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krisdreaming · 4 years ago

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MASTERLIST | PART 2

˗`ˏ THIS IS PART 1 - READER POV ˎˊ˗

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the accident, you’re willing to give up anything so that Hajime can live. All things considered, your memories of him in exchange for his life seems like more than a fair trade. When it’s done, neither of you understands what’s happened, and it leaves you both hurting. Still, even without your memories, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. He still loves you more than anything. Your love will find a way… right?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: Angst, Hospitals, Mentions of Character Injury / Death

A/N: I’m so excited to start this journey! This part is the only one that has any kind of supernatural / magical realism elements. It kinda just made the most sense to me as the vehicle for the entire rest of the plot so just... bear with me 😅 After this chapter, it’s all just normal canon-verse.

Without further ado!!

The golden late-afternoon sunlight pours through the lone window in the hospital room and pools on the floor, not quite reaching the bed where Hajime is lying. The contrasting stringent white hospital lighting does nothing to improve his wan complexion. His cracked lips are turned slightly downward, and you wonder, with a sharp twinge in your chest, if even in this state, he can feel pain.

“I’m here, Hajime,” You say for what must be the hundredth time, reaching out again for his limp hand. The doctors have said that talking to him may help to comfort him, but you wonder if he can even recognize your voice. Even to you, it sounds small and foreign, hoarse from who knows how many hours of tears. The only response is the steady beeps and hums of the machines keeping him alive. You give his hand a gentle squeeze.

It’s been a week of this, now. A week since you got the call and rushed to the hospital as fast as you could. A week since you saw him lying too-still in that bed, a swath of bandages and a tangle of wires making his body look so, so small and helpless. A week since you sank to your knees the moment the doctor had left the room, clutching Hajime’s hand to your face until his skin was slick with your tears, only realizing afterwards that the strange, gasping sounds you’d been hearing had been coming from you all along.

You’ve spent every day here since. You’ve hardly eaten. What little sleep you can get is plagued by nightmares that wake you up in a cold sweat, reaching out desperately for a warm body that isn’t there. All that you know is this room, this chair, this bed, and the shallow rise and fall of Hajime’s chest.

A breath shudders out of you when you’re reminded, again, of what the doctor had said when you’d arrived this morning. “Y/N-san, the improvements we’ve been hoping to see haven’t been coming at the rate we’d expect. As it is now, the reality is that he may never wake up. The severity of the damage is becoming clearer as we continue with our testing. As difficult as this is to say, it may be the time to start preparing to say goodbye.”

You squeeze your free hand into a tight fist, feeling your nails dig into your palm. You run the thumb of the hand holding his gently across the backs of his fingers. “You know,” You begin, haltingly, trying to keep your voice as clear and normal-sounding as possible, “When this is all over, I’m going to make us a big picnic. I’ll make those onigiri you like so much, the ones with the pickled plum inside. You can eat as many as you want. I promise I won’t yell at you,” You pause to swallow back the thick feeling in your throat, “And we can have whatever else you want. Just say the word, and I’ll buy it. It’ll be the meal you’d never let any of your athletes eat in a million years,” You laugh softly.

“And by the time we’re done eating, well, the sun will probably be almost set. We can just lay back on the blanket and watch the stars come out, like we did that night last summer.” You pause, looking at him almost as though you expect him to answer, or at least nod. His expression doesn’t change.

“We can plan some more for the wedding. It’s going to be here in no time at all, you know,” Your thumb goes to the ring on your finger, twisting it back and forth in what’s become a familiar motion. “I know you don’t like the planning much, but we have to get it done.” You fall silent for a few moments, not wanting him to hear the way your voice has started to waver.

“Or maybe you’d rather just plan for the honeymoon,” You finally pick back up again, “We need to decide soon where we want to go. Hotels and plane tickets sell out fast, you know. What would be really fun is if we could visit Tooru in Argentina. I know you think it’s too far, but honestly, when else would we ever have the chance?

“We don’t have to spend the whole time with him, of course,” Your voice drops lower, “We’d want some time to ourselves. I hear the beaches there are nice. Or we could find a really nice hotel with a Jacuzzi and fancy room service.”

