In hindsight, Oikawa could say with certainty that it had been Hanamaki’s fault. He could ascribe most of the compromising situations that he had been in to Hanamaki. Or Matsukawa. Or some terrifying combination of the two.
It had started when he had walked into the locker room and found everyone huddled in a circle, staring and Hanamaki’s phone. On any other day he would have thought that it was a meme or a strange video that he had managed to find somewhere in the recesses of YouTube, but all of the club members wore horrified expressions, which suggested it was something outside the usual.
“Oh god,” he groaned. “Please tell me you are showing our impressionable kōhai a shock site or hentai or something equally vulgar.” He dropped his bag on the floor, mentally steeling himself for whatever they had chosen to share this time. He really hoped that it wasn’t bad enough to warrant phone calls from angry parents. He had enough on his plate as it was.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked up, devious looks crossing their faces simultaneously. Oikawa took a step back. This couldn’t be good. He wondered if he ought to start composing a letter of apology.
“Yeah right,” Oikawa said. He held out a hand. “Give it here. I need to know what exactly I’ll be receiving complaints about.”
“On my honor, it’s nothing that you and Iwaizumi haven’t already consented to,” Hanamaki promised, holding a hand over his heart. Matsukawa winked at him.
Oikawa let out a snort. “You don’t have any honor. Now give it here.”
Hanamaki clutched at his chest. “You wound me, captain.”
“Besides,” Matsukawa said, “you’re one to talk. We’ve seen some of the bookmarks on your phone. Your mind is about as pure as a Jew eating pork on the Sabbath.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Oikawa sputtered.
Hanamaki turned to look at Matsukawa. “Mattsun, he’s not denying it.”
“That’s because you’re being ridiculous!” he yelped. The two ignored him.
“He should show us his phone.”
“Just to prove his innocence.”
They turned to look at him “Come on Oikawa, we know that your password is Iwaizumi’s birthday.”
Oikawa gripped his phone tightly, torn between fleeing the locker room and kicking Hanamaki and Matsukawa off the team. There was no way they could know about that. He kept his phone with him as much as he could, and locked it away during practice because he knew that the two would do terrible things with it, like spam his contacts, take a million pictures, and hack his Facebook and Twitter accounts. He had only kept those bookmarks because he had been sure that they would never get to it.
How did they know what his password was, anyway? He made a mental note to change it when he got home. Maybe make it Iwaizumi’s birthday backwards. That seemed like a solid password.
After gazing at him for a moment, fully aware of the mental breakdown he was experiencing, Hanamaki and Matsukawa whispered to each other, then looked back at Oikawa.
“Out of the goodness of our hearts, we’ve agreed to let you off the hook.”
“But,” Matsukawa said, holding up his index finger, “if we show you, you have to promise not to freak out too much.”
“Fine, I promise,” Oikawa said begrudgingly, hoping that his relief wasn’t obvious. “Just let me see it.”
The entire team watched as Hanamaki held his phone out to Oikawa, who took it tentatively. Looking down at the screen he was more than a little surprised to see that they hadn’t been looking at a picture or video at all. It seemed to be a normal website. His relief vanished as he read through the site. He could feel the blood draining out of his face as he skimmed the rest as quickly as possible.
“W-w-what is this?” he stuttered. A few people shifted uncomfortably, as though not admitting it aloud would somehow make it go away.
“Your fan club has an entire website dedicated to you and Iwaizumi.”
“Why are we….” he struggled to finish the sentence. “Why are we doing … things … things together?” He stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as the while everyone stared at him. “And why was a volleyball involved?” he finally wailed.
“I think we broke him,” Makki whispered gleefully.
“Volleyball is your first love—or second after Iwaizumi. It only makes sense that you would have a three way with the two things that you love most in life.”
“Wait, are we sure that volleyball and Iwaizumi are his top two. I mean, what about milk bread?”
“Please don’t say top,” Watari groaned. He looked as sick as Oikawa felt.
“Hm, I’d definitely rate that number three. Someone should write a kink about that.”
“Oh god, please don’t ruin milk bread for me,” Oikawa pleaded, practically throwing Makki’s phone back at him.
“What’s going on?” A door slammed and everyone clammed up as Iwaizumi walked into the locker room. No one wanted to share the newly discovered … literature … with their already temperamental ace. “Please tell me I didn’t hear the word ‘kink,’” Iwaizumi said, giving Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki pointed looks.
“Why are you looking at me?” Oikawa protested.
“I’ve seen your phone, Shittykawa. And believe me, it’s a mistake I’ll never make again.” Oikawa’s pale face instantly turned red.
