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saso2015_r12015-06-30 04:04 pm
oikawas) wrote in saso2015_r12015-06-30 04:04 pm
Entry tags:
Main Round 1: Team Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
TITLE: all that we see (all that we seem)
SERIES: Haikyuu!!
SHIP: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
RATING: T
CHARACTERS: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki Takahiro
SIDE PAIRINGS: None.
MAJOR TAGS: None.
ADDITIONAL TAGS: Brief descriptions of drowning.
SUMMARY: "This time, I’m bringing you home, Tooru." Inception AU.
WORK COUNT: 3,657 words, 5 images.
SCRIPT: Here.
NOTES: Title paraphrased from A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe.
“Dreams can be such dangerous things; they smolder on like a fire does, and sometimes consume us completely.”
― Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
Oikawa always looks peaceful when he sleeps. Iwaizumi knows this from years together, side by side.
In the past, he has secretly watched Oikawa sleep—when he’d wake up first, when he couldn’t fall asleep at night—a fond smile on his lips as he’d run his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, press gentle and barely there kisses to his forehead, the arm curled around him an unspoken promise to never let go.
(They’ve been together their whole lives—Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime—best friends, partners, everything to each other. Iwaizumi has been there to hold Oikawa’s hand when they’re children, to take his face in his hands and kiss him under the stars after their high school graduation, to work by his side when Oikawa casually brings up the idea of working as extractors over dinner in their shared apartment, first year of college.
Iwaizumi agrees, of course. He’d never leave Oikawa on his own to take on dangerous tasks. Somewhere along the line he’s made the unconscious vow of forever.
Not that he regrets it. He never could.)
But now he can’t stand the sight of Oikawa sleeping. Not since their last mission and that stupid mistake.
It was their most important extraction yet. They knew there was a slight chance it could go wrong—there’s always that chance—but he had been prepared. Both of them, the whole team.
(Iwaizumi remembers Oikawa staying up until the sun rises, planning, constantly checking over everything they had already been through time and time again. The nights Oikawa did actually sleep, he’d wake up in the middle with an idea in his head or a doubt about their plans, and leave his spot in their bed to go work. Iwaizumi would often find him sprawled out on the couch, papers resting on his chest or laid out on the floor in front of him, Oikawa passed out after working for hours.
“We’ll be fine.” It’s a mantra Iwaizumi has repeated over and over aloud and in the silence of his head, for both Oikawa and himself.
“I know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies with a small smile on his lips that looks completely mismatched with the dark bags under his eyes as Iwaizumi hands him a mug of coffee one morning. “I just want to make sure, you know?”
Oikawa pauses, then, and takes a shaky breath as he looks down at his lap. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to any of the team...to you.”
“Shut up,” Iwaizumi mutters, not wanting to even consider that thought. He rests his hand on Oikawa’s cheek, tilts his head up so their eyes meet. “That won’t happen.”
Like hell I’ll let it.
Oikawa’s smile, if anything, is a confirmation that Iwaizumi would go to the ends of the universe for him, that he would fight with him and for him no matter the price.)
The constant repetition of his reassurances, in the end, is wrong, though. So wrong.
Their mission fails. They fail, and the results are disastrous, worse than any nightmare Iwaizumi’s ever had.
Even after endless planning and preparation, they’re taken by surprise by the counter measures their target has taken to resist extraction. They get ambushed, but they’re strong and able to fight and get so close to finishing their job.
Everything goes to hell when Iwaizumi miscalculates and doesn’t see the shot aimed for his chest. Not until Oikawa shoves him out of the way and takes the hit himself.
The kick somehow accidentally sets off in the following moments, and Iwaizumi is being yanked from the dream, watching helplessly, screaming, as Oikawa is left behind. Sent to Limbo.
As soon as he hits reality again, he knows he has to—needs to get back. He’s still frantic and tears fall because he has to get Oikawa.
(Because who is Iwaizumi Hajime without Oikawa Tooru?)
He’s determined to try as many times as he has to until he can save Oikawa. No matter what.
“He’d do the same for me,” Iwaizumi whispers, fists clenched tightly as he finally looks up at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, the resolve in his eyes unbreakable. “For all of us. If you don’t want to be involved, that’s okay. I—”
“You’re kidding.” Hanamaki looks from Iwaizumi to Matsukawa. “He has to be joking, right?”
✦
Oikawa is gasping for breath when he breaks through the surface of the water, his eyes stinging with salt as a wave crashes over him. He half-crawls towards the safety of the shore, feeling very disoriented, very confused, and very...well, wet.
It doesn’t even occur to him that he has no recollection of how he had gotten to the beach until he collapses on the sand, still coughing and rubbing the salt from his eyes. The sky looks oddly red and all he can see are high tides and rocks for miles. Hardly ideal conditions for a swim. He ponders for what seems like ages, frowning and wracking his brain as he watches the waves creep to the tips of his toes and then retreat and back again. When he brushes a fingertip against his ring—his precious totem, only one solid thought comes to mind.
“Iwa-chan,” he says out loud. He feels a sharp pang in his chest and he grips the front of his shirt above his heart. Oikawa looks around the empty beach. Where is Iwaizumi anyway?
