“Why didn’t you tell us the alpha you bumped into was a celebrity?!”
Iwaizumi could feel a headache coming on strong. Sometimes he really, really hated having roommates. Nosy, inconsiderate, much too close to him right now roommates who insisted on interrogating him right there in his bedroom while he was still dressed in nothing but his boxers. This was awful.
“Bokuto, why in the hell would I ever tell you guys something like that?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s this, right here. This is the exact reason why I didn’t say anything.”
“I can’t believe you met Oikawa Tooru,” Akaashi muttered, still staring down at the picture of Oikawa that sat in his phone’s image gallery from when he’d insisted on taking a contact photo. Iwaizumi really needed to put a lock screen on his phone or something. He would snatch the device out of Akaashi’s hands, but that would probably just piss off Bokuto, who was currently hovering over both of them as he knelt behind them on Iwaizumi’s bed to get a better look at the phone.
“Hey, he used to play volleyball, too, right?” Bokuto asked, balancing himself with a hand on each of their shoulders. “He went to a high school nearby, I’m pretty sure.”
“Yeah, he was the captain for Aoba Jōsai’s volleyball team, and the setter,” Akaashi answered. “People say he was really torn up over their loss at the Spring High Tournament during his third year and he quit playing.”
“I don’t see why! I’ve watched those matches a million times—Seijō used to kick ass!” Bokuto whooped. “Their ace used to be that really tough lookin’ guy. What was his name? The one with the weird hair and murder eyes?”
“Kyotani Kentarou,” Iwaizumi answered this time, using the shift in the conversation as a distraction to take back his phone from Akaashi. The omega only frowned a little bit, thankfully, and not enough to alert the other alpha of the transgression.
“Ohh, that’s right! You used to play, too, didn’t you?” Bokuto was way too invested in this conversation. “Surprised you know about the Aoba Jōsai team. Did you recognize Oikawa-san from his volleyball matches?”
“No,” Iwaizumi answered honestly with a shrug. “I only know about Kyotani-san ‘cause he went on to the big leagues after high school, then got booted off the Japan National Team for getting in a fight with one of his teammates and injuring him. It was all over the news for weeks.”
“That was bullshit,” Akaashi said in that dry, forward manner of his as he crossed his arms and glared at nothing. “They should have sent the other guy packing. Kyotani-san only attacked him because he made a pass at his mate. You’d think that would matter more than who has the better stats on the team, but sports never give a crap about anything other than numbers.”
Iwaizumi and Bokuto shared a glance. Shifting around to sit next to his mate on the bed, Bokuto wrapped an arm around him and even allowed Iwaizumi to place his hand over Akaashi’s. The omega’s bitter expression faded somewhat as he leaned into Bokuto and turned his hand over to grasp Iwaizumi’s.
Akaashi and Bokuto had played on the same team at Fukurodani. Akaashi was also a setter and had a hell of a time proving himself to be a valuable player due to his status as an omega. Bokuto was beyond livid when, after graduating a year ahead of Akaashi, the omega was made to leave the team since his alpha was no longer the captain. Iwaizumi had shared in his anger after hearing about that when he met Bokuto as freshmen in college.
It wasn’t that Akaashi had devoted his life to volleyball or anything, and had once admitted that the main reason he even stayed on the team for as long as he did was because of Bokuto and his passion for it, but that didn’t change how shitty and wrong it was to be tossed aside like that for nothing more than his rank. Akaashi had put so much work into being the best player he possibly could be and developed a devastating anxiety disorder as a result, only for all of that to go to waste the second the threat of his alpha had been removed. It was downright cruel.
“I gotta take a shower,” Iwaizumi said after a moment, breaking the silence. “After that, I guess I’m meeting Oikawa-san to get my umbrella back.”
He looked down at his phone for a few seconds, then glanced over at Akaashi out of the corner of his eyes.
“...Do you want his autograph or something?”
The way Akaashi’s eyes widened so much they were practically bulging out of his skull was almost comical, if a bit concerning. Iwaizumi would never understand having that level of admiration for someone just because they were famous, but he wasn’t about to put yet another damper on the mood.
“Really?”
“Yeah, might as well. He was real sore when I didn’t recognize him, so I guess that’ll make up for it,” Iwaizumi said, rubbing the back of his head. Akaashi gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand in silent thanks. Iwaizumi had a feeling he might have gone in for a hug if not for Bokuto’s arm around him. And Bokuto in general. Living with a bonded couple was never easy.
