Thoughtography | IwaOi |

Chapter 12: Those Three Words

Oikawa POV

Did you know the colour you see when you enter a dark room isn't actually black, it's a shade of grey called eigengrau?

This fact popped into my head while I was hiding in my closet, knees pulled up against my chest, hanging clothes brushing against my skin like ghostly hands.

It didn't scare me like it used to when I was younger. It felt comfortable – protected – this time. But the reason I was hiding wasn't as comfortable, considering slipping into my closet used to be a way to escape my parents arguments back when I was a kid. It happened often, and I'd like to say I got used to it but . . . how can you get used to hearing your mother crying? How can you be okay with hearing your father firing insult after insult? How can that be something you're comfortable with?

But my father's gone, now.

That's not something I have to deal with anymore.

So you may wonder why I'm hiding in my closet, a couple hours after getting home from school. There's nothing to be scared of, right?

Yes. That's correct. The only thing I'm afraid of is myself right now – or more specifically, the fact that I haven't told my mother about my symptoms.

Actually, to be honest, I haven't told anyone. I haven't spoken to a doctor and gotten a confirmed diagnosis either.

Maybe . . .

Maybe I'm overthinking things.

Maybe these symptoms aren't actually symptoms.

Maybe I'm being as overdramatic as always.

But I can't ignore that they're there, lingering like a fog on the lowlands, taking over my thoughts until they're no longer just a part of my cancer. Until they're a part of my mind.

With a groan, I slammed the back of my head against the wall. Why can't I just be normal?

"Hey, you all good?" Iwa-chan nudged me lightly with his elbow. "You seem distracted."

It's been a strong 3 hours since I was tucked away in the shadows of my closet, and for some wild reason I thought it was a good idea to ask Iwa-chan to come over. Especially taking into account the shit show that was lunch earlier that day.

"Yeah, just thinking." We were sitting on my bed, with me leaning up against my pillows and Iwa-chan at the foot of the bed.

"About?"

"Stuff."

"Very specific."

"I know right?"

"Shut up," Iwa-chan snorted. ". . . dumbass."

I fell back with a hand to my forehead. "Oh how you bruise my ego with your poison dipped words."

"Ha ha very funny."

"That was cool, though, right?" I sat up, a wild smile on my face. "And I came up with it on the spot, not to mention."

"But you did mention it."

"Not the damn point."

I'd forgotten what it was like to be happy with Iwa-chan. For me, high school's been nothing but torment with the occasional apology. But in these past few weeks . . . it's like something snapped in him. Like he suddenly needed to be there for me.

And I loved every moment of it.

Every conversation, every laugh, every touch, everything.

It was so perfect that I hated to think about how I'm eventually going to drive him away, just like I did when we were younger. I didn't want to let that happen, but how could someone possibly tolerate me for long enough that they'd spend their life with me? I act like I don't see it, but I know I'm annoying. I know I push people away, then blame them instead of myself.

But now's not the time for those kind of thoughts.

Right now, all I need is

Iwa-chan.

He laughed quietly, before glancing over at me. "Hey, um, Oikawa?"

I met his eyes with a tremble on my skin. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Just when I'd told myself to get rid of the bad thoughts. "Is this about Friday? Because I don't really want to –"

"No, it's not." He bit his bottom lip nervously. Such a cliché.

"What is it, then?"

He sighed, long and hard, seemingly having some sort of dispute in his mind. "I think I know who my soulmate is."

My stomach heaved. "About time!" I forced out a laugh. "Who is it?"

Iwa-chan was entirely tensed up, a strained expression on his face, looking anywhere but at me.

Something sick fluttered in my stomach, filling me up with high expectations and low chances. I didn't want to admit it, but I had a feeling I knew who it was.

Just say it.

Hurry up and say it.

Either make me smile or make me cry.

It doesn't matter.

Just say it.

Those three words.

Those famous three words.

Just say

"I love you."

(A/N: eheheh I'm running out of inspiration so I decided to just jump right in. Plus, this one's a bit shorter than most the others too, because I had to split one chapter into two)