seijaku

“You’re sure this is it?”

Hanamaki looked up at the dilapidated apartment complex. It was all rust red brick and poor patch jobs. He could even spot a broken window a few stories up. The place certainly fit in with the rest of the neighbourhood, if nothing else.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Midori said with a nod.

Nobody could say the woman wasn’t resourceful. With only a phone number and a name, she had managed to track down Yachi Hitoka’s last known address. Saeko had called her a runaway, so Hanamaki wasn’t sure why he was surprised to find out she lived in such a shady, run-down area. The breeze picked up a little, causing him to shiver as he shoved his hands farther into his coat pockets.

“This place gives me the creeps,” he said. He couldn’t stop glancing over his shoulder as if he expected some mugger with a knife to come barreling out of one of the alleyways.

“...You know, if you’d rather wait in the car—”

“No,” he interrupted, lifting his chin. “I’m cool. Let’s just go see if she actually lives here.”

Midori seemed hesitant, but she didn’t press the issue any further. He was grateful for that. He knew that she was more concerned about the fact that he had been puking up flowers rather than how he felt about walking into this building that looked like it would topple over with a well-placed kick.

They stepped through the front doors and started climbing up the stairs to the fourth floor. When they reached apartment 311, they shared one more apprehensive glance before Midori lifted her hand to knock. For a long time, there was only silence. It dragged on long enough that Midori pulled out the paper she had written down the address on to double-check that it was correct. Just when Hanamaki’s patience had nearly run out and he raised his own fist to knock more loudly, the sound of a lock turning made him freeze in place, hand hovering in the air.

He only caught a glimpse of bright blonde hair before the girl on the other side squeaked at the sight of them and slammed the door closed again. Hanamaki inwardly cursed at himself.

“Wait!” Midori called, pressing her hand against the door. “Wait, please! We’re not here to hurt you. My name is Oikawa Midori. I’m a lawyer and I’m representing the man who rescued you from your attacker that night outside the bar against the charges placed against him. Please, we just want to ask you a few questions. That’s all.”

Hanamaki gave a sharp sigh. This was never going to work. He should have known better than to get his hopes up over such a fragile lead. Just because they found the omega didn’t mean she was going to be willing to cooperate. She was well within her right to want to run away from the situation altogether. After going through what he had witnessed her experience, he didn’t blame her one bit.

Midori’s pleas were only met with more silence. Hanamaki pursed his lips and turned to start walking back down the hallway toward the stairs.

“Let’s just go. We shouldn’t have come here,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He didn’t blame Yachi, but he couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted to be angry at her. She was the last person who deserved it in this situation, but even so—

The door quietly creaked open again, halting Hanamaki in his tracks. He slowly turned his head to glance back, warily meeting the cowering brown gaze of the omega through the crack she allowed to peer at them. Midori’s sigh of relief was soft, but audible nonetheless, and she offered Yachi a warm smile.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk to us,” she began, her voice gentle and reassuring in that way only omegas could achieve, “but I’m begging for just a few minutes of your time. It could be essential to winning our case.”

Yachi wasn’t even looking at her. Her eyes hadn’t left Hanamaki’s since the moment she opened the door again. He stared right back at her, locked into place and unable to speak.

She looked way too young to carry so much fear and pained memories in her gaze.

Silently, she finally lowered her gaze and opened the door wider to allow them entry, shielding herself behind the door. Midori flashed him a bright smile, not unlike the grin his former captain used to get on his face when he knew they had the upper hand in a game. Hanamaki shook his head and blinked to dispel the thought, keeping his head low as he shuffled into the apartment behind her.

It was dark inside, the curtains drawn over the windows and only a couple of dull lamps turned on to illuminate the small living room. This was definitely the abode of a runaway, Hanamaki surmised. The walls were painted a depressing grey, flaking off in some places, and he could even make out a thin crack going up to the ceiling on one side. The floorboards were rough and unpolished, promising a barrage of splinters for anyone who dared to walk around without shoes on. In light of that, neither of them took off their shoes. Yachi didn’t seem to mind. She was wearing hers, too.

