Chapter Text
"Iwa-chan, why are you telling me this just now?!" Oikawa's voice cracked, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if grounding himself from the sudden blow. His wide eyes searched Iwaizumi's face for any sign of hesitation, any clue that this might be some sick joke as the room gradually reeked of a sour-scented omega.
"You don’t need to know everything, Tooru!" Iwaizumi’s tone was careless. He turned away slightly, jaw clenched, his hand gripping the back of the chair between them like he intentionally separated himself from Oikawa.
"I’m your mate, Hajime! I deserve to know!" Oikawa’s voice wavered, rising in desperation. "You can't just make big decisions like this and not let me in on them!" His hands trembled, clenching by his sides as he was frozen to the spot he stood in, a mix of hurt and anger clawing at his chest. "I thought we were in this together."
Iwaizumi ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You're always so caught up in volleyball—"
"Oh, like you're not?!" Oikawa interrupted, eyes narrowing. "You're practically glued to your job too!"
"—and I thought you’d be happy for me, for once, chasing what I want!" Iwaizumi's voice radiated the firmness of being an alpha, never letting vulnerability slip. "But of course, it's always about you, right?" His hand dropped, frustration evident in every tense movement.
"Of course, I'm happy for you!" Oikawa shot back, his voice softer now but still pained. "But so soon? You didn't even prepare me for this, Iwa-chan!" He felt the sting of tears threatening to fall from his eyes, though he blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. Not in front of Iwaizumi. "You’re leaving… and I’m just supposed to pretend everything’s fine?"
Iwaizumi crossed his arms over his chest, eyes hardening. "Nothing’s gonna change, Tooru."
Oikawa folded his arms over his chest. "Nothing's going to change?" His voice was laced with bitter sarcasm, full of utter disbelief. "Like you haven’t canceled our plans at the last minute? Like you haven’t forgotten to reply to my messages? or ignore my calls for the last few weeks?" He looked down, his voice finally breaking. "You already do that."
Iwaizumi's expression darkened. "You know very well why I’ve been like that lately, Oikawa."
"Fine!" Oikawa threw his hands up in exasperation, his heartbeat rang in his ears. "Fine! I give up, Hajime. Just go." He turned away, shoulders slumping in defeat. "You clearly don't need me."
Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You’re being overdramatic."
"Whatever," Oikawa muttered, his voice barely audible now, lips trembling. He didn’t want to step on the shards of his broken heart anymore, but the ache in his chest refused to ease. "I’ll send you off"
Iwaizumi stared at him, guilt gnawing at the edges of his resolve, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. But he reassured himself that this was for the better. For him and Oikawa—their future together.
Oikawa walked out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut the only thing that filled the heavy silence between them.
Time seemed to go by in a flash, because they were at the airport, standing in front of one another even though tension was still evident between them. They hadn’t talked after that argument. Iwaizumi leaned in to hug him and Oikawa could smell the familiar scent that enveloped him since he was a child.
One last kiss on the cheek and Oikawa was probably not gonna see him again.
Even though Iwaizumi stood in front of him, he felt like he was out of grasp for a long time now. Like he was worlds away and there was an invisible barrier that kept them from rekindling their togetherness again. Like he was grabbing something no longer there when it’s literally holding him, like he was real, and Iwaizumi wasn’t.
Regardless, Oikawa couldn’t say anything to stop Iwaizumi from leaving. How could he? Iwaizumi had always been there for him. He doesn’t want to be a burden to Iwaizumi when he had been nothing but supportive of Oikawa. That wave of goodbye felt like a stick impaling right through his cracking heart.
After that somber spring day, as the distance grew between them once more, so did their relationship. Of course, Oikawa tried his best to call, text, and whatever he had to do to not lose Iwaizumi. But just like the past couple of months, all that Iwaizumi did was push his love away like it was some kind of loaded gun.
So Oikawa stopped trying. If Iwaizumi was going to be like that then he’ll just have to compete with him! So now he really felt like something Oikawa had just hallucinated, like he wasn’t real because he left no trace in Oikawa’s life. He doesn’t think about the silence on the other end of his phone and the unanswered heartfelt messages. Still he stares at it as if it would make Iwaizumi’s replies come faster, although he never did anymore, not for a long time.
Love became an annoying fly that kept buzzing by his ears.
