euphoria ➳ drabbles

iwaoi ➳ overworking

He despised this feeling. No matter how much blood and sweat he put into practicing, the results never seemed to satisfy him.

Hours upon hours of nonstop drills, anything to perfect his abilities and somehow get closer to the impossible goal that he had set for himself so long ago.

Iwaizumi would constantly tell him that he was "working himself to death," while excuses would spill out of his mouth without a thought.

As much as he hated to admit, maybe Iwaizumi was right. Oikawa couldn't control how long he spent sharpening his serves, receives, and everything that looked utterly wrong in his eyes.

Just as the sun rays crept through the windows, he would find himself exhausted, sweat soaking through worn knee pads, and purplish-blue bruises kissing his pale skin. His muscles would be sore, but he kept raising the bar higher, surpassing his limit over and over again.

It was a routine, Iwaizumi rushing in, first-aid kits stacked upon his arms as he yelled a string of curses at him for being so foolish. Through a tired smile, Oikawa would tease him in a light tone, not once flinching when he received a light smack upon the head in return, followed by aggressive mutterings of "you idiot," and "why do I even bother."

Once in a while a soft kiss would be planted over the bruises, lips lingering for a bit too long before an ice pack took its place, making them numb. Despite the affectionate gestures that brought a fond grin onto his face, Oikawa would hurriedly push Iwaizumi away so that he could get back on the court once more.

It's not like Iwaizumi didn't try to stop him from going at it again. He knew that nothing would satisfy Oikawa anyways, so he joined him instead.

~✩~

written on november 17, 2016.