It might be your imagination, but the expression on his face seems just a little bit softer. It’s not a smile, but his lips aren’t turned down quite as hard as they had been, so you take it as a sign that you should keep going. “Of course, you know that I don’t really care where we go. We could spend the whole week in a hotel on the other side of Tokyo and you wouldn’t hear me complain.” You can practically see his incredulous smirk at that, and you choke out an almost-convincing laugh. “Well, you know what I mean.” You fall silent again, still tracing your thumb against his fingers, lost in your thoughts now.

All the while you’d been talking, you hadn’t notice the slowing of the heart monitor. His breaths are coming slower too, the rising of his chest barely noticeable anymore. Outside, twilight has fallen, and there’s no longer any natural light coming in through the window. You notice all of this at once, but you suddenly feel so sluggish that you can’t bring yourself to move, much less press the call button for one of the nurses. Even as the beeps fade to a single, steady whine, you feel frozen in your seat, his hand still in yours. There’s an eerie sense of calm descending over you.

When the whine stops, it seems to shake you out of whatever stupor you’re in. Blinking, you look around and find that the two of you are no longer alone in the room. In the corner farthest from the door, a human-like figure stands shrouded in the faintest yellow glow, like the last remnants of the sunset outside. It has the face of an elderly man, but there is something decidedly un-human in the way it carries itself.

“Hello, Y/N,” The figure’s mouth moves, but it’s almost as though its words are projected directly into your mind rather than spoken into the room. There’s a tingling quality to them, almost like an electrical shock, but not something altogether unpleasant.

You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes, thinking that the lack of sleep must be affecting you more than you realize. When you finally lower your hands, the figure hasn’t moved. “Are you… Death?” You aren’t unaware of how preposterous the question sounds. You grip Hajime’s hand tighter, and the figure seems to smile.

“Hardly. The concept of death itself as an entity is little more than a construct of the human imagination.” There’s a pause and a sound you could almost consider a chuckle, then it continues. “More accurately, I suppose you could call me Life.” It looks at Hajime’s still body almost mournfully. You aren’t sure how much time passes, or if any has passed at all.

“This life is very precious to you. Yes?” Its attention is back on you now.

“More than anything,” You breathe out, “I – I love him. We’re getting married.” You hold out your hand so that the being can see the ring on your finger. As if it would care. For some reason, it does lean forward and inspect the ring carefully.

“Hm. These kinds of things… they aren’t so cut and dry, you know.” Assuming at this point that you must be dreaming, you nod dumbly, even though you don’t really know at all. “Still, all hope is not lost. With the right material, a repair could be made.”

“A repair?” You parrot back, feeling your heart catch in your chest. Is it even beating right now?

“It will require something made up of the same stuff as the existing soul. Something strong and plentiful. Do you understand?” Your brow furrows, and you shake your head. Dream or not, you can’t even pretend to know what this being is trying to say.

“Your memories,” It says gently, as though explaining something simple to a small child. “If I could use all of your memories of him, I can save his life.” It watches you intently for a few moments, but you feel frozen in place, trying to comprehend what it’s asking of you. “I would understand if you decline. Others have.”

“So he will live?” It nods. “But I won’t remember him. Not even a little.”

“Not one memory can be spared,” It confirms. “It’s the only way.”

“Will I fall in love with him again? Will he – will he stay with me?”

The being gives an almost imperceptible shrug. “It can’t be known. Your future – that’s something you will have to work out on your own. The only thing I can promise you is that his life will be spared.”

You’re already nodding. “Then I’ll do it. We’ll find a way to be together. He won’t give up on me.” The being’s lips twitch briefly, but it nods.

“If you’re certain,” It’s already reaching toward you, fingertips hovering near your forehead.

“I am.” You screw your eyes shut, clutching onto Hajime’s hand tightly with both hands. “Do it,” You prompt, when you don’t feel the being move. And just like that, you’re awash in a sea of light and warmth for a few blissful moments before being plunged into a deep nothingness.

