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Iwaizumi closed the door behind him and climbed on Oikawa’s bed. Oikawa was sitting next to his bed, smoothing and ruffling the carpet with his legs. He had to distract himself somehow.

The box chained to his left ankle was the disgusting reminder of his feelings. How he had to face it. It was almost the biggest fuck you he had ever gotten, more than him and his volleyball team never going to nationals. 

Why should he ever have to tell Iwaizumi his feelings? Doing that would be worse than standing in the middle of the desert while simultaneously spotting a mirage of an oasis out yonder. At least there he could visualize paradise. 

But for every heartache Oikawa had for Iwaizumi, the box became heavier. At first being the equivalent of a rice grain, to the gradual weight of Godzilla.

The soothingly cold touch of the chains soon gripped around his ankle as if they were made of barbed wires. The heavier the box got, the more the links dug into his skin.

Would telling Iwaizumi his feelings make it all go away? 

But at what cost?

Everything. He had everything to lose.

He was his everything. Iwaizumi. His Hajime.

“Iwa-chan,” he started, all while lacing his fingers together. He didn’t dare to look up at Iwaizumi because the instant he did, all of feelings would pour out. He didn’t want to offset the perfect balance he had been maintaining for as long as he could remember. His feelings for Iwaizumi were just as important as keeping his friendship with him. If anything, he was more than willing to keep his feelings bottled up if it meant they could be together. Friends for life was better than the bitter anguish of rejection, something Oikawa was well known for dishing out.

That is, if it weren’t for the stupid box.

“Ok well take your time,” Iwaizumi sat up, but managed to spill his water bottle in the process. “Shit, sorry. Let me get a tissue,” Iwaizumi tried scooping up the water that hadn’t soaked in. Oikawa hadn’t paid it any attention as he was still in his thoughts on how to tell Iwaizumi.

“So,” Oikawa gulped. His throat was clawing at him to stop. He didn’t want to ruin what they had. It was more than special. It was irreplaceable. He was his Iwaizumi. His.

“Well, you are so important to me,“ Iwaizumi nodded and got up and started to slide off the side of the bed.


“And I was thinking about it,” Iwaizumi hastily grabbed the box of tissues on Oikawa’s desk.

“About us,” Oikawa furiously furled his fingers around in a crocheting manner.

“And I wanted to tell you—“ Oikawa was cut off when he looked up to see Iwaizumi climb back onto the bed. His foot was coming down onto the small box.





“What do you mean Oikawa? There’s no box there,” Makki said before shoving his sandwich in his mouth.

“It’s right there Makki-chan! How do you not see it. It’s a small box. There. With a chain attached!” Oikawa pointed to the box on top of a floor tile diagonal from his chair.

“Are you hallucinating?? Hand the molly over dude,” Mattsun joked, leaning back in his chair almost flipping back.

Oikawa let out a huff. “It’s there! And you know that coach would skin me if I did!” Mattsun and Makki looked at each other.

“Well,” Makki stood up, “I guess we gotta prove that you’re up in the clouds,” and proceeded to plant his foot where the box should have been. Emphasis on should. Makki’s foot completely sank through the box.

“WH??” Oikawa stared at Makki, his foot, and where the box was. “How did you do that?” Makki sighed.

“Dude just go sleep or something. We can’t have our setter be seeing crows and cats when we’re playing a match,” Makki patted the back of Oikawa’s head.




Oikawa fixated his eyes on Iwaizumi. His hands dabbing the water off of his sheets.

“What were you saying??” Iwaizumi gave him a quizzical look but averted his attention to the more important issue, the water on his best friend’s bed.

What was it again..???

Oh yeah.

“You,” Oikawa started, and glanced at the carpet near his own foot. There was a small shard glinting in the light the sunset was casting through his window. “Are important to me. My best friend.”

Iwaizumi stopped. He looked over at Oikawa, determined to find the smallest smirk. Oikawa was the worst liar ever and Iwaizumi was second to none in finding out whether he was telling the whole truth or not. What he only saw was the genuine smile on Oikawa’s face.

“Is that it? I know that already shittykawa,” he picked up the damp paper and carried to the trash can in the corner of the room. “Let’s go out and get snacks instead. I don’t know why you even were so desperate to tell me that we are best friends. Isn’t that obvious?”

Iwaizumi left the room and Oikawa heard him start up small talk with his mom.

He slowly got up, feeling light headed. Looking down, he fixated on the smallest shard of some clear glass like material. It sat just below the edge of his mattress. It was a beautiful turquoise color, and when turned in a different angle became a blinding white hue.

It was dangerous as it could hurt him if left alone, so Oikawa picked it up to dispose of it. He rolled it between his fingers.

It left a lingering familiarity on the tip of his pointer finger. Like he was missing something.

“Hm.” Oikawa flicked the shard into the trash can, but it bounced off the rim and landed near the corner of his bed.

With a change of heart, he didn’t bother to pick it back up; it was in an inconspicuous enough place. It wouldn’t hurt him, right?

Leaving the room, a lingering, salty waft attached to a conch shell on his shelf swept him into the memory of when he and Iwaizumi visited a beach thirty minutes out of the province. 

He could visualize his oasis.