Chapter Text
prologue.
It starts on a Saturday evening at 5:42 pm.
Oikawa’s fingers whiten around the phone as he stares at the notification, something cold and numbing creeping into his chest. He reads the pop-up over and over again, hoping that he somehow misunderstood, but the pixelated words sit there and mock him.
tofu_lover65: you play volleyball too? what position? i’m a setter. :)
A hole opens in his stomach, deep and wide and black.
“Did you find it?” Iwaizumi calls from the living room, but his words don’t register. “Oikawa?”
When he doesn’t answer, Iwaizumi’s footsteps start to pad closer. “You listening? Make sure you’re looking at the downtown location ‘cause their hours a—what are you doing?”
Oikawa tears his attention from the screen with a smile that’s all teeth, mouth opening to reply. Then he freezes, because for one fleeting moment, looking at Iwaizumi standing in the doorway in a slightly wrinkled, half-buttoned dress shirt, hands paused on his tie—Oikawa is thrown back to high school, days filled with volleyball and passion and longing, those days when he first realized his feelings.
His heart aches.
“Wow, Iwa-chan,” his voice lilts, bright as sunshine. “You look like the world’s most dashing gorilla tonight! Just who are you trying to impress, hmm?”
Iwaizumi glares. “You’re the one who told me to dress up for your fancy-schmancy resta—”
“Is it tofu-underscore-lover-sixty-five?” Oikawa cuts in, eyes and lips forming perfect crescents. “You’re practicing wearing your nice clothes for him? Isn’t that who you’ve been talking to him on this mysterious app called Tind—” Iwaizumi's eyes go round and he immediately lunges forward, snatching the phone from Oikawa’s hands, ears as red as fire.
“Trashykawa, were you going through my shit?!”
“Uh, excuse you,” Oikawa scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “The notification popped up while little ol’ me was googling the restaurant like you told me to. What kind of person do you take me for, really.” Iwaizumi mutters some choice words under his breath about how he knows Oikawa goes through his messages all the time, but Oikawa ignores him. “Also, just putting it out there, but that’s definitely the worst username I have ever heard of in my entire life! What horrible taste you have!”
“...Your twitter handle is probemealiens92.”
“Don’t try to change the subject! And why are you even using a dating app, Iwa-chan. I thought you weren’t interested in dating.”
Iwaizumi glowers. “What’s it to you? I can date if I want.”
Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Well, duh, but my point is that you haven’t expressed an interest in that kind of thing. At all! Like, since forever!”
Iwaizumi’s scowl lasts for a moment longer before he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“Matsukawa installed it,” he mutters, looking away. “Told me it was high time I started seriously looking.”
“’Seriously looking?’” The laugh that forces its way out of his throat is sharp and derisive. “It’s not like you didn’t have girlfriends in university.”
“None of them were really serious or anything.”
The implication of the statement makes Oikawa’s stomach turn. “So your serious relationships in university weren't serious enough, because now you want serious. Right. And where exactly did this even come from? When were you going to let Oikawa-san know about this huge life revelation, hmm?”
Iwaizumi shrugs, carelessly dropping his phone on his desk. “We’re twenty-six already. I’m happy with where my career’s at and Mom’s started nagging me about bringing someone home.”
“Why does that even matter?” Oikawa shoots back, panic squeezing his throat. “Who marries before they’re thirty nowadays, anyway! And it’s not like she has to worry about you being lonely since you have me, you can feel free to bring this wonderful specimen home!”
“Yeah, but you’re not...you’re you, all right? It’s different,” Iwaizumi says, matter-of-fact.
Oikawa feels like he’s been punched in the chest. He glares at his dearest friend, the love of his life, who must see something in his face because he straightens and takes a step forward, expression tightening in concern. “Oikawa?”
Oikawa steps back. Hurt and frustration and dread numb his senses.
He's been looking forward to this day for so long. He practiced what to say, had a whole script in his mind: “Iwa-chan, you look nice today,” “is that the shirt I bought you for your birthday?” “see, I told you that shade of lilac would look good on you, isn’t it nostalgic?” Because Oikawa wanted a valid reason to see Iwaizumi in it, Iwaizumi who’s as good and kind and genuine as ever, but who’s grown and matured and fills out his clothes even better than he did in high school: taller now and solid, warm, strong. The Iwaizumi he thought he knew everything about.