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@pretty-setters, @pink-panda-pancakes, @usernamekate94, @kellyyween, @deerixiie, @amzoeee, @mididoodles, @ntngann, @kiiroyah

If your url is written without you actually being tagged, it means tumblr was giving me issues tagging you, but I’ll definitely try again next time!

#Haikyuu #Iwaizumi Hajime x reader #Iwaizumi x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #Haikyuu x reader #kylao #keep you like an oath

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krisdreaming · 4 years ago

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PART 1 | MASTERLIST | PART 3

˗`ˏ THIS IS PART 2 - IWAIZUMI POV ˎˊ˗

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, Hospitals, Non-graphic Accident Description, Mentions of Character Injury

A/N: Part 2 is here! I feel like I should mention now that this is an alternating POV fic, so every other chapter will be Iwaizumi’s POV, then reader POV, and so on. Also, just roll with what the doctor says here, because in true Kristin fashion, I have done no research on this and am completely spitballing :’) Anyway, I hope you enjoy part 2!

For the first few moments after waking up, Hajime assumes he’s in his bed. He feels brand new, like he’s just had the best night’s sleep in ages. It must be Saturday, he thinks, and he attempts to turn on his side and reach for you, to pull you close for just a few more moments under the covers. When he does, he feels a blanket tucked too-tight around him, restricting his movement. He finally opens his eyes, blinking away the bleary heaviness as he looks around what is not the room he shares with you.

It starts to come back to him in flashes. He was leaving work, sending you a quick text letting you know he’d gotten out a bit late. He was rushing a bit, because it was the night to go grocery shopping, and he knows how you like to get it over with. At the crossing, he looked both ways – he knows he did. He wasn’t even halfway across when he heard the screeching, and before he could even turn his head, he felt his body connect solidly with what must have been a car he didn’t see coming. After that, it’s all a red haze followed by nothing.

That does explain why he’s lying here in a hospital bed.

One of the first things he focuses on is you, curled up on the chair next to his bed, fast asleep with your mouth hanging slightly open. Bright morning sunlight is streaming in the window behind you, illuminating the dust motes dancing through the air all around you. There are tear stains tracking down your cheeks. He wants to reach out to you, but you’re just out of his arm’s reach, and the blanket is still stubbornly holding him back. Fumbling around, he finally manages to locate the controls on his bed and raise it to a sitting position.

“Y/N,” He finally says, and then stops at the way his voice sounds so hoarse and low from disuse. Just how long had he been lying here for? He clears his throat and tries again. “Y/N.” This time, you must hear him, because you start to stir, wiping your hand down your face blearily. Before he can say another word, his mother appears in the doorway.

“H-Hajime!” The bouquet of flowers she’d clutched in her hands falls to the ground unnoticed as she rushes to his bedside, a smile breaking across her face even as her eyes fill with tears. “This is – I don’t -” She reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing it so tight he thinks he hears something pop. “Hajime, you’re awake!” She says it like it’s some kind of wonder.

He frowns. “Mom? What happened?”

She flashes another teary smile. “Honey, there was an accident. A bad one, and, well… the doctors told us it wasn’t looking so good,” She admits almost apologetically, “But now you’re awake, so it doesn’t matter! I-” She stops, and he notices her gaze shift to somewhere behind him. “Y/N?”

In the flurry of his mother’s entrance, he’d almost forgotten you were here. He turns to you, expecting to see a smile on your face like the one that had been on his mother’s, but what he sees instead is a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m sorry,” You breathe out suddenly, “But – can you tell me where I am?” You’re looking from his mother to him, brow furrowed, your fingers twisting together in your lap. He instantly recognizes your nervous habit in the familiar motion.

“Y/N…” He reaches out to you, but you shrink away from his hand. He pulls it back quickly, balling it into a fist and resting it back in his lap.

“We’re at the hospital,” His mother says in the gentle tone she used to use when he was sick in elementary school. “Honey, don’t you remember? Hajime – the accident.”