Whatever, Oikawa had a match coming up, their first home game in quite a while, and he would not lose his perfect athleticism over some dumb Alpha. He convinces himself that he so doesn't need Iwaizumi, if he wants to be with his job more than his husband , his mate , then fine! He wanted to be with his career more too!
Even so, not even a day later, he so misses his mean mate.
The week that Iwaizumi left he tried so hard to be as nonchalant as possible, and didn't want to be too needy to prove to Iwaizumi that he can handle himself just fine.
That was before the morning sicknesses hit him. He would stumble out of bed at an inconvenient time and rush to the bathroom before he pukes on his bedroom carpet. Gosh it was gnawing at him like nails scratching on chalkboards. He brushed it off though thinking that it was probably stress for the upcoming game. Or that stupid bet that Hanamaki and Matsukawa placed on him not being able to finish two king crabs in an hour. His honor hadn't wavered but at what cost, you'd thought it'd be gone after a week, a month passed by and it didn't even hint to go away.
The next change he noted was his frequent nausea. When he gets up in the morning, when he goes for a walk or a jog, even when he's eating his meals on time! He can never escape it at all. Then he gets really nauseous during practice too, the other alphas' scents don't help his headaches either. Though usually it didn't bother him. But now? He wanted to puke from just inhaling their not even strong scents for two seconds before he rushed to the damn bathroom for the 5th time in 30 minutes.
It felt like enduring war when he went into the change room. He never really had any issue sharing the locker room with other alphas, since well, they were all males anyway. Now, there was absolutely no damn way he was getting in that sweaty smelly sorry excuse of a space to change. Obviously he’d still be uncomfortable in his sweaty practice clothes so he opts to change in the bathroom instead. His coach doesn't think too much about it since Oikawa is an omega and it was a long time coming anyway.
Even worse, his stamina was decreasing slightly...? Oikawa is very well aware of his absolute capabilities as an athlete. So he knew that he got tired a lot easier lately. Halfway through practice he doesn't feel like 100% of his effort is being exerted.
"Are you sure you're okay Tooru? This kinda isn’t like you?" One of his teammates asked him genuinely.
"Of course I am! It's just one of those days" Oikawa tries to sound as cheerful as possible and flashes a confident smile. Yes, it was one of those days, it had been for the past month but he can't let his mind wander anymore than that. His teammate smiles back and doesn't push the subject anymore.
Another change he noticed is his moods and attitudes shifting drastically without much effort.
Unfortunately, little comments in practice, either from his coach or his teammates, seem to stir up something inside of him. Doesn't matter if it's good or bad. Oikawa thinks it's definitely weird, but not weird enough that he would pay attention to it, besides what's the worst that could happen?
The worst case scenario happens exactly at the prime of their match.
He was actually feeling good for the team, they were winning, the ball felt just right in his hands, and he had almost forgotten about Iwaizumi. Not quite happy but content nonetheless. Until a sharp pain sliced through his abdomen, gasping and clutching at his stomach, he doubled over in pain.
He heard murmurs and exclamations of surprise and concern that came from the crowd and from his coach. All the voices turned into molten lava in his head and he vaguely made out the voices of his teammates. The last thing he heard as his vision looked like a twisting purple void was the referee blowing the whistle as the dread spread all throughout his body.
Oikawa is met by the unmistakable smell of rubbing alcohol and cotton as he takes his first conscious inhale. He’s in the hospital. He was laying in a bed in the middle of the room, he looked at the wall clock across him and saw that it had been 3 hours since their match was supposed to end. His eyes widen and before the panic could settle in–
The door creaked open and a Nurse came in ,a beta, because her smell didn’t bother Oikawa which he was internally grateful for cause goodness knows how much other peoples’ scents ruined his day the past month, she looked at her chart before she saw Oikawa’s conscious state and politely said, “I will go fetch the Doctor.” then closed the door behind her.
Was his injury really that bad to be knocked out unconscious and be put on IV? He looked over himself and felt fine, there were no casts around his ankles, no pain, just no whatever. Except the weird feeling he has on his stomach.
The door creaked open again,the doctor entered, a clipboard in hand and a friendly smile on his face. “Good to see you awake, Tooru. How are you feeling?”
“Tired…” Oikawa murmured, his voice rasping. “What happened?”
The doctor chuckled lightly. “It seems like you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Fatigue and stress likely caused you to pass out. It’s not uncommon for athletes, especially someone as dedicated as you.”
Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed as the doctor went on, explaining in more detail about the strain on his body and the importance of taking better care of himself. But one thing stood out among all the medical jargon. “You didn’t list any emergency contacts aside from your coach. He mentioned he was tied up with handling the press and public, but he’d be here soon.” Right, he removed Iwaizumi out of spite a few weeks back. Whatever, it was for the better.
Oikawa sighed, not surprised. It was typical of his coach to prioritize dealing with the media, especially after a public incident like this. But before he could dwell on it, the doctor continued, his next few words felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over his whole body.
“Oh, Don’t worry, I assure you the baby is fine.”
What.
Baby? “B-baby?” His eyes were blown wide and he subconsciously released pheromones that indicated fear. No. no, no way—
The doctor glanced up from his clipboard, noticing Oikawa’s shocked expression. He didn’t catch the sudden strike of distress in his smell so Oikawa presumes he must’ve been a beta. “Ah… you didn’t know?” His tone shifted, gentler now, as if he were trying to cushion the blow of his words. “You’re pregnant.”
Pregnant. Holy shit.
Oikawa’s thoughts scattered in a million directions. His hands instinctively moved to his abdomen, his fingers trembling. Pregnant? How? When? His mind raced through the possibilities, the scenarios— Fuck! Oikawa had gaslighted himself too much the past month, he didn’t want to admit it because, obviously, it was possible but he had been careful!
“You must have made a mistake.”
The doctor smiled softly and placed a comforting hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Sometimes people don’t realize until later on. You’re still early in the pregnancy, and everything looks fine. The baby is healthy. Congratulations.”
He wasn’t ready for this. His whole life had always been about Volleyball–not motherhood and getting pregnant like other omegas did. A baby? He can’t even be responsible on his own!
“I wasn’t aware.” Just because this was a jumpscare in Oikawa's life and had disrupted his future plans, he was not a coward, and he is dealing with this for himself–and for the baby.
The doctor gave him one last reassuring pat before heading toward the door. “Take your time to process things. Your coach will be here soon, and if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”
All alone in the quiet room, Oikawa’s mind raced. What was he gonna do now? He can’t just risk continuing playing volleyball. His exhales came out in shallow breaths. Oh gosh what will the public say? How was he supposed to face his coach, his teammates whom he let down, and his fans! He was pregnant for goodness sake! And an omega no less. Goodness knows how much the media like to criticize omega’s despite their hard work.
His pride refused to give into the media's nosiness and be the subject of their flashy sports news articles titled somewhere along the lines of:
“Renowned CA San Juan Setter Oikawa Tooru, Pregnant?!”
“Shocking News from the Volleyball World—Omega Star Player Expecting a Child!”
“Pregnancy and Professional Sports—Can Oikawa Tooru Still Keep Up?”
Or some crap like that, no doubt there'll be some sort of criticism about him being an omega and getting knocked up and all those stereotypes that he's been dealing with ever since he stepped into the court. He'll be more than just overwhelmed if he has to deal with all of that .
Sure, Oikawa liked the spotlight and he loved every piece of media that mentions anything about him. He thrived in it even, but only to an extent of course, he was human too.
He remembers that one huge scandal a few years back, when he was still in highschool, and this really famous omega French libero that got not necessarily ridiculed by the media, but they definitely jabbed at him a lot because he was spotted pregnant in a grocery store during the peak of his career. However, the French libero still went on and won plenty of awards and lived up to his name, pregnant or not. Oikawa remembers fearing for that to happen to him ever since he saw that in highschool.
Now though? He just felt inspired, if the French libero could do it, why not him? Why not challenge the world again? Why does he care about them anyway? Yes, he cares about his image and public figure but other people are sticking their nose in his private life and personal decisions?
There would be questions about his commitment to the sport, whether he was bound to be reckless, whether he had finally been put in his place, as if carrying a child somehow confirmed the prejudices people had always held against him.
As if this was a failure.
As if he had finally proven them right.
His fingers curled into the sheets.
No. Absolutely not.
Oikawa Tooru had spent his entire life proving people wrong with pride as the driving factor and he is proud of it. He had literally clawed his way up and left the warmest bed he’d ever known, despite being an omega in an alpha and beta dominated field, despite the endless whispers that he’d never make it, that his biology would surely weaken him from survival in professional volleyball. He had learned to drown it all out, to thrive in the noise, in the flashing cameras, in the expectations of an entire country. Because he got where he was today with pure diligence and perseverance.