He'd hoped to muster up the courage to confess today.
“Right,” Oikawa says slowly, calmly. “You know what, Iwa-chan, let’s forget the dinner reservation for tonight. It’s not that important, anyway.”
“What?” Iwaizumi’s arms uncross, dropping back to his side. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“But...you’ve been waiting forever to try it.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not in the mood anymore.”
Iwaizumi looks utterly lost. “What’s with you?”
“There’s nothing ‘with’ me,” Oikawa murmurs, turning to leave, but Iwaizumi grabs his arm.
“You’re acting like an asshole, Shittykawa—”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry for being such a—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Iwaizumi growls, lips pulling into a scowl. “You’ve been whining for months to go out somewhere fancy, and now you’re suddenly not in the mood?”
“Yeah," Oikawa tells him. "I’m not in the mood.”
Iwaizumi’s face is beginning to redden with rage. “I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”
Oikawa's face burns with something like mortification, because there he is again, reliable, honorable Iwa-chan, always trying to soothe Oikawa's fits. But this isn't something Iwaizumi can fix just by wishing to fix it. He opens his mouth to shoot back something scathing, but then he catches the glint of hurt in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and he slowly deflates, suffocated by guilt. He remembers the pride Iwaizumi had radiated when he boasted about scoring the reservation after weeks of Oikawa’s whining, his rare smile subtle and fond. Shame joins the mortification, washes over Oikawa like a splash of cold water. It’s not Iwaizumi’s fault for not understanding what he’s fought so hard to keep secret.
“Okay.” Oikawa swallows down his ugly jealousy and desperation. “You’re right. Sorry.”
The anger instantly evaporates from Iwaizumi’s expression. “Huh?” he gapes, looking even more bewildered than before.
Oikawa’s appetite is non-existent at this point, but he forces a smile and says, “C’mon, Iwa-chan, let’s go. We don’t wanna be late, right?”
“Idiot, I don’t care about the reservation! We can always go some other time.”
“Well, what do you want to do then?”
“What? Don’t change the subject. This isn’t about me, it's about you being all stick-up-your-ass.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
They lock into a stare-down. Oikawa can't figure out what he should do, he’s upset and pissed but he feels guilty for feeling those things because he has no right, and all he wants to do right now is curl up in bed and maybe cry a little. He doesn’t even know what he’s being stubborn about anymore, doesn’t know what to say. Iwaizumi’s jaw slowly loosens as he undoubtedly absorbs every expression shift on Oikawa’s face.
“Just tell me,” Iwaizumi coaxes, stepping closer.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Oikawa mutters. It’s just that my heart hurt imagining you with someone else, he can’t say. Be mine. Love me. Love me.
And there’s no solution to this situation, because he sure as hell isn’t confessing his feelings when he's already been indirectly rejected, and there’s no other—
Unless—
Oikawa takes in Iwaizumi’s furrowed brow, the obvious concern and frustration. Iwaizumi loves him in his own way. Not the way that Oikawa wants, but perhaps it’ll be enough.
It’s a split-second decision, but Oikawa decides to take a leap of faith.
He squashes down the feeling that’s making his nose sting and musters up all of the determination and tenacity he honed from his days as captain.
“Fine!” he huffs, puffing out his chest. “Since you’ve brought it up, there’s something I think we should talk about.” He takes a deep breath, willing his voice to stay firm. “I have a proposal. I’ll go get my laptop, and in the meantime if Iwa-chan could set up the projector in the living room, that would be greatly helpful.”
“What,” Iwaizumi hisses, “in the ever-loving fuck is this?”
Oikawa rolls his eyes and smacks his palm against the wall. “Geez, read the title, Iwa-chan! I specifically typed it in size eighty-four font for your old man eyes!”
“You are such trash, I swear to god—”
“Ah ah ah~” He waggles his index finger. “Shh. It’s listen time now. Not naggy naggy time. Like I said, everything will be clear in just a second.”
Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches, but he sits back onto the couch, lips pressed into a line.