Oikawa pushes himself to his feet, dusting the sand off of his clothes and his knees before starting to walk along the shore, searching for something familiar. Something to jog his memory, or at least help him realize where he is.
The beach seems to stretch for miles and Oikawa isn’t even sure how long he’s been walking. The sun has begun to set and Oikawa starts to feel unease creep over him. He gives up on trying to recall his memories, feeling a sudden feeling of dread wash over him whenever he thinks he’s getting close. Oikawa steels himself, focusing on what feels solid to him—what has always been the most concrete force of his life.
Hajime. Oikawa walks a little faster as a pang shoots through his chest again; he grips the front of his chest, desperation washing over him.
Tears of frustration finally begin to fall and Oikawa’s knees buckle underneath him. He falls onto the sand, wiping his eyes furiously with the back of his hand when the ground rumbles the slightest bit below him.
When Oikawa finally looks up, he sees a road, and in the distance he can barely make out a building. He gets to his feet again, ignoring the soreness in his legs and walks, his pace gradually picking up until he’s sprinting down the road, not stopping to question the sudden change in setting. His heart soars when he realizes the building he sees is his high school. The gates are open, enticing him to come in—and he does, heading straight for the gym.
His heart aches as he passes familiar landmarks—the building where he and Iwaizumi had class together, the tree under which they had shared their first kiss, the main gym where they’d graduated together and Iwaizumi had bashfully given Oikawa his second button. More and more places that just make Oikawa yearn for Iwaizumi.
He reaches the gym where he and Iwaizumi played volleyball in their youth—the doors are wide open and the lights are on. Stepping in with a heavy breath, he sees that a single volleyball net has been set up and a cart of volleyballs was placed conveniently next to it.
He slides his ring off his finger and into the safety his pocket, picking up a volleyball before he can stop himself and serves it over the net. It’s been a while since Oikawa’s played, having mostly given it up after university, but the ball lands right where he wants it to with a satisfying smack. He turns around towards the door, waiting for a worried Iwaizumi to burst in and scold him for practicing late again. Oikawa serves again and turns, serves again and turns, serves again—
Iwaizumi always shows up when Oikawa is feeling lost. If he keeps going, perhaps Iwaizumi will appear to scold him and they can be together again.
Oikawa stops himself just before serving another ball. ‘Together again?’ Oikawa frowns. Hadn’t he just seen Iwaizumi earlier today? He had to have seen him—they live together after all.
The ball slips from Oikawa’s fingers at his realization and he turns from net, sprinting right out the door and back into the night. He sprints down the road at full speed, past streets and buildings he vaguely remembers. He yearns for Iwaizumi—ridiculously so. He wants to see him, wants to sure he’s okay—
‘Okay?’ From what?’
“Oh, if it isn’t Oikawa.”
Oikawa skids to a stop and looks over his shoulder to see Hanamaki and Matsukawa grinning at him. He hadn’t even noticed that he had passed them.
“Looking for Iwaizumi?” Hanamaki continues. “He’s been worrying himself sick looking for you all day.”
“He’s probably in your apartment walking himself into a rut,” Matsukawa adds helpfully. “You better hurry before he does something rash.”
Oikawa gives them his breathless thanks before he continues his mad dash. He reaches the apartment building, sprinting up the stairs until he reached his floor. The hall is empty and dead quiet as he walks to his door, throwing it open without a key.
“Oikawa?”
Oikawa turns to their tiny dining table, where Iwaizumi is sitting. The sharp pang in Oikawa’s chest returns as he rushes forward and Iwaizumi stands, practically in tears when he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan,” he blubbers. “You’re okay!”
“Of course I’m okay, you idiot,” Iwaizumi laughs. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve...” Oikawa shakes his head. “I’m not really sure,” he says. “I’m just glad I’m with you now.”
Iwaizumi scoffs, but smiles nonetheless. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Oikawa bites his lip, resting his hands on Iwaizumi’s hips. “You promise?” he says so softly he can barely hear his own voice.
Iwaizumi’s hands slide into Oikawa’s smoothly and he presses his lips to Oikawa’s. “I promise.”
✦
Broken, battered, cracked in all of the wrong places—he is none of those. Not anymore. Iwaizumi feels a swell at the very core of his chest, a telltale sign of something good to come when he wanders through a city he recognizes, stumbles into an apartment he recognizes, turns the doorknob to a bedroom he recognizes.
There is a swell at the very core of his chest, a telltale sign of something good, something so damn good to come when he stands at the entryway to what he thinks is his, their, bedroom and catches a glimpse of Oikawa sleeping.
His throat is hoarse, tight, and the name he wants to free from pursed lips lingers on the tip of his tongue (and maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s absolute terror that this Oikawa won’t wake up either).
“Oikawa,” he says, and his voice echoes off of empty walls, floats thick in the air.
Silence, silence, silence; it is so scary how used to silence he is.
He takes one step, another, a third until he’s standing on one side of the bed, his side of the bed. He reaches out, tries to suppress the thoughts at the back of the mind wondering if Oikawa might phase through his fingertips.