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Oikawa decided to meet with Iwaizumi at the same cafe as before. It only seemed natural, given they were both familiar with the location and it was where their first exchange had taken place.
His conversation with Yahaba had left him a little uneasy. He allowed Yahaba to believe he had succeeded in talking Oikawa out of his cruel scheme, but in truth his mind was already made up. He knew how these things worked. He couldn’t return Matsukawa’s feelings. As much as he desperately wished that he could, wished that it could be that simple, he just couldn’t, and without that reciprocation, Matsukawa’s health would continue to decline under the effects of the Hanahaki and there would be nothing anyone could do about it.
Nothing except ensure that Matsukawa stopped loving him.
The very thought pained Oikawa, heart twisting in his chest. He knew that it wouldn’t be enough to leave even an ounce of fondness for him in Matsukawa’s heart. If he left any trace, there would always be a foothold for the Hanahaki to take root once more. He couldn’t risk that. He also couldn’t stand idly by while Matsukawa slowly withered away like the flowers that undoubtedly sprouted in his chest, or watch him forsake his own happiness. Oikawa knew the surgery to be an act of sacrifice not for oneself, but for one’s family and friends, the ones who couldn’t bear to let them suffer and die like that.
No, Oikawa refused to let either of those things happen. Matsukawa had already sacrificed enough. It wasn’t fair to him to stand by and do nothing when his only crime was to love. Oikawa may not have been able to return that love in the same way, but the love he did have for Matsukawa would suffice to get him through the unimaginable ache when he inevitably lost his best friend. At least this way, he would get to live and have the chance to love again. That would be enough.
The only question now was how he was ever going to pull this off. What could he possibly do that would cut Matsukawa so deeply that all of his feelings of love were replaced by hate? Gods, now he was starting to sound like a psychopath. Maybe he was one. Would any sane person ever contemplate hurting their best friend beyond repair, beyond redemption, after that person had bared their soul to them? No, Oikawa didn’t think so.
He looked up when he came to a crosswalk, eyes finding the windows to the cafe across the street. It was still empty, surprisingly enough at this time of day and with the weather having cleared up, but there was one person sitting in a window booth.
Iwaizumi seemed to be listening to something on his phone, earbuds in and head nodding silently along with whatever beat played through them. An amused smile tugged at Oikawa’s lips. From this distance, he couldn’t make out the subtle details about the alpha’s appearance like he had the night prior, but he could still admire the man’s firm build, the muscles in his arms (it was warmer out today so Oikawa wasn’t surprised to see him wearing a T-shirt instead of another jacket like before), the messy yet stylish spikes of his hair that framed his tanned face and rain cloud eyes that met his through the window.
Oikawa was startled out of his silent observance as if he had been drenched in cold water. Quickly glancing at the crossing light, he briskly strode over to the other side of the street, keeping his eyes down in hopes of banishing the heat in his face before he entered the coffee shop.
What was the matter with him? It was one thing to appraise another alpha with intent to size them up, but to stand there and gawk while listing off the parts he personally found attractive was a little weird, even for him. Not that he was attracted to Iwaizumi. He wasn’t attracted to any alphas. That was his whole problem right now. What would Matsukawa think if he saw Oikawa ogling another alpha after his shameful and cowardly display following his confession?
...What would he think? It would probably piss him off, right? It would surely break his heart, maybe even turn him bitter toward Oikawa. After all, what kind of friend would so callously reject his advances then turn around and find another dalliance to break social norms with? And someone he’d only just bumped into on the street, no less.
It was the perfect ruse. Oikawa really shouldn’t have been so excited to ruin his own life.
When he finally stepped into the coffee shop, he slapped the umbrella on the table in front of Iwaizumi, taking no small amount of pleasure in the way the other man jumped as he slipped into the seat across the table. Iwaizumi pulled out his earbuds, the music from his phone quietly spilling out until he paused the song and eyed Oikawa, undoubtedly taken aback by the intense look on the idol’s face.
“Thanks…” Iwaizumi said, hesitantly reaching for the umbrella. Even when he grabbed the handle, Oikawa didn’t release the upper end, keeping it pinned there on the table between them. Iwaizumi arched a brow at him.
“I have a favour to ask,” Oikawa said then. The other alpha scoffed.