Oikawa takes that as his go-ahead and clears his throat, brushing a shaky hand over his oversized alien t-shirt and matching sweatpants. The fact that Iwaizumi has also changed back to his home clothes, which actually kind of match with Oikawa’s, makes him feel steadier. “Ahem. Hello, Iwa-chan, and welcome. As you are aware, my name is Oikawa Tooru. Today, I have the pleasure of presenting you with an incredibly exciting proposal, titled ‘Why Iwaizumi Hajime Should Go Out With Oikawa Tooru.’”
“What the fuck,” Iwaizumi says.
Oikawa hits spacebar and the slide transitions to a picture of five-year-old him and Iwaizumi by the lake near their childhood homes, arms around each other’s shoulders as they grin into the camera. He turns on his laser pointer, circling over the image. “First and foremost: Iwa-chan and I are best friends. This means that we know everything about each other, including all of our hopes and dreams and dirty little secrets. Of course, it also means that our personalities are well-matched, as are our interests, to a certain extent.”
Oikawa pauses for a beat, glancing at Iwaizumi, but the latter doesn’t respond. He falters for only a second before shaking himself out of it.
The second slide is a picture of Iwaizumi unpacking a box in their new apartment, Oikawa in the background throwing out peace signs. “Second, Iwa-chan and I are roommates. Seeing as we live together, our relationship transcends that of best friendship. We are superb at co-existing in a single space and also appreciate each other’s living habits.”
“You mean I’m good at picking up your slack,” Iwaizumi mutters.
“That too,” Oikawa quickly nods. “Of course, Oikawa-san—I mean, Oikawa, will try his best to pick up after himself if this is something that is unsatisfactory to Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi stares at him like he’s grown another head.
“Anyway.” Oikawa clears his throat again. “Third. Your mother loves me. In fact, your entire family loves me. I think that one’s self-explanatory. No K-drama mother-in-law-tortures-daughter-in-law scenario to be found here.”
“Who the hell would want you as their wife.”
“Rude, Iwa-chan! I’d make a spectacular wife!”
“A disgusting one. And you know my mom’s not the type to do that.”
“Okay, true, but it’s still important to foster a positive relationship with your significant other’s family!”
Iwaizumi has nothing to say to that, so Oikawa counts it as a win.
“Great, now on to the fourth point—”
Iwaizumi sighs, long and deep, the way he does when he’s genuinely annoyed. “How many points are there, exactly?” he asks, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.
Oikawa does not let his face fall. “I’ve condensed it to six because I knew Iwa-chan wouldn’t have the patience to sit through too much, which, by the way, leads to my first point! You know, about understanding you! And it would go by a lot more quickly if someone stopped interrupting me!” he huffs. “As I was saying, fourthly, our friend circles overlap quite a bit, so we can always go out together with each other’s friends without feeling awkward. This also means that you can complain to them about me without coming off as a narrow-minded, petty, shallow, frivolous boyfriend. Maybe. I guess. If you don’t do it that often. Though I insist we further discuss the details later about what is complainable or non-complainable content.”
“Wow, explicitly giving me permission to complain about you, how mature.”
“Fifth, I have great legs. And I know you’re a legs man, Iwa-chan, don’t deny it.”
“You are such a piece o—”
“And finally,” Oikawa says loudly. “Because we are the best of friends and will remain so regardless of whether we date or not, there will be no hard feelings in the case that this ends unfavourably, I promise. But, because I know Iwa-chan is a bullheaded gorilla, I am hereby suggesting a trial period of six months, after which our dating status may be terminated by either party without fuss. Like I said, no hard feelings or complication or drama. Isn’t it great? Aren’t I a genius, Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi just sits there, face scrunched up.
Oikawa can feel the tremors in his smile, but he holds strong.
It’s okay even if Iwaizumi says no. At least there won’t be any regrets left; he’ll know that he’s tried, and through a clever execution that ensures their friendship won’t be affected. Rejection at this point would be easy-peasy, since nothing’s truly begun yet. He was planning to confess today anyway, and isn't this a much better way of testing the waters?