But his career. He couldn't risk his career.
His career. His dream. The Olympics.
The Olympics are about a year from now, they just finished playing their last game, he doesn't even know if they won or not. He should've been there, win or lose it didn't matter because they gave their best, Oikawa learnt that hard along the way. He should have been there, celebrating or mourning the loss with his team.
Yet here he was, letting them down because he didn't know he was pregnant, gosh when was he last irresponsible like this? He would have plenty of time to give birth to the baby and still train for the upcoming Olympics...but would that be realistic and achievable? He had trained through injuries, played through pain. He could push through this, even if doubt churned uncomfortably in his stomach.
Ofcourse, he's been to the Olympics twice in a row already, but isn't this the whole point of his sacrifices and home sicknesses? Isn't this what he wanted ever since he saw José Blanco upclose and encouraged him to be a setter?
Could he really expect himself to recover in time, to get his body back into perfect peak condition after something like this? This wasn’t just an injury. This was a pregnancy. Childbirth. An entirely different kind of situation.
And even if he did make it back in time…
Would he still be the same player?
Would his body still be his?
And he hasn't even talked about having kids with Iwaizumi yet! Hell, he hasn't thought about having kids in general lately!
He stared at the ceiling. His thoughts jumped between the revelation of his pregnancy and what this meant for his future. His fingers tightened around the pamphlet the doctor had given him, crinkling the edges as the weight of it all pressed down on him.
The door creaked open, breaking the silence once again. This time, his coach stepped in, looking slightly winded, but wearing his usual casual demeanor.
“You gave us quite the scare out there.” Blanco joked with a grin, though there was concern lingering in his eyes.
Oikawa managed a weak smile, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah, well, I like to keep things exciting.”
His coach chuckled, pulling a chair over to sit beside Oikawa’s bed. “You always did like the spotlight. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Oikawa lied, swallowing the lump in his throat. There wasn’t even physical pain to begin with, but the emotional shock still electrified his state of mind. He looked down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. He needed to tell his coach—he had to. They’d known each other for years; they’d been through victories and losses together. If anyone would understand the practical side of his decision, it would be him.
“What’d the Doctor say? You really should be more careful Tooru.”
“I’m pregnant.” Oikawa blurted out before he could second-guess himself. His chest tightened as the silence in the room grew heavier.
For a moment, his coach didn’t say anything, just blinked at him as if the words hadn’t fully registered. Then, his eyes widened in shock. “You’re… you’re what?”
“Pregnant,” Oikawa repeated, the word still feeling foreign in his mouth. “I didn’t know until today. I’m sorry, I should have been more careful and I let the team down–”
Blanco cut him off, "Tooru! Of course you didn’t let the team down! We’re more worried about you, okay?” He put a hand on his wrist, the gentle touch seemed to lighten the weight on his shoulders. Though Blanco was an Alpha, he didn’t smell nor typically acted like one, between the both of them he gave off more omega traits than Oikawa. The only difference was their body structure, people could tell he was an omega even under defined volleyball muscles.
He let out a slow breath, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “What are you going to do?”
Oikawa shrugged, though his voice was steady now. He’d had a few hours to think about it, and the practical side of him had already started forming a plan. “I’m going back to Japan.”
His mind reeled with possibilities and worst case scenarios.
Would he really give it all up for the baby? If it might happen further along his career and if this happened when he was more prepared then he wouldn't even have to think about this. Even worse, his alpha isn't even around, a bleeding hole in Oikawa’s world where he should have been. Gosh he wanted to cry and sob and wail until he lost his voice. What should he do now? What could he do? Of course, keeping the baby isn't just an act of defiance from society's expectations of omegas in sports.
Keeping the baby—if he went through with this—wasn’t just an act of defiance. It wasn’t about challenging the societal expectations of omegas in professional sports, though it felt a little like that too.
No, it was deeper than that.
It's not like he doesn't want the baby either, in fact, he remembers a time when his sister was having this moment with his nephew, he doesn't even remember the whole memory leading up to that specific moment. He did know that it made him feel like…he wants something like that someday. Subconsciously deciding that he wanted to have that every day, through the good and the bad, only acknowledging it lately. Sticky grabby hands that have genuine intent(although not all the time nice). Tiny comments from kids with round rosy cheeks that are oh so innocent but so impactful. Oikawa wanted that, not just because he was an omega. Because he had this personal gravitation towards family where he deeply values the people he loves.
