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2017-07-24 06:15 am (UTC)
FILL: Team The Prince of Tennis, T
iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru
Warnings for illness, angst, possible future death.
“Hey. Shittykawa, wake up.” Iwaizumi poked Oikawa’s cheek, albeit much more gently than usual. The pallor of his friend worried him almost as much as the numerous machines whose soft beeps and green lines offered proof that Oikawa was still alive.
Oikawa’s eyes opened slowly, the chocolate brown of his eyes dark with drowsiness and a little hazy still. “...Iwa-chan?”
His gaze drifted from Iwaizumi’s face to the cluster of brilliant helium balloons that Iwaizumi was holding and slowly, a smile spread over his face.
“You brought me balloons?” He asked, tapping the remote for the bed to make him sit up a little. Having to stare up at his visitors all the time very quickly had become more humiliating than Oikawa could bear, even if sitting up exhausted him so much that the visits had to be cut short.
“Of course not,” Iwaizumi snorted as he started to tie the balloons to the arm of the chair so they’d be on eye-level with Oikawa. “They’re gifts from the whole team.”
“Oh, I see.” Oikawa’s smile didn’t look disappointed in the least, Iwaizumi noted. “Much better than all the flowers that my fans sent. The nurse wouldn’t let me keep them.”
“I know,” Iwaizumi said gruffly as he pushed the balloons down so Oikawa could see them more clearly. “I asked what sort of presents you would be allowed - no food, no flowers, no soaps that might contain irritants.”
Oikawa hugged a dog balloon to his chest and Iwaizumi said, “That one’s from Kentaro. The string’s slippery - it kept trying to get away.”
“Just like him,” Oikawa said, letting go and eyeing a pink teddy bear instead. “Which one is yours, Iwa-chan?”
“...” Silently, trying to scowl in his usual manner, Iwaizumi pulled down a red heart with GET WELL SOON written in silver letters and passed it to Oikawa.
“How sweet,” Oikawa cooed with a faint shiver of a laugh. “You’re giving me your heart.”
“I’d give you a lung for real if I could,” Iwaizumi muttered gruffly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. They weren’t even a blood type match, let alone close enough for organ transplants; a stupid helium balloon heart was the best that he could do.
Oikawa nuzzled his cheek against the balloon and smiled up at Iwaizumi even as the edges of strain started to appear at the corners of his mouth and eyes.
“I’d rather have your heart, Iwa-chan,” he said quietly, arms wrapped around it. “This doesn’t hurt you to give.”
, Iwaizumi nearly said, stopping himself just in time. What did Oikawa think it would do to Iwaizumi if he didn’t get better?
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