When We Were Young - Oikawa Tooru x Reader
Author’s note: this is pretty angsty! Read at your own risk :’)
You looked just as he remembered you, but more… vivid, if that made any sense. Your hair was more lustrous, your eyes glimmered brightly under the ballroom lights. Had your lips always been so soft and pink? Had you always looked so good in white? Had you always been this beautiful?
As he stared at you from across the floor, loosely cradling a stemmed glass of prosecco in one hand and wiping the sweat on the palm of the other, you laughed. He couldn’t hear you over the chatter of the crowd, but nonetheless your giggle resounded in his mind as if it were being projected by a sound system. You used to laugh at his jokes that way. You used to smile at him the way you smiled at someone else now. He had an old picture of you grinning like that back in his apartment in Argentina, tucked in between the books on his shelf-- he couldn’t bear to have it out in the open, reminding him of what he let go, but he also couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.
God, he wished he could take a picture of you now. He hadn’t seen you that happy in ages. You were still laughing, playfully gripping someone’s arm and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. In the last days of his relationship with you, you had been so… gray. So lifeless. So different from the girl he’d fallen in love with as a second year high school student.
He’d come to realize it was his fault, of course. He hadn’t been treating you like you deserved. If he could turn back time, though… he would never have let you leave his side. He would never have let any of your tears go unwiped, never let you struggle on your own while he wrapped himself in his own problems and refused to face the reality of your unhappiness. He would have treasured you.
He recalled one evening back in high school. The two of you were deeply in love, as in love as one can be at eighteen years old. The night air was cold and biting, but seeing you wrapped up in his coat made him feel so warm inside. April in Miyagi was always lovely, but he thought it had never been as lovely as it had been that night, with you dancing in between the streetlamps and tugging on his sleeve to dance with you. There was no music but your laughter and no dance floor but the gravel road. You danced until you were breathless, and he smiled softly at your flushed cheeks and mussed hair and kissed you under a flurry of sakura petals. It was as close to movie magic as he could have ever possibly imagined. You were better than perfect, sweeter than fiction. So why, why had he let you go?
He had been so selfish. You had invested so constantly into him, supported him unconditionally, accepted his shortcomings and failures, and in return, he had gotten bored. At least, that’s what he had told you. He cringed as he remembered that last day. You’d looked up into his face, unshed tears glimmering on your lower lash line, nervously chewing on your inner cheek.
“Tooru,” you whispered. “You’ve been so distant. I… am I doing something wrong?”
He’d looked down at you coldly, and it felt like a shard of metal lodged itself in his chest but he let the words fall from his lips anyways: “I’m just bored of you.”
You flinched as if you’d been slapped, and the last thing he’d heard from you was “Goodbye, Oikawa” as you grabbed your book bag and left.
He hadn’t really been bored of you. You’d remained as spontaneous as the day he first met you, fresh as a daisy and enthusiastic as a puppy the entire year and a half he dated you. But you were always so honest, always so straightforward… it forced him to confront himself, to own up to his actions, and that’s what he began to hate. He began to hate himself. He couldn’t stand you continuing to look up to him when he couldn’t see himself as anything but a failure. You would never let him wallow in his self pity and spoil him like all the other girls did. You would try to pick him up, clean his face and help him improve. And he knew that’s what he really needed. He knew he didn’t need someone to stroke his ego and carry him when he was weak, he needed someone to teach him to save himself.
Seeing his weaknesses so plainly bothered him. So he pushed you away… he just never imagined you would stay away. Half of him was still waiting for you to come back, to knock on his door and shove a new book you thought he would enjoy into his hand, or to go rifle through his fridge for a snack. And even now, five years after graduation, after he joined Club Atletico San Juan and moved across the globe, a tiny part of his heart still belonged to you.
He had been surprised, to say the least, when he found the invitation in his mail. To Oikawa Tooru. You have been invited to celebrate the union of (L/N) (F/N) and Iwaizumi Hajime. Please RSVP to secure a seat. At the bottom of the invitation, you’d drawn a little smiley face. He could tell it was you who had drawn it because you’d doodled the same one in the margins of his homework countless times before during study dates. That little face taunted him, laughed at his regret. He deserved it.
Now, he watched you slow dance with his best friend in the middle of the floor, staring lovingly into your new husband’s eyes while he murmured into your ear. Had you ever looked at Oikawa that tenderly? Had you ever cupped the back of his neck so gently? He wasn’t sure. Probably not. It had been Iwaizumi who comforted you after Oikawa had cast you aside so cruelly, and it had been Iwaizumi you’d sworn loyalty to thenceforth. Oikawa had known you and Iwaizumi were together, but he hadn’t known it was so serious. Briefly, he imagined what it would be like to be in Iwa’s place right now, holding your body flush against his, inhaling the scent of your hair.
