him, but he can feel the words clogging up in his throat. I failed at my signature move and let my team down.

Iwaizumi clears his throat. The doctor looks at him sharply. "He's the captain of our team, Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club. He jarred his knee during a receive, which probably exponentially increased the effects of the flare up of his old injury. Then his leg gave out and probably dislocated when he did a jump serve afterwards."

Failure. Disappointment.

The doctor nods, flicking a page over. "An old injury, you say?"

"Yes, I noticed him limping during the most recent match. He refused to take a break and sit on the sidelines." Iwaizumi glances at Oikawa from the side of his eyes, catching his mouth twist up. He squeezes his hand.

"What was the old injury?"

"I strained my knee a few years ago practicing too much. I landed badly."

The doctor raises his brows again. Iwaizumi spots the flicker of disapproval in his eyes. "And you didn't notice the physical strain on your knee?"

Oikawa scowls and looks away without answering. Iwaizumi's frown deepens. Their hands tighten around each other's.

"Right, so, Oikawa-san, was your injury the last time around an ACL tear?"

Oikawa nods woodenly. Fear is slowly making its way into his eyes. I'm sorry, Oikawa-kun, but you can't play this season.

"You suffered a complete tibiofemoral dislocation, or, in layman's terms, you dislocated your knee. Knee dislocations are far rarer and more serious than kneecap dislocations, and it's usually accompanied by ligament injuries. In your case, you suffered tears to your ACL and your PCL. In addition, since there was not treatment on the scene of the incident, it's highly possible that you suffered slight to significant nerve damage as well."

Oikawa is white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf in the wind. Iwaizumi is frozen so still he could have been carved from a block of wood.

The doctor sighs. "In conclusion, you'll probably not be able to play again. We'll operate first thing in the morning, and it's possible we might have to amputate, if there was enough damage done. Where are your parents?"

"They're on a business trip. Oikawa's old enough though, he can sign his own forms. Except for his discharge forms. Those are mine. I'm his other emergency contact."

Slowly, Oikawa looks down and his hand twitches towards the blanket. Iwaizumi grabs it. His eyes are intense. " 'Kawa, don't."

Oikawa's eyes look back at him, empty and terrified. "Hajime, I have to." Without waiting another moment, he rips the blankets away from his leg.

The breath rushes out of his lungs and he gags, one hand rising up to claw at his chest. He can't breathe. His leg is a mottled mess of dark bruising, and it's twisting in the wrong direction. He can see the outline of the bone where it’s shifted out of place, and he has to briefly close his eyes. He barely recognizes it as his leg, god, he wishes it wasn't his leg. Anyone with eyes could see that it was a career ending injury. He gags again, and Iwaizumi is already there, thrusting the trash can under his chin to catch the vomit that comes out. He coughs, moving to look at his leg again, and Iwaizumi's hand is clamped back over his eyes.

"Tooru, don't."

His breath hitches. A guttural scream comes from his mouth. It’s gut wrenching, a decade of effort contained in that sound. Years and years of work, and he'll never play again. Years of work gone in an instant, his pride rendered foolish and obsolete. Dimly, he's aware of Iwaizumi rubbing comforting circles on his back as he throws up again. Then:

The doctor snorts. "Stupid athletes. Don't overexert yourselves, and this won't happen. What a shame. You were so young."

Oxygen leaves his body again in a whoosh and he's dying, being buried alive. His fault, it's all his fault, he's failed his team, he can't lead them to nationals, he's worthless, useless now -

"Shut up." Iwaizumi's hands are fisted in the lapels of the doctor's lab coat. "Some fucking doctor you are. Is this the bedside manner they teach you in medical school? You don't get to say that to him. To either of us. Do you know how much we give up for our sport? How dare you say that."

The doctor hurriedly backpedals. "Well, I- I only meant that he shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard. He should have gotten off the court when he fell the first time!"

Iwaizumi cuts him off with an actual snarl. It's far more terrifying than Kyoutani's. "I'm sorry, did you actually just blame him for wanting to keep doing what he loves? For keeping on trying to get to where he wants to be? If you're going to blame someone, blame the paramedics from your hospital. The tournament has an agreement with your hospital, so tell me why instead of stationing them there, we had to wait for the ambulance to show up?" He releases the doctor with a shove, sending him colliding into the door. "Thank you for the diagnosis. Now get out."

The doctor sends him a dirty look and scurries out without another word.

Iwaizumi sits back down next to Oikawa, interlacing their fingers. "…Oikawa? Can you look at me?"

Oikawa turns to meet his eyes, his own eyes terrifyingly blank. Iwaizumi takes one look at him and feels his own tears rising in his throat. He swallows them down forcefully. Leaning over, he presses a gentle kiss to Oikawa's left temple. "Do you want to get some sleep?"

Oikawa's hand tightens on his. "Okay. Do you want to watch the match replay then?" Oikawa squeezes twice. Yes. A remnant of communication from their childhood.

Iwaizumi connects his phone to the internet and pulls up the screen.

"And a replay of this afternoon's Miyagi Spring Interhigh Qualifiers! Shiratorizawa Academy advances to the finals with a 2-0 match, and shockingly, Karasuno High advances to the finals with a 2-1 match after two of Seijoh's star players leave due to an injury!"

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut at the numbers on the screen. Third set: 26-24. They had been so close. If only he hadn't…

Iwaizumi nudges him. "Oikawa, look. They're playing your moment."

The Oikawa on screen winces in pain and turns around, his smile wide and bright and joyful. "I'm counting on you." Iwaizumi almost instinctively straightens up at the words, blinking back tears at the scene.

The camera pans to show the spectators. Everyone is sitting frozen, horrified. A few girls are crying. It zooms in on Karasuno. Kageyama looks shellshocked and horrified, while the orange-haired spiker just looks determined. The silver haired setter is scrubbing his face with the collar of his shirt. The tall spiker looks like he's trying not to throw up.

Finally, the camera shows the Aoba Johsai team. All of them, every single one, have tears pouring down their face. Kyoutani's teeth are gritted, his hand over his eyes and his head tilted back. Watari's eyes are fixed on Oikawa and Iwaizumi's departing backs, his tears dripping off his chin. Matsukawa is smirking, arms crossed with his head tilted to the side, his eyes shiny. Hanamaki drags a hand across his face harshly and sniffs, straightening up. Oikawa is so proud of them, his stupid, proud team.

The whistle blows. Yahaba marches onto the court, eyes puffy and shoulders squared. Kunimi follows behind, tenser and scowling, eyes tinged pink. Yahaba gathers them all in a huddle, and speaks lowly and rapidly. The microphone doesn't pick it up, but it does pick up his last sentence: "The captain's counting on us. Let's do this. For Seijoh?"

"For victory."

Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa's tears dripping on his hand.

The huddle breaks and Yahaba claps Kyoutani on the back, muttering something that makes him straighten up and fall into stance. The whistle blows again, and the game starts.

They lose anyways.

Oikawa sniffles, wiping his eyes. "Iwa-chan, our team… They tried so hard. I'm so proud of them."

Iwaizumi smiles darkly, sadly. "I know."

•+•+•

Iwaizumi is soon chased out of the room by a rampaging nurse loudly brandishing a copy of the visiting hours. Apparently he overstayed for about an hour. He leaves in a hurry, but not before promising Oikawa he'll be there right after the surgery. Coach Irihata is waiting outside for him, and he turns and smiles at Oikawa. "It's okay, captain. Iwaizumi is right. You did your best, and our team did their best. It'll be fine."

