Secrets in Shibuya - Haikyuu [Oikawa x Iwaizumi]

sunbeams and bath water

Dragging him up to my apartment was almost impossible. Of course it would be. It was Oikawa. He might be the hardest worker on this planet, this country's fan favorite sportstar, but he was still a hot mess. I managed to find a shopping cart and hoisted his lanky, intoxicated body into the small basket. The grandmother who lived on the first floor was trekking back from a late-night corner store. She clutched a gallon of milk and a basket of tomatoes in her arms.

"Konbanwa." She beamed a toothless smile.

I grinned back, managing a wave as I lifted Oikawa's back with my other arm. Was the old woman oblivious to this strange antic before her eyes, or did she just not care? Most likely, it was the latter. Either way, she moved happily along, and the rest of the apartment (only saori-weaving grandmothers seemed to occupy my apartment building) was fast asleep.

Once we managed to enter my room, I plopped Oikawa into the bathtub, took off his vomit-stained shirt, tossed it in the washing machine. He would probably wake up confused... maybe even perturbed. My alarm clock might just be his voice — that incoherent, hungover delirium. To prevent morning confusion, I left a note by the sink:

Hi there. You were passed out in front of this apartment building. Don't worry, you're not hurt. Feel free to take a shower. I washed your shirt. There was puke on it.

I wondered if I should leave before he got up. Many thoughts raced through my mind: Do I really want to see him tomorrow morning? Is this some sort of twisted fate?

Screw destiny! Screw our lack of free will!

It occurred to me that Oikawa always felt present in my life because he was always around. His face was on every street corner. Those infamous eyes lit up the big LED screens, and his smile covered every printer paper ad on Shibuya's cafe walls. He never really left the peripheries of my world; it was like he was always tiptoeing around the fringes. However, Oikawa had not seen me since we both left Miyagi. When we both left our hometown, I floated into his dark void.

There was no way to ever trace me. No social media accounts. No articles. No blog posts. None of that... Hm, perhaps, there was no use worrying about this. I shut off the lights and pushed my anxieties away.

This was a problem for tomorrow.

_____

I woke up to the heavy steam of bath water. Really? I said he could take a shower, but the fool had the audacity to take a full bath. The landlord was already pestering me about the water bill. I should've known; he was always a high maintenance guy.

Oikawa's rambles echoed through my small apartment.

"Where the fuck am I? Oh god, what is this place? How did I fall asleep in this tiny tub? I hope they didn't steal my Prada shirt. Fuck, what if they stole my shirt? That was a gift from Miuccia Prada. They wouldn't even know."

I wanted to scream, 'I can hear you, fucker!', but I bit my lip. I brewed some French roast coffee and blasted my September playlist to drown out his annoying murmurs. Once the sun peeked over the tall Tokyo towers, I opened the curtains. The autumn sun casted lightstreams onto my wooden floors. I stuck my head in the kitchen sink and splashed my face with water, feeling the disoriented thoughts swirl through my body. What a hell of a night. What a cursed morning.

"Hello there?" his voice echoed from the bathroom. He opened the door. "I just wanted to thank you for-"

Oikawa stepped outside, towel around his waist. He had on his sugarcoated, 'Mr. Perfect" smile. It was like he'd spent years in charm school, learning how to enchant people.

We locked eyes. A moment of painful silence followed.

"Iwa-Chan!?" His sugary smile transformed into something completely different. He stopped himself. "Sorry. I meant Iwaizumi. Wait, what is happening right now?"