Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
AU: Regular / Canon divergence-ish?
Tags/ Warnings: GN! Reader, ooc for Iwaizumi? A bit?
Word Count: 4.3k +
•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•
Needles and pins stabbed you in the throat, but you didn't cry. The only thing that you knew for certain was that the car couldn't move fast enough.
You were definitely speeding, but everything felt still — like a place frozen in time not to be touched again. The only reminders that you weren't standing still were the blurry street signs and overhead lights. Your death grip on the steering wheel was almost painful, but that too served as a reminder.
Did anyone say that leaving behind a relationship was supposed to be simple? That you could untether yourself from a person as easy as cutting a string? The motion of leaving someone wasn't difficult, no, it was the realization that everything you knew, all of your plans and hopes — your future — were already gone. And here you were now, driving the route alone.
Your eyes were glued to the road unconsciously, trying to see past the headlights and into the darkness. This was nothing like the movies you had watched where the protagonist drove while crying, whipping their tears away with one hand, and banging on the steering wheel like their life depended on it. Only blank numbness settled in your body, weighing you down like lead.
Your gaze shifted to the volleyball car charm that hung from the rearview mirror. A ratty old thing, discoloured, and hanging on by threads, but you could still see it as brand new. Maybe that's why a violent hatred flooded through you when you saw it. You reached up and yanked it from its place.
It fell apart easily.
You wished not to think about it, not when you had a trip to look forward to and something you could run towards and not run away from. Reminders would only hold you back. There was no need for them.
•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•
"Are you sure that you don't want a new one?" Iwaizumi laughed. He raised his hand and hit the lower hanging cotton volleyball that dangled from the rearview mirror.
You smacked his hand away, shoving it back in the direction of the steering wheel. "Hands on the wheel. And I like this one."
"We're not even driving! We're sitting in a parking lot, parked." Iwaizumi grinned at you. It was strange to see the difference between Iwaizumi, your boyfriend and the Iwaizumi that would smack Oikawa on the head for being late to practice. It was like taking a bite of blueberry pie and getting apple instead — being pleasantly surprised by both, "It's falling apart."
"You're the one who gave it to me, you know."
"I know. Which is why I can get you a new one that's exactly the same. You'd never know the difference."
