iwaoi — that’s all, nat king cole jr.
all i have are these arms to enfold you.
They were 80. Wrinkles lined their faces, joints that once moved with agility now creaking with age. It’s a strange thing, growing old. You see the roots of your hair gradually turn white when you get ready for the morning and you stare at your changing self in the mirror, wondering what fragments of the past your mind will forget today.
Although it’s generally unpleasant and you wish it would stop, it’s not so bad if you get to experience it with someone who’s been beside you practically ever since you were a baby.
and a love time can never destroy.
“Am I beautiful, Iwa-chan?”
Oikawa always asked that. Always whined when Iwaizumi said no. Always blushed when Iwaizumi said yes. Sometimes, he would grin proudly and say, “I know, right!” and his eyes would sparkle when Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and Iwaizumi would fall in love just a little bit more.
“Am I beautiful, Iwa-chan?”
Oikawa is asking that now as he stands in front of the mirror; wrinkled skin, eyes clouded with cataracts, hunched back. Iwaizumi is sitting on their bed, too tired and sleepy to stand.
if you’re wondering what i’m asking in return, dear.
“Yeah, you are,” Iwaizumi answers simply, and there’s that smile again. Oikawa once blamed Iwaizumi for being the reason why he got wrinkles. Said it was because Iwaizumi made him smile and laugh so much, he got lines all over his pretty face. Sometimes he would point at a line and tell Iwaizumi, “See, this is from when you told me you would rather watch me over a Godzilla film!”
you’ll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Oikawa points at lines now as he lies beside Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s hand was resting on Oikawa’s hip, and Oikawa’s eyes are on Iwaizumi’s drowsy face.
“This is from when we got married.”
“Your whole right cheek?”
“That’s because I smiled so much that day, a hundred lines formed!”
“You didn’t have laugh lines when we got married.”
“Age is making you ridiculous.”
“You’re the same age as I am.”
“Yeah, we’re both ridiculous.”
say it’s me that you’ll adore, for now and evermore.
Oikawa falls asleep first with a smile on his face as Iwaizumi cards a hand through his hair gently, a lullaby that’s all touch and no song.
Tomorrow, they’ll get up again. Go down the stairs as slowly as possible. Sweep the floors while groaning about their aching backs every now and then. Cook dinner and talk about the rowdy teenagers that sometimes help them cross the street. They’d make each other laugh, and they’d get new lines again.
Yeah, maybe growing old isn’t that bad.
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