His fingers press against the crown of Oikawa’s head. This is him, Iwaizumi realizes. This is him.
I found you.
Something stings, pricks against his flesh as a reminder and Iwaizumi can’t define it.
“Tooru,” he says faintly. “Tooru,” he says hoarsely.
There’s a rustling of bedsheets and Oikawa twists his body to face Iwaizumi, expression bleary and thick with sleep. He’s frowning, pouting, and for a second, Iwaizumi almost forgets this isn’t reality.
“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa stifles through a yawn. There’s a sweet smile on his face that makes Iwaizumi forget years of sitting and praying by a motionless body. “Welcome home.”
This is not home, Iwaizumi can’t bring himself to say aloud.
This will never be home—
“I missed you,” Iwaizumi says in spite of himself, fingers trembling, body shaking as Oikawa takes his hand. “I missed you so damn much.”
-
There’s a ring around his finger that reminds him this isn’t real. None of this real despite how perfect it feels—and maybe that’s the worst part, maybe that’s the most terrifying thing (that it feels good, it feels perfect, it feels right when it shouldn’t, it can’t).
Oikawa hugs him, kisses him, and Iwaizumi’s weak enough to lapse into momentary indiscretion. He tricks himself into believing this could be real too and he finds himself taunted, tempted by the opportunity Limbo presents him.
You could have this world, the eerily familiar buildings whisper while Oikawa chatters indistinctly about Hanamaki and Matsukawa in the streets. You could have him and keep him safe in this world.
He wants to keep Oikawa safe. He wants to protect Oikawa. Every hour he wastes down here, he realizes is one moment lost in reality—his reality, their reality. And it’s so easy to see that Oikawa is confused, that he’s filled this world with projections and copies of memories, precious memories, and broken a dozen rules scrawled in red.
Iwaizumi would tell him. He’d sit Oikawa down, look him in the eye, and he’d tell him:
First, This world isn’t yours.
Second, This world isn’t ours.
Third, Please come home.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he’s charmed by these things he knows not to be the truth. He’s caught up in reminders of their first kiss, their first class together. He’s swept away by a gym he remembers spending hour upon hour in. He’s a stickler for rules, a fool for protocol, and he can’t bring himself to utter the words he’d been practicing in the mirror for days leading up to this exact god damn moment.
Come home come home come home come home—
He wants to know if Oikawa really missed all of this, if he clung to these landmarks, these tiny little ridges in the timeline of their shared memory for a reason. He wants to know if this is what Oikawa wants to be real (old gyms, run-down schools, a dysfunctional lamppost they once shared a kiss under).
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi calls out, tone wavering as he squeezes Oikawa’s hand. He turns quickly, looks at Iwaizumi with an unsuspecting gaze that almost makes Iwaizumi feel criminal. “Where is everyone?”
There’s a flicker of recognition that passes over Oikawa’s face as he glances around, acutely aware of the emptiness of this dreamscape. He laughs, weakly, faintly, hollowly (like he doesn’t know how to answer that, like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think).
“Busy?” Oikawa says aloud. Gone? he swallows down. “Iwa-chan, stop being so slow! Let’s go to the gym, quick!”
He’s hiding, Iwaizumi realizes. He’s hiding, and this time he might not want to be found.
(Oikawa’s dreams are blank these days. His sleep is stolen from him by walls of white and canvases he walks for miles and miles to no end.
He dreams of water once, of drowning and drowning, saltwater filling his lungs. There is fear that paralyzes his every limb and Oikawa wonders why he can’t think of a name to call, can’t remember how he got here.
He reaches for something he thinks might feel familiar; he reaches for a hand he suddenly knows to be Iwaizumi’s, tries to comfort himself with the way Iwaizumi smiles at him—fond, warm, knowing.
He dreams of water once and it leaves him empty and lost, reeling from an aftershock he can’t define.
He dreams of water once and it swallows him whole.)
✦
He can’t hide like this forever—can’t keep hiding like this and tiptoeing around the subject. He’s here for one thing and one thing only: to bring Oikawa back. To bring him home.
Iwaizumi needs to tell him: this world isn’t real. This world isn’t home.
He’s wasting time down here, and he knows it. But it's so, so difficult when Oikawa is in his arms, hair gentle and curling, eyes beautiful and bright; it's so, so difficult when Oikawa is in his arms, awake and alive. Difficult, when every curve of Oikawa’s smile digs itself deep into his bones, and deeper still with every lilt of his voice.
He takes Oikawa’s face into his hands, more gently than he thinks he’s ever done anything with regards to Oikawa, and searches in those endless eyes for a sign. A sign that he knows this isn’t real. That they need to return. That everything around them, this entire world that Oikawa’s imagined up after being trapped down here—it’s all a sham, and they need to go home.
“Oikawa,” he says, the name falling from his lips like a prayer. He’s never been the greatest at showing his emotions, but Oikawa knows him better than anyone, better than he knows himself. The desperation and urgency is there, hidden, and Iwaizumi hopes Oikawa will find it. “Oikawa,” he repeats. “Please wake up.”