Although, that probably had more to do with the instinctive need to be prepared to pack up and take off at a moment’s notice, Hanamaki thought.

It didn’t even smell like an omega’s nest in here. Either Yachi hadn’t been living here long, or she had yet to bother with fully settling in. She led them to the ratty furniture in the middle of the living room to sit down. Hanamaki’s eyes were drawn to the way she nervously fiddled with her hands, fingering the holes in the bottom of her shirt or picking at the frayed threads on her pants. He also noticed the scars on her wrists. Old scars, years old. They definitely didn’t come from the way Hagimura had her bound when he tried to abduct her.

Then she suddenly pressed her palms together and squeezed them between her knees. He looked back up to find her staring at him again.

“Thank you for inviting us in,” Midori said then, breaking the painfully awkward silence. “Like I said, I just have a few questions. You don’t have to answer anything you’re uncomfortable with, but the more information we have, the better. Okay?”

Yachi briefly glanced at her and offered a small nod before returning her gaze to Hanamaki. The beta felt strangely scrutinised under her stare and he eventually had to look away and stare at some imperfection on the wall. As an afterthought, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“For starters, would you mind telling us if you know the man who attacked you?” Midori asked.

“Hagimura Souta,” Yachi answered, almost robotically. Her voice was quiet, but pitched, a little scratchy.

“Was that the first time you ever met him?” Midori pressed, pen in hand to record Yachi’s answers.

“No.”

“How do you know him then?”

“I don’t want to answer that.”

Hanamaki glanced back at her again. The hollow look in her eyes was unnerving. Still, he couldn’t help the prickle of impatience at her response. Midori had said she didn’t have to share more than she was comfortable with, but if she didn’t give them anything to go on, then this whole interrogation was pointless.

“That’s alright,” Midori said quickly.

Hanamaki had a feeling she could pick up on the way his irritation had spiked. He had nearly opened his mouth to say something that would have been extremely counter-productive to their goal right now. He caught the pointed look she gave him out of the corner of her eye and huffed a sigh through his nose before turning away again.

“Do you know why he tried to abduct you that night?”

“Yes.”

Hanamaki clenched his jaw. Midori went with a different approach.

“Can you tell us what you know about Hagimura Souta?”

“He’s a criminal,” Yachi said. “He kidnaps omegas and sells them to the highest bidder. He’s been doing it for years. He’s been tried multiple times but he’s never been convicted. He pays off the judges. Or he threatens them. He uses his rank to keep the omegas in line by force. He shoots the ones who resist. He thinks they’re too troublesome and no alpha would want an omega they can’t command into submission.”

They both stared at her for a moment, speechless. That was the most she had said during this entire conversation. After blinking herself out of her stupor, Midori fervently wrote down what they had just been told.

“He didn’t think you were too troublesome to shoot,” Hanamaki pointed out.

Yachi looked at him again, startled, as if she hadn’t expected him to actually speak to her. In fact, despite all her staring, she looked at him then as if she were seeing him for the first time. He leaned forward in his chair, holding her gaze now.

“You can’t tell me he didn’t try to subdue you with his rank, but you resisted anyway. So if what you’re telling us is true, why didn’t he just shoot you?”

“Hanamaki, that’s not—” Midori started, but Hanamaki held up a finger to silence her. He felt as though he had a foothold on something with the way some level of awareness seemed to bleed back into Yachi’s eyes, replacing the cold emptiness that had been there before.

“...Because he didn’t want to sell me,” she answered eventually. Midori turned back to her in shock and Hanamaki lowered his hand, listening intently. Yachi dropped her gaze to her lap, fingers toying with her clothes again. “He wanted me for himself. He kept me separated from the other omegas last time. He told me I was too pretty to let go. He even tried to make me feel special by feeding me real meals and giving me a bed to sleep in and he said he wanted to take me with him out of the country and—”

She hiccuped, shoulders now hunched and shaking as her fingers balled into fists on her thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back obvious tears. Midori looked pained, clearly wanting to go comfort her. In fact, she moved to do just that, but Hanamaki reached over to grab her wrist and hold her in place. She looked at him incredulously. Hanamaki kept his eyes on Yachi.

