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Iwaizumi is in the middle of gently rejecting a classmate’s confession after school when a quiet, familiar beep starts to go off in his wrist, right at his pulse point. She turns around and spots Oikawa, leaning against the doorframe that leads into the gym, watching them.
Unbendable, immovable, ever-present Oikawa Tooru. She had been so careful to catch Iwaizumi alone for the smattering of minutes he exists without Oikawa at his side, but it hadn’t been enough.
“So, you see?” Iwaizumi says, doing his best to convince her kindly. He holds up his left wrist to her, an offering of apology. “This stupid beeper has been going off for him my entire life.”
“I know, we all know,” she says. She twists her hands in front of her, her own beeper traitorously silent. “And mine doesn’t beep for you either, so I know we’re not compatible, but that doesn’t mean we can’t give it a try.”
Iwaizumi sighs, unable to see the point in it. He’s been down the treacherous road of this conversation before. Not that there isn’t value in dating in general, because that’s the only way to know what will and won’t work in relationships, but beeper silence is the literal proof for lack of compatibility. What’s the point?
“And,” she says, stubbornly blushing as she fumbles to tuck some stray strands of pretty hair behind her ear, “Oikawa-kun’s beeper has never beeped for you, either.”
To that, Iwaizumi can only smile, far too used to the bitter taste on his tongue to cringe anymore. “Then I guess we’re both masochists.”
She looks at him in surprise and embarrassment, Endo Ayaka, always top ten of their grade. Iwaizumi is plenty flattered that someone so beautiful, so smart, so capable would find him this worthy of pursuit. Given another lifetime, an easier life without Oikawa in it, he could easily see himself falling for her. She’s one of the few who’ve confessed to him without having had confessed to Oikawa first.
Ayaka regards him for another moment but she sighs in the end, smiling, but not without regret. Iwaizumi is so reliable and loyal, and even though he’s prickly at the edges, she’s always thought him unbearably kind. What a shame that Oikawa doesn’t feel the same, even after all these years. “Good luck, Iwaizumi-kun. I really mean that.”
On the way home, Oikawa manages to wait until they’re both playing with a random stranger’s puppy to ask. “So? Did you say yes?” he asks, trying to keep it casual. The puppy’s going crazy, trying to jump on him to lick his face, running in anxious circles around Oikawa’s feet, and Iwaizumi smiles despite himself.
“What do you think, Trashkawa?” The stranger gives him a weird look at the nickname and Iwaizumi flushes. “We ended up talking about you, anyway.” The puppy yips and tries to scramble up Oikawa’s leg as soon as he stands up to leave.
“Awww, cute puppy, you’re so good!” Oikawa coos, his face so bright as he waves goodbye. It excitedly barks after Oikawa for a good while even after he and Iwaizumi leave, their hands brushing every now and again.
---
Iwaizumi remembers hitting puberty first, because they’d been lying in Oikawa’s bed one summer, both of them dying from heat and dreading the return of classes, when Iwaizumi’s left wrist had started going off. They’d both stared at his wrist in utter silence and then Oikawa had looked at him, wide-eyed and red in the face, and then he had laughed, sort of embarrassed but mostly, obviously, visibly pleased.
“You’re so in love with me, oh my god,” Oikawa had teased, and Iwaizumi had thrown a book straight at his face. He couldn’t deny it, though.
The beepers were developed for this very thing. To stimulate Japan’s atrocious birth rate, to take out most of the guesswork in dating, to offer some level of comfort and stability to lonely singles hopelessly lost in the journey to find love. It’s technological cupid, something real to bet your heart on. Less of a bet, then, and more informed investment. Iwaizumi had been quite keen on the idea as a child, hearing from his mom that he would encounter so many right people in his life to love and he would be able to know. And if that person’s beeper went off around him too, then that’s really something to believe in, because what other convincing would you need when you could just know that mentally, emotionally, physically, you found someone who could walk beside you for the rest of your life?
Iwaizumi had tried not to show it but he had waited for months and months after that summer for Oikawa’s beeper to go off, too. And by the way Oikawa would blush whenever they were alone together, he figured Oikawa likely felt the same way.
But it never came. Oikawa’s wrist was always just silent, and after a while, Iwaizumi learned to stop hoping for a quiet, assuring beep to harmonize with his own. Compatibility isn’t always mutual. That’s the first lesson in family planning class and in one-sided confessions that go nowhere, no magic left in maybe and but what if.
They don’t talk about it because it’s just another part of their relationship. No amount of unfortunate fate would break them apart, even if Iwaizumi does look at Oikawa sometimes and his beeper will pick up speed and pitch awkwardly an octave higher, and Oikawa always looks so guilty then, nothing to offer but a sorry, wilted smile.
“I don’t want your apologies,” Iwaizumi had said, only the one time.