“I’m sorry, no.” You shake your head. “Hajime?” You say his name hesitantly, and it sends a crawling sensation down his spine. He doesn’t like it. “That’s you? Um. Well, I’m sorry to hear that you were in an accident.” You offer a weak half-smile. “But that doesn’t really explain why I’m here. Or how you know my name.”

He looks to his mother who looks just as baffled as he feels. She opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, a nurse steps into the room, and at the sight of him immediately turns to call out into the hallway. It isn’t long before a doctor rushes into the room behind her.

“This is incredible!” The doctor is at his side then, his poking and prodding interspersed with exclamations under his breath. You’re still sitting there, watching the commotion with an almost dazed look on your face.

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” The doctor finally asks. Hajime has a growing ache in his chest, but he’s fairly certain that has little to do with having been hit by a car, so he shakes his head. “Amazing.” The doctor scribbles something on his clipboard, then looks to the three of them with a broad smile on his face. “Well, I certainly can’t give any kind of explanation for it, but you seem to have made a full recovery overnight.”

Finally, Hajime’s mother manages to catch the doctor’s attention. “Pardon me, doctor, but Y/N…” She has rounded the bed to stand next to you, and gently presses her hand at your elbow. Your brow is still puckered in confusion, and he wants more than anything to lean forward and kiss it smooth. Something on your face stops him.

“Hm?” The doctor is at your side then.

“Please, I just want to know why I’m here,” You say to him in a small voice. He looks at you with a slight frown.

“Y/N-san, you’ve had a very long week. It isn’t completely surprising for things to seem a little jumbled to you right now. Tell me, are you feeling okay? Does your head hurt?” He pauses to peer into your eyes. “Hm.” He hums again after you shake your head.

“I feel fine. I just want to know what I’m doing here!” You say again, your frustration clearly building.

“It seems you have a slight case of amnesia, Y/N. It’s rare, but it can be brought on by traumatic events. It will be best if you take some time to rest and relax.” He turns to Hajime’s mother. “I’m sorry, but at this point there’s not much else that I can do for her. Please, if this does continue, be sure that she sees someone.” His mother nods, even though she doesn’t look very reassured. With a brusque nod in return and a promise to order some tests for Hajime, the doctor bustles out of the room.

“I think I know you.” You finally say. Hajime lets out a relieved sigh before realizing that you’re looking at his mother. “You were… one of my high school friends’ mothers? Right? You just seem so familiar.” You rub your hand across your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as though trying to coax out some kind of memory.

“Y/N-”

Before his mother can say another word, Hajime cuts in. “Are you being serioius? She’s my mother, Y/N. We’re engaged! Why – how can you not remember that?” He’s breathing heavily now after the small outburst, and watches as your face crumples.

“Hajime.” His mother warns under her breath.

“We’re what?” You ask softly, and seem to notice the ring on your finger for the first time. You’re looking down at it so intently that he thinks that, surely, something must be falling into place in your mind. When you look up at him again, there are tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It comes out choked, “But I just don’t know you. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I don’t – I don’t understand!” Your voice is chirping higher into hysteria, and he instantly regrets raising his voice.

“I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out. We’ll take you home and let you rest. It’ll all be okay!” He reaches out and this time you let him take your hand. He gives it a squeeze, but you don’t return it. The tears are slipping down your cheeks again, following the same path the others must have. The ones you’d shed when he was still asleep. When you still remembered who he was.

“Where do you live, honey?” His mother asks tentatively, most likely as a diversion, and you let go of his hand. His fingers linger empty in the air for a few moments before he withdraws his hand back to his lap. The address you rattle off is the same address as the apartment he shares with you. His mouth falls open.

“Okay.” His mother nods. “Yes, that’s a good sign. Isn’t it? If you’ll wait here for just a bit longer, we’ll take you there.” Her promise seems to placate you, and you nod slowly, swiping at the tears on your cheeks.

The remainder of the morning and the majority of the afternoon are filled with more poking, prodding, and testing than Hajime ever hopes to endure again. Finally, he’s released from the hospital with what the doctor terms an ‘impeccable bill of health’. You’ve stuck around through it all, the expression on your face looking more shell shocked than anything. You seem relieved that it’s finally time to go.