Oikawa lies staring at the ceiling in darkness. His leg burns, like it's being buried under flaming hot lava. He shifts slightly, and grits his teeth at the spike of pain. He messed up. He messed up big this time. He's completely altered the course of his own life, and not in the direction he wants. He furiously blinks back tears in the dark. Why? Why did I do that? I should have listened to Iwa-chan. Useless, stupid, stubborn Oikawa. He sighs and reaches over, setting his toiletries bag on his stomach. God, I need a fucking tissue. He squeezes his eyes tight shut as he rummages in his bag, trying not to let the flood of self-pity overwhelm him.

Ouch. He pulls out his finger, sticking it in his mouth instinctively, and tastes blood. He sticks his hand back in, and pulls it out, holding it up. It glints silver in the moonlight, and he shivers. He had forgotten that was there. He turns it over and over in his hands, and almost mechanically, he presses it to his side, feeling the bumps of his ribs under his fingers. It slides over his skin smoothly, and he gasps at the sharp bite it leaves behind, welcoming the brief respite from the agony in his leg.

He lets his head fall back onto his pillow as he methodically tapes gauze over the lines on his ribs. Then he moves onto his hip.

•=•=•

Iwaizumi paces in the corridor, hands in his pockets. One, two, three, four, turn. One, two, three, four, turn. One, two, three, four, turn. He stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder, turning around to see Hanamaki and Matsukawa standing there.

"Yo, 'Zumi. How's our captain?" Matsukawa stretches his lips into a poor imitation of a smile. Iwaizumi winces, and Matsukawa drops it.

"Yeah, Iwaizumi. Where is he? Gosh, I'm glad we didn't bring the whole team if I knew all that we would be seeing is our angsty vice-captain pacing like a caged tiger." Hanamaki slouches into one of the plastic chairs outside of Oikawa's room.

Iwaizumi sits down in the chair next to his, ignoring Matsukawa's affronted "Hey!". "I don’t know, he's in surgery right now. There was a traffic jam, and I didn't get here early enough to see him off. They're trying to fix his leg. It's… not good."

Matsukawa hands him a package. "Here. Milk bread for our esteemed Oikawa-san, and a melon bread for Iwa-chan~" Iwaizumi's head whips around at the nickname and everyone freezes. There's a beat where no one moves, then he exhales and snatches the bread out of his hands, ripping it open and biting into it fiercely. The tension drains from Matsukawa's limbs, and he leans against the wall. "So, what did the doctor say?"

Iwaizumi groans around his mouthful of bread. Swallowing, he says, "Don't get me started on that bastard doctor. I almost beat him up for insinuating that it was Oikawa's fault his knee gave out. Man, that guy had a worse personality than Trashkawa."

Hanamaki coughs to hide a smile. "Right, right, Iwaizumi-kun defending his fair maiden's honor. But what was the damage?"

Iwaizumi's eyes drift out of focus. Mechanically, he recites: "Complete tibiofemoral dislocation, ACL tear, PCL tear, mild fibula fracture, possible permanent nerve damage to the leg." He looks up to see matching looks of horror on Hanamaki and Matsukawa. He smiles in a way that's more of a… baring of teeth. "Isn't that just lovely?"

Hanamaki places a hand on his shoulder. "Iwaizumi, it's going to be alright. The coach called in a favour and flew in an old friend for his surgery, which is why it was moved up to so early. She's one of the best surgeons in the country. Oikawa's going to make the best recovery possible."

Iwaizumi looks away. "What if it's not enough?" he whispers. "He's never going to play again, is he? He thinks he’s so invincible, but this time, he’s done for sure."

Matsukawa shoves him lightly. "So what? It's Oikawa Tooru we're talking about here. He's multitalented, charming, smart. He'll find something else. Besides, he's got you. And you've got us."

Iwaizumi stands up and resumes pacing. Matsukawa and Hanamaki look at each other, shrug, and relax the best they can into the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

•••

Iwaizumi is sitting against the wall, asleep, dusk light bathing his face in gold. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are sprawled in their chairs, half dozing. A tall, slender woman with pink highlights comes towards them. Her stained white coat flaps in the draught from the windows. She clears his throat lightly, and Hanamaki looks up, nudging Matsukawa. Matsukawa slowly pries his eyes open, stretches and smirks at Iwaizumi half sprawled on the ground, angling his phone to snap a picture.

"Are you here for Oikawa Tooru?"

The two of them snap to attention. The woman nods towards Iwaizumi. "Are you going to wake him up? He looks like he needs the rest, the poor dear, but he might want to hear this."

Matsukawa is already nudging him with the toe of his shoe. Iwaizumi yawns, blearily opening his eyes. Then he's scrambling to stand next to them, his eyes fixed on the doctor and the clipboard she's holding.

The doctor holds out her hand. "I'm Dr. Nakamura, orthopaedic surgeon. His coach, Sadayuki called me in, practically in tears! I was the head surgeon for Oikawa Tooru's operation. Are you his relatives?"

Matsukawa nudges Iwaizumi again, and when he doesn't respond, he says, "No, we're his friends. We're on the same volleyball team."

Iwaizumi snaps out of his trance. "I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, his emergency contact, since his parents are out of the country on business. How… How is he?"

Dr. Nakamura's face turns serious. "The surgery was a success. Oikawa won't lose his leg, and we've repaired most major damage to his knee."

"But?"

The doctor exhales quietly. "Due to the late response by medical services, as well as the nature of the injury, it's highly possible that Oikawa-san will suffer from a limp for the rest of his life. And even if he doesn't, it's not possible for him to return to athletics. In fact, he is not to do anything more strenuous than walking for at least 4 months."

Iwaizumi feels like he's been sucker punched. Oikawa, who lives and breathes volleyball, who's structured his whole life around playing professionally, unable to return to play. He had seen it, he and Oikawa both had, but somehow, foolishly, he had held out hope. And now…

Doctor Nakamura catches his eye and beckons him over to the entrance to the corridor. "Iwaizumi-san. You're Oikawa-san's emergency contact, so I take it that you two are close?"

Iwaizumi nods dumbly. "He's… he's my…" best friend? brother in arms? childhood companion? "…setter. He's my setter."

What’s an ace without his setter?

Dr Nakamura looks at him oddly with a mix of confusion and pity. She nods understandingly, then scribbles something on a slip of paper and hands it to Iwaizumi. "I'm very sorry. My email and my number. Feel free to contact me with any questions, concerns, or anything, really. I don't mind, not for one of my patients or for one of Sadayuki's kids."

Iwaizumi tucks the slip into his jacket pocket and nods. He looks back at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, both trying very hard to pretend they can't hear them, and inclines his head to the doctor. "Thank you."

Dr Nakamura tilts her head to the side and smiles. "My pleasure."

•••

Oikawa opens his eyes blearily. He's back in his white, sterile, room, and everything is bathed in the pale dull blue of evening, right after sunset. He turns his head to the left, and his eyes meet Iwaizumi's sleeping form.

He coughs softly, throat dry. "Iwa-chan." he croaks. Iwaizumi opens his eyes and they're filled with relief -- had he really been worrying over Oikawa? He asks as much, and Iwaizumi snorts and turns away, but he can't hide his faint blush. He moves his head, and spots Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who are snacking on melon bread. "Aww, you came to visit me?"

Makki snorts. "No, we came to watch our vice-captain make a fool of himself fussing over you." Iwaizumi turns a dull red and lobs a cushion at his head. His expression turns serious. "But honestly, Oikawa, how are you feeling?"

Oikawa can feel the corners of his mouth strain as he forces it into a smile. "Ah, Makki~ you and Mattsun are so sweet, worrying about me! Don't worry, I'm totally great. It's just my leg. It's pretty late, you guys should go home!"

