Sober | Iwaoi

7 | حب

"So when your tears roll down your pillow like a river
I'll be there for youI'll be there for you
When you're screaming, but they only hear you whisper
I'll be loud for you..."

-Martin Garrix, Troye Sivan

"Oikawa?"

Iwaizumi was ashamed to admit that he had pressed the accept button faster than he'd ever before. He let his feet dangle from the edge of the bed as he held the phone next to his ear, waiting for Oikawa to say something. He hadn't heard his voice in a while.

He heard a few clatters in the background, laughs and taunts that were not Oikawa's, so he repeated, "Oikawa? Hello?"

The line remained silent. Iwaizumi stood up abruptly and began to pace around the room. An emergency call? An accident? Or maybe Oikawa had called him just to remind him how much he missed him.

The thought made him punch something, and Iwaizumi smashed the end button, cursing as he threw himself back onto the bed. "Shittykawa," he muttered. "I hate you."

But Oikawa's face didn't quite disappear from his mind. When his phone rung again, he hastily picked it up. "Another call?"

The silence did not sit well with Iwaizumi. Blood rushed to his brain; he felt an animating surge of adrenaline, of possibility, that somewhere Oikawa was in trouble. If not, why else other than to torture him? His confusion was short-lived, however, as he remembered all the times he'd needed to drag Oikawa home. Who was there for him this time?

His agitation built inside of him, consuming him until he staggered out the door, clumsily dragging his bike alongside him.

Iwaizumi's head was fuzzy. He streaked past the dimly lit houses, turning corners with a sharp shriek of tires. His throat was parched. He inhaled large gasps of air, savoured how they froze his lungs, and then exhaled in a puff of white smoke.

The gears on his bike were a familiar sound. Ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk. It grounded him to this strange dream, gave him something to believe that his heart was still beating alongside it. If he let go of reality just enough, he could almost imagine a warm Oikawa huddled behind him.

If Oikawa was gone, he didn't think he could forgive himself. He hadn't talked to his best friend in months. 

The ghost on his bike trembled and vanished, leaving Iwaizumi numb.

a/n :')