Back at the apartment, Hajime should feel relieved to be home. Instead, the pit in his stomach is only growing heavier as he watches you standing awkwardly across from him. His mother has made sure that you’re comfortable here and ducked out, so the two of you are left alone in the doorway. He watches as your eyes track all around the area, then settle on his old pair of running shoes sitting neatly by the door.

“Those are yours,” You say in a low voice, motioning toward the sneakers.

“Yeah, they are,” He clears his throat, “Y/N…” He isn’t sure what he wants to say.

“This is my apartment.” You say before he can form a sentence. Our apartment, he corrects fiercely in his mind, but the words don’t make it out past his clenched teeth. You’re moving further into the kitchen, and he follows after you numbly. “This is my table,” Your fingertips skim the top of the small table the two of you eat breakfast at every morning. “And my stove and refrigerator. How – I-” You stop and shake your head, looking him straight in the face.

He isn’t ready for it. It’s unmistakably you who’s looking into his eyes, but there’s something missing from your gaze that makes everything inside of him want to turn away. “I don’t know,” He says softly. “I wish I did. But…” He lets it trail off. All he can offer you is a helpless shrug.

Your attention soon shifts to the whiteboard hanging on the fridge, and he sees that you hadn’t touched it since before the accident. It’s a makeshift grocery list, your idea, and the last item on it is apples written in his own firm script. On the other side of the board is the simple countdown you’d diligently updated every day. Right now, it reads 298 days ‘til the wedding ♡. As if that weren’t bad enough, right below that, he sees the note he’d scribbled the morning before your big interview four months ago. You had told him it was so adorable you couldn’t possibly erase it: Good luck Y/N, you’re going to kill it! I love you so much - Hajime

Slowly, you walk to the refrigerator and look at the words, your fingertips hovering just above them. You spend so long staring at it that he almost reaches out to touch your elbow to get your attention. Before he can, you turn to him, and he sees that there are tears filling your eyes again.

“This is our home,” He says finally, forcing the words past the lump in his throat, “We’ve lived here for almost two years now. Together.”

“I believe you,” You say quietly, “How can I not? The evidence is right in front of my face.” You gesture at the white board, then to the door where his shoes are propped. “Only… it doesn’t mean a thing to me. Anything in my head that might lead to you – it just doesn’t.” Your voice breaks then, and your words start coming out watery, “I can see the pain all written across your face even though I can tell you’re trying to hide it, but I can’t even remember what you said your name is!”

“It’s Hajime,” He says after a beat, “Iwaizumi Hajime. And-” For a second he debates whether he should even say it, but the words are already crawling up his throat, aching to be said. “And I love you, Y/N. So much. Even if you can’t remember anything else, I want you to know that.”

You give him a look that’s almost tender. You lift your hand, toying gently with the ring as you avert your gaze down at it. “And it’s not hard to see that I must love you,” You say softly, almost as though you’re talking to the ring and not to him.

“Maybe we should get to bed,” You say suddenly, reaching out and brushing your fingers down his hand for a fraction of a second, almost experimentally, “And in the morning, maybe we’ll wake up and find that this whole thing has been nothing more than a horrible nightmare.” You nod firmly, as if trying to will it into being. “And I’ll sleep on the futon in the spare room, yeah?” You muster up a smile that he knows is just for his benefit.

The last thing he wants to do is nod, but he feels his head moving on its own.

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@pretty-setters, @pink-panda-pancakes, @usernamekate94, @kellyyween, @deerixiie, @amzoeee, @mididoodles, @ntngann, @kiiroyah, @kaaidalupita, @yams046, @wisepandaslimeland, @sempiternal-amour, @dimsuki, @iguessimastannow, @yougivemeglobalwarming, @moon-390, @playwright-tsuzuru

If your url is written without you actually being tagged, it means tumblr was giving me issues tagging you, but I’ll definitely try again next time! Also, check your settings to make sure your blog is able to be tagged. If I have this issue twice in a row, I’ll unfortunately have to remove you from the taglist, but do let me know if you solve the problem and I’ll happily re-add you!