“Do you have to hold my umbrella hostage to do it?” he asked. Blinking, Oikawa let go then, withdrawing his hands back to his side of the table. “You know, I kinda thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me after this. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Let’s just say...you were in the right place at the right time,” Oikawa answered cryptically. This didn’t seem to settle Iwaizumi’s nerves in the alpha’s presence in the least. Oikawa offered a confident smile and folded his hands in front of him. “How do you feel about same-rank relationships? Excluding betas, of course.”
Iwaizumi’s eyes opened comically wide, jaw flapping open not unlike a fish that suddenly found itself out of water. Oikawa would take the time to think back and revel in that reaction later.
“Don’t wet your panties just yet. Hear me out,” he said. He kept talking before the other could piece back together his ability to think enough to punch him for that remark. “I don’t really do this kind of thing, so don’t jump to any conclusions. There’s...someone I need to… Well, there’s not really a great way to put this, but I need to make him hate me.”
He wasn’t about to linger on the crack in his voice just then.
“He...confessed to me recently and I… Well, I don’t—”
“...You don’t love him back,” Iwaizumi finished. Oikawa was suddenly unable to hold his gaze for any longer and he looked down at his hands instead, nodding.
“He’s sick.”
“...How sick?”
“I don’t know for sure. I haven’t been able to talk to him since…” Oikawa trailed off, pursing his lips. “I know it sounds...stupid and cruel, but...it might be the only way to…”
He was losing his nerve. He had walked into this cafe with every intent of convincing Iwaizumi to go through with this no matter what, but the more he talked about it the more his chest felt constricted. He didn’t really want to do this. He wanted to do anything but put Matsukawa through this insanely horrific trick, but what choice did he have? It was this, or watch him lose the ability to love. It was this, or watch him die.
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
A hand covered both of his then and Oikawa suddenly realized that he had been shaking like a leaf. He straightened his posture, gaze snapping up to meet Iwaizumi’s across the table. He was stunned to see the depth of his sincerity there. Oikawa’s story must have reached him on a personal level. Did he ever…?
“...Do you think something like this would actually work?” Iwaizumi asked, voice uncharacteristically soft compared to how Oikawa had heard him speak up until now. “Do you think it’d be enough to make him hate you?”
“Yes.” Oikawa’s answer came out in a whisper, his eyes defeated. “He’s...another alpha, so…”
Understanding flashed across Iwaizumi’s eyes. If it were him, then it would hurt more. If it were him, then there was no doubt that Matsukawa would never want to speak to Oikawa again. It would be easy.
Except that it would be the hardest thing Oikawa would ever have to do. A part of him wondered if he could actually go through with it. This wouldn’t just hurt Matsukawa, after all. This would hurt him and all of their friends. Even if they knew why he did it, he doubted most of them would forgive him. Besides, he couldn’t let anyone in on this being anything but completely real. It had to be convincing. It had to be believable. It had to be enough to dispel the Hanahaki for good. If there were any doubt, any speculation, then it would all be for naught and he’ll have just hurt his best friend for absolutely no reason. He couldn’t let that happen, either.
“Okay.”
Oikawa blinked, refocusing his attention on Iwaizumi as the alpha retracted his hand and crossed his arms with a look of finality on his face. Oikawa balked.
“...Okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it.”
“You will?” He couldn’t believe it himself. This guy was actually willing to agree to something like this? Maybe they were both psychopaths.
“On one condition,” Iwaizumi added. Oikawa slowly narrowed his eyes.
There was always a catch, wasn’t there? He was prepared for just about anything that could have come out of the alpha’s mouth, from degrading sexual favours to a used tissue for him to sell on the internet. He watched Iwaizumi lean over to pull something from the bag sitting on the floor next to his seat. What he pulled out and placed on the table in front of Oikawa left him speechless.
A volleyball?
“Sign this,” Iwaizumi said, placing a gold marker next to the ball as well. “My roommates are big fans. Apparently they knew you’re an idol and a former volleyball player. We all used to play, too, so I guess they look up to you or something.”
Oikawa could only stare for a few moments, mouth agape. Carefully, he reached out with both hands to pick up the ball. He hadn’t so much as touched a volleyball in...years, actually. Giving it an experimental twirl in his palms, a small smile stretched his lips. Still felt as natural as breathing.