Matsukawa eyes him doubtfully, eyes knowing. "Alrighty, Oikawa, we'll be back tomorrow, yeah? And don't worry, Iwaizumi, we'll distract the nurse so you can stay later." With a flourish of his hand, the two of them leave, leaving Oikawa and Iwaizumi in the room.

Oikawa looks at his leg, wrapped in white plaster all the way up to his thigh and elevated by a sling hanging from the ceiling. The ache is still there, but it's nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He's never going to play again.

"The doctor said that it's possible you'll have a limp for the rest of your life." Iwaizumi's voice is soft and flat. Oikawa feels his eyes sting with unshed tears, and he digs his fingers into the marks on his hip. Focus. On what? His main goals are ruined, as destroyed as his leg is. Iwaizumi reaches over and laces their fingers together.

"Hey, dumbass. It's going to be okay." His voice is rough, and suddenly all Oikawa feels is red-hot anger, bubbling to the surface. Okay? Nothing was ever going to be okay again. Inexplicably, Iwaizumi keeps talking.

"It's going to be fine. You're going to recover, and you'll be charming and successful in some other area." He squeezes his hand.

Oikawa rips his hand out of his hold, relishing the look of shock and hurt on his face. "Fuck off, Iwaizumi."

Iwaizumi's eyes narrow. "Don't be stupid, Oikawa. Your life isn't over. Don't tell me you're actually listening to that piece-of-trash doctor?"

Oikawa snorts. "That doctor? Please. He was only telling me what's true, wasn't he? Overexerted and failed my team. Ruined my own future. Nice and simple in a neat package."

He hears his heartbeat thumping in his ears, and the echoes of cheers. No nationals, no championships, no Olympics. No more victories.

Iwaizumi stares at him, anger slowly blooming across his face. "Are you insane? Oikawa, your life isn't over. You're talented and smart and you can find something else and start over. I know how important volleyball is to you, but you're not just defined by your talents on the court."

Not just defined by your talents on the court. What else is he defined by? His fanclub? His flirtiness? His pride? Oikawa lets out a laugh that's half sob. Worthless. "Oh yeah, Iwa-chan, I'll just go study business and be an office worker, yeah? Live a dull, sedentary, boring life."

"Oikawa, you're still young! You have time to figure it out! You have people here for you! You-"

"Yeah, people I failed! People who were counting on me! People I can never surpass now. People who're going to move on and succeed and achieve what I wanted for myself!" Oikawa's fury surges through him like The Great Wave, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. "God, Iwaizumi, I fucked up! I fucked myself over and I failed!"

Iwaizumi scowls. "Oikawa-"

"What good is it to me now?" Oikawa screamed at him, his eyes wild with rage. "Go on, Iwaizumi, tell me what the fuck good my youth is to me now. All my hard work, all my effort, all of it down the fucking drain. Go on," he screams, tears and snot mixing. "Tell me what I'll fucking do because I've put everything I have into this, and now I've got fucking nothing! Nothing at all! God, Ushiwaka was fucking right. My worthless pride. I hope he's happy now!"

"Hey, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi's deep growl cuts through his rant. "Shut the fuck up." Iwaizumi's eyes are dark, his hands curled into fists.

"Shut the fuck up?" Oikawa laughs derisively, almost derangedly. "Fucking look at me. You've got some nerve. You're not the one who's just lost what they love the most! You're not the one who's just been ruined! You're not the one-"

And suddenly Iwaizumi's hands are fisted in the front of his shirt, and his face is a breath away. "I said shut the fuck up, Oikawa Tooru! I might not have lost what you have, but I'm looking, okay? I'm watching the one I love the most losing themselves to this, this madness! The Oikawa Tooru I know would never surrender to Ushijima!"

"No, you shut the fuck up, Iwaizumi Hajime! You think you fucking know me? The Oikawa Tooru you know had everything. He had friends, fame, volleyball, the Oikawa Tooru you know wasn’t a fucking cripple! He didn't lead his team to semifinals just to fail them with his body!" Oikawa's crying again, screaming in his face. Doesn't he understand? Without volleyball, he's nothing. He's no captain, no legend, no perfect man. He's just… nothing. He's nobody.

"So what?" Iwaizumi roars back. "God, Tooru, I know you better than I know myself! You think your friends will abandon you? You think your team will leave you? Do you still think you're fighting by yourself? Do you really think any of us could have gotten here without you? Do you think any of us don't put their complete faith in you as a captain, injured or otherwise? Go on, dumbass, name a player that hasn't improved because of you! If you think how you’re doing equals how the team will do, you're fucking wrong. There's still 6 players on the court! We're still fucking stronger together!"

Iwaizumi's words hang between them in the silence. They're both thinking back to years ago, to the first time he hurt his knee and the first time Iwaizumi said that. It's deafening, and Oikawa thinks he might suffocate on the tension.

Then Iwaizumi's face clears, and he releases him, taking a step back. "Tooru, don't be an idiot. I won't think any less of you just because you can't play."

Oikawa's eyes well up once more. He rests his forehead against Iwaizumi's "Iwa-chan." he whispers. "Iwa-chan, why am I never enough?"

Iwaizumi's eyes are unbelievably soft as he rests his hands on Oikawa's neck. "Trashykawa, you're really dumber than I thought, huh? Don't be stupid, Tooru. You'll always be enough for me."

Oikawa's eyes are wide, vulnerable, hurt, and Iwaizumi knows that he doesn't believe him. So he does the only thing he can think of to prove it. He tilts his head up.

Iwaizumi's hands are warm and calloused, and his lips are as soft as his eyes. Iwaizumi kisses him like a log fire in the winter, hot and warm and comforting all at once, like a puzzle piece has fallen into place. And Oikawa clings to him like a lifebelt, kisses him like he's drowning, and maybe he is, but all that matters to him is that Iwaizumi is there. And right this moment, Iwaizumi is all that he needs.

•••

Coach Irihata: Oikawa. How are you doing?
Coach Irihata: The team is planning on visiting you tomorrow. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I'd rather not have us bother you.

Oikawa: Of course not! I'll be glad to see them~
Oikawa: Actually, come to think of it, could you do me a favour?
Oikawa: Can you get someone to bring that box of uniforms for next year?

•••

The next day is a day filled with people. No one is surprised that the news spread amongst Miyagi that Oikawa Tooru, King of the Court, is permanently retired now. Oikawa is just glad that Iwaizumi keeps his fangirls at bay with his scowling. Of course, some of the credit goes to hospital security, who somehow manage to do it without offending anyone. But mostly, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki keep them at bay with practiced ease, turning them away with soothing words and sometimes scowls. Oikawa sits in his bed, nibbling on milk bread. He can head the squeals of a particularly determined fangirl outside his room, followed by Iwaizumi's deep voice. The squealing dies down, and Iwaizumi enters his room and flops down in the chair next to his bed. "Honestly, Shittykawa, I don’t know how you do it."

Oikawa winks and holds his hand up in a V. "Yay! Iwa-chan can't even deal with girls, how is he going to get a girlfriend now?"

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, staring right into his eyes. "Right. Because getting a girlfriend is so high on my list of priorities now." Inexplicably, Oikawa feels a blush rise to his cheeks. A thought crosses his mind.

"Iwa-chan, are we together now?" Oikawa's eyes are bright and he can feel his hands trembling. Iwaizumi blinks.

"What do you mean? We're always together."

"No, Iwa-chan, stupid. I mean are we like, together in that sense?"

Iwaizumi stifles a laugh. "What sense?"

Oikawa hits him with his pillow. "Iwa-chan, you know what I mean! So mean! Just answer the question!"