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu imagines #Haikyuu x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #Iwaizumi Hajime x reader #Iwaizumi x reader #keep you like an oath #kylao

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krisdreaming · 4 years ago

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PART 2 | MASTERLIST | PART 4

˗`ˏ THIS IS PART 3 - READER POV ˎˊ˗

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I promise there is going to be fluff in this fic, just... not for a little while aha. I do consider it more of a soft angst at this point though? idk.

I also wanted to say that, at the time of writing this, I don’t have part 4 finished. I’m going to try to have it ready to go for next Saturday, but if not, I will skip a week. I’ll let you know either way! Writing this is getting a bit slower between my mental health and the other things that I also want to write, so I don’t want to continue to promise weekly updates, but I will update as often as possible. Thank you for understanding!

You wake up on the futon in your spare room, and for a few bleary moments, you’re not sure why you’ve spent the night here. Then it all comes back, settling heavy in your chest. The hospital and Iwaizumi Hajime and realizing that there’s a whole part of your life that you can’t remember anymore. You cast around once more for any sort of memory that may be tucked away, but closing your eyes and picturing the face of the man you’re supposed to love doesn’t spark anything inside you. You throw the covers aside, rubbing your face with a heavy sigh before getting to your feet.

When you leave the room, you can hear the shower running down the hall. You wonder if he always gets up earlier than you, or if he’d gotten up early because he was having trouble sleeping. Your heart sinks. This is all wrong.

You cautiously enter your bedroom. You see that the covers of the bed have already been pulled up and tucked in neatly. Moving to the closet to pick out your outfit for work, you freeze when you see its contents. Hanging on the right-hand side of the closet, right next to your blouses, skirts, and dresses, are dress shirts, slacks, and sweaters.

Of course, you chide yourself. He lives here with you. His clothes will be in your closet. Still, you can’t help but slowly flick through them, looking at each of the shirts and sweaters hanging there. Surely, you must have picked some of these out for him. You probably wash and hang them up, too. So why don’t any of them look the least bit familiar?

With a shake of your head, you move back to your side of the closet and select a top and skirt to wear for the day. Your curiosity now piqued, you carefully open a dresser drawer that you can’t remember ever using. Inside, you find folded white t-shirts. Opening the drawer above it, you find pairs of boxers neatly organized inside. At just that moment, you hear a shifting of movement behind you, and you close the drawer quickly, feeling your face heat up instantly.

Turning, you find Iwaizumi, freshly showered and dressed for the day, standing in the doorway behind you. He clears his throat and turns to drop his dirty clothes into the hamper. “Good morning,” He says in a low voice, and you can see the spark of hope that shines in his eyes. As much as you hate to be the one to extinguish it, you don’t have much choice.

“Morning,” You reply softly. “It’s – I still don’t really remember anything, so-” You shrug helplessly, your voice trailing off. He nods slowly.

“Okay,” He sighs heavily, and you can see his shoulders drop, “Yeah, I thought maybe. Well… I’m finished in the bathroom, so it’s all yours.”

You nod, “Thanks.” He stays still in the doorway for a few moments before giving you a slight nod, then turns and leaves the room.

After gathering what you need from the dresser, you head to the bathroom and step into the shower, letting the warm water wash over you. Even here, his shampoo and bodywash are staring back at you. It seems no matter where you go you can’t escape the signs of him, of your life together. It’s starting to twist your head into knots.

You get ready slowly, studying yourself in the mirror. You certainly don’t look any different than you remember. Your face looks the same, your movements are familiar, and all of your things are right where they should be. Still, something feels horribly off-balance, and you suppose it’s for good reason. After all, an integral part of yourself does seem to have disappeared without warning.

You look down at the ring sitting in the little dish on the counter. It’s still exactly where you’d left it last night when you slipped it off before bed. You pick it up gingerly, turning it in your fingers so the stone catches and reflects the light. It really is a beautiful ring. You almost slide it on your finger, but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to do it. “I’m sorry,” You whisper under your breath, settling it back down in the dish. It may belong on your hand, but something about it just doesn’t feel right.

