From the moment he wakes up, Oikawa knows this day is going to be fucked up. It starts with a cramp in his leg after stretching in his sleep. Fair enough, it vanishes right after he moves it a bit. He tries to get out of bed and stumbles over the pair of jeans he lazily left on the floor. He doesn’t fall but his lamp does, falling into a billion broken pieces.
He cleans up and cuts his fingers, he makes breakfast and burns it, he puts on his favourite shirt and notices it has a hole. He tries to stitch it and gains another three band-aids at his fingers and he is sure that this day is not going to get better.
Oikawa decides to sit down for a second and chews on some toast he remade, checking his phone. Training isn’t happening for another month as he still has to sit out a badly dislocated shoulder. He feels perfectly fine but an order is an order.
There are three mails for him. One is informing him that the shoes he ordered need to be paid. That’s fine, he can do it later. The next is Iwa-chan sounding rude. And he should definitely learn how to use auto-correct. The last one has him terrified. The blood in his veins freezes.
It is a message from his coach. Proudly announcing that the super ace is back in their team. Wakatoshi Ushijima. He spent the last 3 years overseas. Supposedly in a really great team. He only came to Japan for the national team. 5 years ago they were talking about going there together. National team and all.
What a joke.
Oikawa bites his lower lip and there are memories he’d much rather bury underneath coats and layers of dark where he can’t see nor hear nor feel them. He thought he’d be happy back then. He thought things were working out back then. But now he sits alone in his apartment on the sofa of his living room, his bandaged fingers wrapped so tightly around his phone that he feels like smashing it into pieces if he just urges it a little longer.
Ushijima, huh. Well, it was a matter of time. And stupid of him to think that simply because he turned down the offer of being in the national team would lower the chances of him being in the same team as Ushijima. Now he turns out to come right to his team. They will be training with each other day after day and for a split second, Oikawa thinks of quitting.
What for? A broken heart? Something he can’t let go of? Because obviously Ushijima has no problem with that. He knows fully well in which team Oikawa has been playing. Because he used to play here too. So why? To show him how well he does? On not being stuck in the past?
There is so much going on in Oikawa’s head that it makes him feel sick. He leans his head back onto the backrest and exhales the entire air left in his lungs. Maybe he will just suffocate. Just like this. If only it would be that easy.
There has never been a confession or the like. They had spent hours and hours together. It was irritating when he first stepped into the gym after graduation, after being scouted and see his face right there. Ushiwaka, the champ. The one he wanted to win against for approximately 6 years.
They were a good team, Oikawa remembers. There wasn’t much to ask him how to toss. How to work with him. It all went well. And all he heard was praise. He didn’t expect Ushijima to be that sort of person. Too much time passed over at Ushijima’s place, he kind of moved in without officially moving in, they kind of kissed without officially ever doing that.
In the end, it was dumb to believe it could always be like that. Too romantic for something unofficial. He remembers saying he wants to go to the national team with him. He remembers Ushijima saying they could do it. Together.
He remembers Ushijima suddenly saying he will leave. Go overseas. There is a good offer and he would like to try. And suddenly two years worth of time together seemed like a waste to him. Two years spend on unofficial matters. On one-sided matters. He never told Ushijima goodbye. He didn’t see him off. Unofficial should remain unofficial. Until the end.
The shrill ring of his doorbell wakes him up from memories and he feels like ignoring it at first. There is a knock right afterwards and another ringing. It’s annoying.
He gets up, trotting to the door and he never makes this mistake but today is a fucked up day so he opens the door without looking who it is first and he stares right into Ushijima’s face.
There were so many possibilities how to react. Oikawa could’ve closed the door right back into his face without saying anything. He could’ve retorted how he doesn’t care. How he can take his back into his hands and leave. He could’ve punched him, he really liked that idea.
Instead, he ends up doing the worst thing possible. He starts crying. And hurting. He is angry, incredibly so but at the same time, he had three years of heartbreak that never never healed. Because there was nothing that could hurt. Nothing to have a heartbreak from. There was nothing between them in the first place. There was no I love you, there was no Move in with me, there was no first sappy kiss and feeling high from it either. There was no I break up with you nor a Goodbye.
But the heartbreak is back, he stands right there and says he is back like Oikawa has waited for him. He feels pathetic for making it seem that way. Then again, he still lives here, at the same place he moved in four years ago. He never quite found another place, he used to say. He knows it is a lie.
"Fuck you," Oikawa retorts with sobs he can barely control. He knows Ushijima isn’t keen on swear words - and neither is he but there is barely anything that expresses his feelings more than a phrase Iwa-chan likes to use.
He tries to stop the tears. But it’s no use. This day can’t get any worse at this point so he starts to relax while his eyes keep tearing up. The day has gone to shit anyway. Some tears are not going to make it better or worse.
"What do you want?" he asks, trying to at least steady his voice if not stop crying for good. There is not much use for that question. He probably knows the answer.
"…I just wanted to tell you I am back. I didn’t expect you to cry. I’m sorry."
Deadpan as always. He is too factual. It’s almost scary. His hands are in his pockets, his face half covered by the collar of his jacket. He still doesn’t wear a scarf. He never did.
"You. What exactly did you expect me to do? Because if your options are beating you up or yelling at you, I did mean to do that."
"Then why are you crying?"
Oikawa glares at him. His question is so genuine, everything he says is 100% and fully true. That’s why he knows that Ushijima is genuinely sorry, that he really wanted to come and say he is back. But doesn’t he realize? Not even the slightest bit what he did back when he left?
"Do you expect me to answer that? Do you, really?"
By now Oikawa hisses at him, tears still leaking out, arms crossed over his chest so tightly that it makes breathing difficult.
He doubts Ushijima knows what he apologizes for. Right now it is for making him cry. But he doesn’t understand the reason, does he? It’s useless like this. Unoffical should stay unofficial.
Oikawa knows he will regret it but he needs to know. He doesn’t care they are standing outside, he doesn’t care that the neighbours will hear. He doesn’t even care that the tears still don’t stop and that he makes a complete fool out of himself.
"There is one thing I have been wondering about."
"What is it?"
Ushijima shifts, his hands still buried in his pockets. Oikawa doesn’t dare looking into his eyes as he asks. He would rather not know but he needs to.
"Have you ever felt anything towards me? Anything at all? You left back then with no single remorse, telling me three days before departing. Now you are back and declaring that and—-"
"I would not have come back if I felt nothing."
Oikawa leans onto the doorframe and feels a bitter smile creep up to his face. He wants this to stop. He needs it to stop.
"I wish you would just leave me be. I wish…"
He doesn’t say it. Ushijima slips his hands out of his pockets and for the first time, takes a step closer to Oikawa. And another step. And their faces are so close suddenly that the tips of their noses are touching and Oikawa holds his breath. Closes his eyes.
I wish I would have never met you. It buzzes through his mind, his own voice repeating it over and over again as he feels familiar lips on his, the taste still the same as it was three years ago. As if nothing has changed. Unofficial lips on his, unofficial hands looking for his, unofficial forehead leaning against his.
And it starts over again.