That's when he knew. He wanted this. He just didn't expect it to happen right now.
They spent the next few minutes going over what Oikawa would need to do before leaving—the paperwork, the arrangements for his apartment, notifying the team. But the conversation felt almost detached, as if they were talking about someone else’s life.
As they wrapped up, Oikawa’s coach stood, offering him a small smile. “Congratulations, by the way. I know this isn’t how you expected things to go, but you’ll figure it out.” He pulled Oikawa into a hug, something uncharacteristic but comforting. “I’ll miss you. Stay safe, alright?”
Oikawa nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Thanks, Coach.”
Oikawa stood in the center of his living room, staring at the packed bags by the door. Everything felt surreal, like he was moving through a dream. He hadn’t opened his phone since he’d fainted on the court, and he knew his teammates must be worried sick. His social media was probably blowing up, but he couldn’t bring himself to check it—not yet. Not until he was ready to face the invasive statements that scattered around. His coach gave word and that was enough.
He pulled his suitcase closer, double-checking everything before booking the next flight to Tokyo. The departure time was early the next morning, which left him with just enough time to get a few hours of sleep, though he doubted he’d be able to rest. His mind was too busy, spinning with everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.
When morning came, Oikawa slipped out of his apartment quietly, avoiding the usual places where he might run into teammates or fans. He kept his head down, moving through the airport like a ghost. As he boarded the plane, the weight of his decision settled over him, and for the first time, he allowed himself to fully feel the gravity of it.
As Oikawa stepped off the plane and into the bustling airport, he pulled the hood of his jacket up, hiding his face from the crowds. He couldn’t afford to be recognized—not yet. Not until he figured out his next move.
He got in a taxi and drove away from the life he had known ever since he finished High School.
As Oikawa settled back into his old apartment, the silence was suffocating. The familiar walls didn’t bring him the comfort he had hoped for, just reminded him about the stupid alpha. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the half-unpacked suitcase, his phone still untouched on the nightstand. He still didn’t want to open it.
The penthouse he– they –owned was just in case Oikawa and Iwaizumi were ever to stay in Tokyo, obviously that vacation never happened because Iwaizumi and Oikawa had both been busy.
It wasn’t the first time he’d felt alone in this apartment. His family was still in Miyagi, and though he planned to visit them tomorrow, the thought of waiting in this quiet space gnawed at him. His chest felt heavy with emotions he couldn’t quite name— something deeper that he wasn’t ready to confront. He needed to get out, to see someone familiar, someone who wouldn’t bombard him with questions about the chaos.
Matsukawa.
He remembered Matsukawa worked in Tokyo now, and Oikawa doesn’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or what but he really wanted to see him. Matsukawa has always been a steady presence, someone mature , plus he’s an omega too. Desperate to feel something again, to anchor himself, Oikawa impulsively grabbed his laptop and Googled Matsukawa’s workplace. It wasn’t hard to find—he worked at a funeral home not too far from here.
Before he could think twice about it, Oikawa grabbed his cap, sunglasses, mask, and threw on an outfit he wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing on the street before—baggy sweatpants, an old hoodie. Not like he cared anymore. He just needed to see Matsukawa.
Within minutes, Oikawa was in a taxi, his mind racing, half-aware that he was likely causing a media frenzy by disappearing like this. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Not right now. His coach can take care of it, per their agreement.
When the taxi pulled up in front of the funeral home, Oikawa stepped out, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t considered how Matsukawa might react—had Matsukawa seen him faint on TV? Was he worried? The questions swirled in his head, but he pushed them aside, running on pure adrenaline and impulse. It was too late to turn back now.
The funeral home was a quiet, unassuming building. Oikawa stood there for a moment, staring at the entrance, steeling himself. His hands trembled slightly as he walked in, greeted by the cool, calm air inside. The receptionist at the front desk, a young omega with a warm smile, looked up from her computer.
“Good morning, sir. How may I assist you today?” she asked, her voice soft and polite. The smell of her scent was comforting in a way Oikawa hadn’t expected, and for a brief second, he almost forgot why he was there.
