Akaashi's 18th (and the events that followed...)

18. In the Mirror

Iwaizumi turned on his phone.

No messages from Oikawa yet?

He refreshed the page. Then reconnected with the WiFi. Then closed and re-opened the app. It was almost midday - it would be four in the afternoon for him...

"Hajime~" a high-pitched American drawl shocked him out of his Tooru-trance.

"What?" He whipped around and growled at the girl sitting at the desk behind him. He still wasn't used to everyone calling him by his first name. It felt strange - the only people he allowed to call him that back at home were his family, Oikawa and... well, Oikawa again.

"Hey!" She held up her hands in defence. "I was only wondering if you wanted me to lend you my notes after class; you seem a little preoccupied."

"Oh, thank you Emma," he said, still slightly self-conscious of his faintly awkward English. He smiled briefly and turned back around. He stared at his phone again, not bothering to pick up what was happening in the class. He would study later. Now, he had Oikawa on his mind, and he knew it would be useless to try and shake those thoughts.
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"But don't," Daichi leaned closer, locking eyes with Iwaizumi, "under any circumstances, lose a relationship as strong as yours and Oikawa's. It's worth too much."
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Iwaizumi gritted his teeth. It was time to take initiative. He started typing.

'Hey shithead.' He smirked before pressing send.

Yeah, that's it. Initiative.

As promised, Emma handed him a copy of her notes after the class. "Thanks again, sorry for being short with you," he walked out of the classroom with her and her boyfriend Liam, who had apparently overheard their brief interaction.

"No problem," she smiled, "who was so important that they caused you to stop listening to the lecture?"

"Just a guy from high school."

"Who?" Liam asked. He was more aware than Emma that several of the people Iwaizumi knew at high school were now professional athletes - or at least on their way there.

"Tooru. Oikawa Tooru." Iwaizumi looked away as he spoke, so as not to catch the inevitable awestruck expressions. He was at a sports college, after all.

He still, however, caught the gasp. "You knew Oikawa Tooru?!" Emma and Liam screeched in unison.

"Keep it down!" Iwaizumi hissed, as a couple of heads turned their way. "But yes, we were best friends in high school. Still are, kind of."

"What were you texting him? Wait, give me your cell." Emma snatched his phone away, still unlocked. Similar to using first name address, Iwaizumi had found the brazen mannerisms of the Western World extremely uncomfortable at first, and was only just becoming used to them. She opened Instagram and clicked on his DMs. "You have his private account!" She tapped on his chat.

"Duh, they were best friends," Liam scoffs.

"'Hey shithead.' Seriously?" Iwaizumi thought that would be it, but she scrolled up, reading all of his messages from the last time they had messaged, two days ago, chastising Iwaizumi for his short, blunt responses, "Your poor friend is carrying this entire conversation, Hajime," she had said with a tut.

"Ooh, he's cute," she mused, and Iwaizumi immediately knew which photograph she was talking about. The last one Oikawa had sent him was a picture of him just after practice, his fringe slick against his forehead. His face was slightly flushed. Iwaizumi's stomach turned. "Oh he's really cute."

"Hey!" Iwaizumi and Liam said in unison.
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"Huh?" Liam and Emma stared at him.

"Oh." Iwaizumi struggled to think of an excuse. "I meant it in the sense that you shouldn't cheat on your boyfriend, Emma, not even emotionally." He nodded to himself, satisfied with that reason. Americans talked a lot about cheating in the movies and TV programmes he had watched back home, in order to improve his English-speaking skills.

Emma giggled. "You're so sweet Hajime, but don't worry, I'm all Liam's." She clung onto the man's arm, who gave her a short kiss which left them both beet-red and smiling pathetically at each other.

Iwaizumi could never be like that with Oikawa. Too gross.

It was then that they reached the end of the corridor, and they separated for their next lessons. Iwaizumi, glad at being given his phone back, left for his next lecture hurriedly, as if someone else would spring up, nick his 'cell,' and read his messages without permission.

It wasn't until he finished cooking dinner that he realised Oikawa had texted him back.

"Shit." He wiped his hands on the tea towel in front of him and stepped away from the stove.

'Hola mi amigo!' Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. 'Sorry I didn't reply straight away, I had morning training. How are your exams going?'

He scrolled down further to find a selfie of Oikawa in the gym, lifting weights, a light sheen of sweat covering his skin. He wore his team vest, which left his arms bare. Iwaizumi stared. He had really improved his biceps in the time they had been away. He coughed. Now wasn't the time. Obviously, a group of people stood behind him in the photo, every single one either drooling or taking their own photographs. Oikawa had captioned it: 'Oops, got caught by the paparazzi again!'

Iwaizumi sighed before typing back, remembering Emma's disapproval at his short replies. 'Exams are fine. Surprised to see that your head hasn't inflated so much it's flown away, especially from that "paparazzi" behind you. Also, you're holding the weights wrong: your knees are too locked and you're slouching. Ask a trainer there and they'll say the same. Also you look tired. Make sure you get some sleep tonight, yeah?'

The message didn't deliver. Damn. He was probably asleep already, and Iwaizumi had yet again failed to stay in contact with his best friend, failed in the one relationship in his life which was honest, steady. His mother and father were both good people, and he was a respectful son, but there was a boundary between child and parent that just vanished when he was around Oikawa. However, that boundary was beginning to form in Iwaizumi's mind, and he couldn't fight the feeling that it wouldn't be the last time he felt isolated from his childhood friend.

An irrepressible urge to punch something, preferably Oikawa, overcame him. Yes, punching him would feel nice. Maybe it would make him wake up and reply to his message.

Instead, his fist met the marble countertop, and pain instantly fizzled up his right arm. Iwaizumi grunted in pain, and when he dared look at his fist, the skin had stretched and split, and red patches blotched his fingers. Those would become nasty bruises soon enough.

Then the smoke alarm went off.

"Kuso!" He ran back to the stove, where his comfort food, agedashi tofu, was sitting in the pan, charred black all over.

He threw the pan into the sink, where it fizzled in the water, spitting at him. He merely slammed the door to the kitchen, flopping down on his bed.

He could almost feel the presence of Oikawa beside him. "Cheer up, Hajime, we can make it again!" That's what he would have said, if he were there. But he wasn't. And now, he was constantly surrounded by the ghost of his best friend. A text here and there, giving Iwaizumi just enough hope that their friendship could survive, but nothing like how they used to be. It never would be. All he had there and then were happy, shining memories, distorted into wishful daydreams.

A single, frustrated choke escaped from his throat, as his pounding head fell into unconsciousness.

(Word count: 1270)
(Total word count: 21,706)

Author's Note:
Oops, forgot to say this is the part two to Ghost! Anyway, if you're still reading this then thank you (honestly I can't believe you've actually gotten this far 'cause it's mostly been slow-burn and build up so far 😂.)