“And what?” he pressed.

“And—and when I told him I wouldn’t go, he—” A sob was wretched from her throat. “He tried to—tried to force a bond—”

“Did he bite you?”

“He wanted me to—”

“Did he bite you?” His voice sounded far too loud in the crowded little room.

“Yes!” Yachi cried out, the floodgates bursting open as she covered her face with her hands and sobbed openly.

“That’s enough, Hanamaki,” Midori snapped, pulling her hand free of his grasp to walk over to Yachi’s chair so she could crouch down beside the younger omega and attempt to console her. Surprisingly enough, Yachi allowed her, not even so much as flinching at the hand petting her hair and cupping her cheek to brush away the tears as they fell. That didn’t stop them from falling, though.

Hanamaki was clenching his jaw so hard his teeth hurt, nails digging into the palm of his hand, and he shook with how fucking pissed off he was now.

How pathetic, desperate, and despicable did someone have to be to try to force a bond? It was beyond reprehensible. It was downright vile. As if an alpha using their rank to bend omegas to their whim weren’t bad enough, but to defile them so deeply as to leave a scar on their soul…

Hanamaki was going to kill him. If they didn’t succeed in locking that wretched fiend of a man behind bars where Hanamaki couldn’t get to him, then Hagimura Souta was going to wish they had. He would make sure of it.

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“No way! Really?” Iwaizumi asked in blatant disbelief of Oikawa’s story. The latter offered him a self-satisfied smirk as he tipped back his third shot of vodka.

“Really,” he confirmed with a nod that was much deeper than it needed to be thanks to his inebriation. “We did it right there in the parking lot.”

Iwaizumi just gaped at him with an incredulous half-smile and the expression just made Oikawa start laughing again. Iwaizumi shoved him with his shoulder and damn near off the bar stool with the force of it, but he managed to catch Oikawa around the arm before he could tumble onto the floor. They were both laughing then, the sound blending in with the upbeat din of the bar.

“I can’t believe you met Gackt at a Tokyu while you were both shopping for the same kind of soap,” Iwaizumi said, the awe still present in his eyes, “and then just put on a show in the middle of the parking lot. That’s insane! Do you know how insane that is?”

“What’s more insane is that he even knew who I was,” Oikawa added. “Even us celebrities have our idols ~” He tried for a wink, but it must have looked about how one might expect from someone well on the way to getting plastered because Iwaizumi burst out into laughter again. Oikawa put on a fake pout that didn’t quite manage to get there with the way he was still grinning and nudged the alpha with his own shoulder. “Your turn.”

“Alright, hit me.”

“Hmmm.” Oikawa took a moment to think, propping his elbow on the table to rest his cheek on his hand while he scrutinised the other. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you did in school?” he asked, then held up a finger just before Iwaizumi could open his mouth to answer. “And don’t say you joined a shogi tournament. That’s a given.”

“I didn’t play in those tournaments—”

“You can’t fool me,” Oikawa insisted, wagging his finger. “Now come on. I’m sure you’ve got something juicy to spill.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and relented, though he was sure that wouldn’t be the last he heard of how Iwaizumi definitely “did not” get competitive over shogi at his boarding school.

“Fine. The most embarrassing thing I ever did was…” He glanced away, rubbing at his neck as a deep flush, undoubtedly due in part to the alcohol in his system, coloured his face. “Probably before I presented as an alpha and ended up getting a pseudo-heat ‘cause my mom accidentally mixed up my allergy meds with her fertility supplements.”

