faded photographs from february 及川 徹 ﹕ oikawa tooru
content. timeskip! oikawa tooru (20), plays for the japan national team. angst. exes to lovers. slight chatfic.
authors note. was listening to laufey the entire time i was working on this . . . (⋟﹏⋞) i miss my boyf (tooru). i also wrote this on the tumblr app + didn’t beta read it, so if there’s any mistakes: please disregard them!
nostalgia hurts worse than any other pain.
you know that because, as you stand in the subway station, people rushing from point a to point b, you feel an indescribable ache in your chest. one that you know cannot be fixed with an antacid or an ibuprofen.
oikawa tooru is plastered on the wall in front of you, promoting some cologne you’ll never be able to afford. his hair is perfectly gelled, his skin flawless and shiny. but his smile, his wide, flashy smile — it isn’t quite real. it doesn’t reach his eyes the way that it should.
behind you, the train whirs to life and rockets down the tunnel, leaving you behind. you can’t find it in yourself to care, too entranced by the advertisement. even though it’s only been eight months, he’s so . . . different.
you don’t even know how to accurately describe it. like, it’s not just how he looks, but also the air around him. you’re not even looking at him in person and you can tell at least that much.
you miss him, you think. just a little bit, just in moments like this. you’ll never admit it out loud. you were the one who broke things off; if you go back now, it’ll just make you look like a gold-digger.
your neck hurts from looking up for too long, but you ignore it in favor of keeping your eyes on his. you’re so proud of him — more than he will ever know. you don’t even realize you’re crying until a light breeze sweeps through the tunnel, chilling your face. you sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheek as fast as you can.
how embarrassing; crying over your ex-boyfriend in the middle of the subway station. you wrap your arms around yourself as a singular shiver runs down your spine.
you need to turn around and get on the train. you need to go home and feed your cat. you need to shower and do some of the homework that’s in your bag. you need to—
the unmistakable voice of matsukawa echoes throughout the tunnel, shaking you to your core. what is he doing here? at this time of night? god, you hope he doesn’t bring up tooru.
you wipe at your cheeks again, this time as discreet as possible, and turn to the brunette with a practiced smile. “hi, matsukawa. funny seeing you here.”
if he notices your glossy eyes, he doesn’t show it. instead, he smiles back at you, laughing. “yeah. small world.” he pauses, glancing over at the large picture of oikawa staring down at you two, then shakes his head. “uh, how are you? it’s been a while. like, what, seven months?”
“something like that,” you nod politely. “i’m good. school is busy, but that’s not new.” you shrug, pressing your lips together. “how are you? how’s t— um, how’s everyone else?”
“we’re good, yeah,” he nods back. his tongue darts out to wet his lips — a nervous tic of his. “iwa’s still in california, partying it up. makki just started a new job . . .” he trails off, eyes darting to the advertisement. “shittykawa’s still annoying as ever.”
you laugh, ducking your head as you do so. “makes sense,” you say softly, smiling. “is iwaizumi coming back for christmas break at all? i assume not, since most school’s are already out.”
“ah, yeah. he wanted to, but . . .” he shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. “money.”
“he misses you, you know.”
“iwaizumi?” you ask, brows furrowing as you tilt your head. matsukawa shakes his head, and your smile slowly fades as you realize who he’s talking about. “oh.”
“you should—” he cuts himself off, shoulders rising as he takes a deep breath. “you should call him. or text him. or anything. he—”matsukawa chuckles, “he never shuts up about you.”
“mattsun,” you say, almost like a warning. “he doesn’t want to hear from me. i— i broke up with him.”
“yeah, because you wanted him to focus on his career,” he says, brows pinching together. “as you can see by the giant poster of his face, he’s doing pretty good for himself. he made the national team — youngest to ever do it. he has sponsors and he’s the number one setter in the country.”
you bite the inside of your cheek. you’ve though about it a couple times; reaching out to him. to say congratulations, to send him a snapchat flashback of a fond memory, just to say hi.
the sound of the next train pulling up vibrates through the air, and you glance over at the tracks, then back at matsukawa. “i’ll— i’ll think about it, okay? it was good seeing you, mattsun. let me know if you need anything.”
12:51 pm | you -> tooru. i ran into mattsun yesterday. he told me i should text you, so umm here i am, texting you. hi. read.
you’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you actually took matsukawa’s advice and texted tooru, or the fact that he left you on read.
truly, you should have just ignored matsukawa. said hello, and walked out of the station before he could say anything else. you would have had to walk home, but who cares? that would have been infinitely better than this.
you feel like a second year again, stomach churning as you pace outside of the gymnasium, grip tight on your camera, trying to work up the courage to talk to the captain of the volleyball team.
after staring at your phone for three minutes, waiting for a little bubble to pop up, you groan and flip your phone over — face down, so you don’t have to see your reflection.
you busy yourself with homework instead. chewing on your bottom lip, brows pinched together; you drown out everything else and, by the time you finish your assignments, it’s nearly 4 o’clock.
you pick up your phone on instinct, then drop it when you see a notification from tooru. he texted you back. two hours later, but still.
2:58 pm | tooru. -> you sorry i was at practice can we talk in person? at that cafe you like?
3:00 pm | you -> tooru. right now?