Iwaizumi frowns. "Does it matter? Like I said, we've always been together and we always will be. You're mine and I'm yours. Does it matter how we define us?"

Oikawa's eyes stretch wide. Then he's pulling Iwaizumi in by his shirt collar, relishing his muffled squawk against his lips. When they pull apart, Iwaizumi looks slightly dazed, pupils blown wide.

Oikawa claps his hands giddily. "Iwa-chan, I guess we're dating now!"

Iwaizumi shoves him, his face bright red. "Shut up, dumbass!"

"Owww, Iwa-chan, don't mistreat your poor injured boyfriend!"

"I'll injure you, poor injured boyfriend my ass."

"Iwa-chan called me his boyfriend! Aww, that's so romantic."

"Don't be a dickface, Trashykawa."

"Iwa-chan, it would really help if you didn't blush while saying that."

•••

Matuskawa and Hanamaki come in not long after, and they start playing Go Fish. Oikawa is getting thoroughly trounced, when there's a light knock on the door. There's a small staring contest between the three of them, then Hanamaki sighs and gets up to open the door. Matsukawa immediately sprawls his legs over the vacated seat.

"Yo captain, look who's here to see you!" Hanamaki hollers, throwing open the door to reveal the sea-green uniforms of Aoba Johsai Volleyball team. Oikawa makes a garbled noise and yanks his blanket over his head. "Mak-ki, my hair!"

Iwaizumi yanks the blankets back down. "You're still hideous no matter how your hair looks. Don't be such a bad host, the team came all this way to visit you."

Oikawa squawks indignantly. "A bad host? Iwa-chan, I am literally confined to a bed! Kindaichi, come here and smack Iwa-chan for me!"

Kindaichi tentatively walks over and pats Iwaizumi's arm. "Hello… Captain? Iwaizumi-san is scary, I don't want to smack him. He'll throw me out the window."

Matsukawa snorts. "Scary? Thank god I have no such misgivings." He heartily whacks Iwaizumi on the head. He whips around and scowls at him. Matsukawa shrugs. "Anything for the poor bedridden captain. Especially if it's a chance to hit scary Iwaizumi-san."

"See!" Oikawa points at him gleefully. "Iwa-chan, this is how you should treat someone injured! Not push them around and hurt them further! Mattsun, you're so helpful!"

Watari strides into the room. "Oikawa-san, how are you doing? We've all been so worried."

"Watacchi!" Oikawa beams. "How have you been? I'm resting well here and recovering. Iwa-chan is looking after me so well! Would you like to sign my cast?"

Watari drops into a 90 degree bow, hands clasped in front of him. "I'm sorry, Oikawa-san! As the libero of the team, I should have received that spike! Please forgive my shortcomings!" He's trying hard not to cry. Oikawa blinks at him, surprised.

"Watacchi, get up. It's not your fault, I could hardly expect you to have been able to cross the whole court faster than Chibi-chan's spike. Besides, they were aiming straight for me. If there's anyone to blame, it should be me for overexerting myself! Hell, I doubt that even Karasuno’s legendary libero could have made that save." Oikawa tries to lighten the mood, his hand grasping the bedrails.

"I'm sorry, captain, for not being fast enough!"

Oikawa waves his hands frantically. "No, no, that came out wrong. I-" He sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Watari, if this injury was because Karasuno tripped me down the stairs, would you blame yourself?"

Watari glances up at him, confused. "No, but-"

"See? It's not your fault, they were aiming for me!"

"-but Yahaba and I would hunt them down and get Kyoutani to break their legs."

Oikawa's mouth clicks shut. Matsukawa cackles. "What did you expect? I'm surprised you're not breaking more than that, Watari. Say, where's the rest of the team?"

Hanamaki comes back in, dragging Yahaba and Kyoutani. He deposits them in front of the bed, and Kunimi trails in after them, holding a large box, which he sets down next to the bed.

Yahaba hurriedly scrubs at his eyes and drops into a bow. "I'm sorry, Oikawa-san!"

"Oh, not this again." Oikawa rolls his eyes and hears Matsukawa faintly laughing from where he's standing by the door. "You weren't even on the court, how could it have been your fault?"

"But I was." Kyoutani's eyes are dark and shiny. "I didn't save that ball, and I didn't spike enough to win us enough points. If I hadn't needed you to set me the ball from there, Karasuno would never have aimed for you."

"Ahh, what's with the guilt complex, Kyou-chan? No one could have made that save! It's my own fault for not being more careful, isn't it?"

"But we didn't manage to win!" Yahaba explodes, straightening up. "I wasn't a good enough setter, and we couldn't win, even with you counting on us!"

Oikawa clicks his tongue. "Tsk, does that matter?"

"Oikawa-san, you were counting on us. And we disappointed you. We failed our captain."

"Did you?"

"Yes!" Kyoutani says, dropping into a bow. "I'm sorry, Oikawa-san. I didn't manage to control my spikes well enough." Prideful, arrogant Kyoutani bowing to Oikawa. The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"Kyouken-chan." Oikawa's voice is soft. "Straighten up."

"Please accept my apology, Oikawa-san!"

"Kyoutani. Don't throw away your pride on a worthless apology."

"Oikawa-san, it was my fau-"

"I said straighten up, goddammit!" Oikawa throws a pillow at him. "Okay, hand me back my pillow. Yahaba," he turns to address the setter, "Did you do your best?"

"But we-"

"Answer your captain. Did you all try your best?"

"… yes."

"You didn't have your captain, or your ace, and you had to work with a sudden substitution in the most crucial moment! You all tried your best. In my eyes, you've all already done so well. I'm proud of you."

Having Oikawa say he's proud of you is no small thing, and tears well to their eyes. "Captain, I-"

"Tsk tsk tsk! Yahaba, look at your juniors. Look at Kunimi and Kindaichi, staying so silent and behaving so well! See, they understand."

Kunimi frowns. "Actually, Iwaizumi-san said that if we apologized, he would throw us out the window."

Kindaichi nods. "We were going to do it anyways, so he said that it would make you more distressed. So naturally, we decided not to. Iwaizumi-san is really scary. Besides, I wasn't even on the court."

Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi. "Iwa-chan! That's so nice of you~" Iwaizumi shrugs him off with a frown, pressing a marker into his hand. Oikawa brightens up. "Okay, guys, come sign my cast!"

Kunimi is just crossing the last stroke on his signature when: "Oi, Shittykawa, what's that?"

"Right!" Oikawa claps his hands. "Normally this is done on the court, but since I'll only be going back to school to get my report, I thought I should do it now!" He beckons them all closer, and hands Yahaba a tissue. "Kyouken-chan, come help me open this box."

Kyoutani pulls off the tape and everyone crowds round. The box is filled with crisp new uniforms, wrapped in crinkly plastic. Matsukawa gapes at Oikawa. "Really? Now? But we've barely discussed-"

Iwaizumi smacks the back of his head. "Yes we have. Just because you didn't show up for meetings-"

Oikawa shuts them up with a wave of his hand, suddenly serious. "Yahaba-chan, come here." Sniffling, Yahaba moves next to him. Oikawa pulls out one of the green and white packages and hands it to him. "Normally, this is done more formally, but here you go! This should alleviate any doubt of my opinion of you, yes?"

Yahaba slowly unfolds the uniform and gapes at the 1 emblazoned on the back. "Oikawa-san, is this-"

"The Handover?" Iwaizumi reaches in and grabs a package. "Yeah." Almost nonchalantly, he passes it to Kyoutani. "Congratulations."

