Chapter Text
Luck must have finally turned his way. When Oikawa stirs the next morning at the first inkling of sunlight reaching through the window, there is no distant pain in his nose. It doesn’t feel blocked or swollen, and his only thought is that he is either not connected enough to his senses to register the ache or that the swelling must’ve gone down enough to not be noticeable anymore. It had hurt an incredible amount yesterday—enough that he’d had a difficult time falling asleep while breathing heavily through his mouth. To his credit, Bokuto had turned over and drifted off in an instant, ensuring that Oikawa didn’t have to feel guilty about keeping him awake. He heard Iwaizumi roll over a few times, but he never complained about Oikawa’s gasps once.
Oikawa turns over onto his side and squints out at the curtain. He’s sure Iwaizumi had sealed it shut yesterday, but the glass is almost completely visible. The sun captures several particles of dust floating in the air, and Oikawa feels the warmth along his arms as he reaches out to yank the curtain shut. It isn’t until he catches sight of his reflection in the reflection that he shrieks.
“Oh,” he murmurs, touching his face. He pats down his body as if to make sure that it’s really his. Akaashi’s body had never felt foreign to him per say, as they were close in height and size, but there is a familiarity to his own that he cannot deny. “Oh.”
Oikawa kicks off his covers and stands in the middle of his room, spinning in place. It has taken him this long to realize that he’s in his own bedroom—not Iwaizumi’s. Which must mean that Akaashi is back in his own body, and that he’s now sharing a futon with Bokuto on the floor of Iwaizumi’s bedroom.
The inconsequential features of his bedroom that he’d never missed until he was gone stick out to him all the more now. His old poster is still peeling from the walls, his collection of games of teams he’s faced rest in a messy row of discs on his desk, and his slippers wait for him at the side of his bed.
All at once, relief washes over him, and Oikawa wraps his arms around himself. He’s back in his body. He’ll be able to captain Aoba Johsai during their qualifiers. He gets to enjoy these next few games before they’re gone. He’s never been happier.
Oikawa wastes no time in getting dressed, not even bothering with breakfast before slipping out of his house and heading over to Iwaizumi’s. He wants to see the official proof for himself. He wants to see Akaashi sit up and be able to sigh in relief that it’s actually over. Although, part of him will miss the last few days. It could’ve been so much worse, but Fukurodani are a great team and Bokuto is a good friend. The week was survivable because of that.
It isn’t until he cracks the door open to Iwaizumi’s bedroom that he realizes that everyone is still asleep. Sure enough, Bokuto and Akaashi share the guest futon. Bokuto snores loudly every few seconds, his lips fixed in a permanent smile even while he sleeps. Akaashi lies facing up, his mouth lolling open.
As Oikawa steps over their sleeping forms, he peers closer at Akaashi’s nose. The swelling has diminished slightly, thanks to Akaashi rushing inside to grab an ice pack soon after the impact was made, but it won’t disappear for a few days. Part of Oikawa is glad that that isn’t his problem to handle.
He wanders over to Iwaizumi’s bed, shuffling closer to the huddled heap under the covers. Wordlessly, Oikawa lifts the covers to slide in himself, and Iwaizumi lets out a hiss between his teeth when Oikawa’s chilly feet brush against his legs.
“For fuck’s sake, Crappykawa,” Iwaizumi says gruffly, his voice still fighting the waves of drowsiness that threaten to take him under again. “You’re freezing. Get out of my bed.”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa protests, wrapping two arms around Iwaizumi’s waist.
At that, Iwaizumi rolls over to untangle himself from Oikawa’s grasp—only to pause at the sight of Oikawa’s face staring back at him. Iwaizumi hesitates, then, “Akaashi?”
Oikawa scoffs and pushes a hand against Iwaizumi’s face, squeezing his cheeks together. “No, you idiot,” he says. “It’s me.”
“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi sits up straight, the covers pooling around his waist, any notion of sleep long forgotten. “Is this—? Are you…?”
Oikawa drops his arm and buries his face sideways into the pillow. His smile is warm as he looks up at Iwaizumi. “Yes. We’ve switched back.” He holds a finger to his lips. “Quiet, Iwa-chan. They’re still sleeping.”
Iwaizumi seems to realize that they’re not alone for the first time since being roused from his dreams, and he settles back down beneath the covers. His voice is low when he speaks again. “You woke up in your own body?”
“Mmhmm,” he hums. “Akaashi should be back in his considering he appears to be breathing. Unfortunately, he has that awful nose to deal with for the next few days.”
“You should’ve gotten out of the way quicker.”
“That would’ve been impossible. Bokkun is too quick for that. I was doomed.”
“Maybe I could hit you with a volleyball so that you two match. Then you’d be joined with Akaashi in solidarity.”
“Please don’t,” he says, a trickle of seriousness seeping through. “It was hard enough falling asleep last night when I couldn’t breathe.”
“So what do you think actually triggered the switch back?” Iwaizumi asks.
“Not sure,” Oikawa answers. He spares a thought for the two sharing the futon a few feet away. “Do you think Akaashi wound up doing his big thing? You think it had something to do with Bokkun?”
“I have an idea what it was,” Iwaizumi mumbles. Oikawa opens his mouth. “And no, I’m not telling you.” His mouth shuts. “It does have something to do with Bokuto. I’m sure Akaashi talked to him while we were gone.”
There’s a brief bout of silence.
“You don’t think it was because I got hit in the face with the ball, do you?”
“No,” Iwaizumi mutters, though he doesn’t sound as certain as he tries to. “That would be ridiculous.”
“Oh, and solving this using the endings of popular films wasn’t ridiculous?”
