𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 ; TORU OIKAWA

one phone call.

You always hurt the one you love. The one you shouldn't hurt at all.

No call. No text. Nothing. His brother could've been dead in an alleyway and he would be the last to know.

M/n cursed Oikawa out quietly in the small room. It only reverberated back toward him. 

He held his sweaty palms together, clasping them for dear life. I only need one fucking call. Maybe if he had gotten it, it could've saved them a bit of trouble. 

Maybe if he got a text the doctors wouldn't have rushed in at the sound of the heart monitor beeping abnormally. 

Maybe, just maybe, if something went differently, his fate would've been altered. 

Alas, nothing was there to stop him. A stampede of doctors and nurses swarmed around the boy, trying desperately to salvage what they could. 

Their solution? 

A medically induced coma. 

__ 

The two, newly made friends, leisurely made their way to the volleyball player's hospital room. Oikawa and Oliver had wrapped up everything they could at home and decided it was best to pay their friend/brother a visit. 

They didn't expect to be blocked out of the room. Intentionally or not, it was happening. Oikawa had a bad feeling. There was yelling, screaming, instructions being shouted most importantly... a flat beep. 

"Stay here." The brunet gently pushed Oliver back. Being 6'0 helped immensely in situations like this. Perhaps it would've been better if he had never seen this particular one though. 

The commotion had abruptly stopped, and only a father's sobs were left. As Oikawa made his way to the bed, he realized who it was. M/n's father, slouching over the pale body of his once closest friend. 

How he wished to tell m/n that he hated being his friend. That when they were to bury him, Oikawa would be nothing more than a measly friend. 

He needed to be something more. 

If only he had picked up the damn phone. 

__

A brother's intuition is much like a mother's. It instantly defies all emotion and goes straight to logic. Well, maybe not all brothers. But they were sure as hell glad that Oliver was. 

Maybe his day was already too catastrophic. He had just started to get over all the childhood trauma, a brother's death wasn't something he needed. 

So, being the only sensible one in that room. 

Oliver slapped his brother. Right across the face. He held back nothing. The weight training he'd been doing finally came in handy. 

Fuck, was m/n glad. 

Instantly, the monitor came back to life, and m/n with it. The room made one collective gasp before getting straight back to work. Yet, there was nothing more to do than sit and watch. 

M/n's family, along with Oikawa, immediately crushed his bones in a giant hug. M/n felt as if his bones were made of the most fragile material. Not ceramic, not glass... maybe it was snow. 

That felt right. His bones were made of snow. And if anyone let go, he would come spilling apart again. And he couldn't do that again. 

"One fucking call, Toru..." He muttered against the setter's shoulder. "Just one fucking call—"

"I know. I know. I'm so sorry." Copying the words of his friend, he held on even tighter. Afraid, that if he ever let go that he would lose him. 

Before either of them could exchange any more words, Oliver jumped on top of m/n's lap excitedly. It was no longer the loss of a sibling. He was still the same person; he just took off the mask. 

"I'm sorry, m/n," Oliver whispered into his brother's shoulder. The older sibling gasped slightly, not used to hearing his name being said by the younger. It was a moment he would forever cherish. 

"You have nothing to be—" There was a quick and blinding flash, followed by another, and another, and then a barrage of them. Reporters crowded outside his room, eager to report on the reappearance of a youth basketball legend. 

M/n decided to pay no mind as his father angrily banned them all from the hospital grounds. He simply laid back and combed his right hand through Oliver's hair, hopefully putting him to sleep. In the other hand, he silently intertwined his tired fingers through Oikawa's. Hoping, as the day grew old, all the problems would be swept along with it.