It had been after a volleyball match in their second year of high school and lost among a crowd of his fans, Oikawa’s beeper had inexplicably started beeping. Iwaizumi had been watching from high up in the stands, on break due to an ankle sprain, and even though he was too far to be able to hear it, he had seen the shock settle on Oikawa’s face, too strong for him to know how to hide. And he had watched as Oikawa held his wrist to his ear, like he couldn’t quite believe it, and how he’d scanned the crowd back and forth, back and forth, assessing, reasoning, unable to figure out who it was that was causing it to go off. Then, uncharacteristically and without a word, Oikawa had pushed his way out of the crowd of his fans without even a goodbye, and less than fifteen seconds after that, his phone was going off in his hand.
“Iwa-chan, I just- there was just-” Oikawa stammers, the noise of the gym audible in the background. “Hey, did you come to the game after all? I thought you were going to stay home.”
“No, I came,” Iwaizumi says, bent over beside the railing, his forehead pressed to the back of his hand. He’s gripping onto the railing so hard that his hand is cramping but he relishes in the ache of it, anything to distract from the tightness in his chest.
What the fuck, he wants to say. Looks like your beeper isn’t broken after all. He doesn’t even have that illusion of comfort to hold onto anymore. It really is just compatibility, isn’t it?
“Well, I’ll come find--”
“No, I’m going home,” Iwaizumi says, cutting him off.
They never not walk home together if they’re both able to. He can sense Oikawa’s alarm, even over the phone.
“...Okay, I just wanted to tell you...” Oikawa makes an uncertain noise, something close to a hum and almost an embarrassed laugh. “My beeper went off.”
“Okay,” Iwaizumi says. What else is he to say?
“I’m really sorry, Iwa-chan. I--”
“I don’t want your apologies.” Only everything else. Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, reminding himself not to lash out. It isn’t Oikawa’s fault. It would only be so easy to assign blame but it literally isn’t in Oikawa’s biology to be compatible with him. If anything, given the choice, Oikawa would absolutely choose to be with him.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, this time almost a whisper, and his voice sounds so thick, like he’s about to start crying. Iwaizumi doesn’t have it in him today to be that strong.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” He says, and hangs up before Oikawa can answer.
The next day had been awkward and filled with Oikawa’s guilty offers to treat him to agedashi tofu or let Iwaizumi borrow his favorite jacket or even take him to the movies for a horror movie Oikawa absolutely did not want to watch, but Iwaizumi had turned all of those down, too. Because he doesn’t need pity dates. He doesn’t want Oikawa to be guilted into being with him, even though he suspects a large portion of their friendship has revolved around that ever since the summer they turned 13 and Iwaizumi could no longer hide how he felt.
Plenty of girls have confessed to him. Once, his beeper had even gone off, a mutual compatibility, and he had almost said yes when he had seen the hope in her eyes.
But while he is sure he could eventually learn to love someone else, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone for him to agree to it. For better or worse, and even though it’s only been increasingly worse, Iwaizumi fell in love with Oikawa. What a dead-end, one-way street this has been. No way to turn back, no ladder to crawl out of this bottomless hole, no flashlight in the dark so he can even try to find where he’s going.
By the way Oikawa hugs his arm sometimes, or leans in closer than he needs to, or pushes him to stay over and share the bed even though he has a spare futon, Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa doesn’t really want him to figure it out.
What closer comfort is there than knowing your best friend loves you more than all the 11 billion other people in the entire world?
---
Some days, Iwaizumi wears his love with defensive pride. It’s awkward to explain to new friends or acquaintances for the first time but he does it every time, even though he hates the looks of discomfort and pity they inevitably give him. For closer friends, it’s such a fact of life that they don’t even notice it anymore.
The sky is blue, summer is hot, volleyball is the best sport ever imagined, Iwaizumi is helplessly in love with Oikawa. When something just is, there stops being a reason to look for ways to stop or change it. Iwaizumi likens it to the burn of summer, often suffocatingly uncomfortable, full of bugs and noise and quickened tempers. But there’s also an earthen kind of heat to it, something that warms him down to his bones, and there is also shared popsicles and swimming in the sea and going to see fireworks in yukata. There isn’t anything to do but to live through it, all the crests and dips that come with it, season after season.
Perhaps Oikawa is simply an eternal season in Iwaizumi’s life. If he’s lucky, there will never be a winter without him.
---
The night before graduation, packed into Matsukawa’s living room and eating sliced apples, Hanamaki drops a bombshell on them.
Lesson two of family planning: if you want to get rid of the damned incessant beeping, share a kiss. It’s a biological design, an off switch, a physical recognition that you’ve found someone compatible, even if it’s only one-sided. Most people fall into two categories: kiss to start a relationship, or kiss to just get the annoying beeping to go away and carry on with life. Not everyone who finds a compatible partner wants to be in a relationship.
“So...you guys know the ceremony’s going to be really, really quiet tomorrow, right?”
“Aren’t they always?” Iwaizumi asks, peeling a mikan for Oikawa.
“What I mean is...” Matsukawa elbows Hanamaki in the side and they share a look, but Hanamaki sighs and pushes on. “Iwaizumi, I just don’t want you to feel awkward with all those parents and the PTA and staff just being able to hear it. Remember what our opening ceremony was like??”