3:00 pm | tooru. -> you yeah if you’re not busy
3:03 pm | you -> tooru. okay yeah. i’ll be there in a bit
3:03 pm | tooru. -> you great
as you gather yourself together, you try not to think about how tooru remembered your favorite cafe. eight months isn’t a long time, and by no means did you forget anything about him, but it still makes your heart flutter a bit.
the walk to the cafe is short and uneventful. you can’t calm your nerves, no matter how hard you try. you tell yourself that tooru isn’t a stranger; you’ve spent countless nights with him, talking about anything and everything under the sun. he’s funny, and he’s smart, and he’s thoughtful, and he’s—
standing outside of the cafe, staring down at his phone. you feel like you can’t breathe. you feel like you’re going to throw up. or cry. or both.
he’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, probably because he just got done with practice. his glasses sit low on his nose, his hair is messy, stray pieces framing his face. it’s all so painfully him.
you open your mouth, to call out to him, maybe, but you can’t speak. what are you supposed to say to him? sorry i broke up with you so i wouldn’t get in the way of your career. i’m still in love with you, by the way?
before you can form your next thought, there are big, brown eyes staring back at you, accompanied by a soft smile. he brings his hand up and gives a small wave, then jogs over to where you stand.
“you came,” he breathes out.
you bite the inside of your cheek. “you asked me to.”
he laughs, running a hand through his hair. “do you wanna go inside? they have cranberry scones, since it’s almost christmas.” he pauses, shrugging. “or we could go on a walk. it’s up to you.”
“a walk sounds nice,” you say with a nod. he turns back the way he came from, and starts walking down the sidewalk. “so, um, how have you been? i saw your ad for that cologne. it’s all over the subway station on third street.”
he glances over at you, his cheeks link. “ah, yeah, that. my coach said it’s good that i have brands wanting to work with me, but . . .” he sighs. “i don’t know. i’ve been okay, though. what about you?”
“good. i’m— i’ve been good. thanks.” you’re making a point not to look at him. you can feel him look back at you every so often, but your eyes are glued to where the soles of your shoes meet the pavement.
a silence falls over the two of you. not exactly awkward, but not comfortable, either. you sneak a glance over at him, studying his side profile. his eyes are forward, his hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. has he been working out more? his arms look huge, even under his hoodie.
“i missed you,” he says suddenly, avoiding your eyes. “i feel like i went through the five stages of grief when you broke up with me. i was—” he laughs, “i was really pissed off at first. at you, at myself, at everyone. and then it finally hit me.” he stops walking, just ahead of you, and turns around. “why didn’t you just tell me you thought you were holding me back? that you broke up with me because you didn’t want to be a burden?”
you blink at him, taken aback. you knew he was going to have questions, you just didn’t think he’d start asking them five minutes into seeing you after eight months.
“i . . .” you start, but don’t finish. you have no idea what to say. what does he want you to say? what will give him closure? “i just— i didn’t want to . . . i didn’t want to be any trouble. and i didn’t want to—” you sigh frustratedly. “—hold you back. volleyball is the most important thing in your life, and—”
“and you,” he interrupts, brows furrowed. “you and volleyball are the two most important things in my life.”
you roll your eyes. “you’re twenty years old, tooru. i appreciate the effort, but you don’t mean that. i’m replaceable. the love you feel for volleyball, however, is not.”
“you made a decision for me without even asking about how i‘d feel about it!” he exclaims, almost incredulously. “i love volleyball, yeah, but i loved you, too. and that wasn’t going to change just because you thought it would.”
loved. past tense. tooru doesn’t love you anymore. what were you expecting? for him to wait eight months? it was a pathetic wish.
you look back down at the ground, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip in a lame effort to not cry. “i think . . .” you mumble hesitantly. “i think this was a mistake.”
“i shouldn’t have even texted you in the first place.” you shake your head, voice cracking as you speak. “i’m . . . i’m sorry, tooru. okay? i’m sorry for breaking up with you, and for suddenly texting you eight months after, and i’m sorry that i wasn’t the best girlfriend, and i’m sorry—”
he cuts off your cries by wrapping his arms around you, warm fabric pressing against your tear-stained cheeks.
there is no doubt about it now: you missed him.
your fingers clutch the back of his hoodie, bunching the fabric in your fists as another sob escapes you. it’s humiliating. dramatic, too. but tooru only tightens his hold, one hand settling on the back of your head like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“i think you’re making a scene,” he murmurs into your hair; you can feel him smile against you.
you let out a wet laugh. “you’re so annoying.”
when he leans back — slowly — to look at you, his glasses have slipped down his nose. you reach up to fix them before you can stop yourself.
“sorry,” you whisper, pulling your hand back. “muscle memory.”
“i wanna get back together,” he blurts out, like he can’t keep the words in. his eyes go wide as he processes what he said, and then he blinks. “uh, i mean. do you . . . want to? do you— do you still . . . love me?”
it would be easier to lie. to make a joke, deflect, tell him you’re not sure. easier to protect yourself with distance and pride and all the same things that got you here in the first place.
his eyes squeeze shut immediately, muttering something that sounds suspiciously close to thank god. then he opens them and says, “okay. great. cool. amazing.” he smiles nervously. “can you tell i’m trying to be normal about this?”
you laugh again, and this time it feels like a weight off your back. like something unclenching in your chest.
“can i kiss you?” he asks. when you simply blink at him, he laughs. “i’m trying out the whole healthy communication thing.”
you reach up, take his face in your cold hands, and kiss him first. he makes a startled sound against your mouth before melting into it completely, hands finding your waist like they still belong there.
when you finally pull back, after a moment or two, both of you are smiling so hard it hurts.
“does this mean you’re my girlfriend now? or do i have to make a grand gesture?”
you hum, tapping your chin. “how grand?”
“i’ll get down on one knee right now,” he says, backing away and maneuvering into a lunge. you giggle, shaking your head, and he stands back up, laughing as well.
“i’ll be your girlfriend again.”
for once in his life, oikawa tooru is speechless.
it lasts three whole seconds. and then he scoops you off the ground in one smooth motion, spinning you despite your shrieked protests.
“now who’s causing a scene?” you shout, squeezing your eyes shut. “toor— tooru, haha, put me down!”
8:12 pm | mattsun -> you you’re welcome ;)