Oikawa, on the gods, spit out his next shot of sake across the bar. Some of it even came out of his nose. The bartender threw him an irked, but overall just tired glare from where he’d been serving other guests, then grabbed a towel in resignation to come clean up his mess. Oikawa had a hand pressed over his mouth, eyes wide as he turned to look at Iwaizumi. The other alpha was still turned away from him, an almost pained look of annoyance on his crimson face. Oikawa couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“It’s not funny, asshole!” Iwaizumi barked, reaching over to slap the back of the idol’s head. “The whole school thought I was an omega for months until I presented! Do you have any idea how mortifying it is for a bunch of fledgling alphas to start hitting on you just ‘cause you were dripping slick all over yourself in the nurse’s office one time—”

Oikawa laughed so hard his ribs hurt and his eyes watered. Iwaizumi’s attempt at defending his own dignity didn’t help his case in the slightest. Even so, the sheer amusement Oikawa got from it must have gotten to him because eventually he shook his head with a defeated chuckle and brought his hands to his face to groan into them.

“You’re a horrible person, you know that?”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I just—” Oikawa could barely muster up a proper apology between his fits of laughter. He placed a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder to steady himself. “I can’t. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Oh my gods.”

He tossed back his head to cackle openly just to get it out of his system. By the time he calmed down enough to catch his breath, he had literal, actual tears in his eyes. He had to wipe them away before he could face Iwaizumi again, a few chuckles still spilling past his lips, but when he did look up, he was surprised to find the other alpha staring at him with a startlingly soft expression. Any other time, perhaps when he was more sober, he might have clammed up and tried for a swift deflection, but as it stood right now he was far from sober and he found that look in Iwaizumi’s eyes quite interesting.

He leaned forward with a daring smile, one that turned semi-shit-eating at the way Iwaizumi seemed to catch on to his own gawking and leaned back in turn.

“Naa, Iwa-chan, what’s that look for?” he jabbed. “See something you like?”

“You’re cute when you laugh,” Iwaizumi answered with all the bluntness of a bowling ball.

And in like manner, it hit Oikawa like a cascade of pins knocking around in his brain. It was like he couldn’t even process the words, like they had been spoken in some foreign language, but somehow he still understood enough for a deep heat to settle in his already warm cheeks to the point that it felt like his bones were a little toasty. Realization appeared to find Iwaizumi in the same way as his eyes widened and he turned around to face the bar again so he could proceed to gulp down the rest of his beer.

What the hell?

They had agreed to come to this bar to learn more about one another on the basis of ensuring that they made their charade believable. It had started simply enough in that they exchanged basic details about one another—their birthdays, their favourite colours, their hobbies, the works—and gradually turned into the game they’d been playing where they went back and forth asking each other absurd and oddly specific questions. They both had plenty of stories to share, it turned out. In some ways it was almost as if they were on an actual date.

But that wasn’t what this was. Sure, they were going to pretend to date, but this was just business. Setting the foundation for their ruse. So why, then, did Iwaizumi have to go and make such a...weird comment that roused a bunch of weird feelings in Oikawa’s gut? The kind of weird feelings that made him think it would be a really good idea if he went to the bathroom. Like, now.

So he did. He slipped off his stool as gracelessly as expected of him and made a beeline for the restroom without looking back, where he then proceeded to expel the watery contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. He may have only had three shots, but that wasn’t including the two bottles of sake they’d already finished and the yuzu cocktail he’d started off the night with. At least Iwaizumi couldn’t call him a lightweight anymore. Right? He’d held his liquor for a respectable amount of time. That had to count for something.

Ugh. This was gross. He was gross. As if bar bathrooms weren’t questionable enough, kneeling on the floor with his face this close to the toilet was as low as it got. Once he was sure his stomach had settled for the moment, he shakily got back to his feet and leaned against the tiled wall instead. He felt the cold sweat that had broken out over his forehead and closed his eyes. He immediately opened them again, though, because closing his eyes when he was drunk meant falling over very soon after and that was just a bad time all around.

He startled slightly when he felt a vibration in his back pocket. Pulling out his phone, he squinted at the text message notification, trying to make out the letters.

Oikawa sighed. He had just sprinted into the bathroom after drinking entirely too much. Wasn’t that answer obvious? His phone vibrated again.

How was he able to type so coherently right now? He couldn’t have been that hammered if he hadn’t even gotten to the point of excessive typos yet. Even the “aggressive” setting on autocorrect wasn’t very helpful in those cases. It was for that reason that Oikawa didn’t even attempt a response. Instead, he pocketed his phone again and spent a few minutes in front of the sink to rinse out his mouth and splash a little water on his face.