Iwaizumi cringes at the memory. He had done his best to muffle the beeping as best he could, and whenever Oikawa had been far away enough, it had been blissfully quiet. It’s why all the teachers made sure to keep the two of them in separate classes as often as possible. But when they were listening to the principal’s speech, he couldn’t help that Oikawa was by his side, and he didn’t know what to say after the ceremony when parents and completely random strangers approached him to give him unsolicited advice about confessions and how to get over a hopeless love. It wasn’t fun to start off high school being that guy in a one-way love with his best friend.
“So...” Oikawa says quietly, uncharacteristically serious. He looks at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi looks right back at him, eyes helplessly dropping to the pink of Oikawa’s mouth.
“Eat your mikan and stop thinking about kissing me,” Iwaizumi says, face hot. He holds out a freshly peeled piece of mikan to Oikawa’s lips and turns away, stomach tight with discomfort. Of course he’s thought about it. But turning the beeping off almost seems like a sign of defeat, because if they just live in silence, then it isn’t any different from anyone else’s relationship, and it’ll be like Iwaizumi never held all of this love for him in the first place. That’s the point of turning the beeping off, of course. To resume a regular life.
But there isn’t any life without Oikawa, so what’s the point? How can he want everything to be so different for them but still be so loathe for anything to change?
Oikawa quietly eats the rest of the mikan that Iwaizumi peeled for him, silencing Hanamaki with a single exhausted, miserable look as soon as Iwaizumi leaves the room to get more mikan, taking his beeping with him.
---
To no one’s surprise but everyone’s increasing concern, Iwaizumi and Oikawa decide to share an apartment in Tokyo for university. It’s ill-advised, even they can see that, but being apart is too foreign for them to really attempt at this stage in their lives, when everything is already so in flux.
Their apartment lies farther into the edges of urban Tokyo, a bit away from the constant crowds and noise. Oikawa really likes their neighborhood--it’s stylish, but homey, and they have really nice neighbors who welcomed them with a whole box of butter cookies. Their neighbors down the street also have a super cute shiba inu that goes crazy for Oikawa whenever he and Iwaizumi walk past on their evening strolls, and Oikawa has silently adopted him as their puppy son.
Iwaizumi doesn’t mind so much that their apartment is a bit small or that it doesn’t get much sun; he’s got Oikawa, and for him, that has always been enough.
Oikawa is often busy with practice even during school hours and he doesn’t come home until quite late at night. Iwaizumi himself is in a dozen student groups, recruited for his athleticism and apparently good looks, though he’s never thought himself as such. They’re busy with separate lives but Iwaizumi always makes sure to eat with Oikawa whenever he can, even if that means following an excruciatingly long internet recipe to handmake Oikawa something that resembles nikujaga to share well past midnight.
It’s worth it to see Oikawa smile at him like that. That soft look in his eyes, like Iwaizumi is all that he likes in the world, nothing hidden in the gentle curve of his mouth except genuine affection. The longer this goes on, the more Iwaizumi is convinced they’ve fallen straight into a relationship, but he’s not brave enough to explicitly ask and Oikawa seems content to never bring it up.
Lesson three of family planning: married couples with mutual compatibility after 10 years of marriage report still being happy at 96% consistency. Married couples with partial or no biological compatibility report closer to 40%, and with much more turbulence. It’s not that it isn’t possible, because it obviously is, as they’ve all seen in old movies from the 2000s, where people just had to fall in love and believe it was meant to be, on faith. Iwaizumi used to think it must’ve been so nerve-wracking and terrible to date like that, because what if it doesn’t work out?
Now that he’s older, he envies it, the same way he envies non-compatible couples who insist on being in love and trying to work it out. Statistically, the odds just don’t work out. But they try, they persist even though they aren’t really suited to be, they fight and cry and rise to anger by choice, but it is their choice, and maybe that means something more than all the statistics and facts in the world.
---
In Iwaizumi’s third year of university, he invites Oikawa to his university’s school festival. Half the campus is abuzz with excitement at the news because they’ve seen Oikawa playing with the national volleyball team on TV and one or maybe all of Iwaizumi’s blabbermouth friends had let it slip that Oikawa was going come. Iwaizumi doesn’t lack popularity himself, it’s just that Oikawa is likely going to become an Olympian, and how many people can really claim to have hung out to eat shitty festival takoyaki with an Olympian?
He’s manning the free hugs booth the welcome committee has set up when it happens for the second time in his life. A beautiful, tall girl with long chestnut hair walks up to collect her free hug and both of their wrists go off, a steady, slow beep, perfectly in time with each other.
Iwaizumi stares at her in half-wonder and half-terror, in absolute disbelief someone this beautiful could be compatible with him.
“Oh,” he says stupidly, blinking like he’s got glue in his eyelashes.