Kyoutani rips it open and stares at the 4 on the back. "Ace? But- I thought-"

Iwaizumi snorts. "Did you seriously not see this coming? Who else could it have been?" Kyoutani shakes his head frantically, staring at the uniform like it's the holy grail. Matsukawa and Hanamaki both toss a package to Watari at the same time, and end up smacking him in the face. Watari looks at the packages, then back at the two third years. "Senpais, you can't really expect me to choose between you two?"

Hanamaki scowls. "Fine. You be #2, I'll retract my claim." Matsukawa sticks his tongue out at him, and Hanamaki pinches it between his fingers, eliciting a garbled yelp.

Kunimi and Kindaichi look at the chaos in confusion. "Senpai, what is this?"

"It's the Handover." Yabaha runs his hand over the uniform reverently. "Usually there's a crown too, but basically the leaving third years pass on their numbers and positions to second years they think are deserving. We'll be doing that at the end of next year too, and you'll be doing that the year after." He looks up at Oikawa, ignoring his mutter of I knew I forgot something. "Captain, are you really-"

"Sure? Yeah." Oikawa says, tilting his head back. "I guess you're calling yourself, huh? I'm retired now. Sorry about the crown, I totally forgot."

Kyoutani stands unmoving, eyes fixed on the shirt in his hands. "Iwaizumi-san, I don't-"

"Pssh, you're the best amongst the second years. Train your teamwork with Yahaba, and you'll be unbeatable. Ace. Do your best."

A single tear trickles from the corner of Kyoutani's eye. He looks at Yahaba, who looks back and nods. He claps twice. The 5 players form a line and as one, they bow, their hair almost brushing their shoes. "Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club! Thank you!"

The third years clap politely, smiling with pride as their kouhais straighten up.

Yahaba bows to the third years formally again, this time as a new captain. "Thank you for your service." Oikawa's answering smile is sharp and overpowering.

"Control the court, Yahaba. I believe in you."

•••

"Hey, Oikawa. Makki and Mattsun have to go, so I'm walking them to the bus stop, okay?" Iwaizumi says as he pulls on his jacket. Oikawa nods, and Iwaizumi disappears down the corridor. Almost as soon as he's gone, a soft knock sounds on his door.

"Come in, it's not locked."

Sunlight glints off silver hair as Sugawara Koushi and Kageyama Tobio enter the room. The former holds a large bouquet of flowers, while the latter is awkwardly holding his arms at his side. The two setters walk towards Oikawa, and tension crackles in the room.

"Refreshing-kun, Tobio-chan~ Here to gloat?"

Suga thrusts the bouquet into his arms and bows deeply. "Oikawa, I'm so sorry! I never meant for this to happen, I just wanted- I saw a weakness and didn't hesitate to exploit it."

"At least you're honest with me." Oikawa sighs, setting the flowers on the table next to him. "You do know I'm not going to say 'it's not your fault', right?" Kageyama frowns and he blows a raspberry at him. "Tobio-chan, no need to try and look so scary. Anyways, Koushi-chan, I guess it's fine. "

"So, how are you doing now?" Suga gently maneuvers himself between the two setters, not-so-subtly stepping on Kageyama as he does. Oikawa grins and dramatically slumps backwards.

"Alas, I'm so injured! Sugawara Koushi, how will you ever make up for the emotional pain?"

"Oh no, how will you ever recover," Kageyama mutters sarcastically. The room is pointedly silent as Oikawa stares at him, then at his leg in disbelief. "Yeah, how will I ever recover?" Kageyama looks suitably cowed.

Suga, the utter angel, dissipates the awkwardness. "Um, so this is probably an awkward thing to ask, but do you have any tips for the match against Shiratorizawa?"

Oikawa shoots up straight in bed. "Is the mighty Karasuno asking me for tips? Is genius setter Tobio-chan asking his amazing senpai for tips?"

"…Yes."

"Too bad!" Oikawa flashes a peace sign. "Thank you for coming, Koushi-chan, Tobio-chan!" Suga's eyelid twitches at the name. He turns to go, when-

"Sugawara-san."

Everyone pauses.

"Can I have a moment alone to talk with Oikawa?"

Kageyama stands at the foot of his bed. They stare at each other, and the air buzzes with the tension. The only sound in the room is their breathing. Even bedridden, facing Oikawa is like being back on the court. Kageyama can almost see the net floating between them.

Oikawa huffs and crosses his arms. "Tobio-chan. Going to gloat?"

Kageyama blinks at him. "What?"

Oikawa throws up his hands, exasperated. "Are you here to gloat? Congratulations, you've finally beat me! Woohoo! You're the best setter in the league now, the new Great King. Are you happy now?"

Kageyama scowls. "It doesn't count. It wasn't by conquest. I didn't manage to defeat you."

"At least Tobio-chan is aware."

A beat of silence. Kageyama can feel the question bubbling on his lips.

"Oikawa-san, why do you hate me?"

Oikawa gapes at him. "Tobio-chan, are you serious? This is why geniuses are so annoying. 100% technical and 0% people. Do you know how much blood, sweat, and tears I've poured into volleyball? And yet, Coach subbed you in when you were just a first year. A first year with almost no experience and no cohesion with the team. How could I not be bitter?"

"…"

"…"

"I really admire you, Oikawa-san." Kageyama blurts suddenly, eyes fixed on the floor, fingers tapping nervously against his leg. "I think you're one of the greatest players I've ever come across. I'm sorry this happened. I was looking forward to encountering you again."

Oikawa recoils as if struck, hands clenching in his sheets. Silence envelops the room, and Kageyama falls still.

"Tobio."

Kageyama's head snaps up.

Oikawa’s eyes are fixed on a spot beyond his head. "Shiratorizawa focuses mainly on Ushijima. They're stiff, and they don't adapt easily. Watch out for their middle blocker, the red haired one. Figure out how to get around his blocks, early on in the game. Tell your libero to watch Ushijima's left hand spikes and serves, the spin is different. Also, when you have time, fix your jump serve. You're putting too much weight on your left when you land."

Kageyama blinks at him. Oikawa shrugs, leaning back on his pile of pillows. "If I can't beat Ushiwaka, I guess the next best person has to do it. Ushikawa forgets that no team is guaranteed victory, and I hope it ends up biting him in his ass."

"Thank you, Oikawa-san." Kageyama bows deeply. Oikawa instantly fumbles with his phone. "Tobio, don’t move! Come stand here."

Kageyama shuffles forward obligingly, still bent double. Oikawa flips a peace sign and snaps a selfie. "Yaay~ a perfect picture of Tobio-chan bowing to his greatest senpai!"

"Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa pauses.

“Am I still no match for you?"

Oikawa huffs out a laugh. "Not yet. Not even close. But talent is something you make bloom, and instinct is something you polish. You’re one of the most naturally talented players I’ve ever seen, and now you've got Chibi-chan to spur you on and a great team to help you. You're going to surpass me one day."

Kageyama straightens up. "Thank you, Oikawa-san." He turns to leave.

"Kageyama-kun."

Kageyama pauses with his hand on his doorknob, surprised by the sudden change in address. He turns to face Oikawa, who's holding out a black marker.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Sign my cast before you go."

Kageyama crosses the room in five strides, taking the marker from Oikawa's slender fingers. Uncapping it, he positions it on the white material and scrawls his name. He looks up at Oikawa, expressionless, and hands it back to him.

"When you're on the international stage, remember to tell them all about your beloved Oikawa-senpai who taught you everything you know! Your favourite senpai, who's the first recipient of your autograph!" Oikawa's tone is light and bubbly, but both of them hear the underlying message. I'm proud of you.