Oikawa’s brows furrow for the slightest moment, and something familiar glints in his eye—but it’s gone as quick as it had come.
“What are you talking about Iwa-chan? I am awake, and so are you.” He smiles, bright and radiant, and holds his hand against Iwaizumi’s before lacing them together and pulling them away from his face. “Now come on, Iwa-chan! We’ll be late!”
Something akin to dread curls deep in his gut. Something akin to temptation settles over his skin.
Four levels up, Hanamaki and Matsukawa are waiting for them, ready to deliver the kick.
Four levels up, precious hours are slipping by.
Four levels up, the real Oikawa’s eyes are still closed to the world, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.
But here, there’s a hand in his own. There are lips against his, there’s laughter in his ears, and there’s life again in the still form he’d spent hours, days, weeks, watching over.
“Iwa-chan, you’re being strange,” Oikawa says, stopping their stroll. “Ever since you’ve finally woken up. Aren’t you glad to be home?”
“Oikawa—”
“No, listen, Iwa-chan! I know...I know you’re confused. I’ve known you your whole life...of course I can tell when something is wrong. You think this isn’t right but, don’t you remember, Iwa-chan? We spent our lives together here. How could you forget?”
He gestures around them, and Iwaizumi looks. There’s the shore, as always, and there are buildings, assorted and pieced together from snapshots of their real life together. Their childhood homes, just down the street from each other. The park where they’d sneak out to at night so they could gaze at the stars and wonder what was beyond in the universe. Aoba Jousai, and the street along it. And their apartment, where they’d moved in together, where they both began extracting. An amalgamation of the places they’ve been, thrown together like an ill-fitting puzzle where no matter how hard you try to jam it in, the pieces just won’t fit right.
He hasn’t forgotten any of it. He doesn’t want to forget, of course he doesn’t—but it’s not right, and it’s not real.
Oikawa is the one who has forgotten.
“You’ve been here before but... I could tell. It wasn’t the real you, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now. This is our life, Iwa-chan. This is where we belong.”
You’re wrong.
“Anywhere else is just a dream. I’ve been waiting for you, and now you’re finally here. You’re not dreaming anymore.”
This is a dream.
“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa takes Iwaizumi’s face between his hands, gentle, his thumbs smoothing over Iwaizumi’s cheekbones.
But it’s a good dream.
Iwaizumi doesn’t dare blink. He feels like if he does, Oikawa will vanish before him.
“Hajime,” Oikawa says like it’s the first time, and Iwaizumi can feel his resolve crumbling. He knows what Oikawa is going to say next. He knows what Oikawa's going to ask.
But he doesn’t know how he will answer.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
SERIES: Haikyuu!!
SHIP: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
RATING: T
CHARACTERS: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki Takahiro
SIDE PAIRINGS: None.
MAJOR TAGS: None.
ADDITIONAL TAGS: Brief descriptions of drowning.
SUMMARY: "This time, I’m bringing you home, Tooru." Inception AU.
WORK COUNT: 3,657 words, 5 images.
SCRIPT: Here.
NOTES: Title paraphrased from A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe.
― Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
Oikawa always looks peaceful when he sleeps. Iwaizumi knows this from years together, side by side.In the past, he has secretly watched Oikawa sleep—when he’d wake up first, when he couldn’t fall asleep at night—a fond smile on his lips as he’d run his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, press gentle and barely there kisses to his forehead, the arm curled around him an unspoken promise to never let go.
(They’ve been together their whole lives—Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime—best friends, partners, everything to each other. Iwaizumi has been there to hold Oikawa’s hand when they’re children, to take his face in his hands and kiss him under the stars after their high school graduation, to work by his side when Oikawa casually brings up the idea of working as extractors over dinner in their shared apartment, first year of college.
Iwaizumi agrees, of course. He’d never leave Oikawa on his own to take on dangerous tasks. Somewhere along the line he’s made the unconscious vow of forever.
Not that he regrets it. He never could.)
But now he can’t stand the sight of Oikawa sleeping. Not since their last mission and that stupid mistake.
It was their most important extraction yet. They knew there was a slight chance it could go wrong—there’s always that chance—but he had been prepared. Both of them, the whole team.
(Iwaizumi remembers Oikawa staying up until the sun rises, planning, constantly checking over everything they had already been through time and time again. The nights Oikawa did actually sleep, he’d wake up in the middle with an idea in his head or a doubt about their plans, and leave his spot in their bed to go work. Iwaizumi would often find him sprawled out on the couch, papers resting on his chest or laid out on the floor in front of him, Oikawa passed out after working for hours.
“We’ll be fine.” It’s a mantra Iwaizumi has repeated over and over aloud and in the silence of his head, for both Oikawa and himself.
“I know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies with a small smile on his lips that looks completely mismatched with the dark bags under his eyes as Iwaizumi hands him a mug of coffee one morning. “I just want to make sure, you know?”
Oikawa pauses, then, and takes a shaky breath as he looks down at his lap. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to any of the team...to you.”
“Shut up,” Iwaizumi mutters, not wanting to even consider that thought. He rests his hand on Oikawa’s cheek, tilts his head up so their eyes meet. “That won’t happen.”