“Oh,” she says back, face filling with a rosy blush. Holy shit, she is so-- “My name is Yamada Yuka,” she blurts out, shyly looking away. “Iwaizumi-san?” she reads off of his nametag, “um, would you like to get a coff--”
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa calls, and Iwaizumi startles, whirling around to the sound of Oikawa’s voice. There’s razors in Oikawa’s pleasant smile as he approaches and Iwaizumi’s stomach flips. How much of that had Oikawa seen?
His beeper suddenly stumbles in rhythm, a weird lag of sound, and then it picks up again, the usual, incessant tap of useless affection for Oikawa. It’s no longer in sync with Yuka’s, either, and Iwaizumi finds that annoyingly depressing. Even if she’s perfectly compatible with him, it seems his very being refuses to give Oikawa up for anything. How can Oikawa be so perfect for him when he’s so not perfect for Oikawa? How can that be possible?
“There you are, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa says brightly, draping himself all over Iwaizumi’s shoulders.
“Shittykawa, took you long enough,” Iwaizumi huffs, then turns back to Yuka to bow as deeply as he can with Oikawa on his back. “I’m sorry, Yamada-san, I--”
“Sorry, Yamada-chan!” Oikawa cuts in, warm smile on his face. Iwaizumi doesn’t need to turn and see it to know it’s fake. “Iwa-chan is actually with me. We’re just new to all of this so please excuse Iwa-chan’s beeper.”
She looks at the both of them uncertainly, then shakes her head, accepting a welcome hug from Iwaizumi and a high-five from Oikawa before going off. Iwaizumi does feel a sense of helplessness in watching her walk away. He could love her if he wanted to. If Oikawa wasn’t in his life--
“Come with me,” Oikawa says, something hard and choked in his voice. Iwaizumi looks at him in alarm but Oikawa is already dragging him away with his fingers digging into Iwaizumi’s elbow, mouth pressed in a flat line.
The first empty classroom they find, Oikawa pushes Iwaizumi in and slams the door shut.
“Oikawa, what--”
“I think we should kiss,” Oikawa spits out, eyes glued to the floor.
Iwaizumi runs a hand over his face, a literal lifetime of emotional exhaustion burning his fuse very short. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going to kiss you just because you feel bad for me. We’ve had this conversation at least a thousand times.”
“This isn’t pity,” Oikawa says, voice raising. Iwaizumi looks at him in surprise; he and Oikawa fight every now and then, but Oikawa so rarely gets this upset. He tends to go quiet when he’s upset. It takes a lot to get him to raise his voice, but Iwaizumi hadn’t done anything, he wasn’t doing anything. Nothing is different than it has been, he’s as in love with Oikawa as he ever has been, and his beeper is going haywire, a frenzied staccato of beeps for Oikawa that should make him more embarrassed than he actually feels.
“Is it bothering you then, the beeping?” Iwaizumi asks, straining to keep his voice low and calm. He doesn’t want to set Oikawa off, not when it looks like Oikawa is already so close to crying.
“No! Damn it, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers, and he rushes into Iwaizumi’s space, suddenly clinging onto him. “I want you to be happy, whatever that means.”
Oh. So it did have to do with what just happened.
“I am happy, I’m happy when you’re with me,” Iwaizumi says freely, “hasn’t the last decade been enough proof for you?”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathes, face buried in Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He’s clinging so hard, he’s so small despite being so big. Iwaizumi closes his arms around Oikawa’s body and sighs. “Can’t we date for real, would that be so bad?” Oikawa is practically begging, “I don’t care about my stupid beeper, it’s just broken, I don’t know what’s wrong with it, I know we should be together--”
“Alright, okay, let’s date for real,” Iwaizumi agrees, cutting Oikawa’s rambling off. It hurts to hear all of that. He’s so sure that Oikawa must love him but it hurts to hear him that conflicted, because they both know there’s no such thing as broken beepers. It’s written into your DNA, it’s weaved into the sinew that winds around your spinal cord, it’s a full-view assessment of your mind, a century of developing the human frontier of science.
He pulls Oikawa out of hiding and gently runs a hand through his soft, wavy hair, offering a small smile. Oikawa’s cheeks are all blotchy from trying not to cry.
“Still want to kiss?” he offers, watching Oikawa’s face go ten shades of red, each deeper than the last.
“No,” Oikawa mumbles stubbornly, leaning into Iwaizumi’s palm against his cheek. He sighs, heart so sore it feels like he’s got a sprain. “I don’t want to stop hearing how much you like being with me.” Because even if they date, as long as they never kiss, then Iwaizumi’s feelings will always be easily confirmed, and Oikawa has lived with that comforting beep for so long that he doesn’t know how he’d feel without it.
“Brat,” Iwaizumi says. But he had expected that answer.
If they kiss and the sound is gone, then what does Oikawa have left? His damn beeper is broken, he is so sure of it, he is so sure Iwaizumi is right for him, but if they only live in silence, what claim to Iwaizumi would Oikawa have when another day inevitably comes where Iwaizumi finds someone perfectly compatible for him? What could Oikawa even say, then, if Iwaizumi were to turn to him and tell him he wants to get married to a beautiful woman and have adorable kids, love someone whose beeper can actually support and confirm their affections, and be away?
