Thoughtography | IwaOi |

Chapter 20: Only 5 Years

Iwaizumi POV

(A/N: Daaamn Daniel, back at it again with the angst)

It had only been 30 minutes since he left and I already missed his touch, craving the unusual chill of his fingers against my skin.

I shuddered.

Every time that thought entered my head I ended up covering my eyes and ignoring the blood rushing to my cheeks, trying to convince myself I wasn't as obsessed with him as I truly am.

But there was no way to push down the image of him smiling, or laughing, or even just doing anything. There was no way to ignore those hazel eyes, always filled with thought. Just the idea of him winking at me like he always does made me scream internally.

Am I going crazy?

I'd always convinced everyone – and myself – that I hated him, and would do anything to be rid of his company, yet here I was: wishing he'd just come back to me. That was when a terrible creeping thought leapt into my mind without warning, sirens shrieking with blinding warning lights.

Leukaemia.

Oikawa has leukaemia.

It seemed it still hadn't fully sunk in that this was a very real condition and a very real issue.

I told myself not to, but I couldn't resist looking up the average amount of teenagers dying from leukaemia. It would only make things harder, but the part of my brain that usually holds me back seemed mute at that moment.

I froze when the screen loaded.

'Research has shown most adolescents live 5 years after getting their diagnosis, with it being twice as likely for those aged over 15 to die from the treatment itself.'

That sunk in quicker than I expected – seeing the words on the screen seemed to prove it more than audible words could. 5 years. Only 5 years.

It sounds like a long time, but for him to only live to his early twenties? And with the addition of him dying because of treatment? I had to go and ruin everything for myself didn't I – now I just felt like shit.

I only have him for another 5 years.

That was the last thought before I dug my nails into my own arm, distracting myself. A distraction would help me.

I'm not the type of person to be very vocal about how I feel, choosing to push it away and ignore it. Blissful ignorance, as my mother once said. As soon as I've distracted myself from the thought, it doesn't seem to affect me. Not without a very obvious trigger.

Like when I was 12, my dog had been sick ever since we got him as a puppy – we never knew what it was, but he wouldn't eat for long periods of time, and got so worse he had to get a blood transfusion. My parents didn't want to worry me during school, so they came to the conclusion together to put him down and out of his misery. I got the news from my very tearful mother.

5 minutes.

5 minutes is how long I cried for. It wasn't even a loud sobbing sort of cry, it was just a few tears and a few sniffles and – done.

I couldn't understand how it was possible for my mother to have been crying all day after taking him to the vet, mourning for days after he was gone. I just watched funny videos on YouTube and completely ignored any sick feeling rolling at the pit of my stomach.

It was just a dog.

What if you don't cry when Oikawa dies?

Shut up.