Like hell I’ll let it.
Oikawa’s smile, if anything, is a confirmation that Iwaizumi would go to the ends of the universe for him, that he would fight with him and for him no matter the price.)
The constant repetition of his reassurances, in the end, is wrong, though. So wrong.
Their mission fails. They fail, and the results are disastrous, worse than any nightmare Iwaizumi’s ever had.
Even after endless planning and preparation, they’re taken by surprise by the counter measures their target has taken to resist extraction. They get ambushed, but they’re strong and able to fight and get so close to finishing their job.
Everything goes to hell when Iwaizumi miscalculates and doesn’t see the shot aimed for his chest. Not until Oikawa shoves him out of the way and takes the hit himself.
The kick somehow accidentally sets off in the following moments, and Iwaizumi is being yanked from the dream, watching helplessly, screaming, as Oikawa is left behind. Sent to Limbo.
As soon as he hits reality again, he knows he has to—needs to get back. He’s still frantic and tears fall because he has to get Oikawa.
(Because who is Iwaizumi Hajime without Oikawa Tooru?)
He’s determined to try as many times as he has to until he can save Oikawa. No matter what.
“He’d do the same for me,” Iwaizumi whispers, fists clenched tightly as he finally looks up at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, the resolve in his eyes unbreakable. “For all of us. If you don’t want to be involved, that’s okay. I—”
“You’re kidding.” Hanamaki looks from Iwaizumi to Matsukawa. “He has to be joking, right?”
“The suggestion that we’d leave him or Oikawa can’t be anything but a joke,” Matsukawa confirms with a nod.
Their words, the look in their eyes clearly states “We’re with you until the end.”
For the first time since they’ve returned, for the first time since he’s lost Oikawa, Iwaizumi smiles. It’s weak and strained, but still a smile, and it’s a hope that they can get Oikawa back—that they will.
“Thanks.”
The promise still stays strong, even after failed attempts and plans gone awry, even when there are days where it seems hopeless, nights where the guilt of losing Oikawa in the first place gnaws away at Iwaizumi’s heart so much so that he wakes from dreams of the bullet passing through Oikawa’s chest just as he shoves Iwaizumi out of the way and the kick activates. Every single time, he sees Oikawa’s wide eyes and bleeding chest, hears with perfect and resolute clarity his last word.
“Hajime.”
Iwaizumi always jolts awake, sweat on his skin, tears dripping down his cheeks, the scream of “Tooru!” on his lips, thoughts of ’How could I lose you like that? Why couldn’t I protect you?’ running through his head.
But now, after constant planning and learning from past mistakes, he’s ready. He’s going to reach Oikawa. No matter what, he’ll bring him back.
Iwaizumi stands over Oikawa’s sleeping body, unconsciously twisting the ring on his finger—his totem. Oikawa has an identical one. They’d exchanged them years earlier, a physical representation of everything that’s ever existed between them.
He brushes his fingers over Oikawa’s cheek before he leaves, a determined promise.
This time, I’m bringing you home, Tooru.
Oikawa is gasping for breath when he breaks through the surface of the water, his eyes stinging with salt as a wave crashes over him. He half-crawls towards the safety of the shore, feeling very disoriented, very confused, and very...well, wet.It doesn’t even occur to him that he has no recollection of how he had gotten to the beach until he collapses on the sand, still coughing and rubbing the salt from his eyes. The sky looks oddly red and all he can see are high tides and rocks for miles. Hardly ideal conditions for a swim. He ponders for what seems like ages, frowning and wracking his brain as he watches the waves creep to the tips of his toes and then retreat and back again. When he brushes a fingertip against his ring—his precious totem, only one solid thought comes to mind.
“Iwa-chan,” he says out loud. He feels a sharp pang in his chest and he grips the front of his shirt above his heart. Oikawa looks around the empty beach. Where is Iwaizumi anyway?
Oikawa pushes himself to his feet, dusting the sand off of his clothes and his knees before starting to walk along the shore, searching for something familiar. Something to jog his memory, or at least help him realize where he is.
The beach seems to stretch for miles and Oikawa isn’t even sure how long he’s been walking. The sun has begun to set and Oikawa starts to feel unease creep over him. He gives up on trying to recall his memories, feeling a sudden feeling of dread wash over him whenever he thinks he’s getting close. Oikawa steels himself, focusing on what feels solid to him—what has always been the most concrete force of his life.
Hajime. Oikawa walks a little faster as a pang shoots through his chest again; he grips the front of his chest, desperation washing over him.
Tears of frustration finally begin to fall and Oikawa’s knees buckle underneath him. He falls onto the sand, wiping his eyes furiously with the back of his hand when the ground rumbles the slightest bit below him.
When Oikawa finally looks up, he sees a road, and in the distance he can barely make out a building. He gets to his feet again, ignoring the soreness in his legs and walks, his pace gradually picking up until he’s sprinting down the road, not stopping to question the sudden change in setting. His heart soars when he realizes the building he sees is his high school. The gates are open, enticing him to come in—and he does, heading straight for the gym.
