Oikawa Tooru categorizes his life into three: the beginning, the middle, and the end.
the beginning
(His beginning goes through high school; through self-inflicted, unfulfilled prophecies; and through expectations intended to be unattainable. He has reservations about his beginning, reservations about the decisions he made and the words he said. He still feels guilt about the people he let down—to the point that he forgets that their forgiveness has always been a given. He has reservations, but his beginning is something to be cherished in spite of them all.)
i.
His beginning starts somewhere in the park by his house; he's small, maybe on the cusp of eight, and crying pitifully by the tree ceremoniously erected in the center of the green. He's crying for his mother, tiny little sobs punctuated by his hiccups. There's a boy too, maybe the same height as him but with an unexpected fearlessness that makes the bandage on his cheek look less like a boo-boo and more like a battle scar. He, with his tattered bug-catching net, has the audacity to prod Oikawa on the shoulder once with it from a comfortable distance.
In the time that it takes for his mother to find him (conveniently, with the other boy's mother as well), Oikawa stops crying. He's asleep, actually, head hugged to the other boy's chest. The sense of security is something he remembers poignantly.
He's awoken to the noise of an unfamiliar voice saying "Hajime—" and to a puddle of his own drool collected on the poor, unfortunate pillow's shirt. Looking back, he can confirm the following: one, that was no ordinary boy; and two, that was only the beginning.
ii.
Hajime becomes Iwa-chan and Iwa-chan becomes his pillar. Something to be said about pillars is that their sole responsibility of keeping something, someone, upright is a full-time job. Iwaizumi is with Oikawa through every high and low of his beginning, from the ridiculous to the terrifying.
And Oikawa can divide the middle of his beginning into parts too. The stories are repetitive (the alien incident, the case of the unfaithful girlfriend, the unacceptable repetitive theft of his milk bread—) and they almost always end in the same manner. Iwaizumi swoops in to save the day and Oikawa finds himself resenting his own heart a little more. He never plays the hero, himself, when it counts the most, though, and in retrospect, Oikawa thinks he'd be terrible in the role.
His beginning sees him nursing an aching nose in the corner of his room. The only light is from his cell phone screen as he scrolls back and forth through fifteen freshly drafted text messages. Here, Oikawa Tooru thinks about bloody noses and deflated volleyballs. He thinks about Shiratorizawa and walls that cannot be climbed alone. He thinks about being alone. He thinks about teamwork.
((i don't want to be alone)) he sends.
It's three in the morning and no right-minded middle school student is up at three in the morning but it only takes two minutes for Oikawa to get a response.
((like hell i'll leave u alone)) ((there's no 'my name's oikawa and i'm a royal idiot' in team)) ((go to sleep stupid))
The peak of his beginning is a healthy mix, Oikawa would like to think, of laughter, of steps forward, of tears, and of post-matches spent with his head hugged to Iwaizumi's chest like eight years old in the park, by the tree. There are things he still regrets about this time, faces he wishes he could erase, actions he wish he could apologize more clearly for—
But looking back, he excuses himself for not yet figuring out how. After all, it was only the beginning.
(At the very end of his beginning, he finds himself battling cases of déjà vu. There is laughter again, steps forward, tears, and post-matches spent pounding his fist against locker door because it's my fault it's my fault it's my fault. There are steps backward too. There are hours spent hiding in the depths of his room. There are hours wasted sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, eyes narrowed spitefully at a knee he knows he can't fix.