“I’m here to see Matsukawa,” Oikawa said, his voice muffled slightly by his mask. He wasn’t sure what else to say—this wasn’t exactly the place for casual drop-ins. ‘Cause it’s literally a funeral home.
The receptionist’s expression brightened. “Oh, Matsukawa-san just finished up with a client. You can wait in his office if you’d like.” She stood up and motioned for him to follow. “I’ll escort you there.”
Oikawa nodded in thanks, following her down a quiet hallway to a small, neat office. The walls were lined with soft, neutral tones, and the desk was cluttered with paperwork but otherwise unremarkable. The receptionist gestured to a chair by the desk. “He’ll be with you shortly.”
“Thanks,” Oikawa said, his voice sounding distant even to himself. He sat down, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he waited. He was beginning to second-guess his impulsive decision and just dash out the door and say ‘Good Riddance’ to the nice lady–when he heard footsteps approaching.
Yep. Maybe he could climb the vents? Oikawa’s heart pounded faster as the chatter died down, the sound of a client saying goodbye followed by the soft click of the door opening.
Matsukawa stepped into the office, his eyes focused on a file in his hands. “Ah, hello there. Sorry for the wait, how can I—”
He trailed off mid-sentence as he glanced up, his usual professional smile fading into pure shock when he saw who was sitting in front of him. Oikawa, feeling his chest tighten, slowly pulled off his mask, his cap, and his sunglasses, revealing his face fully.
Matsukawa’s jaw dropped.
“Oikawa?!” he exclaimed, the file slipping from his hands and scattering papers across the floor. He didn’t even bother picking them up as he crossed the room in two long strides, pulling Oikawa into a tight hug. “Holy crap, I saw you faint on TV! You scared the hell out of me! I thought you were still in Argentina?! Why are you in Japan!”
And yeah. Oikawa felt so much better. He didn’t think he’d actually hide in the vents anyway. His face pressed into Matsukawa’s shoulder. He didn’t realize how much he needed this–someone who cared. Gosh he’s love-starved.
Then came the water works.
“I’m sorry,” Oikawa choked out, his voice muffled as he hugged Matsukawa back. “I’m sorry for not answering, I just… I didn’t know what to do.”
Matsukawa pulled back slightly, looking at Oikawa with concern. “What happened? Are you okay?” His eyes scanned the other omega’s face, searching for answers.
Oikawa wiped his eyes, trying to pull himself together. He wasn’t ready to tell the full truth yet, the weight of his secret too heavy to share. “I’m fine,” he lied, forcing a smile. “I just… needed some time to figure things out. I’m heading back to Miyagi tomorrow.”
Matsukawa frowned, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t press further. “You could’ve told me. I would’ve come picked you up.”
Oikawa shook his head, the small smile turning genuine. “It was a surprise.”
They both chuckled softly, the tension easing a little.
“So… are you staying here in Japan or going back to Argentina?” Matsukawa asked, leaning against the desk.
“I don’t know yet,” Oikawa admitted, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I’ll let you know once I figure it out.”
“You better turn on your phone Oikawa.” Matsukawa squinted at him threateningly and pointed a pen at him,"I know where you live." Oikawa laughed for the first time in a long time. And Matsukawa was just happy to get rid of Oikawa’s evident sadness. He hasn’t heard any mention of Iwaizumi. Which meant something else was up. He swears that if this was another of their petty fights, he's going to strangle them, for sure this time.
They spent the next hour catching up, talking about old times and Matsukawa’s job at the funeral home. It was light conversation, a welcome distraction from the chaos of Oikawa’s thoughts. For a little while, it felt like things were normal again. Like he wasn't falling apart just a second ago outside his workplace.
When it was time to leave, Matsukawa insisted on driving Oikawa back to his apartment.
"Why are you really here? I'll know when your lying. There's no way you're here just because." He says with a brief glare.
Ugh. Of course he'd know. "I'll tell you soon, okay?"
Issei didn't push him any further and he was grateful for that.
As they pulled up in front of the building, Oikawa felt a little lighter, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly.
“Take care of yourself, alright?” Matsukawa said, leaning out of the driver’s window as Oikawa climbed out. “And call me when you get to Miyagi.”
“I will,” Oikawa promised, waving as Matsukawa drove off.
That night, as he stood alone in his apartment, Oikawa felt a little more grounded. The road ahead was still uncertain, he caressed his still flat stomach. At least now, he didn’t feel so completely alone.