His heart aches as he passes familiar landmarks—the building where he and Iwaizumi had class together, the tree under which they had shared their first kiss, the main gym where they’d graduated together and Iwaizumi had bashfully given Oikawa his second button. More and more places that just make Oikawa yearn for Iwaizumi.
He reaches the gym where he and Iwaizumi played volleyball in their youth—the doors are wide open and the lights are on. Stepping in with a heavy breath, he sees that a single volleyball net has been set up and a cart of volleyballs was placed conveniently next to it.
He slides his ring off his finger and into the safety his pocket, picking up a volleyball before he can stop himself and serves it over the net. It’s been a while since Oikawa’s played, having mostly given it up after university, but the ball lands right where he wants it to with a satisfying smack. He turns around towards the door, waiting for a worried Iwaizumi to burst in and scold him for practicing late again. Oikawa serves again and turns, serves again and turns, serves again—
Iwaizumi always shows up when Oikawa is feeling lost. If he keeps going, perhaps Iwaizumi will appear to scold him and they can be together again.
Oikawa stops himself just before serving another ball. ‘Together again?’ Oikawa frowns. Hadn’t he just seen Iwaizumi earlier today? He had to have seen him—they live together after all.
The ball slips from Oikawa’s fingers at his realization and he turns from net, sprinting right out the door and back into the night. He sprints down the road at full speed, past streets and buildings he vaguely remembers. He yearns for Iwaizumi—ridiculously so. He wants to see him, wants to sure he’s okay—
‘Okay?’ From what?’
“Oh, if it isn’t Oikawa.”
Oikawa skids to a stop and looks over his shoulder to see Hanamaki and Matsukawa grinning at him. He hadn’t even noticed that he had passed them.
“Looking for Iwaizumi?” Hanamaki continues. “He’s been worrying himself sick looking for you all day.”
“He’s probably in your apartment walking himself into a rut,” Matsukawa adds helpfully. “You better hurry before he does something rash.”
Oikawa gives them his breathless thanks before he continues his mad dash. He reaches the apartment building, sprinting up the stairs until he reached his floor. The hall is empty and dead quiet as he walks to his door, throwing it open without a key.
“Oikawa?”
Oikawa turns to their tiny dining table, where Iwaizumi is sitting. The sharp pang in Oikawa’s chest returns as he rushes forward and Iwaizumi stands, practically in tears when he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan,” he blubbers. “You’re okay!”
“Of course I’m okay, you idiot,” Iwaizumi laughs. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve...” Oikawa shakes his head. “I’m not really sure,” he says. “I’m just glad I’m with you now.”
Iwaizumi scoffs, but smiles nonetheless. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Oikawa bites his lip, resting his hands on Iwaizumi’s hips. “You promise?” he says so softly he can barely hear his own voice.
Iwaizumi’s hands slide into Oikawa’s smoothly and he presses his lips to Oikawa’s. “I promise.”
Broken, battered, cracked in all of the wrong places—he is none of those. Not anymore. Iwaizumi feels a swell at the very core of his chest, a telltale sign of something good to come when he wanders through a city he recognizes, stumbles into an apartment he recognizes, turns the doorknob to a bedroom he recognizes.
There is a swell at the very core of his chest, a telltale sign of something good, something so damn good to come when he stands at the entryway to what he thinks is his, their, bedroom and catches a glimpse of Oikawa sleeping.
His throat is hoarse, tight, and the name he wants to free from pursed lips lingers on the tip of his tongue (and maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s absolute terror that this Oikawa won’t wake up either).
“Oikawa,” he says, and his voice echoes off of empty walls, floats thick in the air.
Silence, silence, silence; it is so scary how used to silence he is.
He takes one step, another, a third until he’s standing on one side of the bed, his side of the bed. He reaches out, tries to suppress the thoughts at the back of the mind wondering if Oikawa might phase through his fingertips.
His fingers press against the crown of Oikawa’s head. This is him, Iwaizumi realizes. This is him.
I found you.
Something stings, pricks against his flesh as a reminder and Iwaizumi can’t define it.
“Tooru,” he says faintly. “Tooru,” he says hoarsely.
There’s a rustling of bedsheets and Oikawa twists his body to face Iwaizumi, expression bleary and thick with sleep. He’s frowning, pouting, and for a second, Iwaizumi almost forgets this isn’t reality.
“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa stifles through a yawn. There’s a sweet smile on his face that makes Iwaizumi forget years of sitting and praying by a motionless body. “Welcome home.”
This is not home, Iwaizumi can’t bring himself to say aloud.
This will never be home—
“I missed you,” Iwaizumi says in spite of himself, fingers trembling, body shaking as Oikawa takes his hand. “I missed you so damn much.”
There’s a ring around his finger that reminds him this isn’t real. None of this real despite how perfect it feels—and maybe that’s the worst part, maybe that’s the most terrifying thing (that it feels good, it feels perfect, it feels right when it shouldn’t, it can’t).
Oikawa hugs him, kisses him, and Iwaizumi’s weak enough to lapse into momentary indiscretion. He tricks himself into believing this could be real too and he finds himself taunted, tempted by the opportunity Limbo presents him.