Picking up the marker Iwaizumi provided, Oikawa elegantly signed his name across the ball. The gold looked really good on the white material. Was that glitter in the ink? It had to be. Handing both items back to Iwaizumi, Oikawa watched him take it, examine the signature for himself, then nod in satisfaction before returning it to his bag.
“So you used to play, too?” he asked. It made sense. Iwaizumi definitely had an athlete’s build. “What position?”
“Wing spiker,” the alpha answered, turning his attention back to Oikawa. “I was never on an official team or anything, though. Mainly just played casual games at the park with some other guys in my neighbourhood. Didn’t really have time for it in college, either.”
“Why didn’t you join a club at high school or something then?” Oikawa asked, genuinely curious. Iwaizumi glanced away, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck as a faint dusting of red bloomed across his cheeks. Now that was an interesting sight to behold.
“I, uh...I went to a private boarding school. We didn’t really have any sports there, unless you count the shogi competitions.”
Oikawa tried to hide his snort behind a cough, lifting his hand to clear his throat. Iwaizumi shot him a glare across the table.
“What, you got a problem with that?”
“Oh, no, no. Not at all. I’m sure your, ah—” he cleared his throat again to try to choke down the laughter that wanted to bubble out of him— “shogi competitions were very...entertaining.”
“You’re goddamn right they were. You wouldn’t believe how intense it gets watching a couple of little Einsteins duking it out in a battle of wits over a wooden board game.”
They managed to maintain some semblance of seriousness after that statement for all of five seconds before they both devolved into a fit of laughter.
“I have to say,” Oikawa started as he fought to catch his breath, “I didn’t take you for the private boarding school type.”
“And I didn’t take you for a former jock with a monster serve,” Iwaizumi quipped. Oikawa raised a bemused brow at him, to which he almost sheepishly held up his phone. “I may have done a little research after my roommates talked about you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Oikawa leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table to prop his chin up on his interlocked fingers. “Was that my music you were listening to earlier, too?”
That blush returned to Iwaizumi’s face, a little deeper than before. Oikawa couldn’t help but find it mildly endearing.
“So you were watching me,” the other shot back instead of answering. Now it was Oikawa’s turn to look a little red in the face.
“I was waiting for the crosswalk light to turn,” he lied. “Don’t flatter yourself so much. You’re not that much to look at.”
“That so? Is that why you’re so willing to use me to convince your friend I’m your bold new suitor?”
That had Oikawa’s face dropping in the blink of an eye. His teasing smile fell, gaze downcast as he slowly lowered his hands to rub at his arms instead. Iwaizumi seemed to pick up on the change of mood instantaneously.
“Hey, I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” he said, reaching his hand across the table to place over Oikawa’s arm again.
He certainly didn’t seem to have any qualms with being so touchy with another alpha. This was the second time he had offered a comforting touch. This time, though, Oikawa picked up on the very faint scent of blueberries. For a moment he thought it must have belonged to some pastry the baristas made, but a stronger whiff confirmed the undertones of a familiar woodsmoke. Was Iwaizumi really trying to comfort him with his pheromones? What the hell was that all about?
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, you’re absolutely right,” Oikawa said, sliding his arms off the table and away from Iwaizumi’s hand so he could rest them in his lap instead. “The first step in making this work is to play the part.” He lifted his gaze to meet the other’s again. “Then we have to make it convincing.”
Iwaizumi slowly sat back again, resting his hand on the table. He looked as though he wanted to say more on the previous topic he’d only barely brushed on, but he seemed to understand that that wasn’t a conversation that needed to happen right now. Instead, his expression took on that of a fellow strategist. At least he appeared to be dedicated to making sure this went smoothly, too. Oikawa could appreciate that.
“So where do we start?”
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“Are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” Hanamaki asked for probably the fifth or sixth time since Midori had put him in her car to drive out to the bar across town where the crime occurred. Midori gave him a brief, but long-suffering look before returning her attention to the road where she was just pulling into the parking lot.
“You’re allowed to go wherever you want, so long as you don’t leave city limits and attend the hearing when you’re summoned,” she said. “They can’t deny you that right without detaining you or arresting you, and since I managed to convince the district attorney that you don’t need to be detained as long as you're supervised, they would only be able to arrest you if you’re found guilty. Which you won’t be because we’re going to win this case and get Hagimura convicted instead.”
