Oikawa Last Wish/Wishes

One Way Ticket to Heaven (sequel) : Part 5

(The story follows years after Oikawa Tooru's death)

Sometimes, he would dream of him.

He would be looking radiant, youthful. No hint of the illness that took his life. He would smile at him and his brown eyes would sparkle with mirth. He would even laugh and the sound would be boisterous, nothing like the raspy, throaty kind.

Sometimes, he would hear a voice along with the sound of his laughter. Sometimes, the voice would even call him. 

Iwa-chan.

That annoying nickname. And it would make him smile. But when he opened his eyes, he would never be there. And the dream would disappear.

—

20 minutes until the train arrives.

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped open with a start at the sound of the long, whiny horn of a train departing followed by the clickity-clack of its wheels turning against the metal rails.

It was like getting roused from a bad dream. The first thing he noticed was how incredibly cold he was. He zipped up his jacket and pulled up his hood before looking around.

He was in an empty train station. It was nothing like the stations in Tokyo or Osaka or any other train stations he was used to— no, this one looked like one might see in the furthest towns of the city. With only two rusty railways to accommodate any train that might come.

It wasn’t that old of a station, but evidence of neglect was obvious with the cracks on the wall, peeling paint, aged wooden beams, and rusty metal posts holding up the rickety roof.

He was sitting down on a bench, the one nearest the stairs which led to a floor below him and he was wondering how the hell did he get here. But the thing was, save for what happened in the few moments after he woke up, he had no recollection of anything. That, and the dream he had.

A cold gust of wind blew hard and the temperature felt genuinely uncomfortable against his feverish skin. Why was it so cold? There was no visible snow on the horizon—in fact, there was really nothing visible beyond the train station which he found weird. Oddly enough, despite his mysterious predicament, he was unexpectedly calm.

He stood up, kicked his shoes against the asphalt to regain blood circulation on his leg, and looked around. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep because his body felt sore and sluggish like he had been sleeping in the wrong position for a long time.

When he looked around properly this time, he noticed that he wasn’t completely alone, which was another weird thing because he could have sworn he was alone when he woke up.

There were a couple of people standing by the platform and some, sitting on the stone benches lined up against the wall—their expressions ranged from gloomy to peaceful. Nobody looked in his direction and nobody paid him any mind. He noticed, however, that despite the range of people there, nobody seemed to belong in a group or had come here together. It looked a bit lonely.

Beyond the station was an endless gray horizon and nothing else. It was the perfect background to the red ominous numbers of a led clock hanging from the ceiling counting the minutes until the next train arrived. 

Where am I? What am I doing here?

His mind wandered off aimlessly, trying to find answers to the endless questions in his head. He definitely couldn’t remember himself taking off from or trying to go to someplace so why was he in a train station? And which station was he in? There were no usual signages visible… except one hanging on the metal beams over the railway but the letters were foreign and he couldn’t read it.

He needed to go to the operator’s office which he was pretty sure was just downstairs, considering that was the only visible way out of the station. 

He was about to head down when someone walked past him, bumping him roughly. He almost lost his footing, but he managed to stay upright because he always had impeccable reflexes and a good sense of balance. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He was quick to apologize because though he knew it wasn’t his fault, he still had manners.

“Sorry about that,” Echoed an apology. The person was a man with fluffed up chocolate brown hair and eyes which reminded Iwaizumi of the color of warm chocolate.

He looked a little younger than him—probably in his late twenties and the guy had a lean slightly muscular build while being a couple of inches taller than him. Out of all the gloomy people around, the man looked jolly and despite saying sorry, he didn’t look sorry at all. 

His mouth was pulled in a wide grin when he spoke, but Iwaizumi saw a fleeting look of shock flash by the man’s brown eyes followed by the confusion which he could have just imagined because it was gone in just a few seconds.

The guy also looked better than the rest of the people there… him, included. Probably because there was an ostentatious air surrounding him. Like a beacon of light was following him wherever and whenever he moved.

The guy gave him a small smile which made his heart skip a beat. Iwaizumi didn’t expect such a gentle expression to appear on the man’s pompous face, but his smile was, if he was being honest… breathtaking.

“Did you just arrive?” he asked and Iwaizumi frowned at the odd question. How should he answer it because he couldn’t even remember going there but what bothered him was the way he asked the question—like he knew Iwaizumi should be here . 

Nevertheless, Iwaizumi just shrugged because he was the first person who seemed to have an idea where he is, “I guess so… I don’t know how I got here, though.”

The man frowned at him then asked again, “You don’t know what happened to you? You don’t remember how you got here?”

Iwaizumi was getting more confused with what he was asking and how he was talking to Iwaizumi like he knew him from the past. He shook his head and the man’s frown deepened, “Do you remember your name?”

It was Iwaizumi’s turn to frown, “Yes, of course. Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

His face brightened up at that, “Ah good. You haven’t completely forgotten yet.” His relieved face transformed when Iwaizumi merely gawked at him.

“What do you mean exactly?”

Instead of answering, the man leaned forward, bending a few inches down so their faces were only inches apart and Iwaizumi flinched away at the sudden close proximity, making the taller man laugh.

Iwaizumi gaped at him… admiring how his laughter sounds and looks like. He wasn’t restraining himself, too—letting his shoulders shake with every peal of laughter that seemed to come from the very core of his body.

Iwaizumi was mystified by the sound, but he was also getting impatient. He needed to get home fast because— okay, that was weird. He couldn’t very well remember why he wanted to go home nor where he lived.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes hoping it would bring him back to his senses. His head hurt. He heard the man gasp, saw his eyes widen in pleasant surprise, “Wow! Were you married?”

He was looking at his hand and Iwaizumi raised his hands to see—a platinum ring on his ring finger. “Uh… I guess so.” Except he couldn’t remember if he really was or what his wife’s name is. “I… don’t…”

The guy smiled understandingly at him, which didn’t help his confusion in any way. It was getting really annoying, “Why are you not freaked out by any of these?”

The man didn’t answer but gave him a bittersweet smile. It tugged on his heart. He looked awfully familiar… like something about him makes Iwaizumi feel at ease. Iwaizumi then realized that he didn’t even know the man’s name, “Who are you, really?”

The man blinked back at him in surprise before his face blossomed into another beautiful smile, “Oh, right. I forgot to introduce myself.” He hummed to himself, as if he’s considering what he would say next and then finally responded, “I’m what they call the Guide. ”