You could have this world, the eerily familiar buildings whisper while Oikawa chatters indistinctly about Hanamaki and Matsukawa in the streets. You could have him and keep him safe in this world.
He wants to keep Oikawa safe. He wants to protect Oikawa. Every hour he wastes down here, he realizes is one moment lost in reality—his reality, their reality. And it’s so easy to see that Oikawa is confused, that he’s filled this world with projections and copies of memories, precious memories, and broken a dozen rules scrawled in red.
Iwaizumi would tell him. He’d sit Oikawa down, look him in the eye, and he’d tell him:
First, This world isn’t yours.
Second, This world isn’t ours.
Third, Please come home.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he’s charmed by these things he knows not to be the truth. He’s caught up in reminders of their first kiss, their first class together. He’s swept away by a gym he remembers spending hour upon hour in. He’s a stickler for rules, a fool for protocol, and he can’t bring himself to utter the words he’d been practicing in the mirror for days leading up to this exact god damn moment.
Come home come home come home come home—
He wants to know if Oikawa really missed all of this, if he clung to these landmarks, these tiny little ridges in the timeline of their shared memory for a reason. He wants to know if this is what Oikawa wants to be real (old gyms, run-down schools, a dysfunctional lamppost they once shared a kiss under).
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi calls out, tone wavering as he squeezes Oikawa’s hand. He turns quickly, looks at Iwaizumi with an unsuspecting gaze that almost makes Iwaizumi feel criminal. “Where is everyone?”
There’s a flicker of recognition that passes over Oikawa’s face as he glances around, acutely aware of the emptiness of this dreamscape. He laughs, weakly, faintly, hollowly (like he doesn’t know how to answer that, like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think).
“Busy?” Oikawa says aloud. Gone? he swallows down. “Iwa-chan, stop being so slow! Let’s go to the gym, quick!”
He’s hiding, Iwaizumi realizes. He’s hiding, and this time he might not want to be found.
(Oikawa’s dreams are blank these days. His sleep is stolen from him by walls of white and canvases he walks for miles and miles to no end.
He dreams of water once, of drowning and drowning, saltwater filling his lungs. There is fear that paralyzes his every limb and Oikawa wonders why he can’t think of a name to call, can’t remember how he got here.
He reaches for something he thinks might feel familiar; he reaches for a hand he suddenly knows to be Iwaizumi’s, tries to comfort himself with the way Iwaizumi smiles at him—fond, warm, knowing.
He dreams of water once and it leaves him empty and lost, reeling from an aftershock he can’t define.
He dreams of water once and it swallows him whole.)
He can’t hide like this forever—can’t keep hiding like this and tiptoeing around the subject. He’s here for one thing and one thing only: to bring Oikawa back. To bring him home.
Iwaizumi needs to tell him: this world isn’t real. This world isn’t home.
He’s wasting time down here, and he knows it. But it's so, so difficult when Oikawa is in his arms, hair gentle and curling, eyes beautiful and bright; it's so, so difficult when Oikawa is in his arms, awake and alive. Difficult, when every curve of Oikawa’s smile digs itself deep into his bones, and deeper still with every lilt of his voice.
He takes Oikawa’s face into his hands, more gently than he thinks he’s ever done anything with regards to Oikawa, and searches in those endless eyes for a sign. A sign that he knows this isn’t real. That they need to return. That everything around them, this entire world that Oikawa’s imagined up after being trapped down here—it’s all a sham, and they need to go home.
“Oikawa,” he says, the name falling from his lips like a prayer. He’s never been the greatest at showing his emotions, but Oikawa knows him better than anyone, better than he knows himself. The desperation and urgency is there, hidden, and Iwaizumi hopes Oikawa will find it. “Oikawa,” he repeats. “Please wake up.”
Oikawa’s brows furrow for the slightest moment, and something familiar glints in his eye—but it’s gone as quick as it had come.
“What are you talking about Iwa-chan? I am awake, and so are you.” He smiles, bright and radiant, and holds his hand against Iwaizumi’s before lacing them together and pulling them away from his face. “Now come on, Iwa-chan! We’ll be late!”
Something akin to dread curls deep in his gut. Something akin to temptation settles over his skin.
Four levels up, Hanamaki and Matsukawa are waiting for them, ready to deliver the kick.
Four levels up, precious hours are slipping by.
Four levels up, the real Oikawa’s eyes are still closed to the world, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.
But here, there’s a hand in his own. There are lips against his, there’s laughter in his ears, and there’s life again in the still form he’d spent hours, days, weeks, watching over.
“Iwa-chan, you’re being strange,” Oikawa says, stopping their stroll. “Ever since you’ve finally woken up. Aren’t you glad to be home?”
“Oikawa—”
“No, listen, Iwa-chan! I know...I know you’re confused. I’ve known you your whole life...of course I can tell when something is wrong. You think this isn’t right but, don’t you remember, Iwa-chan? We spent our lives together here. How could you forget?”