“Lies,” he hissed as Makki and Mattsun high fived each other.
“I told you so,” Makki stage whispered to Mattsun.
“I never doubted you for a second,” was Mattsun’s reply. “Our relationship is one of perfect trust.”
They embraced each other, and Oikawa gagged loudly, though he was grateful for the distraction.
“So what were you guys talking about?” Iwaizumi asked again, choosing to ignore the scene as he threw his bag onto one of the benches and began fishing around for his uniform. “And if it’s something perverted, please don’t tell me,” he added, pulling his jersey out and laying it next to his bag.
“Oikawa was sharing his kinks with us.” Matsukawa poked his head out of the crook between Makki’s head and shoulder, responding before Oikawa even had a chance to think of something to say.
“Why is everyone picking on me?” Oikawa all but sobbed, folding himself into a corner as though he were trying to escape notice.
Iwaizumi made a face. “I knew I didn’t want to know,” he said, pulling off his shirt.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at his naked torso, seeing his body in a whole new light after having read about him bottoming for Oikawa. Looking at his muscular body, they were all having a lot of trouble imagining him as a bottom, which meant that they all had the image of him topping and bottoming burned into their minds. Kindaichi, whose face was red as a tomato, looked ready to explode, and immediately bolted from the locker room.
Iwaizumi, more than a little confused, glanced around after tugging his jersey on. “You guys didn’t do something to Kindaichi, did you?” he asked suspiciously. “You’d better not have talked about kinks while he was in here.”
“Nope!” Hanamaki and Matsukawa chorused together.
“They only violated the purest creature in this world,” someone muttered. Iwaizumi let out a long-suffering sigh, mentally preparing himself for a talk with Kindaichi. Maybe he should just refer him to a therapist this time. The other third years had probably given him PTSD by now, and the year had barely begun.
“I really have to do everything around here, don’t I?” he said out loud as he tried to think of what to tell the first year. If what Oikawa had said was anything like the website Iwaizumi had accidentally seen on his phone, then he was going to have to recap at least half of Oikawa’s life, focusing primarily on his growing obsession with aliens. God, he really should get paid for this.
Oikawa, having deemed it safe to come out of hiding, emerged from the shadows. “There is no ‘I’ in team, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sang, trying to change the subject to something—anything—else. He skipped up to the ace, prepared to drape himself over him, but stopped short. He was acutely aware of the rest of the team’s eyes on him. He knew they were all thinking of the ways that Oikawa had been draped over Iwaizumi in the story on Makki’s phone.
“Yeah?” Iwaizumi said gruffly. “Well there’s no ‘U’ either, so how about you do us all a favor and leave.”
“Meanie,” Oikawa said, settling for sticking his tongue out at his friend. Iwaizumi only rolled his eyes.
“What, are you two or something?”
“That would explain a lot,” Kyoutani muttered darkly. He clearly hadn’t appreciated being dragged into this any more than the rest of them.
Iwaizumi started to unbutton his pants, and everyone chose that exact moment to vacate the locker room, following closely behind Oikawa, who had practically steamrolled over everyone. Iwaizumi stared after them as they shoved each in their effort to escape. “I should definitely get paid for this,” he repeated to himself, already ready for the day to be over.
Practice was weird, though it wasn’t quite as bad as Oikawa had anticipated. There was an unspoken agreement that no one was ever going to mention what they had read while in the locker room. Iwaizumi, both fortunately and unfortunately, wasn’t exactly privy to that knowledge, though, so he was completely oblivious to the reason behind Kindaichi’s obvious discomfort as the ace tried to talk to him.
Oikawa briefly considered stepping in, but decided that would do more harm than good. Maybe he would send flowers or something to Kindaichi as an apology. He felt like an accomplice in what seemed to be Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s effort to purge Kindaichi of his innocence. The boy was practically the definition of innocent, so they might as well be trying to kill him.
When Iwaizumi finally gave up on his awkward effort to have a conversation, he jogged over to Oikawa, smacking him on the back of the head.
“Ow! Iwa-chan, whyyy?” Oikawa cried, checking his scalp for the bump that had to be developing.
“You know why, Crappykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. “I don’t know what you told Kindaichi, but I’m pretty sure that he’s scarred for life. Could you please save your weird talks with Makki and Mattsun for another time? Or better yet, don’t have them at all. You guys have reached a whole new level of creepy.”
“It’s not my fault,” Oikawa insisted, trying to salvage some of his dignity. “I was framed! I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Suuuure,” Iwaizumi drawled, looking entirely unconvinced. “Even when you don’t start shit, you still find some way to get involved.”