(It’s fine, everything will be fine, no big deal, but he’s desperately hopeful, and terrified of how that hope could destroy him.)
The wall clock ticks, second passing by agonizing second, but Iwaizumi doesn’t so much as shift. His heavy, narrowed gaze pins Oikawa to the spot as the latter struggles not to give anything away.
See, the thing about spending their whole lives together is that one would think the resulting predictability would eventually exhaust the relationship. But oftentimes, and usually when it comes to the important things, Oikawa can only guess how Iwaizumi will react.
Maybe it’s because people are constantly changing. Maybe it’s because people like to think they know their important ones better than they really do. “If the world ends tomorrow, what would you do today?” How many could accurately forecast their best friends’ answers? There are moments when those reactions are unpredictable, and maybe it’s those moments that make life exciting, that make learning about others worthwhile. Oikawa thinks about these things a lot, especially when new friends seem surprised that he’s still so close to a guy he met when he was four.
And right now is one of those moments, because Oikawa has no fucking clue how the person he’s spent his entire life with will react to him pouring his heart out, even if Iwaizumi isn't aware of it. And he can only wait for Iwaizumi to make or break him. He’s good at waiting; he’s been patient for over a decade now, horrified at first before gradually accepting his feelings, then biding his time, wiggling deeper and deeper into Iwaizumi’s heart—and now, he’s reached the end of his rope.
But he’s also found his chance.
After what feels like two years, Iwaizumi’s whole body sags and he sighs again, big and heavy and ‘why are you like this.’ “I can’t believe this.”
Oikawa picks at his nails, gaze falling to the ground.
“You’re serious?” Iwaizumi asks.
He nods, allowing his plastic smile to finally drop. “Yes.”
“I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.”
Oikawa doesn’t tell him that the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip. “Well, you know how I got tired of dating a while ago,” he chuckles. “I thought if Iwa-chan felt too lazy to date too, then we could...reach an agreement. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t have to build your life around a whole other person because we’re, like, already like this.” He laces his fingers in demonstration. “Or get used to someone completely new. That whole getting-to-know-you phase gets so old, I know I’m way too jaded for that by now. And hey, at least you know I’ll never cheat on you!”
“I guess,” Iwaizumi concedes.
“Just six months, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa prods. “It’ll be the best six months of your life, one-hundred-percent satisfaction guaranteed, refunds accepted on the condition of whole-hearted loving during trial period!”
Iwaizumi scowls. “What if this makes things weird, though?”
“Pfft, nonsense!” Oikawa laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s what the trial period is for! And besides, we’ve been friends for so long, we wouldn’t let something like this ruin our friendship. Right?”
“You know, the worst part about all this is that I started out thinking you were batshit crazy, but it does sort of make sense,” Iwaizumi groans, putting his head in his hands.
“Does that mean you agree?” Oikawa shuffles over to the couch and flops down, squirming under Iwaizumi’s arms and poking his head over the other’s lap, smiling beatifically.
Iwaizumi just looks down at him, exasperated, the set of his mouth soft. “Fine. Even though I already know I’m gonna regret this. ”
“You won’t!” Oikawa crows, throwing his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and burying his face in his stomach. “I won’t let you.”
Later that night, they’re sprawled on opposite ends of the couch watching Bigfoot documentaries. Oikawa is gleefully deactivating Iwaizumi’s Tinder account (and sending threatening messages to the cuter users who had dared to message what was his) when Iwaizumi asks, “So what do you get out of this?”
Oikawa carefully shrugs, having already mentally rehearsed his answer. “Welllll, my mom’s always nagging about wanting to see you more often. And you know me, I get lonely easily. Plus, you’re not actually gross, Iwa-chan, otherwise I wouldn’t keep you around.”
“Gee, thanks,” Iwaizumi grumbles, reaching over to flick him on the forehead.
“Ow! What a brute!”
“Yeah, well, now you’re dating this brute.”
“Well.” Oikawa bites his lip, peeking over at him, but Iwaizumi’s just watching the TV, blue glow casting shadows on his relaxed face. “Wow, you’re right. Haha. It’s okay, I know you don’t have as much dating experience as me, so Oikawa-san will guide you through all this unfamiliar territory.”
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”