Tag: oikawa

Oikawa only see Iwaizumi cry twice in his whole life. The first time is when Oikawa wakes up in a hospital bed – he simply hadn’t seen the car approaching – and Iwaizumi sits on the floor by his side, sobbing into the sleeve of his shirt, clinging to the friendship bracelets Oikawa had made for them in middle school. The second time is years later, when Iwaizumi asks that one question, Oikawa says “yes, oh god yes”, and Iwaizumi smiles through tears while sliding the ring onto his finger.

mattsunsthighs:

OH MY GOD MOAMI NOW IM CRYING, YOU GODDESS OF WORDS

And after that, Oikawa – no, that’s not his name anymore, because he’s allowed to call his husband “Hajime” now, and they share a last name. Because Hajime wakes him with a soft whisper of “Tooru” every morning, the grey stubble on his cheeks scratching along Tooru’s neck, eyes framed by life-deepened wrinkles but as dark and warm as the day they got married, fifty years ago. 

Tooru has made sure that Hajime never had to cry again, until today – and, if life lets them have it, for years and years more, until Tooru hears that gentle whisper of his first name for the last time.

It’s the night of his last chance to dance with Iwa, but Tooru breaks his promise. The ballroom is bursting with silk and dark suits, pastel-soft dresses and black, elegant gowns everywhere. It’s midnight when everyone cheers and glasses touch with silvery chinks when Tooru whirls around, laughing, eyes searching for Iwa to press his champagne flute against Iwa’s, and that’s when he sees it. The girls that kisses Iwa is pretty, gorgeous even with her long, golden lashes and a pink mouth that shines in the dim ballroom light. 

Tooru gently sets his glass onto a table. Iwa opens his eyes, sees him, pushes the girl away, his mouth falling open in a blur of Tooru’s last name, ‘no, wait, Oika – Tooru!’ 

He runs. Her dress was beautiful, she was beautiful, Iwa deserves only the best and that’s what he’s never been, never enough, not a girl and not anything at all. 

Tooru cries alone. Maybe it’s stupid to go to the old basketball field behind the school, where they used to practice, but he still does. His fingers find the sideline where he slumps down, the dirty sand where he once stepped into a shard of glass and cried so hard that his vision blurred. How Iwa looked so horrified and scared that he made Tooru promise something – “don’t you ever cry again, understood? I won’t let you cry again.” 

“Oikawa.” And of course, he wipes his tears, gets his stupid ass up and turns around, smile beaming as always, oh he wears it perfect like a mask with bloody war paint. “Iwa-chan, there you are, haha, I bet you were really busy with – “ 

“You promised.” Tooru’s broken laughter dies out. Iwa steps forward, fast, corners him against the metal fence, and Tooru’s always been weak to him, his everything. “What? Iwa, I don’t – “ 
“That you wouldn’t cry again, idiot. You promised me that.” There’s a warm thumb touching his cheek, catching his tears with the skin he’s grown to love more than his own soul. 

“Promise me again. Once more,” Iwa says, breath rough against Tooru’s shaking mouth. “That I won’t taste salt on your lips ever again.” 

And when Iwa pulls him close to his heart, the softness of his mouth melting into Tooru’s sobs, Tooru thinks that he can promise it for real, this time.