“I need better friends,” was all Oikawa could think to say.
“By all means, then, please find new ones.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t dump your ass back in middle school. You couldn’t pay anyone to be your friend now.”
“That’s not true,” Oikawa said, pouting slightly at the insult. “Everyone loves me.”
“We should take it to a vote.” He jabbed a thumb over at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who were whispering back and forth to each other as they stared at Oikawa. “I’m sure that tweedledee and tweedledum would be more than happy to collect the results.
When Oikawa didn’t reply, he followed his line of site to Makki and Mattsun, who were now making kissy faces at them. “Oh my god,” he grumbled. “Can they really not be left alone for more than five minutes?” He stomped across the gym with an expression that suggested he was about to inflict some sort of divine punishment on them. Hanamaki and Matsukawa, well aware of what was about to happen, fled in opposite directions, leaving Iwaizumi to choose which of the two to pursue.
The rest of practice continued normally, for which Oikawa was extremely grateful. He’d experienced enough public humiliation to last him the rest of the semester—possibly the rest of his life.
When practice ended, though, everything descended into chaos. Each of the club members seemed to be debating the best course of action as they walked back to the locker room. Kindaichi and Kunimi immediately grabbed their bags and left without even bothering to change. Yahaba chose to change in one of the bathroom stalls, while Kyoutani and Watari stood stiffly in front of their lockers, changing out of their uniforms without looking at anyone else.
Only Hanamaki and Matsukawa were acting normally, and Iwaizumi knew that something was up when the two of them were the normal ones of the group.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, staring around the clubroom. “Oi, Shittykawa! Where the hell are you going,” Iwaizumi barked. Oikawa, who had been trying to slink away to the bathroom stalls, as well, stopped in his tracks.
Oikawa opened and closed his mouth several times before walking back to his locker, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Nowhere,” he said quietly. Iwaizumi shook his head, beginning to wish that he had been the one to go to Shiratorizawa. At least their team seemed somewhat sane.
The room was silent as everyone changed, sans the occasional banter between Matsukawa and Hanamaki, which was confined to their corner. Oikawa felt guilty as he pulled on his casual clothes. As much as he teased Iwaizumi, he hated making his friend feel left out. While the ace frequently stated that he wanted nothing to do with their shenanigans, Oikawa knew that in spite of his protests, he enjoyed their pranks and inside jokes. He couldn’t remember the last time that Iwaizumi had been excluded from something like this.
That being said, there was no way in hell that he was ever going to explain all of this to Iwaizumi. It was difficult enough to change in the same room as him without remembering the descriptions of Iwaizumi writhing beneath him in pleasure while Oikawa— Oh god. No, he wasn’t going to think about that.
He could feel a blush starting to spread across his entire body, and he tried to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach. This was what disgust felt like, right? That was what you were supposed to feel when you read about yourself and your best friend doing unspeakable things to each other.
Oikawa was on the verge of slamming his head against his locker when he felt Iwaizumi’s eyes on him.
“Are you OK?” he asked, the crease between his brows growing deeper.
“What? Me?” Oikawa’s voice was just a pitch too high. “Of course, of course,” he said, trying to bring his voice down an octave. “Never been better.” He felt a pair of strong hands grab his shoulders as a cool cheek rested against his forehead.
“You feel really warm,” Iwaizumi said, completely ignoring Oikawa as he tried to squirm out of his grasp. “You better not be getting a fever. I’ll kick your ass if you get me sick.” He grabbed both of their bags and pushed Oikawa towards to door. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”
“Iwa-chan, I can carry my own bag,” Oikawa protested, but the dark-haired boy just let out a grunt, slapping Oikawa’s hands away as he tried to pull his own bag off of Iwaizumi’s shoulders.
“You guys are locking up tonight, right?” he asked, glancing over at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who were the only ones left in the locker room.
“Yep,” Hanamaki said, tossing Iwaizumi a salute. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sweet dreams, Oikawa,” Matsukawa added with a wink. It was all Oikawa could do not to punch him. Before Iwaizumi could ask, Oikawa all but dragged him out of the locker room.
They walked in silence for a couple blocks before Iwaizumi finally spoke. “Hey, you sure you’re feeling OK? You really do look a little sick.” There was a concerned look on his face—a look that was reserved almost exclusively for Oikawa.
“Yeah, I think so,” he responded, knowing that denying it would only make Iwaizumi even more suspicious. “Now that I think about it, maybe I am feeling a little sick.” He stared down at the pavement, and Iwaizumi nudged his shoulder slightly.