“How are we going to get him convicted?” Hanamaki asked, skeptical, as he stepped out of the car once they were parked. “We don’t have any evidence that he was actually trying to abduct someone to throw her into an omega trafficking ring.”
“Not yet,” Midori corrected with a smirk. She led the way into the bar, Hanamaki trailing behind her. Did she know how out of place she was going to look in her tailored suit and expensive heels in a place like this? Hanamaki didn’t exactly have the classiest taste when it came to his bar crawls. This one was no exception.
Once inside, the sharp scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke filled their noses. Midori’s sense of smell was at least ten times more sensitive, of course, so he wasn’t surprised to see her scrunch her nose after taking one step in the joint. Hanamaki sighed, taking the lead to approach the bar where it appeared the owner was serving drinks that day. He greeted her with a nod of his head as he took a seat on one of the stools, Midori following suit next to him.
“Hey, Tanaka.”
“Holy tits! Is that you, Hana?!” the owner exclaimed, slapping down the rag she’d been using to wipe down the counter before practically barreling over the counter itself to wrap her arms around him. Holy tits is right, he thought with a note of amusement. Hey, he was only human, and Tanaka Saeko was a very beautiful, well-endowed woman.
“Yeah, it’s me. Chill out, would you? You’re making me look bad,” he said, shooting an apologetic glance toward Midori. The lawyer seemed about to burst into laughter, though, so he suddenly felt like she should be the one apologizing to him.
“Sorry, sorry,” Saeko said as she unwrapped herself from him and hopped off behind the counter again. “I just didn’t expect to see ya here again so soon! Didn’t ya get arrested or some shit?”
“Well—yeah? Temporarily,” he admitted. “My hearing’s on Monday. We were actually hoping you could help us find someone who might help my case.”
“Duh! I’m happy to help any way I can! But first.” Saeko’s voice dipped into a purr as she leaned across the counter, unabashedly putting her cleavage on display as she locked eyes with Midori. “Ya gonna introduce me to your hot lady friend?” He watched Midori flush slightly under Saeko’s suggestive gaze.
Alphas, Hanamaki groaned internally.
“This is Oikawa Midori. She’s my lawyer,” he offered, not bothering to explain further. Saeko’s eyes bulged as she slapped her hand on the table. Midori startled a bit, clearly a little put off by the blonde’s...unruly behaviour, for lack of a better word. Hanamaki stared longingly at the shelves of drinks behind the bar, wishing for nothing more than to toss back a few shots or twenty right about now.
“Oikawa? Isn’t that the same name your cute celebrity buddy has?” Saeko asked, ever the observant whirlwind. “Wait, are you two actually related or somethin’?!”
“Well, actually, Oikawa Tooru is my little brother—”
“No fuckin’ way!” Saeko grinned from ear to ear, straightening up again just so she could spin around and pluck a couple bottles off the shelves. “‘Scuse my manners, let me get you guys a drink.”
“This matter is a little urgent, and requires more professionalism than—”
“Oh, loosen up,” Saeko interrupted, placing two glasses in front of them and filling them each with the ingredients for a matcha highball. “You lawyer types are always so high-strung! Relax a little once in a while, yeah?”
“Yeah, Midori-san, loosen up,” Hanamaki said with a pointed look at his lawyer as if begging her to let him have this. She reluctantly relented with a wave of her hand to signal that Hanamaki could take his own glass. Midori didn’t touch hers.
“Thank you for the hospitality, Tanaka-san, but I’d really like to discuss this with you,” she said. Business as usual. Saeko crossed her arms on the counter attentively, waiting for Midori to continue. “We were wondering if you knew about the omega girl involved in the incident that resulted in Hanamaki’s arrest. I believe he said she was short and blonde with a bob cut and...uh…” She glanced at Hanamaki for help finishing the description he had provided previously.
“She had a little ponytail on the side of her head,” he said, lifting his hand to the left side of his head as if to demonstrate. “Sorry, I didn’t get much more than that. It was pretty dark and I was pretty plastered—”
“Oh, you mean Yacchan?” Saeko said without hesitation. Then she gasped, perhaps a bit too dramatically, and placed a hand over her chest. “You don’t mean Yacchan?! Is that why she’s been a no-call-no-show the past couple of weeks? Oh my gods. I’m such an ass! I took her off the schedule and everything—”
“I’m sorry—you said ‘Yacchan’?” Midori inquired, leaning forward with interest. Hanamaki was also sitting at attention, a little bewildered. He hadn’t actually expected anything to come of this visit except a couple of free booze.