He gestures around them, and Iwaizumi looks. There’s the shore, as always, and there are buildings, assorted and pieced together from snapshots of their real life together. Their childhood homes, just down the street from each other. The park where they’d sneak out to at night so they could gaze at the stars and wonder what was beyond in the universe. Aoba Jousai, and the street along it. And their apartment, where they’d moved in together, where they both began extracting. An amalgamation of the places they’ve been, thrown together like an ill-fitting puzzle where no matter how hard you try to jam it in, the pieces just won’t fit right.
He hasn’t forgotten any of it. He doesn’t want to forget, of course he doesn’t—but it’s not right, and it’s not real.
Oikawa is the one who has forgotten.
“You’ve been here before but... I could tell. It wasn’t the real you, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now. This is our life, Iwa-chan. This is where we belong.”
You’re wrong.
“Anywhere else is just a dream. I’ve been waiting for you, and now you’re finally here. You’re not dreaming anymore.”
This is a dream.
“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa takes Iwaizumi’s face between his hands, gentle, his thumbs smoothing over Iwaizumi’s cheekbones.
But it’s a good dream.
Iwaizumi doesn’t dare blink. He feels like if he does, Oikawa will vanish before him.
“Hajime,” Oikawa says like it’s the first time, and Iwaizumi can feel his resolve crumbling. He knows what Oikawa is going to say next. He knows what Oikawa's going to ask.
But he doesn’t know how he will answer.
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(Very good I just had a two hour crisis)
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Primero que todo me gustaría felicitar a todo el team por su trabajo. Me encanta ver colaboraciones y da mucho más gusto cuando todo está bien articulado con cada pieza en su lugar.
Amé el concepto, apenas supe que se trataba de Inception AU no pude resistirme y leer este trabajo fue la mejor desición a las 2 am :)
El arte es maravilloso y eligieron tan buenas escenas para representar la historia!!! (eso puede ser un poco difícil al momento de ilustrar una narración pero ustedes lo hicieron de maravilla AA+++)
Tengo que ser sincera y lloré al final. Estaba muy atrapada en la historia, a medida que fui leyendo hacía mis suposiciones sobre cómo se resolvería esta situación y cuando finalmente llegué a:
"“Hajime,” Oikawa says like it’s the first time, and Iwaizumi can feel his resolve crumbling. He knows what Oikawa is going to say next. He knows what Oikawa's going to ask.
But he doesn’t know how he will answer."
Tuve que dejar de leer y respirar hondo antes de seguir porque ya tenía una "vaga idea" de lo que podía venir y una vez que vi el último dibujo me golpearon todos los FEELINGS....OH POR DIOS! Creo que el final es lo que más me gustó de esta historia, eso y la desesperación de Hajime y su lucha por mantener "la cordura" en toda esta situación. Se sintió todo tan real, de verdad estoy impresionada...
EXCELENTE caracterización!!! EXCELENTE RELATO!! Y EXCELENTE ARTE!!
Una vez más el final! Creo que de en verdad fue lo más genial en toda esta historia. Haberlo hecho gráfico lo hizo aún más potente porque puedes ver las expresiones de ambos y eso....UGH... AAAAA+++++++ Creo que haber terminado la historia de cualquier otra manera no habría tenido el mismo efecto, ni habría sido tan acertado, creo que incluso podría haberle quitado toda la potencia al trabajo así que en verdad, me quito el sombrero ante ustedes! lo hicieron maravillosamente y el final es perfecto
Muchas gracias por compartirlo con nosotros
PD: ¿¿alguien de ustedes lloró mientras trabajaban en eso???? xD
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We can't even begin to say how happy we are that you enjoyed our entry so much! And thank you for taking the time to leave such a heartfelt and long comment as well! ♡♡♡
(To answer your question - yes, people did actually cry while we were working on this...ME. I'm a crybaby. LMAO.)
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and i just can't shut up about the ending....i love the ending is ughh!!!!!!!! *fire emoji*
(hahah i was really curious about it xDDD idk why)
I'LL BE BACK TO LEAVE A PROPER COMMENT LATER
Re: I'LL BE BACK TO LEAVE A PROPER COMMENT LATER
Thank you for reading and commenting, Xy! We're super happy you enjoyed it ♡
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IS
INCREDIBLE
AND THAT ENDING...SLOW CLAPS AND STANDING OVATIONS!!!!!!
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Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment ♡ It means a lot to us!
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Thank you for your lovely comment! ♡
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"Iwaizumi always shows up when Oikawa is feeling lost. If he keeps going, perhaps Iwaizumi will appear to scold him and they can be together again." I HAD TO STOP AND CRY A BIT BEFORE CONTINUE, THIS HURT SO MUCH
I actually don't remember much of Inception but it didn't matter anyway, this entry invokes such a gripping atmosphere all on its own. The writing and art is sooooo beautiful and fit so well together, my heart rose and sank with each section and the art took my breath away. The ending hit me like a punch to the gut, it was absolutely perfect.
THIS WAS SO AMAZING, YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING!!!!!!
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We really wanted to set up the right kind of environment, and we wanted the art pieces to evoke just enough emotion for each scene, so it means so so much that our intentions came through like that with even just one reader.
Your praise is really too kind, but thank you a million for reading and commenting! ♡
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