Leaning on the basin and glancing at his reflection, Oikawa took note of his feverish cheeks and unfocused eyes. The tie that secured the collar of his button-up was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and he couldn’t help but admire how downright delectable he looked. It only made sense that anyone would want to compliment him, even another alpha. Especially another drunk alpha. Instincts aside, alcohol had the magical power of lowering any and all inhibitions. There was nothing weird or strange about this situation. It was to be expected.

That was the reasoning he would use to convince himself to leave the bathroom, at least.

When he did finally emerge, he was surprised to see Iwaizumi still sitting at the bar, head in his hands. Oikawa half-expected him to ditch out of embarrassment, but he could admit to being a little glad that he didn’t. His eyes softened as he approached to return to his seat, placing a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and quietly snorting at the genuine jolt of surprise he got in response.

“Hey, sorry,” he said with something of a sheepish smile as he sat back on his stool. “I guess the shots were a little overkill.” He hoped that his attempt at glossing over the awkward exchange from before wouldn’t go unnoticed. Thankfully, Iwaizumi seemed to pick up on his intent, casting him a hesitant look before nodding.

“Guess so. You lasted longer than I thought you would, at least,” he said, a teasing smile of his own already tugging at his lips again. Oikawa pretended to pout. “You gonna need a ride home? I can call a cab.”

“That’d be great,” Oikawa agreed with a nod. He waited silently while Iwaizumi pulled out his phone to do just that, beckoning over the bartender in the meantime to pay for their drinks. One glance back at the other alpha proved that he wasn’t particularly ecstatic about Oikawa paying for them both, but he couldn’t argue while he was on the phone with the cab company. Oikawa stuck out his tongue and flashed him a peace sign in response, earning a halfhearted eye-roll that made him chuckle. Once he confirmed the cab was on the way, Iwaizumi pocketed his phone again.

“I could have paid for mine,” he said, but Oikawa held up a hand to stop him before he could go into a whole spiel about being able to pay for himself and how uncool it was to let another alpha buy his drinks and so on and so forth.

“I have the money to spare and besides, I owe you at least this much for agreeing to help me,” he said. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I really do appreciate it. By the way, you’re not just doing this because your roommates are my fans, right?” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re not using me for clout, are you?” Iwaizumi laughed at that and Oikawa was glad to see the last of his tension from earlier melt away with the noise.

“So what if I am?” he retorted, a glint in his eyes. “Maybe I just want a taste of the celebrity life, see what it’s like on the other side.” Oikawa scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No you do not,” he assured, stirring the toothpick around his empty cocktail glass. “It’s not all glitz and glamour all the time, you know. There’s a lot of pressure knowing so many people are constantly looking up to you and waiting for your next big hit. They’re like sharks, the lot of them.” He chuckled, but it was almost bitter.

“Does it get to you?” Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa glanced back at him. “The pressure?”

“Sometimes,” Oikawa admitted with a hum. “But it’s what I signed up for, you know? I love making music for people to enjoy. All the fame and attention isn’t that bad, either.” He snickered and Iwaizumi joined him.

“Quite the philanthropist. Did you always wanna make music?” the other alpha asked. Oikawa hummed again in thought, puckering his lips as he contemplated his answer to that.

“No, not exactly. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved singing and dancing, but for a long time, all I wanted to do was play volleyball,” he said, staring into the glass in front of him. “This might sound a little silly, but I almost gave up on being an idol to play professionally instead. I was so convinced that once I graduated, I would go on to make it my career. I had a scholarship to a school in Argentina lined up and everything.”

Despite the wistful smile on his face, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t necessarily regret choosing to become a full-time idol over volleyball, but all the same he often wondered what might have become of his life if he had chosen differently. If he hadn’t lost his passion for the game.

“Why didn’t you?” Iwaizumi’s voice cut through his thoughts. Oikawa looked at him again, smile widening yet staying the same.

“I realized I just wasn’t good enough.”