“Shut up, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi turns over until his face sits headfirst in his pillow. “Go to sleep.” His voice is muffled beyond belief, but that sounds like the intention of his sentence.
Oikawa winds his arms back around Iwaizumi’s waist, and when Iwaizumi doesn’t shove him off this time, he lets out a sigh of pure contentment. He’s missed this.
Akaashi can’t mask his sincere relief when he wakes up in his own body. The warmth of another person at his side startles him for a moment until a blurry head appears in his line of vision. His eyes take a second to adjust, but it’s impossible to deny that the face looking down at him is the same one he’s been wearing all week.
“Akaashi-kun?”
“Morning, Oikawa-san.” Akaashi rarely showcases off the moments when pure, unadulterated joy filters through him, but when Oikawa smiles at him, it’s inevitable that he smiles back.
The ride to the first train that takes them back to Tokyo is filled with chatter. Oikawa and Bokuto won’t stop talking the whole journey, talking about everything and nothing all at once, and all he and Iwaizumi do is listen in. It isn’t until they’re standing on the platform that Akaashi fully realizes that this is all over.
He won’t have a reason to see Oikawa or Iwaizumi again in person. Unless they make it to Nationals. Whatever tentative friendship they’ve formed over the past couple of days has no real reason to continue. That thought saddens him, but his emotions must be clear as day on his face because Iwaizumi flashes him a quick grin.
“Take care of yourself, Akaashi,” he says, gripping Akaashi’s shoulder. “Good luck with qualifiers.”
“Thanks,” he says. “You too.”
Oikawa nearly barrels into his side. It is only months of experience with Bokuto attempting the same thing that keeps him standing upright. “Akaashi-kun!” he cries out, his arms held out. “This has been a weird experience for sure. But I suppose if there was one setter I’d trust in my place, it’d be you. Thanks for all you did this week.”
The unexpected compliment makes him reel back. “You don’t have to thank me for that. We were both doing what had to be done.”
“Yeah, and you managed not to get called out on your setting.” Oikawa looks over his shoulder to shoot Bokuto a glare.
“Hey!” Bokuto cries out. “It’s not my fault you were being so obvious.”
Rolling his eyes, Oikawa returns his attention to Akaashi. “Anyway, Akaashi-kun, you did well. Fukurodani are lucky to have you.” He sticks his hand out.
Akaashi grasps his hand in his own. One setter to another. “Thank you, Oikawa-san,” he says, letting that sink in. Fukurodani are lucky to have you.“And thank you for all you did this week too. Bokuto-san’s an outlier. I’m sure the rest of the team didn’t even notice.”
Bokuto protests again in the background, and Iwaizumi pats his back in sympathy.
Oikawa laughs lowly under his breath, his arm returning back to his side. “I hope so. At least it’s over.” He turns sideways in Bokuto’s direction. “C’mon, Bokkun. One last hug.”
While Bokuto and Oikawa exchange their last few words, the train’s horn cuts through the air, and the cars pull up to the platform. Bokuto hurries to stand at his side as they wait for the doors to open. Akaashi spares one last look behind him: Iwaizumi and Oikawa huddle close together, their shoulders brushing against each other, and Iwaizumi lifts a hand up.
“Bye, you two!” Oikawa shouts after them. Akaashi might’ve cringed at the volume level if it were any other time—if this wasn’t such a permanent farewell.
Oikawa’s voice garners them a few side-eyes, but Akaashi lets his worries slide off his shoulders as he waves back before climbing aboard the car. Bokuto’s presence behind him is steady, and the two fit down the aisle to find their seats. Akaashi lets Bokuto take the window seat before settling in next to him.
Bokuto peeks out the window to see if he can catch one last glimpse of Iwaizumi and Oikawa before the train speeds off. Akaashi leans closer to Bokuto to determine whether he can see them too. But it isn’t until the doors slam shut and the train picks up speed that the platform breezes past. Akaashi thinks he might’ve seen two blurry figures in the quick window of time they had, one with his arms waving them off, but it happens too quickly for him to be sure.
With a sigh, Akaashi leans back into his seat. The plush cushions press against his shoulders, firm enough that he contemplates resting his head and catching another hour of sleep, but he wants to make sure there is still another train for them to catch, and he’s determined not to let them miss their stop. He wants to get back to Tokyo as quickly as possible. It’s been too long.
It’s only been a week, but it’s still too long.
He raises a hand to his nose and presses down on it gently. It still aches beneath his touch, and he still feels like he can’t breathe out of it properly. Two consecutive nose injuries can’t be good, but the second hit did minimal damage, not even drawing blood, and all of his research online indicates that it isn’t anything to worry about yet.
His eyes flick over to the side to find Bokuto watching him. His gaze hasn’t lessened in its intensity since he’s been gone, and he wonders if that weight ever shifted because of Oikawa. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”
“Does your nose still hurt?”
Oh. He’s feeling guilty. Akaashi should’ve remembered that. “Not really,” he lies. “It’ll be fine soon. It’ll just take a few days.”
Bokuto nods, taking every word Akaashi says to heart. “Okay, that’s good,” he says. “Your face still looks great even after being hit twice in one week!”
That comment makes Akaashi stiffen. Though his mind says that it’s nothing more than Bokuto’s earnestness talking, his heart speaks differently. Instead, he says, “I missed you, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto’s expression visibly lights up. “I missed you too, ’Kaashi!”
Despite the chaos of this past week, Bokuto has been a constant. He and Iwaizumi both stepped up to the plate when their setters faltered. It’s a relief to know that no matter what obstacle life shoves in their paths, the ace is right alongside them. Maybe he and Oikawa aren’t much alike, but they do have that: two dependable aces that are there to make up for them in their absences.