“Promise me that you’ll get some sleep tonight,” he said quietly. “I’ve woken up the past few nights to see your light still on. You can’t expect to perform well if you’re not sleeping.”
“Aw, waking up to check on me, Iwa-chan? How sweet,” he teased, ducking as Iwaizumi swatted at him.
“Like I would ever do that,” he said grumpily, though he seemed a little relieved that Oikawa appeared to be back to his usual annoying self.
They stopped in front of Oikawa’s house, which was right next to Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi shrugged off Oikawa’s bag and handed it to him. ‘Such a gentleman,” Oikawa cooed. “I guess cavemen can be taught chivalry, even if they don’t understand it.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, stupid,” he said, walking away.
“Bye bye, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa called after him. Iwaizumi just held up a hand, not bothering to turn around.
Oikawa let out a sigh as he unlocked his door. He really, really hoped that he would be able to forget about all of this by tomorrow. Iwaizumi might have let his strange behavior pass today, but he knew that he would start to dig for answers if he wasn’t back to normal by the next morning.
Tossing his bag on his bed, he started to think about the website again. In spite of his initial horror, he found himself a little curious. Had that particular story been the only one on the site? How many of his fan girls were involved? And were they the only ones who wrote and read the stories.
He sat down at his desk, trying to focus on his homework, but his mind kept drifting back to the website. Finally he slammed his textbook shut and grabbed his laptop. Typing in the URL, which he had happened to notice on Hanamaki’s phone, he pulled up the site.
It took a minute for it to load, but when it did, Oikawa was greeted by a large photo of him and Iwaizumi. It had been taken during one of their games. Oikawa had probably just scored a point, because Iwaizumi was ruffling his hair and they both sported huge grins. It was a surprisingly intimate moment. Oikawa hadn’t really thought too much about moments like that, but it had been times like those that he had felt like he and Iwaizumi were the only ones on the court. He couldn’t help but smile as the memories came back to him.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he started to look through the site. There was an entire gallery of photos, some of them individual shots, but most of them were pictures of the two of them together. Oikawa decided that he would download some of them later. As much as he teased the other boy about his looks, Iwaizumi was quite photogenic. Not nearly as photogenic as Oikawa, but then, who was?
As he finished going through the gallery, he began to think that maybe the site wasn’t as bad as he had imagined it would be. He quickly realized that he had discovered the tamer side of the site, though. He clicked on a tab labeled ‘Works,’ and was faced with a number of links, each of which had a short summary under them. He felt his face heat up as he scrolled through them. When he got to the bottom of the page, he realized that was only the first page. There were nearly 30 pages total, and there were ten stories to a page.
He gaped at the numbers. Nearly 300 stories had been written about him and Iwaizumi. He went back to the top of the page and where he found a filter that let him sort through the stories by date, comments, or likes. He clicked on the date, sorting them from oldest to newest. The oldest one had been written when they were first years, which meant that the site was at least two years old.
How had he never heard about this before? He had prided himself on knowing nearly everything about everyone at his school. This had obviously been a closely guarded secret. He could see why. He was never going to be able to face the girls at school again, knowing that some of them were writing … this. Whatever ‘this’ was.
Swallowing hard, he went back to the main menu and clicked on the tab labeled ‘Art,’ already guessing what he would find there. He wasn’t disappointed. As soon as the page loaded, he clapped a hand over his eyes.
“Oh my god,” he whispered. He had only seen a glimpse of the first few images, but the very first one had been nude. Very nude. Not to mention anatomically correct, though he wasn’t sure if it had been drawn to scale.
Letting out a squeak at that thought, he immediately clicked on the back arrow. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think about it. Though if he were to think about it, he was sure that between the two of them, he would be—
“Nope!” he yelped, slamming his laptop shut. “Not going to think about it.” He clawed through his desk draw, pulling out is ear buds and practically embedding them in his ears. Turning on his music, he did his best to drown out the impure thoughts that had been forced into his brain.
He was going to kill Makki.
That marked the beginning of a very long and turbulent week. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had quickly picked up on the fact that he had seen more than just the story on Makki’s phone, and tormented him endlessly with suggestive poses and innuendos. Oikawa was convinced that his skin would be permanently flushed for the rest of his life. The heat on his skin felt like a constant sunburn that no amount of aloe could ever cure.
Even worse than that was his fan club.
Oikawa hadn’t thought that anything could be worse than Makki and Mattsun. The meme team, as they liked to call themselves, might as well have crawled straight out of hell with the intent of becoming his personal demons. Even so, they didn’t let him forget that they had only distributed the material that had ruined his life. The creators were still at large, and he couldn’t squelch their behavior with the threat of extra laps.