Kageyama nods, a lump in his throat. He squares his shoulders. "Thank you for being a worthy rival."

Oikawa smiles, and it's the smile of a predator. "You'd better beat them all."

•••

Iwaizumi casually flips through his texts as he walks back from the bus stop. The sun is hot on his neck, and he scratches absentmindedly at the sunburn that's probably forming. Makki, Makki, Mattsun, Mom, Coach, Coach, Yahaba, Dr Nakamura? He opens it with trepidation.

Dr Nakamura: Is this Iwaizumi?
Dr Nakamura: This is Dr Nakamura Ichika, the surgeon from Oikawa Tooru's surgery.
Dr Nakamura: I got this number from your coach, by the way. There's something I think you need to know.
Dr Nakamura: I was wondering if Tooru-san has a… history? Because I found… marks on his hip when we operated.

Iwaizumi stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. A history. That's one way to put it. His phone vibrates again.

Dr Nakamura: And they were fresh.

His hand tightens around his phone. Not again. His mind darts back to his last memory of Oikawa, mentally scanning his wrists, elbows, and ankles. But of course Oikawa couldn’t reach his ankles, and the other spots turned up empty.

Iwaizumi shoves his phone deep into his pocket and puts it out of his mind. He trusts Oikawa, and he's going to give him time to bring it up himself. It doesn't matter. All he can do is wait, and be there for him.

•••
A farmer, an ace, and a volleyball captain walk into a room. They're the same person. Ushijima Wakatoshi closes the door and faces Oikawa, infuriatingly standing in military stance. Oikawa crosses his arms. "Ushiwaka of Shiratorizawa, as I live and breathe. I don't suppose you're here to apologize? This is probably the one apology that I'll accept."

Ushijima's eyes bore into his soul. "I'm sorry for your loss, Oikawa."

Oikawa blinks. "What, no 'you should have come to Shiratorizawa, we would have stopped you from getting injured'? I'm surprised."

He shrugs. "You and I know better than most that volleyball, like all other sports, carry their own dangers. It's unwise to assign blame." He shifts his weight, his gaze darting down to his elbow, and Oikawa looks away.

"Why are you here then? To promise me revenge against Karasuno? I'll still support my annoying kouhai over you."

"I'm here to mourn the loss of a mighty opponent, possibly one of the best I have ever been up against. It's a pity, one that I will feel for most of my career." Ushijima is blunt and unfailingly honest. "Of course, I would still have beat you even if Seijoh hadn't lost to Karasuno, or if you hadn't been incapacitated."

"Wow, Ushiwaka, I see you're still laughably confident! What makes you think you'll be able to win against me?"

Ushijima stares at him. "As I always have, so I will again."

Oikawa chucks the marker at him. "Shut up and sign my cast, you self-righteous bastard." Ushijima uncaps the marker with his right and signs with his left.

"It's a shame you got injured. I would have liked to play against you on an international stage, or even on the same team as you. We would make a formidable duo."

"Sorry, Ushiwaka, but I'm a taken man. Besides, it would be a waste of my talents to play on a team with a focus of just getting the ball to you."

Ushijima stares at him, expression stern as ever. "Regardless, there was a place you could have realized your true potential. Because of your worthless pride, you didn't choose it."

Oikawa lets out a strangled laugh. "Have you ever considered that I might have improved so much because I had the room to change, and an opponent to beat? Don't think so highly of yourself, Ushijima."

"And yet my team is the strongest one in the prefecture."

Crackling tension fills the room. He can taste metal and salt in his mouth. "The strongest, huh? If you keep all of your attention on me, you're going to get stabbed from the direction you least expect. Kageyama is nowhere near me in skill, but now that he's got a team behind him, he's stronger than you could imagine."

The door creaks open and Iwaizumi slips in, his eyes narrowing at the stand-off. Oikawa holds the silence for a moment longer, then cocks his head and bares his teeth. "Don't you ever forget my worthless pride, Ushiwaka-kun. I look forward to your defeat."

Ushijima bows to Oikawa. "It has been an honour to play against you." He inclines his head at Iwaizumi and walks out the door.

•+•+•

Iwaizumi blinks at the veritable explosion of flowers Sugawara left on the table. "That... is a lot of flowers."

"I know right?" Oikawa beams. "So nice of him. He must be feeling really bad. Will Iwa-chan bring me flowers to win my heart?"

Iwaizumi throws a flower at his head. "You wish. Anyway, your heart is already mine."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa whines, blushing bright red. "That's really sweet but I need to pee. Help me up?"

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but obliges. "I am not holding you up as you pee."

Oikawa winks. "Iwa-chan, there's no need to be so forward!" He hoists himself onto his crutches, wobbling slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. Iwaizumi follows closely behind, arms outstretched in case he slips and falls.

"Hey, Assikawa, we should just call and wait for the nurse. You really shouldn't be up and about right now." Oikawa ignores him and slowly and awkwardly makes his way to the toilet.

After he's done, he stares at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. There are faint shadows under his eyes, and his hair looks like a bird's nest. Damn, was that how he had looked when he had had visitors?

"Stop your preening, dumbass. You looked fine." Iwaizumi is leaning against the doorframe casually. He uncrosses his arms and makes his way over to the mirror, resting his chin on his shoulder. "As hideous as always."

Oikawa pouts. "Iwa-chan, so mean as always!"

"Are you still going to say I'm mean after I snog you senseless?" Iwaizumi's hand digs into his side, and Oikawa bites down the yelp of pain, but he doesn't manage to suppress his flinch. Iwaizumi's hand stills on his hip.

"Did I hurt your leg?"

It's an easy way out, even if Iwaizumi doesn't know it. Oikawa swallows and shakes his head. In the light of day, standing next to Iwaizumi, he's filled with unspeakable shame for what he's done. Again. Weak. He turns and manoeuvres himself out of the bathroom.

Iwaizumi catches up to him in the middle of the room. "Oikawa, what's wrong?"

"My leg," Oikawa says, devoid of all emotion. Iwaizumi's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak. He just carefully studies his face, waiting.

"Oikawa, whatever it is, just tell me, okay?" Oikawa's lip trembles, and his eyes fill with tears. Iwaizumi sighs and wraps his arms around him. His arms are warm and steady, and Oikawa feels himself crack. The crutches drop, and Oikawa sags into him.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa's body shakes with his sobs. "Iwa-chan, please take it, please, Iwa-chan, I can't take it here, I'm sorry, Hajime, please, I didn't mean it, I need you to get it out of here, I can't go through it again, please, it can't be like last time again, just-" he chokes off into a voiceless wail of despair, burying his face into the crook of Iwaizumi's neck Iwaizumi tenses at his words but stays silent, his free hand coming up to stroke Oikawa's hair, a firm and comforting presence. He keeps his breathing slow and constant, in, out, in, out.

Oikawa's sobs turn into sniffles, and he curls in on himself, shivering almost uncontrollably. "The… the top drawer, underneath the gauze. I'm… Iwa-chan, please get it out of here. I can't - I don't - "

Carefully, Iwaizumi slides his hand out from under his hair, slowly reaching for the bedside table. He can feel Oikawa trembling against him, tears wet on his neck, and his heart sinks. He slides the drawer open and his hand lands on a small toiletries bag. He opens it to find a wad of stained gauze. Iwaizumi feels his breath hitch in his throat, and Oikawa lets out a strangled sob. Carefully, he unwraps the gauze to reveal a glinting silver razor blade. His heart sinks.

"Iwa-chan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Oikawa babbles, body heaving with his sobs. Iwaizumi slowly tucks the blade away and thrusts it deep in his trousers pocket. He strokes Oikawa's hair softly, murmuring soft words of comfort.