You don’t want to dwell on it for too long, especially not now when you need to be getting to work. Pushing it from your mind as best as you can, you finish up in the bathroom and make your way to the kitchen. Iwaizumi is there, eating a bowl of cereal and a banana at the table. Your favorite mug is sitting on the counter, and when you peer inside, you can see that it’s already filled with coffee. By the looks of it, there’s already cream added and everything. You wrap your hands around the comfortingly warm ceramic.

“Sorry,” He says, watching you carefully and gesturing to the mug, “Force of habit.”

“Wh- no!” You say quickly, “This is really thoughtful of you.” You pause to take a sip, and find that it’s prepared exactly the way you like it. You look down into the mug in amazement. “You make my coffee every morning?” You ask then, carefully.

“Ah, yeah,” His hand goes to the back of his neck, “I usually get it ready when I hear you turn the water off in the shower,” He explains sheepishly, not quite looking you in the eye. You nod, lifting the mug to your lips again and peering at him through the steam rising from it.

“Well, thank you very much,” You murmur.

“Yeah, no problem.” He’s looking down into his cereal bowl now, and you think it’s probably best to leave him be. Turning to the refrigerator, you grab some ingredients to put together your lunch. It’s something you do so often that you find yourself settling into autopilot while you turn things over in your mind. Before you know it, you’ve made way more onigiri than you’ll ever eat.

“Hey,” You gather the courage to speak up, “I made a lot of onigiri. Would you – I can make your lunch, if you’d like. I hope you like the kind with the pickled plum inside.” He’s looking at you with wide eyes, and then, to your surprise, a genuine smile breaks across his face. Something you haven’t seen on him yet. It makes something leap in your middle, and for what might be the first time you think to yourself that he really is very handsome. Immediately, you feel your cheeks heat up at the thought.

“I’d like that,” He says, standing to put his bowl in the sink. He peers over your shoulder at the meals you’re preparing. “Actually, those are my favorite,” He adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Really?” You glance at him for a few moments, and he nods. You don’t have a particular affinity for them yourself, but for some reason it is something you know you make often. “Well that’s perfect then. I guess it explains why I make them a lot. And also why I made so many,” You settle the other ingredients into his bento. “Does this look good to you?”

He offers you a smaller smile and a nod. “Looks perfect. Thanks a lot.” He leans a bit closer to you, almost as though he’s going to kiss you on the cheek. Then, as if thinking better of it, he pulls back. You bite down on your lip. Why do you feel disappointed by that?

“Well, I should be going,” He says then, taking the lunch, “I guess I’ll see you when you get home today. It’s a shorter day for me, so I’ll be home before you,” He says, “Seeing as I just got out of the hospital and all… I guess they want me to take it easy.” You nod slowly.

“Well, have a good day, then.” You smile, trying to make it as genuine as possible, even though it feels strange. He returns it, but you can tell that his is also forced.

“Thanks. You, too,” He says, and then he’s gone. For a few moments, you find yourself staring at the closed door, trying to work out exactly what the funny feeling in your middle means. You sigh. If anything, this is just getting more complicated as time goes on.

Glancing at the time on the stove, you push away from the counter. It’s already later than you thought, and you need to finish putting your own lunch together and get to work. You rush through it, grabbing your things and dashing out the door.

At work, your co-workers seem surprised to see you. “So then Iwaizumi must be doing better?” One of them finally asks. Oh, right.

“Ah, yeah! A lot better, actually. He came home last night.” You nod, hoping your enthusiasm is convincing enough. It seems to pass, because she’s instantly grinning at you.

“Y/N, that’s so wonderful! When we heard what happened, well, we thought…” She trails off in a nervous titter. “But hey, he’s home! I’m happy for you.” She gives your hand a squeeze before heading back to her own desk. You sink down into your seat in relief.