He was suddenly painfully aware of his every interaction with Iwaizumi—during class, in the hallways, at practice, etc.—as there were always at least a few girls present. Any conversation, insult, or slap on the back could become material for a new story. Oikawa started to imagine all the possibilities, which made it infinitely worse. Especially when Iwaizumi smacked him. That brought on a whooooole new level of fantasies, which most definitely were not his own fantasies. He hadn’t started to jerk off to thoughts of Iwaizumi manhandling him. That wasn’t a thing.
He was pulled out of the middle of one of those not-fantasies towards the end of practice on Friday. He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt Iwaizumi’s fingers around his wrist, and let out a yelp that was more like a gasp that most certainly didn’t sound a little bit like a moan. Well, maybe a teeny bit, but Iwaizumi’s grip hurt!
“Iwa-chan, can’t you just try to talk to me like a normal person,” he complained. “You’re such a brute.”
“I’ve been yelling at you for the past five minutes, Trashykawa.” Iwaizumi gave him an irritated look. “Would it kill you to pay attention? You almost got hit by one of Kyoutani’s serves.”
“He was probably trying to do it on purpose,” Oikawa sulked, trying to distract Iwaizumi from the fact that he hadn’t been paying attention at all. He glared at Iwaizumi when the other boy let out a small laugh.
“Well, you’re probably not wrong,” he said with a wry grin, “but you would have deserved it this time. Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’ve been like this all week.” He let out a sigh when Oikawa didn’t answer. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”
“I don’t get sick, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sniffed. “Germs are for gross people like you.” That earned him a punch in the arm.
“Bullshit. If germs are for gross people, then you’re practically trash. Remember that disgusting stomach virus you got over the summer? Because I do.”
“I’m pretty sure that was you, Iwa-chan.”
“Nope. I have a picture of your nasty face from that one time that you made me come over.”
“What?!” Oikawa shrieked. “You took a picture of me during one of my most vulnerable moments? What kind of monster are you?”
“It was payback,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “You spammed me with texts until I had to turn off my phone. The only reason I came to visit you was because the threats I sent via text weren’t enough to make you stop.”
“I had to make sure you weren’t lonely. Iwa-chan would die without me.”
“I’m pretty sure that one day that I was able to turn my phone off was the best day of my life. I would have left it off it your mom hadn’t asked my mom to ask me to turn it back on.” He shook his head. “I feel sorry for your mom. You probably whined to her the entire time.”
“Did not!” Oikawa protested. “I’m the most mature person I know. And my mom loves me.”
“Then you’re the only person you know,” was Iwaizumi’s reply. “And your mom is a saint for putting up with you. It’s not her fault that she gave birth to the ant-Christ.” Before Oikawa could say anything, he held up a hand. “But seriously, go to a doctor already. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“But Iwa-chan, I hate doctors,” Oikawa complained loudly. Loudly enough that the rest of the team heard.
“I bet you’d like Iwaizumi to play doctor with you,” Mattsun yelled from across the court. Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi sent him a death glare. He just grinned and waved.
Iwaizumi, obviously well past the end of his patience, let out a frustrated noise. “If you don’t see a doctor by the end of tomorrow, I’m telling your sister,” he threatened, smiling slightly at the terrified look that crossed Oikawa’s face.
“Please don’t tell nee-chan,” Oikawa begged. “She’ll make me eat gross smoothies and soup until a really do get sick.” Iwaizumi laughed.
“It would serve you right. And your sister is a great cook.” Oikawa only groaned, hiding his head in his hands. He loved his sister, but she was insufferable when he was sick. The last time he had been sick, she had stayed at their house for nearly two weeks and had kept Oikawa confined to his room nearly the entire time. He knew she had also sent Iwaizumi photos throughout the entire ordeal, which was probably where Iwaizumi had gotten the photo that he claimed to have stored on his phone.
“Alright, fine. But only if I still feel sick tomorrow, which I won’t.”
“I’ll be the decider of that. Now c’mon. I’m taking you home.”
“But Iwa-chan, practice isn’t over yet.” Oikawa tried to fight back as Iwaizumi began to drag him to the locker room. When Iwaizumi finally scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder, he began to beat against his back. “Iwa-chan, you savage. This isn’t good for my delicate health. Put me down!” Oikawa yelled the last part into Iwaizumi’s ear, and Iwaizumi’s only response was to drop him on the locker room floor.