Oikawa refuses to budge, so Iwaizumi simply picks him up and deposits him onto the bed, positioning his leg back in the sling. He holds a glass of water to his lips, and Oikawa wraps his hands around the cup. Swallowing, he sets it down on the nightstand.

"Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi is staring at his shoes. "How long?"

Oikawa sniffles. "Just, just last night and the night before that. It was just my leg, it just hurt so bad, I'm not- I don't- Hajime, please look at me."

Iwaizumi still won't look at him. "Where?" His voice is low and rough. Oikawa grabs his hand and presses it to his side. Iwaizumi's hands are trembling more than his own. His large hands are warm and gentle against his ribs, and Oikawa inhales shakily. Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa’s heartbeat under his fingertips.

"Iwa-chan, are you mad at me?"

And Iwaizumi finally turns to face Oikawa. His eyes are red-rimmed and brimming over, and his lip is bleeding from where he bit it so hard. "Tooru, why?"

"Iwa-chan, don't cry!" Oikawa says, panicked, his hands clenching around his blankets, fluttering in his lap. "Oh god, no, Iwa-chan, it's okay, don't cry-"

Tears spill down Iwaizumi's face. "How is it okay? Tooru, god, no, I didn't want to believe the doctor when she told me but god, don't do that, you're- you're so precious to me, why would you do that?"

"It feels like I'm worthless," Oikawa whispers, staring down at his leg. "The pain… it makes the pain inside go away. Iwa-chan, I'm sorry, I'm ruined now, I didn't- I'm not-"

Iwaizumi gently presses his lips to the white marks on the inside of his wrists. Oikawa stills, a statue carved from marble. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet Iwaizumi's.

"It's going to be alright, Tooru." Iwaizumi's eyes are fixed on his. Oikawa believes him. Iwaizumi never lies to him.

"Shove over."

Oikawa lifts an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"

Iwaizumi stands up, adjusting the sling. "I said, shove over." With his ever-gentle hands, Iwaizumi helps him shuffle around until he's comfortable, and Iwaizumi climbs into the bed, somehow contorting himself to fit. Gently, he shifts so that he's laying his head on Oikawa's chest, his steady heartbeat thumping under his ear.

There's a pressure on Oikawa's chest that has nothing to do with Iwaizumi. He can feel tears leak out of his eyes. "Iwa-chan, I-"

Iwaizumi squeezes his hand. "It's okay. You're safe now. I’m not mad at you, okay? I love you."

Oikawa drifts off to sleep, his tears drying on his cheeks.

•••

"Hey, Tooru," Iwaizumi rasps, voice rusty from disuse. "Visiting hours are over. I'll be here tomorrow to help you pack and go home, okay?"

Oikawa sniffles and nods, reluctantly releasing his hands. Iwaizumi carefully untangles himself and stands, stretching. He gently wipes away the tear tracks on both their faces. He tucks him in. As he turns to leave, Oikawa's hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

"Iwa-chan, I won't do it again. I promise."

Iwaizumi runs his hand over Oikawa's hair and presses a feather-light kiss to his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Tooru. I love you."

As he leaves, he can make out a half-mumbled "love you too", and despite everything, his mouth twitches into a smile.

•••

Iwaizumi sits on his bed, his heart heavy. He turns the blade over and over in his hands. Hajime, please, I didn't mean it, I need you to get it out of here, I can't go through it again, please, it can't be like last time again. The words endlessly loop through his head.

Like last time again.

Everyone knows Oikawa hurt his knee the summer before their first year at Aoba Johsai. Everyone knows the story. His defeat to Ushijima Wakatoshi. His practices late into the night. How Iwaizumi had stopped him from slapping Kageyama. His speech to Oikawa, reflected in Kageyama's speech to Hinata. How Oikawa had kept practicing that summer, night after night, when everyone was long gone. How he mastered the jump serve. How, till one night, he overworked himself and his leg crumpled under his landing.

It's all part of the legend that became Oikawa Tooru, and the legend that was the unbreakable friendship of the setter and the ace.

There are things that no one knows, because no one can see.

For instance: Iwaizumi blames himself.

Oikawa had hurt his knee, and had had to sit out a season. Oikawa, who lived and breathed volleyball. Iwaizumi should have stopped him, should have dragged him home kicking and screaming when he saw the strain in his posture. Iwaizumi should have yelled at him more, should have done more, could have done more. Iwaizumi should have been there watching, taking care of him by his side, and not getting there half an hour after Oikawa's teary phone call.

Iwaizumi shouldn't have shoved him that day.

They had had a fight, that afternoon. Iwaizumi doesn't even remember what it was about. But he remembers shoving Oikawa, hard, and Oikawa crashing backwards into a desk. He had limped away that day, and Iwaizumi hadn't followed, not just because he was mad, but because Oikawa had to be mad to still go to practice after that. But mad he was, and go practice he did. And Iwaizumi blames himself for the injury.

And there are things that no one knows, because no one has been told.

Like the scars on Oikawa's wrists.

He had covered them with long sleeves throughout the year, and volleyball bruises after that, but Iwaizumi knew where they were: his wrists, his ankles, his ribs, his hips. And he was so mad, mad at himself for not being better and being there, mad at everyone for not seeing, mad at the universe for taking away what Tooru loved, mad at Tooru but also deeply, painfully sad.

"What the hell, Trashykawa? Are you insane?"
"You're not my mom, Iwa-chan! This doesn’t have anything to do with you! Just- just go away!"
"Oikawa, why are you doing this?"
"It's not your business, Iwa-chan!"

It had stopped as soon as he was able to return to play, and they never spoke of it again. Iwaizumi had gone over one afternoon and turned his house upside down removing all the razors anyways. Neither of them had said anything about it, but from then on, Oikawa always came over in the morning to borrow his razor to shave. And Iwaizumi had thought everything was fine.

Iwaizumi turns the blade over and over and over between his fingers, and he cries.

•=•=•

The sunlight streams pale and golden through the window of Oikawa's room, painting the sterile white with warmth. He sits on the edge of the bed, one leg propped up on a chair, watching an unusually subdued Iwaizumi as he walks around the room quietly packing the remnants of his stay into his volleyball bag, and very pointedly does not mention the faint swelling and redness of his eyes. Oikawa's eyes follow him worriedly, tracking his movement around the room. "Iwa-chan? Are you alright?"

Iwaizumi coughs and nods. "Okay, Shittykawa, we can go after you get changed." He pulls out a gray hoodie and a pair of loose navy basketball shorts.

"Iwa-chan, could you hand those to me?" Oikawa calls as he wriggles, pulling his hospital gown over his head in one smooth motion. Faintly, he hears a sharp intake of breath and he whips around to face Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi's face is ashen and his eyes are fixed on his torso. Oikawa follows his gaze to… oh. The piece of gauze taped over his ribs. Quickly he grabs the gray hoodie from his limp hand and zips it up over himself. When he turns back to face Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi's eyes are suspiciously shiny. He sniffles, and Oikawa is struck with horror again. "Oh, Iwa-chan, no. Don't cry, I'm going to be fine. We're going to be fine."

Iwaizumi turns away and scrubs his eyes. "I'm fine." His voice is gruffer than normal, and Oikawa knows he's decidedly not fine. Grabbing him by the wrist, he pulls Iwaizumi into a hug, letting him bury his head in his shoulder. Iwaizumi's shoulders heave, and Oikawa can feel himself tearing up. "Iwa-chan, it's okay. I promised you, didn't I?" He runs his hand over his spiky hair.