As you get settled into your desk, you find that it seems mostly as you remembered it. The only thing that’s new is a framed photograph, sitting just off to the left of your keyboard. You pick it up carefully, a cold, sinking feeling in your middle when you realize what it is. There, smiling up at you, is <you>, and right there next to you is Iwaizumi, his arm around your middle. You’re taken aback by how happy you look. It’s not that you’d consider yourself miserable by any means, but the smile in the photo looks like it’s about to burst off of your face.

You shift your focus to his face, and bite down on your lip, the guilt hitting you immediately. He’s smiling, too. It’s like the smile from this morning, only it reaches all the way to his eyes, and it seems permanently fixed on his face. He’s not quite looking at the camera, though. You aren’t either, you realize. You’re looking at each other.

With your fingertip, you gently touch his face beneath the glass. You can’t remember anyone ever looking at you like that. You can’t remember looking at anyone like that. Suddenly, you feel the urge to burst into tears. Drawing in a shaky breath, you take the photo and lay it face-down on your desk, then reach to power on your computer. You don’t touch it for the rest of the day. Right before you leave, you open the bottom desk drawer and slide the frame under an old manual.

When you get home, you just want to change out of your work clothes and settle yourself in front of the TV. You just need a little bit of time to decompress before you have to make dinner – for yourself and for Iwaizumi, probably. The bedroom door is resting against the latch, but not closed. You give it the barest push before you hear a voice inside, and you freeze.

You remember now that Iwaizumi had said he’d be getting home before you. From the sound of it, he must be on the phone with someone. You can hear another voice, too, so it must be some kind of video call. You’re just about to turn away like you know you should when you hear your name.

“Yes, Y/N was there when I woke up,” You hear Iwaizumi say exasperatedly, like he must have already explained this, “But she didn’t remember me, Oikawa.” His voice breaks, and you cover your mouth with your hands. By now, you’re frozen. “And I just thought, I don’t know, apparently the accident must have been pretty traumatic for her. Which, I get that. But the doctor said – I thought we’d come home, she’d sleep it off or whatever, and we’d wake up and things would be back to normal!”

“But they’re not.” You hear the other voice finish for him, softer. “Iwa, I’m sorry. But, come on. It’s you two. You’ll get through this. I know you will, ‘cause you two are the reason I even believe in love at all.” He laughs, but you don’t hear Iwaizumi join in. The other man sighs. “I guess you just need to give it more time.” He says finally.

At that, your better sense finally takes back over, and you rush down the hall, paranoid now that Iwaizumi will realize you’d been listening in on his private conversation. In the living room, you sink down onto the couch, dropping your face into your hands. You feel absolutely awful.

The stranger down the hall is supposed to mean something to you. No, not something – everything. Hurting the people you care about is not something you do, but it’s undeniable. You’re causing him more pain than you would wish on anyone, but you’re powerless to stop it. Instead, he has to turn to his friends for comfort, because the one person who should be comforting him –

Suddenly, something occurs to you. The person he’d been talking to. His friend. What had he called him? Oikawa. That name definitely strikes something in you. Of course you remember Oikawa Tooru – who wouldn’t? The volleyball team captain who so many of the girls fawned over. But not you. If Iwaizumi was talking to him on the phone, then clearly they must be good friends. Especially considering the fact that, if you remember correctly, Oikawa is living in Argentina playing volleyball right now.

You think back on everything that you can remember about Oikawa. For some reason, there’s a thick haze surrounding him in your mind, like a part of your memory of him has been smudged out. It’s strange because you remember spending a decent amount of time with him in high school, actually. You’d studied together, went out shopping or traveling or to festivals together – but it hadn’t been just the two of you – had it?

You get to your feet, too much nervous energy inside you to keep sitting still. You walk aimlessly around the room until you come to the bookshelf. There, on the second shelf, is a photo album. The photo set into the front cover is another photo of the two of you, much like the one on your desk at work. You open the cover and recognize your handwriting: To Hajime, Love, Y/N. You run your fingers over the words in wonder. This is something you made.

You carry it back to the sofa with a fierce new determination. If anything can bring your memories back, it would have to be this, right?

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