“Change,” he said. “And I mean that literally and figuratively. I think you made me go deaf,” he said, rubbing his ear.
They both changed quickly, and Oikawa couldn’t help but notice Iwaizumi watching him out of the corner of his eye.
“I know you think I’m beautiful, Iwa-chan, but it’s rude to stare,” Oikawa chastised, trying hard to ignore the fact that he didn’t actually mind Iwaizumi looking at him while he changed.
Iwaizumi flicked Oikawa’s forehead. “I’m just making sure that you don’t try to escape, dumbass. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Oikawa let out a ‘Hmph’ as they exited the locker room. Iwaizumi tugged Oikawa along as he explained to the coach why they were leaving early. Oikawa put on his best ‘Save me’ look, but the coach, as usual, deferred to Iwaizumi’s judgment.”
“Don’t come back until you’re better,” he said. “I don’t want you getting the entire team sick.” Iwaizumi promised that he would handle the issue—the issue being Oikawa.
“No one loves me,” Oikawa mumbled as they left the gym.
“Probably not,” Iwaizumi agreed. “But we tolerate you enough that we want you to get better.”
They exchanged banter the rest of the way, Oikawa doing it mechanically as he recapped the week. He was actually grateful that Iwaizumi thought he was sick. It was better than the alternative, which would be an interrogation until Oikawa caved and finally told Iwaizumi the entire story. Well, most of the entire story. He would leave out the parts where he had imagined himself with Iwaizumi. That was hardly relevant information, and he really didn’t want to lose his best friend just because he’d had a few (too many) thoughts about him.
“Do you want me to come in?” Iwaizumi asked as they stood outside Oikawa’s door.
“That’s OK. Wouldn’t want to get you sick, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sang.
“Alright,” Iwaizumi said, hesitation and concern written across his features. It wasn’t often that Oikawa passed up an opportunity for the two of them to hang out together. “But I’m serious about the doctor. Go tomorrow regardless of how you feel.” He ruffled Oikawa’s hair. “See you tomorrow?”
“I guess,” Oikawa grumbled, jamming the key in the lock as Iwaizumi walked away.
After dumping his things on the floor, he laid down on his bed when he got to his room, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully as he tossed a volleyball in the air. This wasn’t getting better. Nothing that he had tried so far had helped.
Throwing the ball into his clothes hamper, he decided that it was time to go to the source. He unlocked his phone and dialed Makki’s number.
“You,” he hissed, as soon as Makki answered.
“Oikawa?” he said. “Wait, don’t say anything. One sec.” He heard a shuffling noise before Hanamaki yelled, “Issei, it’s Oikawa!”
“About time,” Matsukawa yelled back from what sounded like a short distance away. There were footsteps, then Matsukawa spoke again. “Really Oikawa, it’s rude to have kept us waiting.”
“We expected you at least a day ago,” Makki added.
“What are you talking about,” Oikawa asked irritably. “I saw you both at practice today.”
“Oh, but would you have really talked about this at practice?” he asked loftily.
Oikawa paused. “Wait, what are you talking about?”
“I think you know exactly what we’re talking about,” Mattsun said.
The website. Of course. Of course they knew. They had probably known from the start how it would affect Oikawa.
“We know you’ve been thinking about it,” Hanamaki added, as if reading his thoughts, when Oikawa didn’t say anything.
“Why did you have to show that to me?” Oikawa finally cried, nearly at the end of his wits. “You knew exactly what would happen,” he accused, “and now I can’t be anywhere near Iwa-chan without thinking about it. The whole team can’t be anywhere near him without thinking about it!”
He heard someone say something that sounded suspiciously like ‘collateral damage,’ before Makki spoke up. “You literally asked for it, so don’t blame us.”
“How was I supposed to know? You didn’t tell me what it was!”
“Even if we had, you would have asked to have seen it anyway.”
“And would have come up with some sort of excuse why you had to see it.”
“Plus we know that you’ve looked at it since then. We had nothing to do with that.”
Oikawa’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Now I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
“Have you considered the possibility that you might be a little gay for Iwaizumi?” Mattsun asked after a moment.
Oikawa straightened up immediately. “Absolutely not,” he said, his voice flat.
“Theory rejected. Come up with something better.”
He heard one of them sigh. “You should read through the website some more.”
“What? Why would I do that?” Frankly, that sounded like the last thing he should be doing.
“Look, all I’m saying is that you should just get it out of your system,” he said. “If you’re really not gay for Iwaizumi, then what could it hurt?”
The words echoed through his head as he said goodbye and hung up.