Iwaizumi sniffles and pulls back, dragging his sleeve across his face. "Okay. Now let's get you into these pants so we can finally go." With great difficulty and feats of contortion, assisted by Iwaizumi's supreme arm strength, they somehow manage to get the pants on over the cast and onto Oikawa's ass. Iwaizumi hands him the pair of crutches and keeps his hands on his waist as Oikawa experimentally hobbles around the room, adapting to his new mode of transport. He shoves the odd right shoe into the volleyball bag, and slings it over his shoulder. "Oikawa! Time to go."

Oikawa looks around the now-empty hospital room and blows it a kiss. "Bye, hospital-room-chan! I won't miss you, not a single bit." Iwaizumi follows after him, hands still outstretched as he crutches his way down the hallway.

It's early enough that they're able to find a seat on the bus. Oikawa sits down gladly, stretching his leg out in front of him. "Ah, who knew being on crutches was such a workout?"

Iwaizumi whacks him on the head, eliciting a pout. "Dumbass."

"Iwa-chan, you'll come stay with me, right?” Oikawa’s expression is almost shy. “My parents aren't due back until next month, and they're not going to cut their Very Important Conference short just for me. You can stay with me till then."

Iwaizumi blinks at him. "I will… tell my mother."

Oikawa grins, satisfied. Then he yanks the hoodie up to his nose and inhales deeply. "Ahhh, smells so safe, and just like Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan, do you enjoy seeing your boyfriend wear your clothes? If you stay over, I’ll steal all your hoodies and wear them to bed! And then we can-"

Iwaizumi flushes a dull red. "Yes, fine! I'll stay with you, you utter idiot."

“You love me anyways."

"For some godforsaken reason, yeah."

•••

Gentle chattering fills the air, and students amicably share the contents of their bento boxes with each other. It's a typical lunchtime at Aoba Johsai High, as the autumn breeze carries the leaves to the ground. From the direction of the school walls, a loud laugh, a persistent tap, tap, tap.

The whole schoolyard literally stutters to a stop when Iwaizumi and Oikawa walk in the front gates, the latter in the school uniform and volleyball shorts, hobbling on crutches with his leg encased in white plaster. By now, the plaster is quite covered with signatures and doodles, courtesy of the team, Iwaizumi, and a very bored Oikawa. There is a stunned silence as Iwaizumi and Oikawa, standing just inside the school gates, stare at the student population of Aoba Johsai High, who stare back, shocked. The moment is broken when good percentage of the girls start crying quietly, sniffles and whimpers at poor Oikawa-san, having something so tragic happen to him! I didn't know it was so serious. The boys just gape at them.

"Yoohoo~" Oikawa waves cheerily. "How has everyone been?" And with that, they are instantly mobbed. Oikawa is almost fatally popular, and his time away has only strengthened the school's fondness for him. Almost seamlessly, the Seijoh team slides in front of them, forming an honor guard. Obviously, it's still not quite enough. Not even the terrifying glare of Kyoutani could deter Oikawa's fan club, who rush up with sobs and gifts of milk bread and candy.

By the time they make it back to their classroom, Iwaizumi and Oikawa are the only ones left in the class. Oikawa gently closes the door behind them, and Iwaizumi picks up their report cards and brings them back over. He peeks inside and winces. "Yikes. Still didn't get that A in math. I think I got the grades I needed, though."

"Congratulations, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa opens his and studies it for a minute. "Huh. Better than I expected. Oh look, I ranked third for Modern Japanese!"

Iwaizumi scowls at him. "Alright genius, no need to rub it in."

"Iwa-chan, can you believe we're graduating and leaving? We've shared this classroom for almost three years now, and now we're leaving."

They stay there, a warm breeze flowing in from the open window, ruffling their hair. Iwaizumi can hear the leaves of the trees in the schoolyard rustle. The late afternoon sunlight glints off Oikawa's eyelashes, illuminating them in glowing gold, and he can't look away.

He clears his throat. "Hey, Tooru."

"Hmm?" Backlit by the sun, Oikawa's hair glows like a halo around his head.

"So what are you going to do after school?"

He tilts his head back, basking in the warmth. "Ah, I don’t know. Does it really matter? Just… relax and enjoy the moment."

Iwaizumi watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. Their hands find their way to each other, and hold on tight. The sunlight hits them and colors the skin of their hands gold. He smooths his thumb over the back of his hand, and thinks how very lucky he is to have Oikawa.

"You're going to Teikyo to study sports medicine, right?" Oikawa speaks suddenly. "I think I'll go to Aichi Tech. Study sports management. Manage the Japanese National Volleyball Team with you as trainer."

A laugh rumbles deep in Iwaizumi's chest. "Go big or go home?"

“Well, Iwa-chan is going big, right? So I’ll have to go big as well to get home to him!”

He squeezes his hand, his heart warm.

"Okay. Let's do this."

•••

Oikawa: Tobio-chan~
Oikawa: Congratulations on the win!
Oikawa: I'm proud of you.

•••

Someone stands in Sendai Station in a jean jacket. His arms are crossed, his hair short and spiky, and he taps his boots impatiently against the floor. He looks at his watch, and looks at the empty platform, and at his watch again.

The train pulls into the station with a loud creak, and the doors hiss open. A tall slender man dressed in dark blue limps out, leaning heavily on a cane. He looks around hurriedly, beaming when his eyes land on the former, and makes his way over. The waiting man crosses the station in moments, meeting him halfway, and captures his mouth in a kiss, twining his hands in his pale brown hair. He can feel him smile against his lips. "Iwa-chan," he rumbles lowly. "Did you really miss me that much?"

The shorter pulls away with a scowl that threatens to turn into a smile. "As if. Come on, Shittykawa, let's go. You're already late."

They walk down the street, hand in hand, the setting sun glinting off his silver cane. They navigate the roads as easily as breathing, and they stop outside Aoba Johsai High. The familiar sounds of rubber shoes squeaking and balls bouncing on wooden floors drift towards them, and the taller man smiles. "Ah, Iwa-chan, our team is practicing so diligently! Yahaba is such a good captain. Should we go in and visit him?"

The darker-haired man flicks his eyes towards him. "Let's make him wait a bit. He should come out and greet his senpais, right?" He reaches into his pocket and shoots off a quick text, his eyes never leaving his face.

The bell rings, and students pour out of the buildings, chattering excitedly and making their way to the school gates to return home. From the corner of his eye, he can see the volleyball team nearing them as they run laps, Yahaba yelling at them as he follows. He can already hear the whispers of the student body at the sight of their former captain and ace, and he sighs at the thought of dealing with them. He murmurs as much to the shorter man, who pointedly looks at where girls are already clustering up, and grabs his hand.

Iwaizumi smirks at him and pulls him into a kiss in front of the entire school.

The schoolyard rings with gasps and shrieks. Faintly, he can hear Yahaba and Watari screeching at them. Kyoutani launches a volleyball at them, but Iwaizumi dips Oikawa deftly and it sails over their heads. Oikawa pulls back for a moment, starry eyed.

Iwaizumi promptly drops Oikawa on the ground.

They stare at each other for a beat and Oikawa feels his lips curve up into a grin. Iwaizumi's eyes practically dare him to try hit him with his cane.

Instead, he throws back his head and cackles.

Oikawa's leg still aches but he can barely feel it. He's pretty sure his fan club is wailing but he ignores it. Kindaichi is screeching and Yahaba is yelling but he blocks it out.

In that moment there is only the pure, radiant, joy in Oikawa's laugh, the fond warmth in Iwaizumi's smile, and the warm gold soaking the scene.

And for that moment, nothing else matters in the world except each other. And for that moment, everything is fine.