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Iwaizumi had been writing Oikawa love letters for years, basically since the moment they met—he just wasn’t aware he was doing it.
One would assume that between the two of them, Oikawa was the more “romantic”, and they wouldn’t be completely wrong per say, he was definitely the more hopeless romantic. He’d tear up watching any heartfelt movie and gush over cute valentine teddy bears with cliché puns stitched onto them, demanding that Iwaizumi buy him one to prove his love. On a particular weekend out together, they saw a couple get engaged at a park, two men, and Oikawa practically swooned into Iwaizumi’s arms claiming it was the most romantic thing he’d ever seen, and if the two of them held hands a little tighter on their way home that day, trading shy smiles with red tinted cheeks, well no one had to know about that.
This didn’t mean Iwaizumi didn’t have his own romantic side, his just simply wasn’t as obvious—you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know how to look for it, but luckily for Oikawa, he had been looking for years. He knew Iwaizumi’s intricacies and complexities as well as his own, maybe even better, something he was secretly proud of.
Just as intimately as Oikawa knew the familiar feeling of a volleyball within his hands, he knew the depths of Iwaizumi’s love for him and the places to find it. While he may not write Oikawa love letters full of flowy words detailing his devotion and adoration, something Oikawa had grown slightly accustomed to from his fans in high school. Iwaizumi penned his love for Oikawa in ways that felt infinitely more special, because Oikawa was the only one who knew how to read it, and Oikawa was the only one Iwaizumi wrote for.
Iwaizumi’s love letters began when they were five years old. A piece of paper scribbled on with crayons by a young Iwaizumi for when Oikawa was home sick in bed all day. The picture was of the two of them next to what was five-year-old Iwaizumi’s depiction of Godzilla, surrounded by stars and a spaceship and a small “from Hajime” sloppily written on the bottom. When presented with said picture, Oikawa held it like it was something fragile and precious, better than any gift he’d ever gotten. He asked what it was for and Iwaizumi, with the confidence of a five-year-old and lack of embarrassment he’d later develop when it came to things related to Oikawa, told him that he was bored all day inside so he drew that for him. Oikawa, confused, asked him why he didn’t just go play outside. Iwaizumi punched Oikawa’s arm, calling him a dummy, one of his new favorite insults he’d learned, saying that he obviously couldn’t go play outside since Oikawa was sick and Iwaizumi would have no one to play with and he didn’t want to play without him.
And thus, the letters continued.
The letters morphed as the two grew older. Going from coloring pages to daily text messages to check in on how Oikawa was doing, despite having seen him at school and practice already and walking home together. His love was written between the lines of the notes he took for Oikawa when the latter was too sick to come to class. It was etched in the background of receipts for smalls gifts Iwaizumi would buy for him, simply because he saw something that reminded him of Oikawa and he wanted to give it to him. It was hidden within the list of groceries he’d write for himself when his mom asked him to go pick some stuff up. It somehow always featured Oikawa’s favorite foods, despite Iwaizumi’s adamant refusal about such an accusation.
“Why did you put milk bread on the grocery list? I thought you didn’t like it?” His mom asked, a knowing smile on her face.
“I just felt like getting some...I don’t hate it.” Iwaizumi said, the red on his ears betraying the embarrassment he felt at being called out.
“Hmm, alright. Be safe!” his mother told him as he walked to the genkan to put his shoes on.
“I will!” Iwaizumi yelled out, about to step out the door.
“Oh! I think Oikawa-kun also likes watermelon if you want to pick one up!” Iwaizumi’s mother yelled out at the last second.
Iwaizumi spluttered out an okay and closed the door, not hearing the laughter his mother let out within the house.
When Iwaizumi came back home, his mother decided to spare teasing her son any further when he opened the door carrying a watermelon in one hand. She figured the bright red blush on his cheeks was punishment enough.
While Oikawa could now easily spots these patterns of Iwaizumi’s, he didn’t know how to read it all at first, partially due to his doubt that he might be imagining things he hoped were there, putting importance onto things that were simply just gestures between friends, but eventually he was confident in being able to recognize Iwaizumi’s way of showing his love, and he cherished each piece.
When Oikawa left for Argentina, again the letters changed, and Oikawa continued to learn just how Iwaizumi showed his love for him. It was now placed into shipping labels that adorned the boxes he sent to Oikawa when the distance was harder to manage and he needed little pieces of Iwaizumi with him. It was carved into the sticky notes on Iwaizumi’s desk, reminding him of when Oikawa’s games would be so he could find a stream to watch them and cheer him on from California. It was embedded in the playlists of U.S. pop songs that Iwaizumi would make and send to Oikawa, telling him that he thought he might like them, since “you like that kind of trashy music.” Not telling Oikawa that he would listen to them himself because they reminded him of Oikawa. It was stamped into the plane ticket and printed out directions for how to get to Oikawa’s place in Argentina when Iwaizumi decides to visit him by surprise, unable to hold out any longer from holding his boyfriend in person.
And when they finally come together, older and settled down in a place that’s just their own, the letters are still there, interwoven in their daily lives. Except now it’s in recipes for food that Iwaizumi prints out and hides to try to make for Oikawa because he enjoys cooking, but he enjoys the look on Oikawa’s face when he tastes it for the first time even more. It’s imprinted into tickets that Iwaizumi buys for them as a surprise for a movie he knows Oikawa has been wanting to see. It’s put into the workout plans that Iwaizumi make’s for Oikawa, detailed and thorough with particular care to feature exercises that don’t strain Oikawa’s knee. It’s set in the words that Iwaizumi traces into Oikawa’s skin, holding him in their shared bed and feeling that his arms were made specifically for that purpose.
There is a one more letter from Iwaizumi that Oikawa isn’t expecting.
Being a popular professional volleyball player, Oikawa occasionally receives fan mail. He takes the time to read each one, appreciating the care and effort that his fans put into them. But when he opens this particular one, he immediately recognizes the handwriting and the pace of his breathing comes a little quicker.
“Dear Oikawa, I’m not very great with putting my feelings into words, but it isn’t because I don’t love you, if anything it feels like the opposite. I love you so much I don’t even know how I’d begin to explain it, as if I could find the words for something that is both so comforting and overwhelming at the same time. The thought of trying to put into words my love for you felt like an insult to those feelings, as if I could just simplify them and transfer them to a piece of paper. Words could never do justice to how I feel about you and what you mean to me, I could never describe how dear you are to me Tooru. But I figured I’d at least give it a try, so I wrote you a love poem…you better like it.”
“A love letter for my favorite setter,
Godzilla is green
Your eyes beautiful and brown
You made me fall in love with you
Together in our small town.
I could listen to you laugh forever and ever
And stare at your dumb face all day
As long as you’ll continue to have me
By your side I’ll always stay.
You know me inside and out
To my heart you hold the key
let me make you mine forever
Oikawa Tooru, will you marry me?
Love always, your favorite ace.”
When Oikawa looks up from the letter, tears welling in his eyes and a wobbly smile stretched across his face, he sees Iwaizumi bent down on one knee, holding open a small velvet box with a silver band sitting inside. All his love for Oikawa, written across his face.
Tooru knows Hajime can read the love on his own face just as easily.