God, he needed to dance with you. Just once more, he needed to dance with you like he did that night under the sakura tree.
The song segued into another, and you and Iwaizumi stepped off the dance floor as another couple took your place. Oikawa placed his glass on the table, stood up, and moved across the room swiftly until he stood just feet behind you and Iwaizumi.
He cleared his throat. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”
You turned and Oikawa swore he saw a breath catch in your throat as you gazed at him unblinkingly, lips slightly parted. Suddenly, your face broke into a broad smile.
“Tooru!” You leaned forward and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Oikawa froze briefly before wrapping his arms around you lightly-- you hadn’t called him by his first name in ages and you hadn’t hugged him for even longer. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Glad I could come,” he said with a terse smile. He turned to Iwaizumi and clapped him on the back goodnaturedly. “Iwa-chan! Look at you! A married man, finally. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
Iwaizumi gave a rare smile. “Nice to see you too, Shittykawa.”
“Still gotta bully me after all these years, huh?” joked Oikawa, even though he felt his heart breaking to pieces. He turned back to you, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hey, listen, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I was wondering… could I have this dance?”
Your eyes widened just barely and you turned to Iwaizumi, who nodded.
“Go ahead, darling,” he said. “I have to go greet some of my relatives anyways. Just find me when you’re done.”
He gave Oikawa one last pat on the back before slipping into the crowd.
Gently, Oikawa took your hand and led you onto the floor, resting his hands on your waist. You rested yours on his shoulders, and he felt his muscles relax at your touch. The two of you swayed slowly to the music, a song he didn’t know.
Everybody loves the things you do
From the way you talk, to the way you move
“You look lovely, (L/N),” he said quietly. “Or should I say Iwaizumi-san?”
“Oh, call me (F/N),” you said, smiling. “I think we owe each other at least that.”
Oikawa smiled back sadly. He spun you around and caught you in his arms. “Yeah, at least.”
Everybody here is watching you
‘Cause you feel like home, you’re like a dream come true
You laughed that beautiful, beautiful laugh of yours. To him, it sounded like all his favorite songs wrapped up in one. God, he’d missed you.
But if by chance you’re here alone
Can I have a moment before I go
“This reminds me of when we were young,” you said softly, as you returned to swaying to the beat. “That night--”
“Under the sakura tree,” Oikawa finished. “Yeah, I remember.” I dream about it every other night.
“Yeah, that night,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory. “I had a lot of fun. I think we had just gotten out of a late night viewing of some silly romantic movie. You said you hated it, but I noticed you wiping tears away during that one kiss scene.”
Cause I’ve been by myself all night long
Hoping you’re someone I used to know
“Ah, I’d forgotten we’d even watched a movie that night.” Oikawa pulled you a little closer. “I only remember how cute you looked in my jacket.”
“It was two sizes too large,” you said, leaning into him. “But it was certainly warm.”
Let me photograph you in this light
In case this is the last time that we might
Be exactly like we were before we realized
“You’ve changed your perfume,” he said, suddenly. “I like this one better.”
“You still remember the perfume I used to wear?” You raised an eyebrow. “You creep.”
We were sad of getting old, it made us restless
Oikawa laughed-- a real laugh, not a fake one. “How could I not? You sprayed it on all the sweatshirts you borrowed.”
“I needed to give you something to remember me by,” you teased. Oikawa mumbled something unintelligible.
“I said,” Oikawa breathed. “I could never forget you, (F/N).”
You still look like a movie
You still sound like a song
You swallowed thickly, heat crawling up your cheeks and old wounds throbbing. “Tooru…”
“I know, I know,” he said with a small smile. “It’s your wedding. I’m not here to win you back, and I’m glad you’re happy with Iwa-chan. Just… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I forgive you, Tooru,” you said, burying your face in his chest before the tears spilled over. “I forgive you.”
The song ended, fading into some generic jazzy tune. You and Oikawa stopped dancing, but you still stood there in the middle of the floor, staring at one another.
“You should tend to the rest of your guests,” Oikawa said finally, and you nodded. “Thanks for the dance.”
You squeezed his hand one last time, and turned to leave, but he didn’t let go. You looked back over your shoulder. “Tooru?”
“(F/N)...” Oikawa took out his phone. “Can we take a picture?”
You laughed. “Always so sentimental. Of course we can.”
The two of you posed for the selfie, and for once, Oikawa didn’t make some stupid face or stick out his tongue. He smiled and snapped the picture before tucking his phone away again. “Thank you.”
“Goodbye, Tooru,” you said. It was the same thing you said all those years ago, but this time it was warmer, kinder.
When he got back to Argentina, Oikawa took out the picture of you he had stowed in his bookshelf. He looked at it one last time, drinking in your youthful beauty. Then he threw it away. He didn’t need that one anymore.