“Can we agree on something, though?” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa doesn’t nod or shake his head, too careful to agree to anything immediately. “I know I’ve never been with you when your beeper’s gone off with anyone, but if that day ever comes, I’m not going to keep you with me. You have to try and have a good life.”
“But my life is best when I’m with you,” Oikawa says, less an argument and fully statement of fact.
A thrill of glee shoots through Iwaizumi’s body but he fights back his glowing smile, choosing to settle on resigned affection instead. “Tooru,” he says, pressing their foreheads together. “Will you try?”
“But I’m in love with you, I’m so in love with you,” Oikawa whispers.
Iwaizumi stops breathing, brain short-circuiting. He knew, he did know, but hearing Oikawa say it out loud is different. And Oikawa said it so easily, like it wasn’t the first time.
Oh, Iwaizumi thinks. It’s only the first time Oikawa said it out loud, that’s all. It’s probably the ten millionth time he’s thought it. That’s how it’s been for Iwaizumi, because he thinks it every single day.
---
Two weeks after Iwaizumi’s school festival, Oikawa gets to bring Iwaizumi to his own school festival, excited to show Iwaizumi off to his friends. Officially getting together hasn’t actually changed much of anything between them. Oikawa still falls asleep on the couch in Iwaizumi’s arms, so used to using him as a pillow. He still crawls into Iwaizumi’s bed most of the week, whether to claim because he’s tired from practice or depressed from tests, and Iwaizumi always welcomes him without question. He still makes Iwaizumi dinner on weekends, but he supposes he does feel happier when Iwaizumi compliments his cooking and openly holds his hand on top of the table.
It’s really hard not to kiss him, though. Whenever they’re pressed together in bed, Iwaizumi lined up against him, looking down at him with eyes so dark they seem black, Oikawa doesn’t want anything but to kiss him stupid. He supplements with open-mouthed kisses to Iwaizumi’s neck and roaming hands everywhere he can touch, and despite Iwaizumi’s attempts at self-restraint, Oikawa doesn’t usually go a couple days at a time without a hickey somewhere.
Still, it’s not the same as a real kiss, and Oikawa curses his own insecurity. He needs to hear it, he needs to know that Iwaizumi is still in love with him more than everyone else in the world. He lives in constant anxiety that the beeping will stop, or worse, his own beeper will go off one day for someone else when he and Iwaizumi are together.
He’s been fortunate enough that that’s never happened when they’ve been together. Even if it doesn’t beep for Iwaizumi, Oikawa at least has the comfort of knowing that it doesn’t beep for anyone else when he and Iwaizumi are together, so that still means something, right?
Oikawa isn’t childish enough to tell Iwaizumi to stay no matter what. But he’s also not mature enough to tell him he can go.
---
Sometimes, considering they have such separate school lives, Oikawa forgets that meeting new people together is an exercise in getting over awkward pity. He forgets so often because the constant beeping is a background drone, just a part of his life that he’s been listening to for a decade.
Explaining it for the first time is so awkward because everyone looks so uncomfortable with it, but Iwaizumi seems to understand that it’s because they can’t help but imagine themselves in his position, so exposed, feelings unreciprocated and unable to do anything about it. It’s too personal, too private. But they’re wrong in that assumption; his feelings are very much reciprocated, and Oikawa would rather eat his own hand than ever consider the possibility that there’s anyone out there for him more perfect than his Iwa-chan.
But, his friends end up surprising him. They’re staring at Iwaizumi’s wrist and Oikawa’s blushing smile with dumbfounded curiosity. Iwaizumi hasn’t seen this level of shock in a while.
“Sorry, try to ignore it,” Iwaizumi says, looking over at Oikawa in question when Oikawa’s fingers close around his wrist. “It’s--”
“Sorry, remember how I told you guys my beeper’s broken as shit?” Oikawa says, talking over him. He smiles, sheepish and playful, and Iwaizumi realizes Oikawa must’ve waited months, no, years for this moment. Suddenly, he’s speechless. How much thought must Oikawa have put into waiting for this?
“What the heck!!” Yumi shrieks, clapping her hands together to her chest in excitement. “Oh my gosh, Tooru-chan, you only ever told us you were in love with Iwaizumi-kun so I thought this whole time that it was one-sided! You never said that you guys were together or that Iwaizumi-kun clearly feels the same way about you!”
“I told you so many times, my beeper is broken! That’s why you’ve never ever ever heard it!”
Because it’s true. His beeper hasn’t gone off for anyone since high school, and even then, that was early on. It’s been years. Maybe it really has broken.
Iwaizumi continues to look on in stunned silence, struggling to keep his face normal. How has Oikawa even managed to convince his school friends that his beeper is broken? There’s no such thing, but they’ve taken it as the truth? Does this really mean that in Oikawa’s entire time at university, none of them have ever heard his beeper go off for anyone he’s met here? How is that even possible?