Avoiding the issue hadn’t helped, so maybe he should just face it head on. He knew he wasn’t gay for Iwaizumi, so it couldn’t hurt if he read through a few of the stories, just to remind himself of that fact.
He picked up his laptop from where it sat beside his bed, typing in the password before pulling up the website again. He went back to the stories, since he couldn’t bring himself to look at the art. Not yet, at least. No, not ever, he thought. That wasn’t necessary for the recovery process.
He picked a few of the stories at random, completely ignoring the ratings and tags.
The first one was pure fluff. It was short and just about Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s day at a park. Minus the hugs and ‘I love yous,’ and wasn’t necessarily something that they wouldn’t do on a lazy Saturday, so Oikawa was OK with it.
The next one was practically hardcore porn, but it was so bad that Oikawa found himself laughing, and only felt a little disturbed. It almost felt as though the author had written a terrible porn scene with faceless characters, and had then inserted Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s names. And while he didn’t know much about gay sex, he could say with almost certainty that it didn’t work that way.
The last one was the one that kept him from reading any other stories. Whoever the author was, she had obviously watched Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s interactions closely. Either that or she was just really good at guessing.
It was a story about them confessing to each other, and it ended in a graphic sex scene that turned Oikawa on more than he wanted to admit. When he finished, he noticed a tightness in his pants that definitely hadn’t been there when he had first started reading. He groaned, letting his head fall against the desk.
He thunked his head against the surface several times, hoping to beat some sense into himself since Iwaizumi wasn’t there to do it for him. That only made him think of the other things that Iwaizumi wasn’t there to do for him, so he finally stopped, scrubbing his hand against his face.
OK, so it was possible that he was a little bit gay. It was something that he had wondered about in the past when he found himself admiring the physiques of a few of the volleyball players on opposing teams. He hadn’t thought too much about it, though, because he had to channel 100% of his focus into the games. Having a sexuality crisis while on the court in the middle of a game wasn’t exactly conducive to focus.
He may or may not have watched one or two gay porn videos in the past, too. But he had written that off as curiosity.
Giving up on the stories for now, he navigated to the site’s forum, which he hadn’t bothered to visit the last time he’d been on the site. There were hundreds of threads, so he only looked at the ones that were labeled ‘Hot.’
The first was full of story prompts, and Oikawa quickly grew bored with that, though he did find himself snickering at one or two. The thought of getting Iwaizumi to wear a skirt was amusing, and Oikawa absently wondered if he could get Makki and Mattsun to help him make it happen. Given all the blackmail they had on Oikawa, they had to have at least a couple of things that they could use as leverage against Iwaizumi. Besides, they owed him.
The second one was an argument over who would top. It was apparently a recurring thread, because there were links everywhere referencing old comments. He decided that he really didn’t want to know people’s reasons for thinking that he was a top or a bottom, so he quickly left that one.
He found the next one a little more interesting. It was an old one, dating back a couple of years, and it had thousands of comments that were still ongoing. It was simply titled “Facts,” and it was littered with details about Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Not all of them were true, and many of those had been marked as ‘Speculative.’ They had gotten quite a few things right, but most of the ones he saw were very basic, like Iwaizumi’s love for tofu, that Oikawa occasionally wore reading glasses, the fact that the two of them had been friends since they were kids, etc.
He frowned when he saw one that cited his obsession with Star Trek. He definitely hadn’t wanted anyone to know about that. His frown deepened when he saw a comment that claimed Oikawa’s phone password was Iwaizumi’s birthday. How did everyone seem to know that? He grabbed his phone and immediately reset the password.
There. Problem solved.
One of the most recent comments had been made by a user who claimed that she could write Oikawa and Iwaizumi better than anyone else on the site. That, of course, had sparked a giant debate as every. single. user thought that they knew Oikawa and Iwaizumi best.
He clicked on the usernames of a few people who had been vehemently arguing their own case. A couple of them were obviously bluffing, or were just plain delusional, because their characterizations of Oikawa and Iwaizumi were so far off that their stories were painful to read.
The others were a little more on point. It was like reading a very basic overview of his and Iwaizumi’s personalities. It matched what Oikawa would have figured people had thought of them. Superficial. That was the word that he would use to describe it.
The author of the original comment might have actually been right to claim that she could write them better than the others. Going through her stories, he realized that she had been the one who had written the confession story that he had read earlier. She had several other works, one of which she was in the middle of writing.
He felt a spark of jealousy as he began to read through the newest one. He could write better than that. The thought surprised him as soon as it crossed his mind, but his competitive streak kept him from questioning it. He could write them better. He knew Iwaizumi better than anyone else, so if anybody could write a story about him and Iwaizumi, it would be Oikawa.