That seemed to stun the alpha into silence. He regarded Oikawa with a somewhat shell-shocked expression before closing his mouth and lowering his gaze back to the bar. When it looked like he was about to say something, whatever it was, he was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He quickly answered it, then hung up again shortly after.

“Cab’s here,” he said. Oikawa took a deep breath and nodded, standing from his stool again. When Iwaizumi didn’t move to do the same, he furrowed his brow.

“You’re not riding with?” he asked. Iwaizumi shook his head.

“I’m just gonna walk home. I live closer than you do.”

“It’s late, though. And you’re drunk.”

“I’m also an alpha who can bench press four hundred pounds. I’ll be fine, promise.”

Iwaizumi gave him an encouraging smile that bordered on a smirk after his little brag, but Oikawa pursed his lips and brought a hand to his hip as he shifted his weight to one side. The high arch of his eyebrow really completed the look he was going for.

“I don’t seem to recall rank being much of an issue when you tried to usher me home in the rain yesterday,” he pointed out. Iwaizumi raised both of his brows at him, clearly ready to meet his challenge. “Don’t tell me you just underestimated me because of my good looks.”

Iwaizumi slowly rose from his seat, coming to stand toe to toe with Oikawa. He lifted his chin to meet his gaze head-on, undeterred in spite of the slight difference in height.

“Why? Do you wanna walk me home that badly? Your ego that fragile?”

“I just think the city can be unpredictable at night and two alphas are more intimidating than one. Don’t you agree?”

“Please. Do you even know how to fight?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, actually I do. If you wanted me to show you, all you had to do was ask.”

The air between them felt charged with a tangible kind of electricity. They were practically nose to nose, both pairs of eyes locked in an intense stalemate where neither of them were willing to back down. If they bothered to pay attention, they might have noticed how the majority of the bar fell quiet, curious heads turning to observe the two alphas who looked like they were a hair trigger away from starting a brawl then and there. Some of the onlookers seemed excited for a fight to break out, while others shrank under the mildly oppressive energy they radiated.

Between the two of them, though, there was a silent, mutual anticipation in knowing that more than just a fight could result from this posturing. The uncertainty was thrilling. Oikawa’s eyes reflected the thinly veiled urge to make the first move that blazed in Iwaizumi’s, but this was neither the time nor place. Oikawa’s lips gave a subtle twitch as he let out a bemused hum, then promptly shattered the thick atmosphere between them with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders that he threw his arms into.

“Well, I guess you’re capable of handling yourself after all,” he quipped. He could almost feel the entire bar letting out a mass sigh of relief, but he paid it no mind. “Pardon me for being presumptuous. I suppose I’ll leave you to your lonely walk home, Iwa-chan.”

He turned to exit the bar then, but his words clearly held no intention of fleeing the situation. If anything, they only served to further ignite the other alpha’s damning pride. And to Oikawa’s endless delight, it worked.

“You— Hey, wait a minute!” he called after him, but Oikawa only paused at the door to toss a shit-eating grin over his shoulder before he slipped outside. Behind him, Iwaizumi cursed and yanked his jacket off the back of the bar stool before hastily following.

Outside, Oikawa had already made it to the cab, foolishly sparing a moment to greet the driver through the passenger side window. Iwaizumi didn’t waste the opportunity to grab a fistful of his shirt collar and spin him around until he had his back pressed against the side of the car. Oikawa blinked, a little caught off guard by the ferocity of the other’s actions. The cabby honked the horn and yelled some warning from inside, likely to try to break them up. Neither of them heeded the warning.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked as innocently as he could manage. Iwaizumi growled at him.

“Don’t ‘Iwa-chan’ me, asshole. What the hell was that all about?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The traitorous smile that pulled at his lips begged to differ. Iwaizumi shook him with an expression contorted in the oddest combination of indignation and irritation.

“Like hell!” he snapped. “Who do you think you are, challenging me in the middle of a bar like that? Are you trying to pick a fight with me, pop star?”

Oikawa gasped, the scandalized noise all too sincere.