“Yeah! I mean, her name is Yachi Hitoka,” Saeko clarified. “She’s a new hire, not from around here. I started her off waiting tables since she didn’t have any experience behind a bar. One of those runaways, ya know? I didn’t ask too many questions. She was sweet, so I took her on. Figured she could use the help getting back on her feet.”
“Do you have any idea where she is now?” Midori asked all too eagerly. Saeko frowned sadly, shaking her head.
“No, sorry. Like I said, she hasn’t shown up to work in weeks. Guessing ‘cause of what happened.”
“Do you know of any way to contact her?” Hanamaki cut in. “A phone number? An address?”
“I got her number, but she hasn’t answered any time I—”
“Please, we’ll take it!” Midori said, hastily fishing out a pen and a pad of paper from her briefcase. “Anything will help.” Saeko quickly wrote down the number for her.
“I hope you guys can get in touch with her, seriously,” Saeko said. “But you said the hearing’s on Monday, right? You gonna have enough time?”
“We’ll find a way,” Midori said with utmost confidence. “Come on, Hanamaki.”
“But I haven’t touched my drink.”
“You don’t need to—”
Midori cut herself off as she observed Hanamaki quickly tip back the glass of matcha highball and steadily chug it down without even pausing for a breath. It must have been a sight to behold. He held the record in his circle of friends for a reason. Saeko cheered good-naturedly and let them know there was no cost, deciding to enjoy the drink she made for Midori herself. Hanamaki didn’t miss the wink she threw at his lawyer. He playfully nudged her all the way back to the car, much to her embarrassment and chagrin.
“If you’re intoxicated by the time we find this Yachi Hitoka, I’m not going to let you talk to her,” she said as she started the engine. Hanamaki hummed nonchalantly as he flicked on the radio, found a station he liked, and eased back as he slowly reclined the passenger seat for a nice, relaxing nap during the drive.
“Wake me up when you find her, then we’ll see where I’m at.”
“Betas,” Midori muttered under her breath.
“OmEgAs,” Hanamaki mocked in turn. Despite his childish attitude, he couldn’t hide his grin. They were actually going to get a witness for his hearing, and not only that, but Yachi Hitoka could be the key to getting Hagimura Souta locked up for good.
Once this was all over, he could devote all of his time and attention to Matsukawa. The gods knew he needed it. It was bad enough that he had to watch the guy sulk around in his sorry state after getting rejected by his own best friend. Hanamaki was not in the interest of bearing witness to the man he loved wither away until the flowers consumed him.
A tickle in the back of his throat made him cough. For several seconds he didn’t stop coughing, to the point that Midori had to pull over and race around to his side of the car. Hanamaki spilled out of the door just in time to hack up an entire bloom of viscaria on the ground, the purplish petals stained with blood. Throat raw and stinging with the taste of iron, Hanamaki glanced up at Midori’s horrified expression. Somehow, he managed a smile despite the blood that dripped past his lip.
“Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”
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Speaking of withering rejects, Matsukawa was busy being just that. Lying in the middle of his bed, sad songs playing softly from the stereo speakers in the corners of his room, and weed smoke drifting through the air, he was truly the epitome of a pathetic piece of shit right now. As if he weren’t enough of a disgrace to the status quo, he really had to drive it home by acting like a heartbroken teenager going through his first breakup.
Life was easier back then. Very little mattered. All he had to worry about was volleyball and maintaining a good grade. He’d never even put much thought into love or relationships or any of that stuff. It just didn’t seem that important. He would have liked to have kept it that way.
But then they lost the Spring High Tournament and he watched the great Oikawa Tooru cry for the first time. In all fairness, they all cried, but Matsukawa thought he probably wasn’t the only one to be shaken to the core by the sight of their captain broken and defeated.
It had been their last game together. The third years were already graduating as it were, but Oikawa wasn’t even going to college with him and Hanamaki. He had his career as an idol to tend to. He had been granted the freedom of playing volleyball throughout high school, but the deal with his manager was that he would have to pick one or the other once he graduated. He couldn’t devote himself to both without sacrificing his quality in some aspect. Luckily for that manager and the record deal they hastily signed Oikawa onto, the decision was made for him. Anyone would be broken after a loss like that. Matsukawa wasn’t surprised in the least that Oikawa ended up losing his passion for volleyball.