“So...you guys haven’t kissed yet?” Touya asks in a mix of embarrassed but unbearable curiosity. “Oi, Oikawa, I thought you said you’ve been into Iwaizumi-kun your whole lives? Hasn’t the beeping been driving you crazy?”
“We’re waiting for marriage,” Oikawa offers regally, as good a ridiculous deflection as any, and Sara and Yumi squeal in excitement.
“Marriage,” Iwaizumi repeats flatly.
Oikawa takes his hand, laces their fingers together, blush high on his cheeks but something very set and very bright in his eyes. Iwaizumi’s wrist is beeping so quickly it sounds like a bomb about to go off. “The colors we’re using are white and turquoise.”
“Don’t steal Seijou’s color scheme, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi complains, and he’s clutching onto Oikawa’s hand so tight that the vein in Oikawa’s forearm is visible from the force of clutching back.
---
They’re in their last year of university when Oikawa attends his very first Olympic games, obviously with Iwaizumi at his side. It’s terribly exciting, even though he’s rather frustrated that he couldn’t be on the starting lineup. He can see where he’s still lacking, but he’s swollen with pride whenever he’s called into the matches as a pinch server, able to rule the court as he wants with his infamously punishing serves.
It’s worth all of the blood and sweat and tears of years and years of training to see Iwaizumi’s smile afterward, waiting for him. A silver for Japan is still a step away from gold, and Oikawa lives for gold, but he’s sure he doesn’t live for anything more than Iwaizumi’s warm hands as they cup his cheeks, kisses pressed all over his face.
Uruguay is beautiful and Iwaizumi counts his fortunes to be able to vacation here as Oikawa’s partner. Between attending different Olympic events, they see as much of Montevideo as they can, exploring its exotic buildings and strolling the beach in the evenings. Iwaizumi finds it eternally hilarious that even dogs in Uruguay seem to be in love with Oikawa because they always come running to be petted as soon as they spot him. It’s so funny because Iwaizumi thinks that Oikawa is more a cat person than anything, all that quickness and feline grace, all those claws that still come out whenever Ushiwaka’s name is so much as mentioned. But dogs adore him. Perhaps Iwaizumi is also part dog?
Their relationship is as lived in as the oversized, ugly sweater that Iwaizumi gifted to Oikawa for Christmas a handful of years ago. Oikawa refuses to get rid of the thing even though it has childish alien heads with santa hats printed all over it. He loves to lounge in it on winter weekends, especially when Iwaizumi insists on wrangling him out of it, because there’s nothing he loves more than lounging with Iwaizumi, as close as they can get.
As they settle into four more years of training, Iwaizumi working late nights at his company while Oikawa works weekends getting sponsored with endorsement deals, Oikawa remembers to be thankful every single night that the rhythm of Iwaizumi’s beeper has never faltered.
I love you, love you, love you, Oikawa always makes sure to say, again and again as many times as he thinks it, his own annoying, incessant, ceaseless confirmation.
He doesn’t really understand how he can feel for Iwaizumi the way he does when they've known from puberty that they apparently lack compatibility. Whether romantic, or mental, or physical, or emotional, something doesn’t line up. In high school especially, it was always a needling, unamused burn every time Iwaizumi was in a crowd of girls without Oikawa at his side and his beeper would go off. So many people to be compatible with, so many opportunities at love. Oikawa’s beeper so rarely ever made a sound, and literally never when he and Iwaizumi were together. It did happen when he was alone, just not often, and it sucked to be reminded on a biological level how much harder he apparently is to love by people at large. That’s why he was always sure not to leave Iwaizumi alone as much as he could, because he couldn’t stand for Iwaizumi to look away from him.
Iwaizumi is a constant beep around him, a ceaseless, audible confirmation of being beloved. Oikawa rejoices and basks in it, knowing that he is so loved and perfect for Iwaizumi no matter what they may fight about. They are always changing but the feeling changes with them. As Iwaizumi’s voice grew lower, the pitch of his beeper went higher, such a comfort in Oikawa’s mind to know how important he is.
Of course there's embarrassment and guilt. It’s not really his fault his beeper is silent around Iwaizumi, and he also doesn’t know how it could be silent considering how he’s 1000% gone on him, so in love with his scowling face and frowny mouth and always dissatisfied eyebrows. There is no feeling like when Iwaizumi looks at him when they’re alone, tangled together in bed, feet knocking and always close enough to breathe each other in. When Iwaizumi’s face is soft, and his eyes are kind, and his dark eyelashes fan out against the curve of his cheek as he leans in as close as he can, a touchless kiss. When Oikawa’s lungs tighten, when his heart threatens to pound out of his chest, not daring to move as Iwaizumi’s lips hover so excruciatingly close to his own, and he can taste the depth of wanting in Iwaizumi’s shallow breaths, a goliath effort of self-restraint not to give in.
Oikawa swallows, toes curling, mouth dry just thinking about it. God, how badly he needs him close.
He supposes there’s less suspense in their relationship, knowing how much Iwaizumi loves him, how compatible Iwaizumi finds him. That only cranks up Oikawa’s guilt meter, knowing how apparently, Oikawa doesn’t find him the same.