“I told you I am not a pop star! There’s your problem, you big brute. You just never listen!”

“Huh?!”

The cabby blared the horn again, followed by a disgruntled demand to get off the car. Clicking his tongue, Iwaizumi effortlessly tugged Oikawa forward and back onto the sidewalk so that he wasn’t pinned against the cab anymore. The driver flipped them both a rude gesture out the window before peeling off onto the street. Oikawa pouted for the umpteenth time that night.

“Now look what you did! That was my ride.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Iwaizumi jerked his hand free then and shoved both hands into his pockets as he turned to stalk off down the sidewalk. Oikawa sputtered in place for a few seconds before eventually skittering along after him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“Oh, that’s real nice. Call me a cab, scare them off, then just abandon me in the middle of the street and call it a night, huh? Is that your idea of topping off a fun night out?”

“You’re the one who has a problem being walked home.”

“You’re the one—!”

“Quit messing around, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi burst suddenly, spinning around to level a glare on the idol. Oikawa stuttered to a stop, staring at him not unlike a deer in headlights.

“What—”

“Don’t play games! I agreed to help you piss off your friend enough to get him to hate your guts,” he said, “but so far I haven’t even met the guy and here you are acting like—”

“...Like what?”

“Like you’re actually into this shit or something!” Iwaizumi yelled, throwing up his hands. Oikawa couldn’t help a subtle flinch, not because of the gesture or the volume, but because of the sting behind those words alone. “That wasn’t just some bullshit territorial posturing to egg me on back there. You were— It was like you were trying to make a pass at me or something.”

Oikawa stiffened. Then, gradually, his expression hardened, shock giving way to pique as he set his jaw and met the alpha’s glare with a cold grimace of his own.

“Well, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” he hissed, “but I can assure you my intentions were nothing of the sort. I don’t know what you thought you saw, but I think it’s clear you have some issues of your own to work through before you start projecting them onto me.”

He really didn’t mean to sound quite so vicious when he said that and the regret was instant when he saw the flash in Iwaizumi’s eyes—some chaste mixture of hurt and fear—but Oikawa had never been particularly good at holding his tongue and he was used to the consequences that often followed. Instead of granting his statement a retort, Iwaizumi turned around and walked away. This time Oikawa didn’t follow. Instead, he waited until the other alpha rounded the corner at the end of the street and disappeared behind the buildings before he allowed the weakness to settle in his knees and guide him to lean against the outside wall of the bar.

He tilted back his head against the bricks and closed his eyes. Why did he always have to say what he didn’t mean?

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The moment he was out of sight, Iwaizumi took off in a sprint down the side of the road. There was no way he was going to make it home at such a leisurely pace without completely blowing his lid. He needed to release as much steam as possible before he returned to the flat. The ensuing burn in his legs would suffice.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame this feeling on an alpha’s innate temper and aggression thanks to his suppressants. This anger was all his own. The blow to his pride was personal. Fuck Oikawa. Fuck him and his stupid, dumbass bullshit. Iwaizumi should have known better than to think the guy was actually worth a crumb of sympathy. All that laughing and sharing stories and the heart-wrenching little tale he spun about giving up on his dream—it was all for show, wasn’t it? Just to make himself seem a little more human. A little more trustworthy.

But Iwaizumi didn’t exactly wear a halo in comparison, did he? The way he accused Oikawa of coming onto him as if that were even a possibility, as if he were disgusted by it the same way others were disgusted by him when he dared to reveal that part of himself after being lulled into a false sense of security. After he thought he could trust them.

Obviously, he hadn’t done that this time. This time, he lashed out before it could get to that point. This time, he was protecting himself. He wasn’t going to repeat all the times he fucked up and confided in the wrong people.

So why did it feel like he fucked up this time, too? The way Oikawa had looked at him, it was almost...guilty? Scared? Of Iwaizumi, or himself? Both? And then in an instant it was replaced with the same walls Iwaizumi had built up and broken down and built back stronger time and time again. It was like looking in a fucking mirror. He’d known the guy all of two days and already screwed up everything.

I’m an idiot.