His own heart hadn’t been in it after that, either, so he looked into other things. He spent his first year at college experimenting with a couple different subjects before he settled on a major. He didn’t want to rush into anything, after all. He constantly thought about how Oikawa’s choices in life had been either stripped from him or made for him. He thought about how Oikawa probably would have liked the chance to experience college life for a little while before dedicating his time to being an idol.
The first time Matsukawa coughed up a flower petal, he wasn’t confused, or scared, or desperate to go spill his guts to the alpha who had always occupied a certain place in his head. Quite the opposite, actually. It made perfect sense, he thought. It made sense that life would fuck him over like that. Life had never exactly been kind to him. He was bullied through junior high. His parents had started fighting more often. Eventually his dad started puking up the same valerian buds that used to plague him after he first met his wife. Matsukawa had never heard an alpha cry like that before, like his soul was being ripped apart. Now that had scared him. How devastating must it have been to find out that way that your own mate had stopped loving you? Not through the bond or even an argument, but the signs of your impending death.
His dad died a couple years after that and his mother had cried, too. It was a different kind of breaking apart for her. She had already fallen out of love with him, but everyone knew that losing a mate was its own unique kind of hell. When she had him buried, she planted yellow tulips around his grave. Those were her flowers. Thank you for a lovely time, she had said. Matsukawa knew that she meant it.
It only made sense, after witnessing all that he had, that he would find himself in love with another alpha. It was only just the most taboo kind of forbidden romance out there, no big deal. He managed it. In silence, he managed. He had always been pretty good at suppressing his emotions. It was often to the point that others would accuse him of being emotionless. It hurt, kind of, but it kept him going for a few more years.
But when these rhododendrons started choking him in his sleep, he knew he had run out of time. He took Oikawa on a date (he didn’t tell him that was what it was, of course) and bid his time, stalling until the last possible second to look Oikawa in the eyes and admit to his plight. Not the flowers that crawled up his throat and strangled his heart with their roots, but the simple, shameful fact that he coveted another alpha.
“I’m sorry.” That was a great way to start off a confession. “I kinda imagined this goin’ a little differently, but now’s as good a time as any, I guess.”
He tried to keep it casual. He didn’t want to reveal too much. It would hurt less for both of them that way.
“You’re gonna think I’m nuts, but…”
“What is it, Mattsun?”
Oikawa looked at him with those eyes of his, those intelligent, endless eyes, and tilted his head in that infuriatingly cute way that gripped at Matsukawa’s heart every damn time. Matsukawa decided to take his hands. He needed something to hold on to before he lost all of his nerve.
“We’re both alphas, so I know it’s a little...weird.” He kept his eyes on their hands. He couldn’t look at Oikawa’s face right now. He was afraid of seeing the disgust that might have been reflected there. “...If you’ll have me, I’d like to court you.”
Each word lay heavy on his tongue, their shapes felt wrong in his mouth.
“It’s kinda fucked up, I know. Believe me, I know. Still...I wanna give it a shot if you’re open to it.”
That was when Oikawa had jerked free of his hands as if Matsukawa had burned them. He’d looked up just in time to catch the glimpse of fear in Oikawa’s eyes right before he turned around and bolted from the bridge, the garden, away from Matsukawa without so much as a word. That was what had hurt the most. It wasn’t that Oikawa rejected him—he had already been prepared for that—it was the fact that he just left without saying anything.
That left an ache in his chest more profound than even the plants that rattled around in his lungs, his ribs. He had a dozen bouquets of rhododendrons to speak of how his ailment had worsened in recent weeks. His throat was raw and scabbed over in the most painfully irritating way. He couldn’t speak. That was honestly the main reason he’d had Hanamaki tell Oikawa to hold off on coming to talk to him. It would be a little unfair if Oikawa did all the talking while Matsukawa couldn’t even use his voice.
He doubted it would get any better, though, so he wasn’t sure why he was stalling. The longer he drew this out, the worse it would get. He kind of wanted to know what Oikawa had to say after all this, anyway, if only for innocent curiosity. He didn’t want sobbed apologies or a fake confession just to try to spare him from his fate. There had really been no hope for him from the start and he had accepted that already.
He just wanted to know if Oikawa would, too.