But fuck that.
Fuck compatibility; fuck his stupid beeper. There is no one else that Oikawa sees. He doesn’t care to. He won’t give Iwaizumi up for anything and he’ll cut out Iwaizumi’s beeper straight from his wrist if he has to, and let that permanent, silent scar be the testament of his love.
Iwaizumi is enough for him. He is more than the sum of all the good choices Oikawa has made in his life.
---
For the 2138 Olympic Games, before they jet off for Rome for Oikawa’s second attempt for gold, this time as part of the starting lineup, Oikawa goes in for a comprehensive physical. Japan is careful with their athletes and insist on biennial, all-around physicals that take emotional and psychological wellbeing as much into consideration as the state of the body. Health is multifaceted, after all.
It’s no secret to anyone that Iwaizumi is his partner, so the Olympics-consulting medical team invites Iwaizumi in along with Oikawa for the emotional and psychological aspect. They need to ask some questions about Oikawa’s home life so Iwaizumi goes eagerly as soon as Oikawa brings it up without Oikawa actually needing to ask him. He has nothing to hide, he’s proud to be the one that Oikawa chose to be with, and he’s happy to take part in their optional interview. As expected of his Iwa-chan, so reliable, so easy to fall in love with, over and over again.
In the waiting room, Oikawa plays with a stranger’s very excited toy poodle while Iwaizumi tries and fails to not stare at how cute it is to watch Oikawa snuggle a dog. Maybe they ought to get a puppy. They should talk it over on the flight back home after Rome.
When they’re finally called in, it takes a lot of coaxing for the poodle to go back to its owner and Oikawa annoyingly blows kisses at it the whole time. “Enough, Trashkawa,” Iwaizumi scolds, eying how in love the rest of the waiting room seems to be with Oikawa at this point. His beeper starts going off a whole half-beat faster and Oikawa grins at him, the bastard, and grabs his ass right before the doctor comes into the room.
They only get halfway through the typical set of questions when the interview is suddenly derailed, Iwaizumi’s wrist apparently too much of a distraction to continue.
“Well,” the doctor says, a nice, kind old man with thick glasses and a grandfatherly laugh, “I’m a bit surprised that two young men in their primes still haven’t gotten as far as to kiss.”
“It’s- it’s just a kiss on the mouth,” Oikawa blabbers, face on fire. Iwaizumi eagerly awaits the rapture to claim him. “We kiss in other--”
“It’s just a thing we’ve decided to do!” Iwaizumi interrupts quickly, definitely not wanting Oikawa to continue down that path of conversation. “It may be hard for some people to adjust to the constant beeping but we’ve gotten used to it. Oikawa’s beeper is broken so we decided to be unconventional.”
Tadano-sensei laughs again, apparently unfazed. “I’ve come across a few handfuls of you in my lifetime,” he says, eyes crinkling in Oikawa’s direction. “Hang on.”
He leaves the room for a moment and Oikawa uncertainly reaches for Iwaizumi’s hand. “Don’t worry,” Iwaizumi reassures, a warm whisper in his ear, lacing their fingers together.
Tadano-sensei comes back with the stranger’s poodle in his arms and the second it lays eyes on Oikawa, it starts going crazy again, squirming and whining to get to him. It struggles against the doctor’s chest until Tadano-sensei returns it to its owner, firmly closing the door behind him to keep Oikawa out of sight.
“Here, let’s see,” he mumbles, rummaging through his desk drawer. In the very back, he finds a dusty looking plastic rectangle device, gaudy green and full of knobs, like a toy. Oikawa edges closer to Iwaizumi in his seat, suddenly worried it’ll have to be inserted into any of his orifices.
Iwaizumi settles a hand protectively on his thigh and Tadano-sensei chuckles again, taking Oikawa’s left hand, turning his wrist up.
“What is that?” Iwaizumi blurts out, nervous.
“Just a pitch shifter, nothing to worry about,” he says. “I’m sure both of you know that there’s no such thing as a broken beeper.” Iwaizumi feels every muscle in Oikawa’s body tense, and he wonders if the good doctor even knows that Oikawa isn’t immune to violent outbursts.
Tadano-sensei flicks the pitch shifter on, and at first, there’s nothing. “My beeper’s broken,” Oikawa insists, defensive. “It hasn’t made a single sound since high school.” His breaths are picking up speed, nerves raw with tension.
The room is silent as Tadano-sensei fidgets with the pitch amplifier, lowering it and lowering it, and then suddenly, the room explodes in a gently shrill, buzzing, relentless whine.
Oikawa refuses to look at his wrist. He just stares straight ahead, eyes round, breaths coming faster and heavier. Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa’s left wrist in awe, and stares at the pitch shifter, slack-jawed with disbelieving wonder.
“No such thing as broken beepers,” Tadano-sensei repeats, “you just operate on a different frequency altogether. Imagine being a breathing dog whistle, but a bit gentler. Have you ever noticed that dogs tend to like you?”