Refusing to allow himself to think better of it, he clicked on the ‘Join’ button at the top of the site. He was immediately prompted to choose a username and password, so he typed in ‘grandking.’
How was that one taken? He sighed, racking his brain for another. This time he typed in ‘iloveoikawa.’
Next he tried ‘i<3oikawa.’
This time he got an error message informing him that special characters were not allowed.
After that he tried ‘oikawaisgreat.’
Finally he tried ‘iloveiwachan.’
That one was available, and he grinned as he added his password.
Once he finished authorizing his account, he was sent an auto-message from one of the moderators, whose username was ‘mrsiwaizumihajime.’ It contained an overview of the site, included several links to help articles that explained how to submit art, stories, and photos, and then listed the site rules, the very first of which was ‘The first rule of the fan site is: You do not talk about the fan site.’ The second rule was a repeat of the first, which Oikawa felt was a little redundant, but they seemed intent on keeping the site a secret, so he guessed that it made sense.
After that there were rules of conduct, which prohibited hate speech and slurs, forbade bullying, and banned the use of tasteless profanity. How they determined the difference between tasteful and tasteless, Oikawa had no idea.
Next there were rules about the stories themselves. Original characters had been completely banned from being in relationships with Oikawa or Iwaizumi, unless the relationships were temporary and the OCs were instrumental in getting them together.
That one didn’t seem to be a very popular one, because there was a side note that mentioned that the rule was currently being discussed in the forum, and that if users had any problems with the rule, they should comment in that thread.
Unless they were on the men’s volleyball team, the names of actual people could not be posted anywhere on the site, nor could they be depicted in art. Non-volleyball players could be in the pictures listed in the image gallery, but the moderators had the right to remove images if they felt that the focal point of the image was not Oikawa or Iwaizumi.
Side pairings were allowed and were encouraged, but the stories that included them had to be tagged appropriately. The moderators were currently discussing whether or not to let stories feature non-Oikawa/Iwaizumi pairings as the main pairings, but at the moment, that was prohibited. If users really wanted to, they could post those stories in the thread that had been created for that purpose.
The rest of the rules were the basic rules that any site might have, and he closed out of the message as soon as he reached the bottom. It all seemed simple enough, which meant that the only task that he was left with was to actually write his story.
He contemplated for several minutes, trying to decide the direction he would take.
Sex, obviously, was out of the question. Iwa-chan was a pure, innocent, extremely angry cinnamon roll, and Oikawa felt guilty for even having sexual thoughts about him. He felt like he was somehow violating his best friend. Iwaizumi had only dated one or two girls—and that had been back and middle school. Unless he had lied to Oikawa about it, he hadn’t kissed anyone, either. Oikawa, while still a virgin, felt like a slut compared to Iwaizumi, though he’d never admit it to him.
With that in mind, there was no way he could ever write a sex scene between him and Iwaizumi. He’d never be able to look his friend in the eye again. He was also pretty sure that it would guarantee him a one-way ticket to hell.
He tried to think of other things to write about, which was more difficult than he had anticipated. The entire site seemed to be a shrine to sex scenes. He finally settled on writing his and Iwaizumi’s childhood. Based on what he had scene in the forum, it wasn’t a subject that many, if any, authors had chosen to write about. Plus Oikawa thought that it would help him reevaluate his relationship with Iwaizumi and remind him that they were, indeed, just friends.
With that in mind, he opened up a blank Word document, staring at it for several moments as he tried to decide where to begin. As he went through several different scenarios, he decided that he didn’t want to write it from his own perspective. Sure, that would be the easy way to do it. He had a pretty good memory and remembered his childhood well enough, but … some part of him wondered what it must have been like for Iwaizumi.
If he wrote from his own point of view, he knew that it would become a story about Oikawa. Very few of the stories that he had seen had accurately portrayed Iwaizumi’s personality. There was so much more to his ace than they had managed to capture, so Oikawa decided that he was going to show them just how amazing Iwaizumi was.
Plus he was almost certain that Iwaizumi had enjoyed their childhood just as much as Oikawa had. So Iwaizumi was going to have a very happy childhood in which he was happy to have Oikawa as his childhood friend. It wasn’t fiction; that was a fact of life. One that Iwaizumi had been denying since day one. His story would be like a sacrament for all the lies that Iwaizumi had been telling himself.
Iwaizumi ought to appreciate him more. He was such a good and thoughtful friend.
That thought was the catalyst he had needed to get started. He positioned his fingers on the keyboard and began to type.