“Only when I’m with Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says numbly, starting to shake.
“Well, congratulations!” Tadano-sensei says to a gobsmacked Iwaizumi, laughing with delight. “It’s very rare but it happens when someone is particularly stubborn about who they love. I suppose you young people tend to call it being soulmates.” This happens rarely enough that it’s always a great treat to break the news. He hands the pitch shifter to Oikawa, smile softening when he sees tears start to well in Oikawa’s eyes. “It must’ve been hard on you,” he comforts, “to have loved someone this much, all this time. I’ll give you two some time alone.”
“Tooru,” Iwaizumi says, as soon as Tadano-sensei leaves, and when Oikawa gathers the nerve to look at him, his lungs seem to collapse right in his chest.
It is a little embarrassing that he loves Iwaizumi so much that his beeper was literally inaudible to the human ear. And it’s kind of embarrassing that his beeper is more of a whiny, consistent whistle than a beep at all. But he’s somehow heartbroken in his own vindication, because the stunned, glittering pride on Iwaizumi’s face only means that Iwaizumi has lived his whole life accepting the belief that he was never quite right for Oikawa, that they could fall apart one day by all reason, but chose to stay with him anyway.
When human biology tells you no, when it shows you everyone else who you could reasonably have a great life with, when you have to take it on faith that you’re loved when everyone else has the comfort of tangible, audible, verifiable proof; how could Iwaizumi have withstood being with him all this time?
How stupid, how stubborn, how strong of him to have chosen Oikawa, over everything.
Oikawa buries his face in his hands, forcing himself to laugh even as hot, guilty tears pool in his palms and run between the cracks of his fingers.
“I knew it, I knew it,” he whispers, repeats, until he can’t, crying too hard to continue. Iwaizumi’s fingers tangle in his hair, to comfort, as he always has. They listen to the perfect harmonization of Iwaizumi’s familiar, relentless beeper with the high-pitched whistle of Oikawa’s, the first and last time in their lives.
“It’s kind of annoying though, isn’t it,” Iwaizumi teases, gently prying Oikawa’s hands away from his face. “You ugly crier, what a mess.” He wipes away Oikawa’s tears with a cardigan sleeve, smiling helplessly when Oikawa returns the favor, characteristic pout on his face the whole time.
“So mean, Iwa-chan, it’s not annoying,” Oikawa says defensively, squishing Iwaizumi’s damp cheeks, “it’s just eager.”
“Oh, like you are for me?”
Oikawa makes an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat, blushing. This must be payback for all the teasing Oikawa did back when Iwaizumi hit puberty. “You know, it’s nice and all, but I think I’ve listened to enough of it too.”
“You sure?” Iwaizumi asks, but he’s already cupping Oikawa’s jaw, and his eyes are black with want, breath ghosting over Oikawa’s lips.
“I love you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers desperately, “I always have.”
“I’ve always known that,” Iwaizumi whispers back, and Oikawa drags him in by the front of his shirt for their very first kiss, reveling in the roaring, blissful, aching silence as both their beepers switch off.
---
In the interest of saving time, they decide to take a taxi home, hands held tight between them the whole way. Leaving the doctor’s office, Oikawa had noted with some amazement that the poodle that had been going crazy for him just minutes earlier was totally uninterested in him now, and Tadano-sensei had waved goodbye with a giant, knowing, sparkling grin, much to Iwaizumi’s utter embarrassment.
Walking down their neighborhood street, their shiba inu puppy son also hadn’t run out to come play, though his tail did start wagging to see Oikawa, a familiar person he likes well enough. For once, Oikawa is thrilled about the confirmation that his beeper is completely silent.
Iwaizumi is a really good kisser, that’s what Oikawa thinks. He’s had enough experience with Iwaizumi’s mouth to make a reasonable assumption, but like everything else in life, there’s nothing quite like living it.
The night before they’re set to leave for Rome, Oikawa wakes up from a late afternoon nap to find Iwaizumi sitting on the floor and holding his hand. “What are you doing there?” he asks sleepily, shifting forward on the couch so he can be a bit closer, holding up a corner of his light blanket. “Get back in here.”
Iwaizumi blushes, nervously playing with Oikawa’s fingers. “I wasn’t going to do this until after we came back from Rome,” he says, eyes flickering between Oikawa’s face and his left hand.
“Oh my god,” Oikawa breathes, as always figuring everything out about him way too quickly.
“I wanted to give you gold, too,” Iwaizumi says, grinning, and Oikawa isn’t sure if it’s adrenaline or joy that’s making Iwaizumi blush, but he knows it’s gratitude, bone-deep and galactic, that’s making tears well in Oikawa’s eyes.
In the 2138 Summer Olympic Games, the whole world watches Oikawa Tooru rule the court with a gold ring dangling around his neck. He is only 26 years old and brilliant, a genius, vibrant with youth, a beautiful, unyielding strength in his smile.
Japan adds one more medal to their medal count as Oikawa brings back Iwaizumi the gold.
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